jakecafe

[jakecafe]

I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.

[jakecafe]

oh im sick

JAKE: NO DOUBT (2024) ➝ requested by anonymous

[jakecafe]

thsi is literally fucking killing me

[jakecafe]

was quite literally giggling every other word or so like God this mastepiece is insanely well written (like i swear i was reading a Novel Hello?) and I am at a LOSS FOR WORDSS like idek what else to say other than the fact that i Love love loved this so much and it def has climbed up to my top 1 spot <3 love u authornim ....TT Saranghae…… 💟

spf 23

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, your summers have been much the same, largely spent in your hometown, relaxing by the local pool. when you get back home this summer, things seem like they'll go the same way, until you get to the pool that is — when did the lifeguard get so hot?

genres: smut, fluff, people that kinda know each other to lovers, summer au, lifeguard au..

warnings: minors dni, MENTIONS OF UNIVERSITY DURING SUMMER, sunghoon in water, sunghoon on ice, sunghoon

word count: 31,818 .. even more sorry than last time.

playlist: kiss nct dojaejung, obvious ariana grande, safety net ariana grande

author's note: lmk ur thoughts (positive / negative / sunghoon) i'd love to hear. to beta bestie @asahicore u da best MUSIC DJ EMMAAA. i hope u have a good time reading, lord knows this has been a long time coming.. ok enjoy &lt;;333

It’s the hottest day of the last summer of your life. 

The sun’s rays coat your skin in a film of sticky sweat and sunscreen. Crisp white clouds hang in the sky, drifting overhead. Yunjin complains about the temperature as if you and Chaewon aren’t outside with her.

If you strain your ears over yelling children and raucous laughter, you can just about hear a Top 40 playlist looping Cupid and Dua Lipa songs through age-weakened speakers. What holds your attention the most, though, is the blond by the pool. He leans back on his hands with pretty fingers spread out behind him. He’s been lifeguarding at the public pool for more summers than you care to count but he’d never looked like this while he did it. 

Park Sunghoon seems relaxed as he sits on the pool’s edge, kicking his legs in the water and scanning the space. Presumably watching out for kids drowning, or diving, or.. whatever it is lifeguards get up to at work. His voice is deep as he (half-heartedly) yells at a group of kids with water guns to stop running. When did he get so buff?

He’s always been attractive. Always. But this is outrageous. The bleached hair. The toned arms. The sliver of skin you can see peeking out from under his cropped vest. It’s almost too much to take yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. Given the way he turns his head when you catch his gaze — with flushed cheeks and upturned lips — you assume his glow-up has been purely external. 

“Can you believe this might be the last summer we spend here together? Like, this time next year we’ll be graduates.” Yunjin’s sudden statement makes you wish she’d go back to talking about the weather. 

Chaewon’s jaw drops. “Whoa.”

“Is it bad that I’m looking forward to fall?” Yunjin asks. “No offence, YN.” 

This isn’t the first time she’s shared such a sentiment. Last summer and the one before, she’d said something similar before clarifying. She’s excited about her new classes, not about you going back to your apartment a few towns over.

You’re only looking forward to your shared two-bed and Minjeong’s dinners. It pains you to have to thank university for anything, but thank university for giving you something to miss over the holidays. 

“None taken, YJ, but break just started last week.” 

“Our last finals were five weeks ago.”

“Well, you know break doesn’t really start until our girl gets back.” Chaewon leans up in her seat to grin at you. She raises her cup, the tiny puddle of melted slushy shaking a little. “Here’s to the best summer ever!” 

Needing all the affirmation you can get, you entertain her, raising your own cup so the three of you can toast properly. 

“Cheers!”

The next few hours do nothing to affirm your belief in the effectiveness of toasting. Recently hot Sunghoon hasn’t taken his shirt off yet and you’re not sure how many more times you can beg your friends to stay for another half hour in hopes something will happen that causes him to tear the thing off. At this point you’d settle for a simple conversation or even the word hey.

“I’m begging, like, actually, let’s go.” Yunjin groans, sitting up.

“Just let me pee first,” you grumble, attempting to buy more time as you stand up from your lounge chair, packing up your towel and the magazine you never bothered to look at. 

On your walk to the restroom, you see him leaning in the doorframe of the changing rooms with his toned arms crossed over his chest. Perfect. There’s a smile on your face as you approach him and unexpectedly he speaks before you do. 

"He—" He clears his throat, thick brows coming together as he places a big hand on his chest. "Hey."

You let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 

He straightens up his posture and nods his head, blond hair shifting over his forehead from the movement. 

The sounds of the public pool fill the silence stretching over you, though it’s not enough to distract you from the way his eyes trail over your body, landing on your chest as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“I’m Sunghoon,” he eventually introduces, extending a hand for you to shake. 

A smile stretches across your lips when you do, noticing how much bigger his hand is than yours when his fingers wrap around it and cover the whole thing. “I know,” you nod.

“You,” Sunghoon pauses, tilting his head to the side as if considering your words. “Know?” His brows quirk up. 

You hum in response. “We had Spanish together. You sat with.. that kid,” Your hands come up to gesture around your chin and neck. “With the jaw, Jay, was it?” 

He looks at something over your shoulder for a bit while you worry that he didn’t take Spanish and you’ve got the wrong guy, but a laugh rises out of him instead. “Yeah,” he grins. “Jay.” Nods his head.

Despite stuttering his way through the conversation, Sunghoon makes you laugh as he tells you about how he didn’t realise he’d have to swim on the job and almost drowned trying to save a kid in the deep end. He seems more confident after seeing that his story was well received though he still fidgets with his hands, and can’t hold eye contact for more than a second at a time, always looking away and clearing his throat. 

The story was a bit of a ramble, and it might be the most words you’ve ever heard him say all at once before falling quiet, though his pretty lips open and close a few times as if he’s stuck on what to say. “How-” He’s cut off by the sound of someone yelling his name. 

In the pool, a cute (and very tall) kid waving his arms above his head yelling: Quickly! Quickly! makes you laugh, and the way Sunghoon rolls his eyes makes it clear he knows him.

Much to your dismay, the yelling doesn’t stop and you realise you’ll have to make your exit. “I’ll let you get going, but, uh, say hi to Jay for me, okay?” you say, grinning at the way he nods his head, mumbling yeah, of course before you turn around to leave.

Sunghoon’s still standing in the spot you left him in, hands crossed over his chest as he eyes you. Head snapping in the other direction when you look back over your shoulder to call out a: Later, Hoonie, with a wave of your fingers.

Chaewon watches you over her sunglasses with a smirk on her face as you approach. “Who is that?”

You crinkle your nose. “Park Sunghoon.”

At the sound of his name, Yunjin gasps, abruptly sitting up in her chair. “The figure skater?”

“The what?”

At home, you type his name into the search bar and find that the shy boy you’d only met properly some hours ago is something of a celebrity in the skating world. 

You watch YouTube videos of his short programs and feel a swell of pride with each jump he lands. The tiny Sunghoon on the screen carries an air of confidence as he glides across the ice — nothing like the Sunghoon you’d met at the pool today. And definitely nothing like the quiet Sunghoon who’d sit in the back of your 9th grade Spanish class conjugating verbs as his friends got into trouble for talking over the teacher. 

It’s not hard to trip down a rabbit hole, and suddenly every video with his name in the title has a little red bar under the thumbnail as a mark of your affection. It doesn’t take long for you to find Instagram user smartblond, and the blue follow button on his page greets you with the option to follow back, which leaves you feeling a little bad as the pad of your thumb falls onto it unthinkingly. 

Sunghoon’s feed leaves much to be desired. A modest 1 post he’d made 4 years prior, a square photo of himself and Lee Heeseung with bros as the caption. The only comment is from Heeseung who wrote ma boiiii. The tagged photos however tell a different story. 

Thankfully.  

You spend longer than you’d like to admit scrolling through these pictures, grinning and ignoring the way your stomach flips at the sight of the seemingly outgoing boy captured in the pictures posted by his closest friends with wide smiles and middle fingers while trying not to hit like on any of them. Even though you do like them. A lot. Except for the one of him and Bae Sumin at the pool with pretty smiles on their faces, and their arms around each other that she posted 15 weeks ago with the caption lifesaver. A smile spreads on your lips when you see Sumin’s (way more populated) page and the post she made yesterday to celebrate two years with her boyfriend. 

Distraction only reaches you in the form of an alert from your university’s portal app. The words you’ve got new correspondence in your inbox wipe the smile from your face in an instant. While chewing at your lip, you click on the notification and wait for the email to load. 

A pit forms in your stomach while reading four paragraphs offering advice for people who’ve failed their final exams. At the end is a link that you click with squinted eyes. A countdown appears and there are 8 days, 12 hours, 2 minutes and 17 seconds until results are out.

During your next trip to the pool, you hear Sunghoon before you see him and his voice comes out in a cute whine when he speaks. “Why do you guys only wanna hang out here when I'm working?” 

Looking over your sunglasses, you see him running a hand through his hair, looking up from the water at a group of boys you recognise from both high school and his tagged photos, including the very tall kid who’d cut your conversation short the other day. With a wide grin on his face, he slings a towel over his shoulder and calls out something about the concession stand before running for the changing rooms and ignoring Sunghoon’s cries to stop. 

His back flexes deliciously as he wades around the mostly empty pool, chatting to his friends, and in all of your staring you notice Jay’s eyes on you, looking back to Sunghoon after a while and nodding his head not so subtly in your direction.

You look at Yunjin in the lounge chair next to you, who stares at the remnants of your blue raspberry slushy with disgust on her face, finishing off her cherry-flavoured one. “I said thanks when you came back with them, it’s abnormal to want this much recognition over a £1 purchase,” you say defensively, sighing and thanking her again anyways. 

“You should thank Sunghoon’s giant friend,” she says, nodding in his direction. “He came over to me in the line, asked how I knew you, and gave me change when I told him Chaewon introduced us.” 

“Huh,” you say, taking a refreshing sip, the last, before putting your cup down between your chairs. 

“I don’t understand what you see in that insane flavour.” She leans over to put her now empty cup next to yours. “It’s.. unnatural,” she says, shuddering dramatically. 

“It’s the only flavour I like,” you say simply, watching in your peripheral as your new favourite lifeguard (not that you have an old favourite) climbs over the edge of the pool.

The sight of Sunghoon’s lean figure coming out of the pool only makes you regret ever wanting to see him with his shirt off. Water slips from every part of his body in droplets, running from his broad shoulders down his veiny forearms before falling from his pretty fingers onto the ground. This must be the fittest-looking person you’ve ever seen, and Kazuha can do push-ups (one) with you and Chaewon on her back. 

With his wet hair stuck to his forehead, he laughs at something one of his friends said and it’s only when he looks over at you that you’re able to tear your eyes away. 

You miss the sight as soon as it’s gone. 

“That’s absurd,” Yunjin says after a moment. You have no idea what she’s talking about. “Can I open the Skittles?”

You’d forgotten about those. “Go ahead.” 

While rummaging through your bag, Yunjin tells you quietly that Sunghoon’s coming though you barely have a chance to look at him before his shadow casts over the two of you, stark and vivid. With his arms crossed over his chest, Sunghoon towers over you. His red shorts cling onto his hips, so low you can see every inch of muscle definition spanning his stomach where little beads of water stare you dead in the eye. By the time you manage to look up at his face, he has a huge grin stretched over his pretty lips. “Hey, stalker,” he says.

Though his smile falters when you crease your brows, pulling your sunglasses down your nose. “Stalker?” 

“You, uh,” he pauses to sniff, less sure of himself than earlier. “I saw that you followed me on Instagram last night.” 

“You did? And no DM?” 

No DM, he repeats under his breath, visibly confused, and the—“Ohhhh, you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I followed you.”

“Right.” A nod. “And no DM?” Sunghoon seems to like the way you laugh, uncrossing his arms, and puffing his chest out. “So what did you wanna talk about that just couldn’t wait until you saw me again?” 

“I wanted to catch up.”

A sceptical look crosses his face. “Really? Anything specific you wanted to talk about?” 

“Not really. I just think you’re interesting.”

“Me? Interesting?” The mixture of amusement and surprise on his face makes you laugh. 

“Yes, you, interesting.” A saccharine smile spreads across your lips as you swing your legs over the side of your chair. Sunghoon apologises when your ankle grazes his calf. “Very interesting.” 

Sitting like this, your face is so close to his hips you can see the loose thread at the top of his shorts. He seems to notice, taking a step back. Down the bridge of his nose, he watches you through squinted eyes, furrowing his brow and letting a beat pass. “How so?” 

“There’s a lot of reasons, but, for one, you’re the only figure skater I know.”

So quickly you barely see it, Sunghoon’s lips curl into a frown before he presses them together, nodding. “How’s summer treating you?” He changes the subject. 

You let him. “Pretty good,” you say, bringing a hand up to the tied strap of your swimsuit to pull it to the side. “And I’m tanning pretty well, right, Sunghoon?” 

A massive cloud glides across the sky, casting a welcome shadow over the scorching sun. The transition is gradual but relief is immediate and even Sunghoon sighs. You push your sunglasses up to rest in your hair, taken aback, like always, by how bright it actually is outside. Even with the sun covered up, your eyes sting a little without the tint making you squint up at Sunghoon who watches you with an amused smile. 

“Is there something on my face?” you ask. 

“No, nothing like that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just.. nice catching up with you.”

“Yeah. It is.” You return his smile, liking the way his widens. “So, how’s summer trea—” You’re cut off by the same kid as yesterday, yelling “Sunghoooooooooon!” At the top of his lungs. 

“What were you saying?” 

“Uh,” you start, distracted by the kid pointing at Sunghoon, who waves frantically when he realises he’s caught your eye. “You, uh,” you pause, using a finger to point over to the pool. “I think your friend might need you.” 

He turns to look over his shoulder, the sun shining directly on the side of his face when he does, highlighting the pretty mole on his nose that you’ve somehow never noticed. Sunghoon shakes his head and freezing water splashes onto your stomach, making you flinch. A non-committal sound comes out of his mouth as he shrugs, facing you once again. “It’s just Riki.”

Just Riki doesn’t let up. Instead, he enlists the help of a cute cat-eyed boy, clambering onto his shoulders and balancing precariously as he yells and yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Okay, yeah, I gotta,” Sunghoon sighs, using his thumb to motion towards the pool as he walks backwards away from you. He points a long index finger at you before turning around. “I’m coming back,” he says. 

With a huge splash, Riki falls from his friend’s shoulders unceremoniously, his form disappearing for a moment, replaced by a mess of bubbles and long frantic limbs until he resurfaces. 

“I’m not here to play, I’m here to work!” Sunghoon calls out, walking right off the coping and into the water, swimming towards his friends anyway. 

He doesn’t come back. 

That night you stay at Chaewon’s, rifling through old teen magazines and taking quizzes to determine who your ‘celeb bezzie’ is. Answering mostly C’s, the two of you squeal at the prospect of a friendship with Lindsay Lohan. 

Jaehyun’s complaining when you reach the pool and you figure Yunjin and Kazuha must be nearby. Your hunch is correct when you round the corner by the water slide and see the two of them splashing each other in the small pool. He’s standing with his hands on his hips and yelling something about the literal sign that says they can’t be in there right now. The sign is a bright red fold-out thing, saying in bold white letters that the pool is closed for swimming lessons starting at 1:30 p.m. 

“It’s 1:20, you can’t be in here,” Jaehyun groans, raking a hand through his hair. “I know you guys think because we’re friends you can do what you want but the other lifeguards kicked me from the group chat and Sunghoon said it’s all your fault.” 

The mention of Sunghoon makes your ears perk up, and you decide to insert yourself. “What did they do wrong?” 

Jaehyun practically jumps at the sound of your voice next to him and Yunjin calls out for you to get in! “Don’t you dare,” Jaehyun mutters, cutting his eyes. “Whatever it is was bad enough for Mark, Yeri, and Chaeyoung to decide I’m not worthy of LIFESAVERS 2.0 swimming guy emoji, ring float emoji.” 

“If you got kicked because of them, I don’t see why Sunghoon gets to stay.” You tilt your head, stepping back a little when you feel a splash hitting your feet. “His one million-man friend group takes up half of the big pool every day, competing for who can laugh the loudest, and these two are pretty much doing the same thing.” 

“Yes, but Sunghoon’s friends aren’t breaking the rules.” 

“I saw Riki take an ice cream cone from a kid yesterday.”

“That’s not against the rules,” Jaehyun sighs. “And Chaeyoung thinks Sunghoon’s cute, so.” 

“She does?” you ask too quickly. 

“What do you care?” Jaehyun spares you a glance, arching his brow. He seems to undergo some kind of revelation, gasping a little and nodding his head. “So that’s why you guys are here all the time! You totally like that loser.” 

“Sunghoon’s not a loser, he’s hot.”

“Interesting thing to dispute.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do I need to worry about Chaeyoung?” you ask quietly.

“If you’re trying to hook up with Sunghoon I wouldn’t worry about her.”

You hate his response; hate that instead of really answering you, he’s just left you with even more questions. 

And you hate Chaeyoung for falling into your line of sight just as you mention her. 

She leaves the locker room, laughing about something with Yeri, and making you wonder what exactly she wants with Sunghoon. And why she suddenly feels like your competitor.

“And if I’m not?” 

Jaehyun cackles at your suggestion. “You? Not trying to hook up?” 

You can’t come up with a reason for why his words make your chest ache so you shove him with your elbow before jumping into the water with the girls. The sound of Jaehyun groaning and begging you guys to get out of the pool only dissolves the ache and puts a smile on your face.

Yunjin and Kazuha gang up on you for taking so long to join them but the water feels so cool against your skin you can’t help but enjoy it. 

The sound of what you think is Sunghoon’s voice makes you freeze in your spot. “I can’t keep defending you, man,” he sighs. 

At the sound of a whistle blowing, you raise your hands to cover your ears and all three of you whip your heads in its direction. Sunghoon stands next to Jaehyun with a whistle in his mouth, coughing around the metal when he sees you. He smiles, dropping it to rest against his chest. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hi,” you greet, swimming over to the edge of the pool and resting your arms on it, letting your chin find a home against them. Looking up, you see Jaehyun rolling his eyes before walking off in the opposite direction and Sunghoon stares down at you with a smile on his face.

“How are you?” he asks, fidgeting with the whistle like a charm on a necklace. 

“I’m good, how are you?” 

“Good, me too. Uh-your friends,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “I’m teaching lessons here, in five minutes, so I was wondering if you guys could maybe hang out in the main pool or by the slides instead?” he asks. It seems like he’s asking. “Only if you want.” 

“What if we’re here for lessons?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you guys must be the six-year-olds I’m teaching this afternoon, my bad for assuming.” 

You can’t tell if he was trying to be funny or if that was just something he said for the sake of saying it, but it makes you smile anyway. “You don’t do lessons for grown-ups?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I teach 6 to 12-year-olds, but Mark teaches adult classes on Saturday mornings if you’re interested.”

You nod, lifting yourself out of the pool, dripping water on the concrete. You’re close enough to Sunghoon to clearly see his jaw tensing, and the way his gaze shamelessly falls to your chest for more than a few seconds. 

“What if I’m interested in a one-on-one lesson?” 

Close enough to see the goosebumps that rise on his skin. He licks his lips, holding your gaze. “I guess we could work something out,” he says, clearing his throat when you rest a hand on his wrist, though he doesn’t look away from you. 

It seems like it’s just the two of you and the sun beating against your skin. And his pulse racing against your fingers. 

An excited wail grounds you, brings you back to the pool. “Sunghoonie! Sunghoonie!” You hear over his shoulder, as a tiny girl with pigtails and a huge grin comes rushing over to you. “Look, I got new goggles, look at my new goggles!” 

You take a step back and Sunghoon gasps, holding her Hello Kitty goggles in his hands, inspecting them carefully while crouching down to her level. In his absence, you see more, equally excited, kids plodding along, babbling to each other, followed by parents with small character backpacks slung over their shoulders. 

Sunghoon chats animatedly with her, nodding and gasping and saying really? at all the right times, in a way that summons butterflies. She giggles and holds her belly laughing when he holds her baby sized goggles over his head, asking if he can try them on, and you need to leave before you burst into tears at how sweet he’s being.

Yunjin and Kazuha beam at you when you look over at them, winking dramatically and giving you silent rounds of applause. Your cheeks burn at the sight, mumbling at them to come on, before turning around to walk away. 

“Hey, YN!” Sunghoon calls out, stopping you in your tracks. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and a small smile on his lips. “See you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

The girls have caught up to you by now, Yunjin’s eyebrows waggling suggestively as she links her fingers with yours. “Oh, he is so into you,” Kazuha whispers, wrapping a dripping arm around your shoulders. “Chaewon was right, summer really doesn’t start until you get back.”

In the main pool, you play around with the girls until you’re tired from swimming and the heat, and if it wasn’t for what Sunghoon said, you would have gone home already. You lay back in a lounge chair and close your eyes behind your sunglasses. You could probably fall asleep out here, feeling an odd comfort in the blood-curdling screams and mix of music playing from tiny bluetooth speakers all over the place. 

About five minutes later, you use your fingers to pick out a few pieces of Oreo from Yunjin’s ice cream, deciding they’ll be compensation for having to deal with the sticky dessert trickling down the cone and onto your fingers. Though in this heat, it doesn’t bother you so much.

On your trip back to your seat, you see Heeseung and Sunghoon by the locker room entrance. Standing in the shade, the two of them talk while Sunghoon lets a chunky pair of sunglasses rest on the back of his head, a sight that makes you clench your fist so hard the cone crunches under your fingers. You watch Heeseung’s face split into a grin while he throws his head back laughing, though Sunghoon presses his lips together in a straight line, clearly unimpressed. 

Yunjin jogs over to you, thanking you for the cone and complaining about how stingy Jungwoo’s being with the Oreo pieces these days but taking an appreciative lick anyway, letting her head fall back and a long hum of satisfaction buzz against her lips. “Just go over there and talk to him,” she says after a while. 

“Wow, YJ, thank you. I hadn’t thought of that.” 

She flips you off before walking away.

You don’t mean to catch his eye but he smiles when he sees you, waving when you wave. Heeseung waves too. If Sunghoon had been standing on his own you’d have no problem approaching him, but something about interrupting their conversation puts you off. Heeseung nods at you and calls out your name, inviting you to interrupt them. 

“It’s funny, we were just talking about you,” Heeseung says. You’re not sure how he wants you to respond to that, but Sunghoon looks at him with wide eyes, using his elbow to nudge his oversharing friend. “All good things, of course,” he adds on, raking a hand through his hair. 

“Who could have anything bad to say about you?” Sunghoon asks. 

Out of genuine concern, you ask if they’re okay, which only makes the two of them burst out laughing. Awkward laughter in the form of robotic ha ha has and forced applause. You’re not sure what to make of this, looking back and forth between them with a crease along your brow. High school was probably the last time you talked to Lee Heeseung, but besides the piercings and muscle definition he doesn’t seem to have changed much. 

“How have you been? How’s college?” Heeseung asks after wiping his left eye with the back of his hand. 

“I’ve been good. I saw you graduated last week, congrats!” 

He looks delighted at the mention of his own studies, missing the fact that you’re trying to avoid talking about yours. “Thank you!” he says, beaming. “Do you know what classes you’re taking this year?”

“No.” You shake your head. “You studied music, right?” 

An impossibly brighter grin spreads across his lips, eyes shining with genuine happiness as he nods. “Yeah, I majored in production actually. Best thing I ever did.”

For a while, Heeseung talks about his course though most of it goes over your head as jealousy burns in your stomach. The last three years have gone well enough for you to know that you’re more than just good at your major, so why, like him, can’t you enjoy it too? Right now, you want nothing more than for stupid Heeseung to shut up about his stupid career choices. 

Sunghoon interrupts the conversation, seeming to notice your mild irritation. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, resting a hand on your shoulder.

He doesn’t seem convinced when you nod your head belatedly, clearing your throat. You do your best to focus on the burn of his hand on your skin and not your jealousy. 

Sunghoon looks over at Heeseung, giving him a look that the older boy takes as an invitation to leave, smiling at the both of you before waving goodbye. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice is much softer now that you’re alone, so comforting that you’re tempted to fall into his chest and tell him everything that’s ever upset you.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“You were staring at Heeseung like you wanted to wipe the stupid smile off his face with a bullet.”  

“Actually, I think he has quite a nice smile,” you admit.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees. “But it’s a little annoying, right? Like how everything just seems to go so well for him no matter what. Perfect guy with a perfect major, it’s a little hard not to be jealous of him when he talks like that.” 

“You don’t like what you study?” 

“It’s not my major I’m struggling with.” He lets out a dry laugh. “What about you?” 

A deep sigh rolls out of you, pulling your shoulders down. “I’m good at it so why stop, you know?” 

“Plenty of people stop things they’re good at.” The response comes quicker than you expect, in a defensive tone that makes you want to slice open his brain and take a look inside. “Sorry, I just mean if something isn’t making you happy, then it’s okay to stop. Right?” 

It doesn’t feel like he’s talking about you. “Right,” you affirm anyway. “It’s just that I only have a year left so the way I see it, I should just deal with it, graduate, and worry next summer instead. Uni sorta freaks me out is all,” you explain, shrugging in a way that you hope looks nonchalant. “I don’t like my course, and I don’t like talking about it, so let’s not talk about it.”

Sunghoon nods. “No talking about uni, got it,” he says, holding an imaginary pen and making a note of your words in the palm of his hand, with a tiny smile on his face that makes your stomach twist. “So, what do you like talking about?”

“Literally anything else.” 

“Look at us, so much in common.” There’s a hesitant look on his face, like he’s questioning his word choice but he smiles when you do, letting out a breathy laugh at the sound of a chuckle slipping out of you. 

“Hey, Sunghoon?” you ask after a beat, tilting your head and continuing when he hums. “Do you work here every day?” 

He shakes his head. “Just Monday through Thursday.”

“So, if I wanna see you, I could just come to the pool on those days?” 

“Yeah.” Even in the shade, it’s hard to miss the way his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches at the back of his neck while stifling a smile. “Exactly.” 

“And if it’s Friday or the weekend, and I wanna see you, I could just text you?” 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” That same smile curves on his lips, gentle, happy. 

You think you’d like that too. 

Sunghoon puts his number in your phone and you send a text so he has yours too.

The sun doesn’t set until late that night, and you spend the better part of the evening in the garden with your mum, catching the last moments of the sun’s rays from a blanket in the grass. The sound of her fingers against the keyboard is like a perfect mechanical OST for the summer romance you’re halfway through. Though knowing that the countdown in your email is set to strike zero in a matter of hours makes it difficult to concentrate on what’s going on in the made up beach town you’re reading about.

After a late dinner, you click the link to watch the countdown hit zero before refreshing the page. The stark white background of the login page stings your eyes in your dark room as you wait for the results page to load with a held breath. All three of your course titles are marked with MP for merit pass. A weight falls from your shoulders only to be replaced with another. 

The family group chat doesn’t seem to share your distress. Your dad hearts the message and sends a gif of Michael Scott clapping, your mum texts back that she’s so proud of her baby, and your older brother says KNEW U COULD DO IT! You throw your phone across the room, hiding your face in your pillow to muffle a scream. 

That night, you dream of graduation. Of crossing the stage and seeing the culmination of four long years on a flimsy piece of paper. The ceremony ends and behind closed eyes, you watch yourself sign your life away to a 9-to-5 in a field you hate, the same your brother had done. Drenched in a cold sweat, the nightmare jolts you awake. 

You spend all day in your room for fear of running into your mother and having to discuss your future.

The day after that, the familiar smell of coffee hits your nose as you walk by a cafe you used to frequent in high school, drowning yourself in hot chocolate in the winter and in sweet frozen lemonades in the summertime. If it wasn’t for your plans of seeing Chaewon you might’ve picked something up for nostalgia’s sake. 

Right when you think about her, she calls you. “Bring me a coffee,” Chaewon says. 

“What?” 

“Can you get me some coffee?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you fully expect to see Chaewon standing behind you or perched in one of the bushes across the street with a pair of binoculars. Her voice rings down the phone at you, at a volume you’re sure you would be able to hear if she was watching you from somewhere. “Hello?” 

“Yes, I’ll do it,” you say, ignoring the chill that runs down your spine and hanging up.

A bell rings above your head when you open the door, the cafe greeting you warmly like it always has. You admire its familiar green walls and the organic curves of its interior, from the sweeping archways to the round tables and chairs. Back then, you must have sat in each of them. 

You think you’re going crazy when you hear Sunghoon saying thanks, and you know you’re going crazy when you actually see him leaving the counter with his fingers wrapped around a vibrant orange iced drink. He doesn’t see you, focusing on the phone in his hand and the straw in his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with each sip. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards a table in the far corner, his head moving to the beat of whatever song he’s listening to. He sits in the seat facing away from you, and you stare for so long that the barista has to say excuse me to get your attention. 

After apologising, you order Chaewon’s latte, giving her name over to the barista when she asks and waiting off to the side while she makes it. The whole time, you watch Sunghoon, willing him to look over at you. It doesn’t work.

Not in the way you’d been expecting, at least. Your phone vibrates against your palm.

sh: hey yn! are you doing anything nice today?

You grin at the back of his head. 

yn: seeing chaewon later :) hbu

sh: oh cool i hope you guys have fun!

sh: working later.. closing shift :/ 

When it’s ready, you collect Chaewon’s drink and approach Sunghoon’s table. He’s staring at his phone screen, where you see your conversation over his shoulder — even though it’s been five minutes since he texted you — and have to bite back a smile.

“Hey, you.” The words come out like you intended, light, pleased. 

Sunghoon jumps in his seat anyway, slamming his phone face down on the table and looking up at you. “YN,” he breathes. “Hey.” He wipes his palms on his pants. “What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you, I guess,” you grin, raising the cup in your hand. “Can I sit?” 

“Of course.” A beat passes while you take your seat and Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave you once. 

It’s been a while since you last had a vanilla latte but it’s just as sweet as you remember when you try it, the ice doing a good job at keeping you cool. You tilt your head at the boy in front of you, checking the date on your phone. “It’s Friday today.” 

“Yeah…” Sunghoon squints at you, nodding his head slowly. “Oh, it���s Friday,” he says, seeming to figure out what you were getting at despite the lack of context. “There’s a girl I normally coach on Mondays at the rink, Hyein, but she couldn’t make it this week so we moved her session to this afternoon. To be clear though, I don’t normally work on Fridays. At the rink or otherwise.”

You nod, taking another sip of Chaewon’s coffee and angling the cup so he can’t see her name written on the side of it. 

“So, if you wanted to see me, on a Friday, or over the weekend, you could still text me about that.” 

Smiling, you nod. “Good to know. Do you work Monday to Thursday at the rink as well?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sunlight spills through the tiled windows, warming your skin through the glass. Over his shoulder, the bell by the door rings incessantly and under the sun’s rays, flecks of amber glow in his eyes that crinkle at the corners, a dimple peeking at you as he shakes his head.

“I have my own training at 6 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and then I teach kids classes on Monday and Tuesday nights, and I see Hyein on Monday mornings.”

“6 a.m.?”

“No, our sessions start at 10.”

“I mean your training, you start at 6 in the morning?” 

“Oh.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging. 

“Fuck, that’s so early, I could never.” 

“I mean, that was just my training block during school. 6 to 7:45, so I’d go to the rink, back home to shower, and go to school when I could.” A beat passes before he speaks again, using his straw to stir his drink. “But that was mainly during, like, off-season. If I had competitions coming up then I’d spend entire days at the rink, or dance class, in the gym, so I missed a lot of school.” 

You nod. “I remember.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes flash with something, as his brows knit together for barely a second. He smiles. “Anyway, I did try later sessions when I started college but I was so used to my early sessions that I’d still wake up at 5 a.m. even though my classes didn’t start until the afternoon.” 

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when you ask about Hyein, and excitement in his voice while he tells you all about her. About how much potential she has, even though she doesn’t seem to realise it; about how much better she’s gotten in the year since they met and how similar she is to him at her age.

After a very slow walk with Sunghoon, you reach Chaewon’s place. It doesn’t hit you that you’re empty-handed until she opens the door and frowns at you, asking where you’ve been and what happened to her coffee.

It starts to feel like you’re running out of friends to take to the pool when, a few days later, the entire girls chat is too busy to come along, and Lee Jeno from an engineering lecture you took two years ago sits in the chair next to you, lazily flipping through an old copy of Dazed Magazine. Even if only as a last resort, Jeno makes good company seeing as you like the funny Tiktoks he shows you and the way he sneaks vodka into your slushy behind your towel. 

For a while, you pretend not to care about Sunghoon’s absence in hopes he’ll spawn from the pool’s deep end. Surprisingly, he does not. And just like that, an ugly pattern is formed: you go to the pool, wait all day for Sunghoon, and eventually, stumble back home in a daze from alcohol or sunstroke. 

It takes four and a half more, uneventful, Sunghoonless visits to the pool to leave you trying not to tear your hair out at Chaewon’s dining table. 

Kazuha serves as a good distraction though, making you quiz her on the details of Kim Yeri’s driving licence so she can come out to the club with you guys. Between the two girls looking nothing alike and Kazuha thinking a March birthday makes her a Sagittarius, you’re not hopeful. 

When she goes to the toilet, you check your phone just to be sure Sunghoon hasn’t texted in the twelve minutes since you last checked. And like before, the only messages you find are from Yeonjun asking if you’re “tryna slide” later. You aren’t, and haven’t been for the last two weeks he’d been asking. Completely unrelated to a certain blond lifeguard, of course. You sigh, thinking of Sunghoon again and why he hasn’t texted yet.

There’s nothing stopping you from sending the first text (today) — except for the fact that you’d been texting back and forth until you accidentally aired him at the start of the week. Unless you’re trying to hook up, you never send the first message. And as much as you would like to hook up with Sunghoon, there’s something about him that’s too endearing to only experience in the quiet of a backseat at 3 a.m., or in your room when no one’s home.

Four shots and a lot of egging on seem to be all you need to make your way to Sunghoon’s DMs. You let Chaewon and Kazuha debate over what your opening message should be, and with shaky thumbs, you type out something simple. Much to your friend’s (and your own) disappointment, you eventually settle on hey handsome. 

sh: hiiiiiiiiiii

For a while, you watch as Sunghoon types and stops and types and stops before his message comes through. 

sh: pretty

You can’t help the giggle that comes out, clearing your throat when Chaewon raises a brow at you. The two of you hold eye contact for a beat before erupting into a fit of laughter. 

you: i haven’t seen you at the pool in a while and i was wondering if you’re ok..

sh: yn.. have you been at my workplac e waiitng for me to show up again ???

you: are you ok.

sh: i think it’s cute that you did that, my friends tol d me they saw you there every day this week

you: why are your friends reporting my whereabouts to you..

sh: i asked them to, also im good i just took some days off

sh: back monday am i gonna see u then?

you: or we could just see each other on one of your off days?

On the left side of the screen, you watch animated ellipses dance above the keyboard before halting, though no message comes to replace them and it doesn’t take you long to figure out that the message hasn’t come through because your phone is frozen. 

Right?

You let out a laugh at your stupidity while Chaewon looks at you like you’re insane, turning off your phone and letting it sit for a bit before turning it back on. Wasting no time, you go straight to Instagram and pull up the DM thread where the word seen sits underneath your last message, laughing at you. 

Perplexed by what seems like your first rejection ever, you’re not quite sure how to move on so you send a text to the group chat (mainly for Yunjin, the only one who isn’t present). Yunjin replies with a message suggesting Sunghoon’s phone died. In the chair opposite, Chaewon suggests maybe he died. Jaehyun brings you more shots to cope with your heartache and you clutch your stomach laughing when he squirts lime juice into his eye.

Because your friends don’t respect you, you end up in the middle seat when the Uber arrives; sandwiched between Chaewon and Kazuha, drinking as much vodka as you can stomach from the younger girl’s flask while she mutters March 5th, Taurus over and over again. 

All that hard work was done in vain, though; when you reach the club Kazuha insists on being the first to go up in line, and tears start streaming when the bouncer asks what part of Seoul she was born in. Yeri’s ID gets confiscated and the four of you pile into another Uber and head to your backup plan, which you only learn about when the car pulls up.

Living in another city for uni means you’ve never partied with Sunghoon’s friends before — beyond walking by each other in a club — and some combination of excitement and alcohol makes your stomach heat up as you think about seeing him again.

Nishimura Riki’s family home is a giant structure that takes up more room than what’s probably necessary. There’s a massive fountain in the middle of the driveway shooting a stream, out of the mouth of what you think is a lion, into its main bed of water. The grand front door has banners criss-crossed over it saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM SUNOO! Before you reach it, the door swings open and Jay’s jaw is even sharper than you remember when you see him so close. He grins at you and your friends, whooping obnoxiously at the sight of Jaehyun, dapping him up before waving awkwardly at you, Chaewon and Kazuha. You watch him lean over to Jaehyun and ask if that chick’s okay, while not so subtly pointing at the youngest of you all. 

When you look at her, black streaks of mascara tear through her blush like a knife though she wears a bright smile as she eyes Jay like a predator. You nudge her in the ribs and make a mental note to find a bathroom to help her fix her makeup. She frowns when you take her hand and enter the house, leaving Chaewon with Jaehyun and Jay, the three of which chat easily with one another.

Upstairs in the main bathroom, you kneel on the floor between Kazuha’s legs, gently running a makeup wipe over her face while she sits on the lid of the toilet babbling about Jay. “He’s the one,” she says determinedly. “I mean, he was worried about me.. he barely knows me and he was asking if I was okay. Like, how did he know I’d been upset?” You wonder if Kazuha has seen her face in the last half hour. Or if she knows why you insisted on taking her makeup off. 

“Right,” you nod, knowing it’s easier to agree with a drunk Kazuha than face an argument.

“It’s a feeling. Like, sometimes you just have to look through the eyes of your soul, and everything will work out.”

It’s amazing to you that she can say the things she says without laughing. But there’s a finality in her tone that makes you hope she’s right. 

With Kazuha all cleaned up, you’re able to focus on how crammed the house actually is. There are people in every room of the house, sitting on the porch, in the backyard. People are everywhere and you’re not sure you’ll ever manage to reunite with your friends. In favour of getting to know Jay, Kazuha presses a kiss to your cheek and runs off in the opposite direction. You head for the kitchen knowing that Chaewon will most likely be in there somewhere, batting her lashes at a tall graduate in hopes to score a free smoke. 

People are grinding and hanging off one another in the hall and the living room, making out by the stairs, and in what looks like the only empty spot in the kitchen Sunghoon leans against the counter, taking generous gulps from something in a red cup. Judging by his smart trousers and pretty black cardigan, Sunghoon has also developed a personal style in the time since you’ve last been home. A dent forms in Sunghoon’s cheek when he sees you, a sweet crinkle in his eyes as he says hi! 

You can’t figure out whether you should hug him or not but he looks so sweet with his wide smile and flushed cheeks that your arms widen of their own accord. His embrace is gentle, wrapping you up in a mixture of toned arms, soft cotton, liquor, and something light, floral, you think. 

“Can I fix you something to drink?” Sunghoon asks quietly, you only just hear him before he lets you go. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he says, reaching over the counter to grab a cup for you. 

“Yeah, I didn’t either.” 

“I was your backup plan?” 

“Oh, come on.” You nudge his shoulder with your hand as he screws the cap back on a bottle of lemonade. “I wouldn’t use those words. If I’d known about the party you would’ve been the plan.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t use those words.”

“You’re using those words,” you say, grinning when he laughs. 

You both go back and forth on it for a while, as Sunghoon tries to find Malibu in the mess of bottles cluttering the countertop. A wide grin spreads across his face when he does and you watch him fill the empty space in your cup before handing it to you. 

The first sip is syrupy sweet on your tongue, forcing an appreciative hum out of you. “So good,” you say through a dreamy sigh, shaking your head before taking another gulp. 

From his nose, he lets out a breathy laugh, his lips quirking up at the corners as he watches you. “It’s good to know my bartending classes are paying off.” 

“Have you ever considered a recipe book?” you ask, putting the cup down next to your phone, looking up at Sunghoon who seems to seriously consider this for a while before nodding. 

Almost experimentally, he rests his hand on your hip. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he tells you, holding you a little closer when he sees that you’re okay with it. 

You tilt your head at him, pretending not to remember the way he’d left you on read. “What happened earlier?” 

“On.. iMessage,” he starts, trailing off at the end though he continues when you nod. “I’m not good at talking to pretty girls.”

Despite not fully believing him, there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your stomach flutter. “Lucky for you, I’m very good at talking to pretty boys.” 

You can’t tell if he’s flustered or drunk, but his cheeks redden after you speak. 

“Pretty boys, me?” 

“Who else?” 

Sunghoon’s laugh comes out in ha ha ha’s, and if you couldn’t see the way his eyes crinkled up you might have thought he was faking it.

For a moment, his gaze flickers between your eyes and mouth, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he speaks. “I don’t want you thinking I’m not interested or anything.” His voice is low, almost too quiet for the cramped space where Me and Your Mama bounces off the walls and rowdy kids constantly bump into you. 

With his hand still burning through your dress, he nudges you, turning you both around to take your place. Your ass rests against the edge of the countertop and the drunk students bump into him instead. “I’m just.. still figuring out how to stop being so shy all the time,” he says, using his thumb to lift the fallen strap of your dress.

You’re having a tough time believing him. If this is what being so shy looks like for Sunghoon, you’re terrified to see him being confident. 

The heat of his lingering hand against your bare shoulder only leaves you drawing a blank. Part of you feels silly for saying that you’re very good at talking to pretty boys. You’re way out of your depth right now.

“But you,” he trails off, looking between your eyes and lips again. His hand starts to tremble against your waist. “You make it so hard.” 

“I do?” you ask dumbly, at a complete loss for words, trying not to read too much into his word choice. Why, anyone could say that word, hard, and not mean anything by it, it’s a word after all. An adjective, you think. 

Get out of your head. 

“Mm,” Sunghoon nods solemnly. “You have no idea.”

Three people nudge past you, each one shoving into him harder than the last; he looks thankful when you suggest going outside. His fingers brush against yours before he pulls them away, turning around to head for the garden immediately. 

The smell of smoke spikes through the fresh air, strong enough to make your head swim as Sunghoon closes the back door behind you. “Wow,” you whisper, looking around. It’s like stepping into a whole new party, with slow R&B pumping out into the summer heat. The garden spills out way beyond what your eyes can see, glowing with twinkling fairy lights and excited chatter.

“I know, right.” 

There’s a two step staircase in the centre that you follow Sunghoon up, mumbling an apology to the couple whose makeout sesh you had to break up to do so. Both of your footsteps crunch against the stone path that splits the grass, and — at Sunghoon’s request — you tell him everything that led you to this party tonight. Leaving out all of the overthinking that went into the text you eventually sent him of course.

“Wait, how old is Kazuha?” 

“21, she’s just waiting on her new ID coming in the mail.” 

“What happened to her old one?” 

“I think she’s like.. 13 or something in her old photo, and we didn’t get in last week either ‘cause the bouncer didn’t think it was her,” you pause. “Or she just looked too young in the photo. I’m not sure.”

You can hear Sunghoon humming along to the SZA song that’s playing, tilting his head at your words. His brows knit together for a beat, and he has to grab you by the forearm to keep you from tripping over your own feet. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, as he maintains his grip on you. “Thanks,” you say through a breath, trying to focus on anything other than his touch. 

“Let’s sit, yeah?” 

Sunghoon rests his arm around your shoulders when you nod, keeping you upright as you walk slowly towards the back of the garden. “I don’t know where you guys go out, but one time, we put Riki in a dress and gave him Hwang Yeji’s ID.”

“And then stayed home?” The mental image makes you cackle, getting funnier with each second you dwell on it, but your breath catches in your throat when you look up at him, shaking his head as best as he can while laughing. The way his head falls back, showing off the column of his neck and angle of his jaw forces you to screw your eyes shut to stop the thoughts of kissing him there. 

“And then took him to the club with us and got him to buy our first round.”

With each thing he shares about that night, it grows more and more unbelievable, leaving your jaw on the floor as he leads you around a timber shed (that houses a hot tub) to a big swingy chair thing. “I’ll find the photos in a sec,” he smiles. “Let me hold your cup while you sit.” 

The spot provides about as much privacy as you figure a packed house party could afford. Not that you need privacy to be endeared by Sunghoon or anything. You take him up on his offer, sitting down and watching as he ignores the phone ringing in his pocket, handing you back your drink. Even though you’re not thrilled about the interruption, you tell him he should at least check who it is. 

“Jungwon?” He flinches, yanking the phone away from his ear. Jungwon’s voice is so loud you can hear him despite the distance. “Yeah I got it, I’m at the swing outside.” The call ends there and Sunghoon still doesn’t sit down and neither of you speaks. 

Blinking fairy lights are strung neatly around the swing’s frame. Only a few of the bulbs are working, but together they produce enough light for you to see the sun-bleached blue of the cushion you’re sitting on, and the way Sunghoon’s looking straight at you. You smile. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a while, completely spaced out, until a broad-shouldered child arrives. 

Sunghoon daps him up and your brows raise when he pulls a short, flat bottle of vodka from his back pocket to give to Jungwon. “How much do I owe you?” he asks, taking the bottle. 

“For the drink or for the lifelong tab you and Riki have been racking up?” 

Chuckling, Jungwon shakes his head and points his thumb at Sunghoon. “Don’t you just love that sense of humour?”

The two boys share a look, and Jungwon nods in understanding. He affectionately pats Sunghoon’s bicep, face lighting up in awe. “Wow!” he gasps, turning to glance at you. “Have you felt the muscles on this guy? I wanna be just like him when I grow up.” With wide eyes, he nudges Sunghoon in your direction. 

Despite his apparent indifference towards Jungwon’s attempts at hyping him up, Sunghoon comes closer to you, letting you feel his arm anyway. He flexes his bicep — all firm, sculpted muscle through his soft cardigan — under your fingers in a way that spreads fire in your stomach. Unintentionally, you catch his gaze and your breath gets stuck in your throat. A quiet laugh slips from his lips as he puts his arm down. 

It’s hard not to think about what Jungwon had said about growing up, and even harder not to study him to figure out his age. His outfit is similar to Sunghoon’s; loose pants and a knitted cardigan which does nothing to help you make an estimate. Not being able to buy his own booze tells you that he’s not your age, his wide eyes and round cheeks only make him seem like a child, but his height and broad shoulders throw you off.

“How old are you?” you ask, giving in to your curiosity. 

“21,” he says, too quickly. “.. in two years.” 

He lingers for a bit to hype Sunghoon up some more; not so subtly bringing up his great qualities, like his considerate nature and unwavering dedication. Though Sunghoon’s “never ending” patience wears out and he asks him to leave. With a nod, Jungwon waves goodbye before sprinting back towards the house. Sunghoon laughs watching his friend and sinks into the seat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours for a beat before he closes his legs and rests his arms over the back of the chair.

“Wow,” you grin, leaning into his side. “Figure skating legend Park Sunghoon buys alcohol for kids.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not a legend.” 

You raise a brow, a smirk playing at your lips. “That’s the part you’re disputing?”

“Well, the other part is true,” he says, chuckling though unable to hide the flash of discomfort in his eyes. “If you consider a 19-year-old a kid.” 

“You’re way too humble.”

“Anyone could be good with the right coach, and I have, like, the most supportive parents ever so they help me a lot.”  

“Well, yeah, probably, but even then, your parents aren’t the ones skating, you are,” you point out. 

Sunghoon deflates, sighing heavily. “Can we talk about something else?” He takes a sip from his cup in a silent plea for you to drop it. When his eyes meet yours, his lips press into a flat smile and the soft lighting brings out the dimple in his cheek. 

You nod, using your hand to push his hair away from his forehead. The flat smile spreads across his face as you play with his light hair, that’s somehow silky smooth under your fingers despite the bleach. It’s a little messy when you move your hand, sitting over his thick brows in a way that, when paired with his boyish grin, makes him look younger. 

A dull thump startles both of you as a couple jog away from the shed with linked hands and no regard for you or Sunghoon. Neither of you bother trying to hide your amusement when you meet each other’s eyes, laughing hard enough to make the swing sway. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after calming down — maybe too late. 

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to be.”

The smile on his face is soft, sincere, but does nothing for the guilt you feel over stressing him out — your lips tug into a frown.

“Hey,” Sunghoon whispers and his forehead is warm against yours when he nudges you, grinning at the way you giggle when he pulls away. “I’m not upset or anything.” he pauses. “I don’t think I’m upset or anything, I’m just tired, you know. I spend a lot of time talking about skating during the day and there’s, like, a million and one other things I’d rather talk about right now.”

His honesty assuages your guilt and piques your curiosity. “Yeah?” you ask, arching a brow. Sunghoon nods. “Other things like..” 

He hesitates, caught off by the suggestiveness in your tone, by the way your hand grazes his knee before resting low on his thigh. A gulp echoes in his throat. “Uh, like..” His voice trails off. 

There’s a flutter in your chest as a smile tugs at your lips. “Why don’t we start with those pictures of Riki at the club?” 

“Riki at the club,” he repeats, nodding his head. “I can do that.” 

Sunghoon’s arm falls around your shoulders when you nestle into him, close enough now that his scent hits you effortlessly. A tiny square in his camera roll expands under his thumb, showing you Riki in a tight black halter dress with his hair grown out and styled in neat curls. There’s a boxy grin spread across his lips while he holds Yeji’s ID next to his face. In the next picture, he crouches between Shin Ryujin and Lee Chaeryeong while the three of them make kissy faces for the camera. “And then he had two shots of Fireball and passed out in a booth so we had to carry him home.” 

A laugh bubbles in your throat at the sight of Riki hunched over in a booth with his head on the table, and tears start to spill when you watch the video of Heeseung stumbling down the street, accidentally letting Riki slip off his back and onto the concrete. 

Out of nowhere, Sunghoon’s eyes practically bulge out of his head; an expression you’ve only seen on Kazuha whenever she suspects she left her flat iron on at home. Dread settles in your stomach as you brace yourself for what he might say next. “Just give me a minute,” he says, his words holding an urgency that only fuels your nerves. “I need to text someone.” 

Sunghoon thinking about talking to someone else while you’re trying to get to know him isn’t your favourite thing. In fact, it feels worse than what you imagine might happen if Kazuha actually does leave her flat iron on one day — because it shuts off automatically after 15 minutes.

You try hiding your disappointment but you can feel your lips drooping at the corners as he angles his phone away from you, deep in thought about this message he so urgently has to send. Whatever, you think. Couldn’t care less.

At long last, he finishes typing and pulls air through his teeth before putting his phone back in his pocket, drumming his nails against the seat until your phone goes off in your lap. In a fit of Kazuha-inspired absurdity, you want Sunghoon to feel bad about his lack of manners, so you ignore the notification despite your burning curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asks, his gaze fixed on you expectantly. 

You shake your head. “It can wait.” 

A frown creases Sunghoon’s brow and you hate it; checking your phone immediately to find two texts from the boy sitting next to you.

sh: hey yn! sorry i took so long

sh: if it’s not too late do u wNt to go on a date with me next saturday?

After six days of exchanging Spotify links with Sunghoon over text, Saturday rolls around, and the doorbell chimes earlier than you’d been expecting it to. You call out that you’ll get the door, grab your bag and bolt down the stairs. With a hand on the door handle, you catch your breath, an act that seems pointless when you see Sunghoon through the glass. The door creaks open and his neck snaps in your direction, jaw falling to the floor. 

He waves. 

Your greeting is followed only by silence, your Hey, Sunghoon, dissipating into the sticky summer heat as he chews on his cheek, letting his eyes scan your body over and over. If he didn’t look so nervous you might have offered to pose for a picture. “How are you?” you ask, locking the door behind you and double-checking that you did lock it before tossing your keys into your purse. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. “And I love your dress,” he adds. “Very pretty.”

“Yeah?”

Sunghoon nods and suddenly, your group FaceTime call with Chaewon, Minjeong, and Yunjin feels like two hours well spent. 

While you tried on every summer outfit in your wardrobe for them to judge, Minjeong gave enthusiastic reactions to Sunghoon’s tagged photos, or, rather, to Mark in Sunghoon’s tagged photos but even she was struck by the outfit you settled on. The pretty floral dress that sits at the middle of your thighs that Sunghoon can’t seem to look away from. Hopefully, you’ll remember to thank them appropriately. 

You follow him to his car where he opens the passenger door for you. Struck by the fact that this is the first time anyone’s done that for you, and the sound of his hand rattling against the metal, you sit down, beaming up at him as he closes the door. Sunghoon’s car is neat, and tidy, and smells pleasantly of the new car scent Little Tree that hangs, completely still, from his rearview mirror. Through the clean windscreen, you watch him walk around the front of the car with pursed lips. 

“You like ice cream, right?” he asks when he sits down, looking over at you nervously. 

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?” 

Sunghoon takes you to a little old diner themed ice cream spot with checkerboard floors and a handful of plush vinyl booths. Some of the walls have cursive LED signs that you can’t quite make out and a great big jukebox in the back corner plays What Makes You Beautiful. 

It doesn’t surprise you that Sunghoon is quiet when it’s just you guys, but you can tell that he’s trying his best. He listens attentively to everything you have to say, nodding his head and asking thoughtful questions at all the right times; he makes you laugh more than you ever have. He practically lights up when you bring up his friends. 

“Your friends are so cute,” you say with a smile, thinking of the change Riki had given Yunjin to buy those slushys the other day. 

“If you knew my friends you wouldn’t think that,” Sunghoon says, a fond smile that goes against his words spreading on his face at the mention of them. “Except Jake,” he corrects. “Jake is so cute, yes.” 

“I don’t think I know which one he is,” you admit. “I know Heeseung, I know Jay, Jungwon, and Riki..” you trail off, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his lower lip.

“Jake is the cute one,” he frowns. “You’ll know him when I show you.” Sunghoon takes his phone from his pocket, scrolling for a while. “I’m sorry, I can’t find a normal photo of all seven of us.” 

“Just show me whatever,” you say, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his bottom lip.

Without thinking, you reach over the table, using your thumb to wipe it away. Sunghoon’s cheeks immediately flush with pink and he gulps watching you suck the ice cream from the pad of your finger.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, shy, while turning his phone towards you to show the most absurdly staged photograph you think you’ve ever seen. “So, uh, Jake is.. he’s the one holding Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo’s posing in front of Jay.” Sunghoon hands you his phone when he’s done talking.

You use the opportunity to examine the picture. 

Jake (so cute) really does hold Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo (also so cute) shows the camera his pretty side profile and a thumbs up. Some other things stick out to you in the photo, a laugh making its way out of you as you notice that Jungwon isn’t there but Jay holds up a printed picture of him in his right hand. Riki sits between Jay and Jake, wearing a concerned expression about something going on off-camera. Sunghoon is in the back, holding what looks like a yoga pose on the back of the couch they’re sitting on. 

Happily, you let Sunghoon tell you more about his friends until the sun starts to set and the backs of your thighs stick to the vinyl seat. Not quite ready to say goodbye, you ask Sunghoon if you can go on a walk together. He seems into the idea, nodding his head and smiling down at you. 

Walking aimlessly, the two of you maintain a neutral silence (not uncomfortable, not particularly comfortable either, just quiet), and pretend not to notice the way the backs of your hands touch, each bump longer than the last though amounting to nothing. 

It’s not until comforted by the smell of chemically treated water that you realise how close to the pool you are. You follow Sunghoon around a corner and see the locked gates, wondering if he’d brought you this way on purpose or just out of habit. 

“Wish it was open,” you say off-handedly, not really meaning anything by it. Like telling the person you sit beside on the first day of class that you’re so tired even though you had the best night of sleep in your life. 

Sunghoon isn’t beside you when you look over at him, he’s a few paces behind you, standing by the gates. A mischievous smile spreads on his lips as he holds his keys in his hand, dangling them. “It could be.” 

“Are we allowed to do this?” you ask nervously, watching Sunghoon twist his key in the lock. 

“Allowed to?” he repeats, tilting his head as though the concept is foreign to him. “No, I don’t think so.” A satisfying click sounds as the lock comes undone and Sunghoon pushes the gate open with a huge grin on his face as he gestures for you to go inside first. “After you.” 

He follows you in, shutting the gate behind him and holding out a hand for you to take; you lock your fingers with his and decide that you never want to let go. Not even after a thin layer of sweat forms between your palms. 

The space seems so large when it’s empty like this, with the parasols closed and the lack of screaming children. Streetlights cover the area in a dim orange haze, turning it into a fuzzy dreamscape. The pool itself seems so small when you see it covered up, nothing like the ocean-wide abyss you remember it being when you were young, racing with Chaewon, or pretending like you were only playing around when you tried to drown Jaehyun. 

“Do you wanna get in?” Sunghoon asks, his soft voice interrupting your thoughts. 

You don’t hesitate to nod. 

One night a week, the pool stays open until after dark, but you’ve never been. So when the mechanised pool cover whirs open after Sunghoon flips the switch, you’re shocked by the lights that illuminate the still water. It makes sense that the pool would have some form of lighting for safety, but you hadn’t expected the yellowing fixtures set in the tiled walls to shine so beautifully.

“Come on,” he says, taking you by the hand again, approaching the water. 

A part of you wants to protest when he lets go, but the words catch in your throat as he pulls his shirt over his head. Having spent the better part of most summers poolside, the sight of shirtless Sunghoon isn’t a new one though you find yourself breathless all the same. It’s different tonight but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Worried you’ll break the spell, you can’t bring yourself to speak. Worried you’ll open your mouth and the moment might slip out from under you. These worries, however, are no match for Sunghoon’s slim waist which leaves your mouth forming an O at the sight. 

“Wow,” you whisper, awestruck. 

Sunghoon laughs, nervously, running a hand through his hair and using the other to hold his shirt over his stomach. “Don’t do that,” he says under his breath. He drops the shirt. The rest of his clothes follow, quickly leaving him in only his tight-fitting black boxer briefs that you struggle to look away from. 

An odd feeling starts to creep in, causing a fire in your belly — obviously from the sweet cider you had earlier, nothing at all to do with Sunghoon. Or his sculpted torso. Or his face, with his soft smile, and sparkling eyes. No one’s ever looked at you like this before.

“What are you thinking about?” 

Those shoulders. Those lips. Kissing those lips. You gulp. “Nothing.” 

Even though he doesn’t look like he believes you, he doesn’t press you on it. Instead, he smiles. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards the pool’s edge to dip a pointed toe into the water. You like the way he hums, nodding his head as if it’s just to his liking. 

“Feels good?”

“Perfect,” he grins, stepping into the pool. 

A splash makes the water ripple around him — you’ve never noticed it’s so clear, you can see everything. From the mosaic-like blue tiles on the pool floor and walls to the way Sunghoon’s hair moves around his head. It’s a dazzling blue, shifting brilliantly through the whole spectrum under light from the moon, the pool, and the lampposts. 

Considering the way you’re sweating in the sticky heat, the water even looks refreshing, so you’re not sure why you don’t move to pull your dress off; or why you can’t shake your nerves. Sunghoon’s seen you in skin-tight dresses, and skimpy bikinis, so you’re not sure why the thought of him seeing you in your underwear is spooking you so much. It could be your lack of a bra. But even then, Sunghoon isn’t going to be the first person to see your bare breasts.

Interrupting your thoughts, he bobs to the surface with closed eyes and straight lips; his dimple shows. Pushing hair from his forehead, he asks if you’re going to join him though he seems to sense your apprehension, shaking his head. “You don’t have to take anything off,” he tells you gently. “Except maybe your shoes and socks.” 

You nod, stepping out of your shoes and pulling your socks off almost robotically. 

“It’s okay,” he smiles, comforting, reassuring, as he swims up to the edge of the pool and extends his wet hand to you. “I got you.”

You tell yourself to get out of your head, looking into Sunghoon’s sparkling eyes and feeling at ease from the way he looks up at you like you’re God’s gift. When you reach for the bottom of your dress, he gulps, his arm falling limply against the coping. You turn away from him to pull the light fabric over your head, letting it fall in a heap next to your shoes, and Sunghoon’s looking in the other direction when you turn back around. Even with the ‘privacy’ he’s afforded you by looking away, you can’t help but use your arms to cover your chest as you make your way over to the pool, sitting down on the edge and slipping into the water. 

It is refreshing. The water is the perfect temperature as it envelops you, soothes you.

Just more than an arm’s length away, Sunghoon’s form is broad. His shoulders are so wide and his back so toned that your head starts to swim. His skin, sunkissed, glowing, is dotted with pretty moles that you’ve never noticed before but can’t look away from — suddenly feeling as though you could point to each one with your eyes closed. 

With an odd half step, you reach him, letting your arms fall around his waist and pressing your chest to his back. You don’t know why you do that.

He draws a sharp breath. “Hi,” he whispers after a beat. 

“Hi.” 

A quiet falls between you until Sunghoon mumbles, over there, while pointing towards the deep end of the pool. You swim poorly behind him and he only stops when you call out his name. Sunghoon breaks out into laughter when he sees you. For him, who’s well into the deep end, the, now still, water might tease his chin if disrupted. For you, almost 2 metres behind, the water tickles your nose even when you stand on your tiptoes.

“Whoa,” he whispers. 

You tilt your head back to speak. “What?” 

“You’re just..” He pauses to gulp. “So short.”  

Offended, you scoff. “I’m the tallest out of all my friends,” you say defensively. And untruthfully — hoping he’s never seen you standing next to Yunjin.

“Are you friends with the Lakers?”

You drift away from him, laughing as well, until the water just about reaches your armpits. He follows you. As more of his body breaches the surface, water slips from his chest, droplets and streaks glowing under the white light of the moon, completely breathtaking.

“I was so nervous about today,” he says, pushing some water towards you, his lighthearted tone gone. 

“Oh?” You pause, continuing when he nods, and push water back in his direction. “How do you feel now?” 

Sunghoon’s pouty lips jerk up the corners, playful, boyish. A soft laugh slips from the space between his teeth. “I’m absolutely terrified.” His honesty draws you to him, and has you actually drifting closer in the water.

“What’s scaring you?” 

His breath seems to catch in his throat. He tilts his head while eyeing you. “Are you asking because you really don’t know?” If you’d still been splashing each other you doubt you’d have heard him talking over the water.

“Does it matter?”

Sunghoon seems to consider this for a moment, to consider you. Despite sitting just high enough to cover your breasts, the water doesn’t do very much to conceal them and his eyes get stuck on your chest for more than a little while. He clears his throat, looking back up at your face. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he raises his hands and smacks the surface of the water between you with open palms. A big splash hits you in the face. 

It’s on, you think, doing the same thing to him with all the force you can muster and laugh at the yelp he lets out. Something of a splash fight ensues, both of you doing everything you can to create a bigger mess of water to attack the other with. 

The rain starts so subtly that you don’t even notice it at first. You’re both too busy laughing and trying to splash the other harder to think about anything else. Only when you stop to catch your breath, to rest your aching arms, do you catch the faint ripples skating across the pool’s surface. Sunghoon doesn’t relent, taking the opportunity to gain the upper hand. And the rain gets heavy fast.

“Sunghoon, it’s raining, stop!” you call out, turning your face away from him. His raucous laughter makes your stomach flutter as you grab his wrist. “Come on, we’re gonna get wet, we have to go!” 

When you look back over at him, his smile is so wide, so sweet that you almost feel faint. Sunghoon doesn’t stop laughing, the sound is so contagious you can’t help but join in. His arms fall around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do while he cackles in front of you, you let your hands rest on his firm triceps. 

Large droplets start hitting your lashes, clinging to them, obscuring your vision, so you bring a hand up to act like an awning above your eyes. He calls you so cute under his breath though his laughter doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon. 

“Hoon, come on. What’s so funny?”

The rain is cold against your shoulders but the boy in front of you doesn’t seem to share your concerns about the sudden downpour. You lock eyes with him, and his laughter seems to get caught in his throat. He’s still smiling but seems nervous, as though he’s only now become aware that he’s holding you so close that your naked chest is pressed against his. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. His smile returns, as a breathy laugh makes its way from his nose. He lets his face come down towards yours, slow, cautious, and too desperate to wait, you meet his lips halfway; they’re every bit as soft as you’d imagined. 

As if relieved, Sunghoon’s shoulders sag and his body seems to melt into your own. Desperation, hunger hits you from all angles, lighting up your insides and leaving your skin burning under his touch. Unthinkingly, you link your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close, almost whimpering when his tongue grazes yours.

Sunghoon tastes light and sugary, like the perfect combination of artificial strawberry and sweet coffee as his tongue moves against yours. From your mouth into his slips a dreamy sigh, while he holds onto you gently, like you’re the most delicate thing in the world; like he’s the most delicate thing. Why haven’t you been kissed like this before? So slowly, so softly, as if he means it. As if he’s kissing you for no reason other than simply wanting to kiss you. 

Only when he pulls away to catch his breath do you regain your senses and notice how much heavier the rain has become. But your brain short circuits at the sight of him. His breathing is ragged, his chest rises and falls against yours. Water darkened hair clings to his forehead, letting beads slip from its ends to his cheekbone before slipping down the column of his neck.

Shelter is the only word you manage to say and all you can do is hope that he’s able to work out the rest. Like something from the purest depths of your imagination, Sunghoon’s kiss-bitten lips stretch into a wide smile. A giggle, the softest thing you’ve ever come across, slips from his mouth while his fingers squeeze at your hips. 

“YN,” he says, breathless. “We’re in the pool.”

Dripping water onto the concrete under your feet, you and Sunghoon walk at snail’s pace from his car to your front door, with your linked hands swinging between your bodies. 

The porch light diffuses dramatically over Sunghoon’s features, and somehow, even under the stark lighting, he’s still beautiful. His wet hair drips water onto his shoulders, darkening his shirt in abstract splashes around the neckline. A grin splits across his lips when he locks eyes with you, his face scrunching up and his shoulders racking up and down as he laughs to himself. 

It’s impossible not to join in. “What’s so funny?” 

He only shrugs in response, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’m just.. happy,” he says eventually, a tinge of uncertainty hanging from his words. 

With shaking hands, Sunghoon grabs you by the waist and holds you close, leaning down to kiss you. As your lips move with his, the only thing you can think about is how badly you want to feel this moment forever. To feel the tremble in sweet Sunghoon’s hands as he holds onto you gently, to feel his soft hair under your fingertips, and his hard chest pressed against your body. To feel his lips curving into a smile, his forehead resting on yours as his breath fans your lips. “Are you happy too?” he asks. 

You think you’ll die if you ever forget the way it feels to like Park Sunghoon.

“Yes. Very.” 

Through the peephole in your front door, you watch as Sunghoon stands outside, bringing a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the spot where you’re certain your lip gloss lingers. You suppress a giggle with your hand and run up the stairs to your room where you bury your face in your pillow to muffle a squeal. You can’t remember the last time you felt so giddy over something that was happening in your own life rather than something sweet you’d read in a book or heard about from a friend.

With Chaewon’s hand in yours, and butterflies in your stomach, you make your way to the community pool for the first time in about a week. Like always, you find Sunghoon’s friends wreaking havoc in the water until.. something happens. By the time it occurs, you’ve been laying poolside for about an hour, trying to convince your best friend that you liking a guy isn’t going to do anything to your friendship. 

“You’re not supposed to like that guy,” Chaewon whines like a child, playing with the frayed hem of her shorts. “You’re only supposed to like me!” A sigh passes from her lips as she uses her arm to shield her eyes from the sun. “And Yunjin!” she adds after too long. 

“What about the rest of our friends?” 

“And Kazuha, and Minjeong, and Jaehyun, an—” 

“Jaehyun’s a guy.” 

She seems a little thrown off by your interruption, pursing her lips before speaking. “Well, yeah, but.. he’s one of our guys. A Chaewon-approved guy.” 

Suddenly, the noise level reduces by at least half and you can’t help but feel alarmed, whipping your head in the direction of the pool. A quick scan tells you that nothing bad has happened, allowing you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. In the corner of your eye, you see Sunghoon’s friends huddled together and quickly realise that the space has only gotten so quiet because they’re chatting at a normal volume. Huh, you think, it almost sounds like the speakers are quite good. Heeseung and Jay get out of the water, sitting up on the pool’s edge while the other four boys all stand in place, all six of them fix their eyes on something in front of them but you don’t care enough to investigate further. 

You look back at Chaewon as a pout settles on your lips. “Why can’t Chaewon approve of my guy?”

“When you say that Sunghoon is your guy, do you mean it in the same way that Yeonjun is your guy?” she asks, her tone scathing but her face concerned. “Or, the way that Asahi is your guy, or, even Yoshi?” 

“No. This is different. Sunghoon is different.” 

You know how trite and naive you must sound, but he is different. You’d never dated a guy who’d pick you up right at your front door; Yeonjun and Yoshi typically sent DMs to let you know they’d parked out front, and Asahi did nothing but honk the car horn because he found it funny. Though to call what you were doing with those guys ‘dating’ would be a huge overstatement. There was Renjun from first year who was nice enough but never wanted to hang out, and Donghyuck who made you laugh but never complimented you. 

Chaewon crinkles her nose, reaching out to hold your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I really hope you’re right.”

And now there’s Sunghoon. Sunghoon who tells you that he can’t wait to see you again; who always tells you how pretty you look; who blushes when you hold his hand, who touches his cheek when you kiss it. You can’t imagine him doing anything bad to anyone. Sunghoon is different, and you hope you can be different this time too. In all the time you spend thinking, your guy shows up with a shy smile on his face with both of his hands behind his back. 

It’s your first time seeing him in person since your date and the sun glows against his skin, his wet hair tickling his thick brows as he stands at the foot of your chairs, watching Chaewon nervously. “Hi, Chaewon,” he says after a while.

“Hello!” She grins, seeming so bright and happy that you find it hard to reconcile this Chaewon with the one who’d been clutching her chest and sliding down the walls over the fact you have a crush on the boy she’s now being so pleasant to. 

“I got this,” Sunghoon says, bringing his hand from behind his back to reveal a strawberry-flavoured slushy. “For you.” He adds on, holding the drink out to your friend. While Chaewon gushes about how much she likes the mix of berries that make up her favourite flavour, Sunghoon hums and nods along while making his way to the other side of your chair. He wears a wider, more confident smile on his face while he stands over you. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” he says quietly, bringing his other hand out to give you the blue raspberry slushy he’s been holding. With his foot, Sunghoon drags a spare lounger from behind him next to yours before moving out of the way and using his hands to push it some more, making the armrest touch yours. “Hey,” he smiles, taking a seat. 

You take a grateful sip of your drink, surprised at how much better it tastes coming from him. “Thank you, Hoon.” You can’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, liking the way your stomach flutters when his hand flies up to touch the spot you’d kissed.

“I like when you do that.” 

“This?” you ask, kissing him again. Through squinted eyes, you notice a dusting of pink over his cheeks and take such a big sip of your slushy that every single part of your body goes numb and your head starts to hurt. Sunghoon only laughs, watching you. It’s quiet between you for a bit until you come to. “I’m not complaining, really, but don’t you have.. lives to guard?” 

“I’m on break,” he says. “Do you want me to go?” His brows raise dramatically as the corners of his lips sink to the floor, a glint of something playful in his sparkling eyes. 

You shake your head, face alighting with a grin when you remember something. “So can I see the skating videos you promised you’d show me?” 

All playfulness is gone. “Did I.. promise?” 

“Yes!” You don’t like the way he arches his brow at you. “Two nights ago.. before you fell asleep on the phone.” 

He scoffs at you, playfully. “If I remember correctly, you fell asleep on the phone,” Sunghoon says, tone accusatory. “And you snore.” Sunghoon lets his cheek lie flat against the chair, grinning. He’s beautiful. And correct.

“Skating videos,” you repeat. Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you, grinning brilliantly when you laugh. “I’m serious,” you frown. 

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, like it’s a correction. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Sunghoon pauses but takes your nod as a sign to continue. “I have a thing, next Tuesday, and I was wondering if you’d want to come and see me skate in person?” His voice tips up at the end of the question.

Excitement bubbles up inside you, causing you to sit up straight in your seat, turning your body to face him. “You want me to come?” 

He nods eagerly. 

“I’ll be there.” 

The tips of Sunghoon’s ears redden as he smiles at you, his eyes scanning your face. You can’t resist kissing him, and he doesn’t try to stop you, meeting your lips halfway. It’s sweet as sugar and goes on until his friends start to cheer loudly and Sunghoon pulls away, shy. But he looks like he wants to kiss you again. You grab him by the cord of the whistle around his neck and pull him back towards you. Relief floods you when your lips reunite.

“I’m gonna text you later with the details, time and shit,” he mumbles against your lips before getting up to go. 

As he retreats, he looks over his shoulder a few times, waving at you and smiling widely while he does. Until he bumps into a small child who practically topples over; Sunghoon manages to catch them in the nick of time and his neck flushes pink. 

It doesn’t make sense to you how he could be so cute. 

Chaewon watches you as she sips her slushy with an appreciative smile, letting out a long ahh of refreshment before putting the cup down. “Chaewon approved.” 

It seems like your mother’s been back from work for a while when you get home. A stretchy white headband holds her hair out of her face while she stands over a pot on the stove, looking comfy in some sweatpants.

Happy to see you, she pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Hi, honey,” she grins. 

She turns down your offer to help and insists on you setting the table instead, which you do happily, taking a seat when you’re done. Through her phone, she plays the music she listened to while you were growing up and sitting there, watching your mum cook while dripping chlorinated water from your hair to the kitchen floor, makes you feel a bit like a child. Like it’s 2008 and you’ve come home from a day at the pool with Chaewon, who would sit across from you at the dinner table, all blunt fringe and missing teeth, talking about this brand new thing called cheesecake, while your mother made dinner for the three of you with a towel wrapped on her head, drying her wet hair. 

As your mum fills your plate, she tells you about her day at work. Her boss was unreasonable, like always, and her office bestie took off on maternity leave. Again. She asks you about your day and pretends like she doesn’t notice the way you smile when you talk about the pool. 

You don’t wait to tell her about Sunghoon. 

“Is that who you went out with last week?” 

You cough around a grain of rice; you don’t remember mentioning him. “How do you know?” 

A smile takes over her face. “Because I watched him stand around the driveway for five minutes before he rang the bell.” You can’t help the way you laugh, it sounds like him to a tee. “What’s he like?” 

You tilt your head for a minute, thinking. “I still feel like we’re getting to know each other, you know?” Understanding, she nods her head. So, naturally, you talk for the better part of 10 minutes about Sunghoon until your food gets cold and your cheeks hurt from smiling. 

In preparation for Sunghoon’s skating showcase, you read up on the sport and audience etiquette, and stay up late the night before making a pretty banner for him. Sleepiness plagues you when you wake up that afternoon but at least you’re happy with the way the sign came out. 

While doing your makeup, you start to second guess your outfit choice. It was nice when you picked it last week, and it was nice when you put it on an hour ago and then back on twenty minutes ago. So, out of options, you stand in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time, sending Sunghoon a picture of your flowy off-white dress and asking if it’s okay. 

Sunghoon, dramatic as ever, responds with a selfie, all pretty smile and red hearts drawn over his eyes. You almost want to drop dead at the sight of him. And then another message comes through, no words, just emojis. At least 40 silly little yellow faces fill the text box. Some are crying, some have heart eyes, some have starry eyes, and some are drooling. There seems to be no apparent order, and you see sprinkles of white hearts in between them. 

sh: you look so beautiful you’re so beautiful baby

Baby, he’d said. Simple, pixelated, enough to make your heart flip in your chest. 

sh: can i come over 

sh: just to loo k at you or smth 

you: please 

You want to kiss him. 

sh: ok omw .. lying i dont have time :((( 

sh: also i fucked up my hair last night don’t laugh when you see me. 

you: no promises .. 

There’s a short queue at the reception desk when you arrive at the rink. The lobby is full of excited parents and bored teens, all eager with anticipation for the start (and end) of the summer showcase. Sunghoon had been relatively vague about the event until you called him last night, with a list of questions about it. With one question about it. The two of you chatted and laughed for hours until you got an answer. 

When he’s not spending the day at the pool, Sunghoon volunteers to teach kids classes at the rink he grew up in. Every year, the teaching cycle runs from April to July, at which point the rink holds the summer showcase, for parents and family members to attend and see what they’ve been funding for the past four months. 

“We don’t normally let parents sit in on classes because it’s distracting for the kids,” he explained through a yawn. “And it’s the whole reason I started skating in the first place.” Sunghoon paused. You hadn’t been expecting him to stop speaking but you rubbed your eyes and mumbled oh, really? as you used a pencil to sketch out the outline of your bubble letters. “You know, at first I thought you fell asleep, but I didn’t hear you snoring so I got a little worried,” he said, nervous. 

“I’m still here.” 

He fell quiet for a beat, speaking nervously. “Just let me know if I’m boring you, yeah?” 

“I could listen to you talk forever,” you admitted. “I’m having fun learning more about you.” 

Sunghoon’s light laughter made you bite back a giggle. “You make me feel good about myself,” he said quietly before continuing, giving you no time to respond. “But, yeah, I used to play hockey because I didn’t know how to talk to anyone except my parents and my one-year-old little sister, but my only friend on the hockey team invited me to go and watch him at the showcase one year and it was just.. the greatest thing I’d ever seen.” 

You encouraged Sunghoon to go on, still reeling from his quiet confession, and loving the grin in his voice while he spoke about skating and the way he laughed through some stories from work. Like how on a quiet day at the pool when he’d been messing around with Heeseung, Jake, and Riki in the water, some random guy approached them. 

“And this is so crazy too because we were just, like, fucking around, and the guy goes, “My grandmother can swim faster than you,” like he yelled it and stomped away.” 

Worried about waking your sleeping parents, you covered your mouth while laughing, mainly from the offence you can hear in Sunghoon’s voice over something that happened in October. “What did you guys do after that?” 

“I was on shift so I clocked out and went home.” 

The back of the program has a picture of Sunghoon and some of the other skating coaches, but it’s hard to pay attention to them or the signup sheet at the bottom when you see the wide smile on his face; you love the photo, it’s your favourite. He looks so happy, so radiant. If the scrunch of his nose and eyes is anything to go by, he must have been laughing when the picture was taken. This detail only makes you love it even more. 

In the corner of your eye, Jake leans against a wall, scrolling through his phone with a sheet of paper tucked under his arm. Seeing as he’s now (technically) your friend-in-law, you decide to approach him. Through the crowd of attendees waiting to be seated, he spots you as well, rushing over with the widest smile you’ve ever seen on anyone. You could count his teeth. 

Jake takes you by surprise, hugging you. “Hey! Hoon’s so happy that you’re here,” he says, somehow smiling even wider. “I’m so happy that you’re here, I finally have company!” 

When the double doors to the rink open up, you follow Jake to what he describes as the best seats in the house. “I always sit up here, so our boy knows to look over,” he says with a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “In case you were worried about that. It’s kinda far, and there’s lights, so you might have to wave a little harder than normal but, he’ll see you.” 

You nod, smiling too. “Got it.” Jake doesn’t look away. “Are you okay?” you ask him. More out of concern for your own well-being than anything else; you’ve heard of people murdering their best friend’s crushes before. 

He chews on his lip, tilting his head. All traces of his welcoming smile have faded, replaced with a more solemn expression as he looks over your shoulder for a beat. “Sunghoon’s my best friend,” he starts, and it’s hard not to picture yourself tumbling to your death down the slowly populating rows in front of you. They seem steeper now than before. “And he’s.. well.. you know him. It’s just that, he really likes you, you know? And I’m not saying this to be rude but I know about Yeonjun.. and—” Jake stops short, shooting you an apologetic look. “Anyway, I know that for some people, for you, for me, even, seeing more than one person at a time isn’t a big deal, but Hoon’s not like that.” 

You wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. 

A voice booms through the tannoy, telling everyone to take their seats as the show will be starting soon. 

Unsure what to say, you look out at the ice while Jake’s words sink in. It might have been easier to come up with something if he’d been any less kind about it. Spoken to you in a harsher tone. You hate the idea of Sunghoon knowing about the others, even if they were before him. Hate the idea of Jake having a similar conversation with him; telling Sunghoon that he’s not trying to be rude but..

“Sunghoon’s..” you pause, nervous. “He’s the best, and I can’t imagine seeing anyone else,” you admit. 

Jake beams, trusting you, and nods his head. “He’s gonna love your banner,” he grins. “And that.. angry looking plushy you brought.” 

The lights cut and all of the chatter hushes in an instant. Slowly, they fade back on, as a classical piece begins. Jake bounces his leg so hard you can feel the bench rattle under you, he’s practically glowing with giddiness. He’s like a little puppy, a golden retriever with light hair to match. 

After a short while, a boy skates out onto the ice, tall, graceful, an—Riki? He reaches the middle of the rink and introduces himself, enthusiastically reading a script from a few cue cards and looking right up into the stands to wear you and Jake sit. Beside you, Jake cheers, raising his banner, and you crane your neck to read it (LUCKY STRAWBERRIKI), and on the ice, Riki hides his face with his hand, quickly looking at his feet before continuing with his intro. 

You count eight tiny kids skating towards Riki, followed by Jungwon, and a line of other older skaters, Sunghoon is the last to appear, and your stomach churns with pride. All of them are dressed casually; you like Sunghoon’s straight-cut jeans and open button-up. 

As Jake predicted, Sunghoon (and Jungwon, and Riki) look up in your general direction, and next to you, Jake struggles to hold all three posters up at once so you help him, yelling along excitedly. It’s hard to tell from so far away but it feels like Sunghoon is staring straight at you like you’re the only two people at the rink. You feel like standing, like standing and singing HOOOOOOOOOOOON at the top of your lungs. For a moment you wonder if he’d shout back, telling you that right now he can hardly breathe. As if reading your mind, his mouth tugs up at the corners, slightly, before spreading into an ear-to-ear grin that makes your cheeks burn. 

The entire show passes by in an adorable whirlwind, as you and Jake applaud and encourage all of the performers, gushing with one another over how cute the baby skaters (including Jungwon and Riki) are. It’s beautiful and exciting, and you’re so happy you came. 

But time seems to stop when Sunghoon returns. Jake cheers loudly for him when he skates out; you can’t bring yourself to do the same. 

He comes to a stop in the middle of the rink, looking right up at the two of you. Jake waves his poster and raises yours too, seeming to notice the way you’re stuck to the spot. Sunghoon smiles, and somehow, he’s even more beautiful than you remembered. 

Graceful, elegant, Sunghoon glides on the ice when the music starts, immediately skating into a jump — you watch with held breath. He spins once, his arms tucked neatly by his sides, his hair fanning out around his head. Another spin, beautiful, clean. In the seats around you, people are cheering, you can hear them clear as day but the only person you see is Sunghoon who’s turning into his third rotation; the last. He sticks the landing, and an eternity has passed by as you let a sigh of relief slip out. 

Each jump is more gorgeous than the last, though seems to go on forever — you’re nervous as if it’s you on the ice. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you watch as he skates beautifully, executing smooth spins and controlled turns. You don’t think you could look away from him if you tried — this must be what people mean when they say someone was born for something. Even in the casual setting, he looks like a professional, just as stable and fluid as he was in the videos you’d watched. 

The music fades out, his performance is done, and you find yourself thankful for the fact that no one’s sitting behind you as you stand up. Jake does the same. Both of you hold your banners up for him to see, cheering louder than anyone else. Sunghoon raises a hand to wave at you. You wave back excitedly, getting a little flustered by the girl sitting a few rows ahead of you who turns around, smiling dreamily at Jake and rolling her eyes at you.

After bowing politely, Sunghoon looks back up at you, and you can’t help but blow him a kiss, only feeling silly about it when Jake nudges you with a goofy smile. You watch as Sunghoon raises his right hand for a beat, shifting a little on his skates before reaching out ahead of him, catching the flying kiss. 

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach when he holds his hand, and your kiss, over his heart.

As the show ends, you chat with Jake for a bit, gushing over the performances together as the audience clears out, and you trudge slowly down the stairs and back into the lobby. It’s nice chatting with him, seeing the way his face lights up as he talks so excitedly and passionately about his friends. 

You understand why Sunghoon likes him so much.

Sunghoon shows up at the other end of the lobby space, a vision in purple-tinted hair. You have to tell yourself to keep your feet planted on the spot for fear of literally running into his arms. He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, thank God, jogging through the lobby, dipping and dodging people as best and as fast as he can to reach you. 

He hugs you. Holds you tight. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, quietly, only for you. 

In your chest, your heart seems to grow tiny fists that throw a million punches a minute. Your brain scrambles for the words to say but you can’t come up with anything, hoping that the tightness of your arms around him lets him know that you’re glad to be here. 

He lets go of you, beaming, and moves to dap up Jake, asking his friend if he’s aware that he’s taking Jungwon and Riki go-karting tonight. 

“I’m doing what?” 

“Yeah, they wanted me to take them but I’m busy.” 

“Busy doing what?” Jake asks conspiratorially, arching a brow. He glances sideways at you, and can’t hold back his laughter. 

Sunghoon sets his jaw, punching Jake in the stomach. “Grow up,” he mutters, stifling a laugh of his own. 

You laugh too, partially at what Jake said, mostly at the way he keels over, clutching his stomach, a long groan passing from his lips. Sunghoon’s brows raise when you hand him the banner. “Look what I made for you.” 

“I saw you holding it earlier, baby, I love it,” he says, beaming at you as he reads over it again. “You did such a good job. Can I take it home?” His eyes sparkle when he looks up at you. Your heart cinches in your chest. 

“Of course.”

Next to you, Jake holds out the banner he made. “Do you wanna take mine home?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Recycle it,” he says. 

Jake tilts his head, confused. A loud huh comes out as he raises his brows. “I make a banner for you every single year and every single time you turn your nose up at it. But here comes a pretty girl and all of a sudden you love banners. Really, Sunghoon? You love it?” He pauses to let out a laugh, incredulous, seeming not to care about the few people that have turned over in your direction. “I can’t stand you.” Jake’s voice is whiny and hard to take seriously.

“I don’t love banners, I love this banner,” Sunghoon corrects, using his hand to shove Jake’s shoulder before holding the banner up over his chest. 

Amused, you watch the two boys bicker for a bit before Jake cuts Sunghoon off mid-sentence, raising his hands, muttering the word whatever.

Sunghoon seems sceptical of Badtz-Maru when you hand him over. He holds the plushy in his hand, eyeing it suspiciously before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “He’s cute, baby, really, but why’d you pick the world’s unhappiest penguin?”

“He reminded me of you.” Sunghoon’s jaw drops, brows knitting together as he tilts his head, all while Jake struggles to stifle a laugh. “Because he’s from Gorgeoustown,” you add, your heart singing when Sunghoon kisses the top of your head, and you can’t resist letting your arms wrap around his waist. 

Compliments flow out of you like water from a fountain when Jungwon and Riki join your little group outside. Jungwon, with deep dimples and flushed cheeks, shyly mumbles variations of thank you, and I appreciate that while shifting from one foot to the other. Riki glows with pride, standing up straighter, and asking you what else you liked about his performance. 

The sun feels nice on your arms as you watch the two play a very intense, high-stakes game of rock, paper, scissors for the front seat of Jake’s car. They’re playing best of five and getting ready to begin the third, and possibly final round. Riki has two wins under his belt, it’s not looking good for Jungwon whose breathing has become heavy. He’s taken off his hoodie and is stretching his arms in preparation. 

You start a countdown from three and laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt when Jungwon throws a losing rock against Riki’s paper, the oldest boy falling to his knees on the pavement and holding his head in his hands. Riki jumps higher than he had on the ice, embracing Jake in a tight hug, overjoyed by the victory while Jungwon groans. 

“Let’s hang out,” Sunghoon says as you walk to his car. 

Squeezing his hand, you nod and try not to melt on the concrete when he opens the car door for you. “What do you normally do after skating?” 

Sunghoon seems to think about your question for a while, tilting his head to the side as a fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “My parents would always take me out for dessert after competitions, or the next day if it was too late.” 

“Well, what do you think, Hoon? Is it too late for dessert?” 

Giddy in a way you’ve never seen him, he shakes his head in response. And in his car, he hums along to the radio, gingerly resting his hand on your bare knee. 

Sunghoon takes you to a dessert spot by Chaewon’s house, a fairly popular family-owned establishment that serves her favourite cheesecake. You sink into your seat over the table from him, in a slightly stiff booth with a tall back that makes it seem like it’s just you two and a coffee shop chatter Youtube video playing on a loop. 

“What are you having, baby?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the laminated menu. 

Knowing that Chaewon is coming over later, you let your eyes fall to the ice cream selection, reading the names of all 27 flavours and still settling on the only flavour you ever order here. “Cookie dough,” you say, reaching across the table to point at it on his menu. 

“And?” 

“And nothing.” 

His brows furrow. “You’re only getting ice cream?” 

“I mean, it’ll probably come in a cup, with a spoon,” you say, liking the way Sunghoon laughs at your stupid comment. “Chaewon’s staying over tonight so I don’t wanna fill up too much before dinner. I’ll order some cheesecake to take away when we’re done though, it’s her favourite,” you explain. 

He nods his head. “We can share my tiramisu.” 

It’s only after a conversation with Jake later on that you realise how big of a deal this is.

The two of you only manage to stop chatting and laughing when a girl with a cute bow in her hair and a smile on her face comes to ask if you’re ready to order. Across from you, Sunghoon orders a slice of tiramisu and a 3-scoop cup of coffee-flavoured ice cream. He runs a big hand through his hair and clears his throat, cheeks covered in pink as he asks if it would be okay for us to get a milkshake, to share, so, like, one milkshake, but then with two straws? Her eyes flick between the two of you and she grins, nodding her head but Sunghoon doesn’t go on. 

“A strawberry milkshake, please,” you say, watching the waitress take note of it before saying she’ll be right back. 

More than anyone you’ve ever met, Sunghoon loves tiramisu; he adores it. He lets you take the first spoon, and it’s delicious so you don’t have to fake your reaction when you try it. Sunghoon lights up with childlike excitement as he tries the second spoonful, his eyes widening as he hums around the dessert, shaking his head a little out of genuine enjoyment. 

Surprisingly, he’s able to tell you about the origins of the word (stems from the Italian tira mi su or pick me up), and shares a fond memory of the first time he tried it — he was 9 years old and choked on the cocoa powder on top.  

Sunghoon takes the first sip from the tall glass that sits between you both, you gulp at the sight of his lips wrapping around the straw and need to try it too. Your noses bump a little when you lean in, and, with sweet strawberry coating your tongue, you can’t help but giggle.

As you’d been expecting, your cookie dough ice cream is delicious and after a while, you use your tiny plastic spoon to scrape the sides of your cup and ignore the way Sunghoon laughs at you. Even when he’s mocking you, he still makes your stomach flutter.

“I can get you more if you want,” he offers with a wide smile. 

You shake your head. Sunghoon frowns, watching you collect the last pitiful scrapings before eating them. “You were so pretty today,” you tell him around the spoon.

“Did you think I was ugly before?” 

“Extremely.” His face scrunches up with laughter, showing off his dimple and his fangs. “You must have practised forever,” you add, distracted.

Sunghoon shrugs, reaching his hand across the table to play with your fingers. “In a way I did but not really,” he says vaguely, using his nail to draw a circle in the palm of your hand. “I don’t plan anything for the showcase, it’s just meant for fun, you know? I just go out and do what feels right on the day — so, I guess I’ve been practising for the last 13 years.” 

Completely awestruck, you utter a quiet “wow” and giggle when he pinches your hand. 

“What’re you and Chaewon gonna do later?” he asks, changing the subject.

You let him. At the mention of your best friend, a smile teases at your lips and Sunghoon matches it, beaming sweetly at you, looking forward to what you have to say. “I’m gonna cut her hair.” 

“Really?” Your heart thuds at the genuine interest in his tone. “Do you always cut it for her?”

“No,” you pout. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair.”

“Not even your own?” Sunghoon laughs when you shake your head. “Wow, she must really trust you.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “We’re best friends.”

“She’s lucky.” 

A chuckle slips out of you and you scrunch your nose. “Me too.” 

When he sees the waitress approaching, Sunghoon stacks your dishes to help out, handing them over to her with a soft smile. “Would we be able to get two slices of cheesecake?” he asks. “To go?”

“Sure, what flavour?”

“Vanilla, please.” 

Eunchae, as you read from her nametag, makes a face, pulling air through her teeth. “The vanilla’s gonna be about an hour wait.” 

Sunghoon pales, looking at you. “That’s alright,” you say, smiling. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, asking only for the bill. The two of you go back and forth on it and you practically beg him to let you pay. You put up a good fight, only backing down because he renders you speechless, shaking his head and saying: I’m not gonna take my girl on a date then make her pay. 

His girl hides her face with her hands, flustered. 

He laughs. 

A beat passes before he stands up, holding a hand out and asking you to go with him to the photo booth. With a smile, you slip your hand into his, allowing him to tug you towards it. Behind the curtain, he wraps his arm around your waist, leaning forward to pay. The two of you agree that you’ll take a set for him to keep and one for you. On the screen, a countdown starts from 4, and you almost feel under pressure. 

Posing for the first picture is a little awkward; you watch as Sunghoon puffs out his cheeks, poking one, and suppress your smile to copy. The second isn’t much better; you both grin and hold up peace signs. As you pose for the third, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes burning holes in the side of your face, can see him on the screen, staring as you look at yourself ahead but can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

The countdown reaches 2 and he holds you closer. His lips touch your cheek when the screen says 1 and you grin when the picture is taken. Sunghoon’s gaze is soft when you look at him. His hand touches your cheek, heavy on your skin, as he leans in to kiss you. You’ve never been kissed in a photo booth before and your heart beats in the back of your throat when the screen flashes, taking the last photo. 

He sticks his head out of the curtain to collect the 4-cut and cringes a little. “God, we look so stiff in the first two,” he complains. 

“I love them,” you say, taking the photo set from his hand. “They’re perfect.” You mean it. The visible awkwardness that you can feel through the frame is endearing to you, and you like the gradual transition into comfort as the photos progress. 

He looks at you with disbelieving eyes and pays for the next set. 

When you reach your table again, Sunghoon slides into the booth next to you, letting his arm rest over your shoulders, and he’s just as sweet as the tiramisu you tasted on his lips. 

With full bellies and two slices of cheesecake packaged in a pretty yellow box, you head back to his car, where he clips his photo set to the sun visor. You can’t help but lean over the centre console to kiss him again. When you pull away from him, you swear his eyes dart to the backseat, but the moment goes by as quickly as it happens so you must have been imagining things. He drives you home with the radio playing lowly, and his fingers locked with yours. 

On your doorstep, Sunghoon kisses you goodbye, biting at your bottom lip and grabbing your ass. He’s never kissed you like this before. You don’t think you were making things up earlier. “I really like your dress,” he tells you quietly, his lips brushing yours. 

Suddenly nervous, you mumble a thank you. 

“I like everything you wear, but this dress?” Sunghoon pulls away from you, just enough to rake his eyes down your body before holding you close. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, holding your cheek in his palm before kissing you again.  

A few hours later, Chaewon stands on a towel in the bathroom, between you and the mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. “Are you sure about this?”

She nods her head. “It doesn’t need to be neat, it just needs to be short,” she assures you, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. Despite only just passing her shoulders, Chaewon’s hair is the longest you think you’ve ever seen it. “I wanted to grow it out, like Kazuha’s, but I hate the way it feels on my skin.” Freshly washed, her hair is just beyond damp and darkening her pink t-shirt. 

You gulp, nervous. “How about you sit down?” 

She nods, saying it’s a good call. 

Chaewon sits on a towel in your bedroom, between you and your full-length mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. Before you grab them, you move her hair over her shoulders just so she can tell you once more to give her a chin-length bob. 

She does. You nod. 

Releasing a deep breath you make the first cut, and the sound of the blades slicing through her hair leaves goosebumps forming on your arms. Wet and slightly clumped together, the remaining hair falls from your hold and smacks her ear. You hold your breath as she runs her fingers through it. 

“It’s even!” 

“I only cut one part, Wonie.”

“Yeah, but you did good!” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and she grins. “Keep going, keep going!” 

The other three sections generate similar reactions, and you keep having to tell her to sit still while you try to trim her hair. 

Chaewon claps her hands when you finish, running her fingers through her “new” bob. “I love it!” she squeals, beaming at your reflection. “It’s perfect.” She turns around on the spot to fling her arms at you, appreciative, wrapping you up in her familiar, soft scent. 

The two of you sit on the couch, as Gossip Girl plays on the TV. For the duration of an entire episode, Chaewon turns her head gently from left to right, her short hair fanning out around her, with a light smile on her face as she does so. You only manage to look away from her when you remember the cheesecake, getting up from your seat abruptly, and excusing yourself. 

As you enter the kitchen, you check your phone, grinning at the sight of a few texts from Sunghoon. You open the fridge as you unlock your phone, clicking on the notification as you take the box of dessert out. Giggles fall out of you at the first message: a cute bed selfie, with his plushy tucked under his arm. 

sh: no way

sh: he smells like you :o

sh: are we seeing each other tmrw? 

sh: (say yes) 

It doesn’t make sense to you that Sunghoon is as cute as he is — you have to put the cheesecake down to relax. 

you: noooooooooo ur so cute

you: i gave him some perfume :o and i’m w wonie tn and tmrw but another time

you: talk later hoonie! 

The sight of the box in your hand makes Chaewon spring out of her seat, covering her mouth with her hands as she does a cute happy dance, prompting you to set the cake down on the coffee table to join her. Tired out, you slump back onto the couch after a while, smiling when she hands over your plate before sitting next to you. 

With a fond smile, you pull your knees to your chest, watching as Chaewon says: You know you love me, xoxo, Gossip Girl, in perfect sync with Kristen Bell. She grins to herself before taking a forkful of cheesecake to her mouth, moaning around the utensil. 

You’ve never known anyone to like dessert as much as her, and a grin forms on its own as you remember the way Sunghoon had done almost the same thing with tiramisu only hours earlier. Being an avid hater of tiramisu, you wonder how Chaewon might react if you told her, before focusing on your slice and the gorgeous face of Leighton Meester. 

The two of you must sit through four episodes, before you sleepily lean into her, telling her she can finish off your piece of cake that she’s been eyeing hungrily since she finished hers approximately 15 Gossip Girl blasts ago. She watches you from the counter while you wash the dishes, thanking you again for the cake. 

Later that night — when she thinks you’re asleep — Chaewon presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’ve never had a friend like you before,” she whispers, turning over in bed and grabbing your hand. You don’t know what to do when you hear her sniffling next to you. 

Salt air and sun cream skate around you — the only things you can smell over the oil soaked chips you share with Chaewon at the beach. Heavy trainers weigh down each corner of the fitted bed sheet underneath you and Chaewon as you watch the wind push clouds through the too-blue sky. Drunk on cider, she laughs to herself, pointing above you. “That one kinda looks like Sunghoon’s friend, right?”

“Which one?” you ask, moving your head to see exactly what she’s pointing at. You’re not sure if you’re asking which friend or which cloud. 

“That one, like Jay.”

Laughter hits you immediately. She’s absolutely right. A triangular mass in the sky leaves you both cackling and rolling around. 

Same as the sand through your fingers, three weeks slip by. You and Sunghoon take more pictures in photo booths and struggle to stop kissing each other. He clasps your necklaces, and puts sunscreen on your back; you hug him from behind and take naps in the park with your head on his chest. Sunghoon makes daisy chains to sit in your hair, and puffy paper stars to fill a jar in your desk. You take his little sister for ice cream and braid her hair when she asks you. 

Tonight however, completely spent from a day of shopping with your mum and Chaewon, the three of you sat on the couch, all eating your bodyweight in cheesecake and crying over the ending of How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days.  

After you’ve all recovered, your mum watches from the car as you hug Chaewon on her doorstep and you fall asleep in the passenger seat on the ride home. No longer small enough to be carried up to your room, you drag your feet to the bed where you fall asleep as soon as your body hits the mattress. But a phone call from Kazuha disrupts your slumber. 

“Are you going to the pool tomorrow?” she asks, sounding alarmingly awake for 4:57 a.m. 

“Tomorrow, today, or tomorrow, tomorrow?” 

“Like,” she pauses, you can picture her running a hand through her hair as she thinks. “In a few hours, I guess.” 

You hum down the phone. 

“We can go together!” The smile in her voice is audible. “Oh, Jay likes YJ. Did I tell you? And fuck, Lee Heeseung is so annoying.” 

“No, he’s not,” you say defensively, slightly rattled by the fact that she woke you up in the middle of the night to shit on your boy’s best friend.

Kazuha scoffs. “Sure.” The line falls quiet for a beat. “He’s not actually annoying, I was just trying to announce that I have a crush on him.” Of course she was. 

“Heeseung seems like a great guy and I’m really happy for you, but let’s talk at the pool, okay?” 

“Talk at the pool!” she chirps, cutting the phone. 

You don’t manage to get back to sleep. 

At the pool, Kazuha says you’re beautiful when you pull your t-shirt over your head and cuts you off before you get to thank her, going on a tangent about how badly she wants to nap but doesn’t want to tan unevenly. Or sleep for too long that her face gets puffy. You take your mission seriously, using your phone to set timers and waking her up each time it goes off despite the way she grumbles at you. 

Riki runs over to tell you to watch him before running away and flipping into the water. Your praise doesn’t seem to get old, but the flips don’t either, each one just as clean and impressive as the ones before. 

Kazuha’s on her 4th rotation when you find yourself wandering over to the concession stand, in the mood for something sweet after being tempted by the scent of baking dough wafting over the pool. But as you get further and further ahead in line, you eventually decide you only want a lollipop, and there are only two people in front of you when you realise you left your phone in your chair and won’t be able to pay.

As if sent from heaven, someone taps you on the shoulder, but you’re met with no one when you look to your left; Sunghoon’s laugh is adorable on the other side of you, contagious when he bumps your hip with his. 

“Hi, baby,” you say, looking up at him. He has a white towel on his head, covering his forehead and tucked behind his ears. “Is there a reason you have this on?” you ask him, touching the damp fabric that sits on his shoulders.  

“What, I’m not allowed to dry my hair?” 

“I’m not allowed to be curious?” 

Sunghoon gently flicks your forehead and you pretend it hurts. 

Like Hannah Montana, he hooks his fingers under the front of the towel, pulling the “wig” off to reveal his luscious (and soaking wet) locks of dark hair. A gasp falls from your lips as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. Having essentially grown up with Sunghoon, or rather, grown up adjacent to Sunghoon, him having black hair isn’t anything new. But it’s definitely something you’re fond of. Fond of him and the way his dark hair only brings out his features, matching his thick brows and the hard lines of his face. 

“Do you like it?” he asks. 

You love it. “What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you ask, pushing some of his hair from his forehead. 

“Buzzcut.” 

With a worried look on his face, he lets you use both hands to cover his hair and imagine it. “Are you laughing because I’m so devastatingly gorgeous with black hair or because I’m about to buzz my head?” Laughter bubbles in your chest, as his hair flops back over his forehead. “Wait, baby, no.” A deep pout settles on his lips. “You actually don’t like it?” 

“I love it, you know I love it.” 

Sunghoon lets you compliment him until you reach the front of the line when he talks with the person on shift. He uses his phone to pay for what you want, and seeing your smiling face on his lock screen makes your cheeks burn while you hide your face in his back, arms locked limply around his waist. 

The two of you only leave the stand when the line behind you builds up, standing in the shade next to it. He watches you unwrap the candy and raises a brow when you hold it out to him. “First lick?”

He shakes his head. 

“Come on, Hoonie,” you tease, letting your hand rest on his arm, liking the way it tenses under your touch. “I know you want a taste.” 

His eyes drop to your chest for a split second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lifts his gaze. “You have no idea,” he mumbles before opening his mouth a little, leaning down towards you. His lips are slightly parted and very tempting as they wrap around the lollipop. 

“Good?”

Sunghoon’s eyes lock with yours as he sucks on the candy. “Very,” he says, the word coming out kind of garbled around it before letting you take it back. You watch him chew on his lip, humming to himself at the lingering taste of your lolly. 

The cola flavour hits your tongue immediately and you like the way Sunghoon gulps as he watches you, struggling to maintain the eye contact you’d had a moment earlier. You don’t take nearly as long as he did, pulling the lolly from your lips with a satisfying pop before smiling up at him, sickly sweet. “Very good indeed,” you echo him, letting the candy rest between your lips before you turn to walk away. Sunghoon follows, thankfully. Heading back over to where you’d been sitting, you find Kazuha’s chair empty. 

A shriek over your shoulder locates her like a pin on a map. 

In the pool, you see her sitting on Heeseung’s shoulders cackling as she pushes Sunoo over so hard that Jay, whose shoulders he’s sitting on, falls too. Gleefully, she leans back, falling into the water only to resurface and find her way into Heeseung’s arms. You stop walking when she tilts her head up to kiss him. Oh? Sunghoon walks right into your back. The kiss is short, not much more than a peck really, she pulls away with a grin on her face, swimming to the edge of the pool and Heeseung’s ears turn red as he watches her. 

Against your own, Sunghoon’s skin is warm, slick almost from what you think is a combination of pool water, sweat, and sunscreen. You hate yourself for liking it. His hardening dick presses against you, and your heart swells — some frenzied mix of feeling flattered, and horniness, you assume. A flame burns in your stomach, hot, blue. Neither of you moves for a while, long enough for Kazuha to walk over to your seats and scrunch her hair with a t-shirt. 

Sunghoon exhales shakily when you lean into him, resting the back of your head on his chest and holding the lollipop by the stick. “You okay?” you ask, voice nothing more than a whisper. 

His head dips, breath fanning your neck as he kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles against your skin before standing up straight. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” he asks, words coming out as one. “My family’s on vacation.” His cock twitches against you when he says it. 

“They are?” 

“Mm, they leave tomorrow morning.”

A breathy laugh comes from your nose as you step away from his body, turning around to look at him. Not so subtly, he takes the towel from his shoulder and holds it in his hand, covering himself. A proper laugh falls from your lips, your head tipping back a bit. 

“What if I wanna come today?” you ask, raising a brow. “Tonight even?” 

“Tonight? I can call you if you wanna come tonight.” 

You have a feeling that the two of you are talking about entirely different things.

“Pick me up?” 

“Always.” 

Sunghoon’s bedroom is exceptionally neat. Everything on his desk (his PC set up and a notebook) is placed precisely, and there’s nothing on the floor except for his furniture and a giant 8-ball rug. His off-white walls are completely bare, save for three posters above his desk; your favourite is a handmade (you think) white poster that reads There’s No Planet B in slightly messy block capitals, which sits between blown up pictures of Childish Gambino, and SZA. Underneath the perfectly aligned posters, stuck right above his monitor are the words: Figure skating prince, Park Sunghoon! You’re the best! with a bright red lipstick kiss in the corner; your heart does a triple axel at the sight. 

He stands in the middle of his open doorway like he has been for the past two minutes, watching you admire the medals that sit in a display case on a floating shelf. In 2015 he took home a gold medal from the Lombardia Trophy, and another from the Asian Open Trophy. The two silver medals beside them tell you that he continued to do well at the Asian Open Trophy in the two years that followed.

Along with the Sunghoon you saw today, tiny Sunghoon skates through your mind, so impressive and so young. The quiet boy who often missed class. Who’d fall asleep with his face in a textbook during the classes he did attend. Who you’d let borrow your notes after days of absence, and who wordlessly thanked you with a carton of banana milk each time. How didn’t you know about all of this?  Beyond awestruck by his accomplishments, you look over your shoulder to ask him about it. 

Sunghoon only shrugs. “I was okay.”

“You were okay?” You can’t help but scoff at him. “I’ve seen the videos, Sunghoon. I’ve seen you in person, you’re.. amazing.” The word feels like an understatement. “I don’t know very much about skating but you’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” he says, looking at his feet. 

“Have you thought about the Olympics?” you ask seriously. You get ready to apologise when you watch him purse his lips to the side, making you worry you’ve touched a nerve—But Sunghoon speaks before you have the chance. 

“I used to train with the Olympic team but it was too much pressure for me, and I much prefer coaching nowadays, it’s, like, the perfect way for me to feel all the joy of skating and absolutely none of the stress.” The fond smile on his face makes you think he means it.

It almost feels wrong to sit on his neatly made bed but you take a seat on its edge anyway, desperate for one of you to at least look comfortable in this situation. BaMa sits between his pillows and you can’t help but smile at the penguin who stares back at you, unimpressed. Sunghoon stays in place. From where you’re sitting, it’d be difficult to miss the way his eyes widen, stuck on you as he chews on his bottom lip. “Are you okay?” you ask him after a while, starting to feel awkward under his stare. 

For a split second, Sunghoon presses his lips into a straight line that shows his dimple before shrugging. “I’ve never brought a girl to my room before. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” he says, fixing his gaze on the wall behind you. 

“The only thing we’re supposed to do is whatever you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Sunghoon looks at you, thinking. “We should kiss,” he blurts out. 

“That’s what you want?”

“Badly.” But he doesn’t move. 

You wait it out a little, counting thirty whole seconds with no sign of movement from him. “How’re you gonna kiss me from over there?” 

A gorgeous grin takes over his face. Sunghoon closes the door behind him, crossing the room in a few paces to sit beside you. With some hesitation he pats his lap, struggling to meet your eyes while he does so. Your insides feel like a shaken bottle of Coke when you straddle him, and you can hear him exhale shakily at the way your dress hitches up, showing off your bare thighs. Sunghoon’s thighs are firm underneath you, his pants soft against your skin. It’s no use trying not to think about riding his thigh or riding him. But try as you might, your efforts don’t stand a chance against the feeling of him hardening under you.

His lips catch yours in a gentle kiss. You can feel the way he smiles, feel a giggle, light, airy, passing from his mouth into yours. It’s hard not to smile too. His fists clench behind you, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his palms desperately. Hard and thick, his cock presses against your core. You moan and Sunghoon all but freezes, his hands releasing your dress.  

Barely a second passes before he grabs you again, leaning back against the bed without breaking the kiss for anything, until you need to catch your breath and you pull away, sitting back in his lap with your hands resting on his toned stomach. You instinctively grind down on him when his cock twitches under you.

From your seat you can see the way his eyes widen when you do, see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he gulps. Or maybe the gulp came first; it’s hard to say. Either way, you don’t think you care. He sighs, relieved when you rock your hips against his for a second time. 

Sunghoon looks like sin the third time you do it, groaning and sitting up on his elbows, looking at you through lidded eyes, sighing through pouty lips. “I’m not ready to have sex yet.” 

You freeze in place. “That’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m ready when you are.” 

“I just feel bad that you came all the way over here for nothing.”

Looking down at Sunghoon with all of the uncertainty on his face makes your stomach twist. You wish he knew how much you like being with him; like spending time with him. Wish he knew how nice it was to spend the day sitting by the pool and just getting to look at him. How nice it was to eat fruit in the park with him. To talk about nothing on the phone before bed. You rest a hand on his cheek, melting when his fingers wrap around your wrist and his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “Hoon, I’m not here because I wanna have sex with you, I’m here because I like you.” This thing you’ve felt for weeks, lived with and nurtured seems so foreign now that you’ve put it into words. 

The smile on his sweet face almost has you saying it again, and again, if for no other reason than seeing the way his fangs peek out at you, or how his eyes crinkle up into crescents, or hearing how he laughs, breathy, happy.  Sunghoon moves his head to kiss your palm. “I like you,” he says into your skin, mumbling like it’s a secret. “And I like being with you.”  

Even though Sunghoon saying he likes you feels a bit like a toddler telling you they can’t read, the statement shocks you. You knew he liked you, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt this entire time, but hearing the words, feeling the shape of them against your palm makes his feelings for you seem tangible; so vivid; so thick. Like moisturiser sinking into your pores. 

He moves his head a little so your hand cups his cheek again. He smiles, soft, shy, Sunghoon. “You do.. eventually want that though, right?” The way his brows knit together when he asks is so cute that you can’t help but laugh a little. “Like, to have sex with me,” he adds. 

“Yes, when you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready to do.. other things,” he says, voice dwindling into a shy whisper. 

Curiosity piqued, you arch a brow. “Yeah?” Sunghoon nods. You press on. “Other things like..” 

A beat passes, and Sunghoon doesn’t speak. 

Instead, he opts to pull you down close to his chest, turning the two of you over. My God. His thin silver chain slips out of his shirt, swinging over your face just a bit, his light hair tickles your skin. You think you’d be happy if you died like this. With his bottom lip pinned between his teeth, his eyes scan your face, locking on your parted lips. His fingernail traces shapes on your hip, you immediately notice how blunt it is now compared to yesterday at the pool and can’t help but smile. Sunghoon moves his hand, his fingertips ghosting over your skin until he reaches the top of your panties. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. 

You nod, smiling, eager. You think you might die like this. 

His finger is long and thick, rubbing devastatingly slow circles on your clit through your underwear. Sunghoon puts a little pressure on it, just enough to please you yet still leave you wanting more. He slips a finger into your hole, pressing a kiss to your lips and catching your gasp in his mouth. 

“What got you so wet, baby?” 

There’s something about hearing these words from Sunghoon that makes them sound new, makes them sound fresh; alluring. Makes you want to cum on the spot when you answer. “You did.” Quickly, you learn that the way his lips quirk up into a smile also makes you want to cum on the spot.

You try to focus on the feeling of his tongue on yours, on the loud, wet sound of your lips smacking together, on anything other than how much better one of his fingers feels than two of yours. How much better he fills you up. How quickly he finds your spot and presses on it. A surge of pleasure licks down your spine, causing you to yelp. Kissing becomes hard fast, but if the way he moves his head to your suck lightly at your neck is anything to go by, he doesn’t mind.

He bites and he nips and he kisses the tender skin to soothe you, all while pushing a second finger into you. Time stops at the stretch and you arch your back towards the ceiling. He passes a breathy laugh; calls you cute. Your thighs press together around his hand. 

Leaning up from your skin, he makes a scissor motion with his fingers to work you open, studying the way your eyes screw shut, liking the way you gasp. His head dips back down beside yours, hair tickling your face. You can feel his lips graze your skin, breath fanning your ear. 

“I can’t stop imagining how you might taste,” Sunghoon whispers. “You gonna let me find out?” 

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, and if it wasn’t for all the material, you might have been able to see the trail of spit and love bites that Sunghoon had left on your stomach. You’ll have no choice but to wear one-pieces and full-length shirts for at least a week. There’s a smile on his face as he looks up at you from between your thighs. 

Sunghoon kisses the dark spot on your panties, holding the wet fabric between his lips, tasting you. A quiet moan slips from him, and your body jolts involuntarily, a chill inching up your spine. His fingers hook on the sides of your underwear and he looks up at you, smiling when you nod your head, pulling them down when you lift your hips. With all that material out of the way, he can finally see your pussy, and the word fuck comes tumbling from his lips before he groans. “So pretty, you’re so pretty, YN.”

He buries his face between your thighs to press light kisses to your clit, pecking it sweetly. Your body buzzes from the contact. “Shit,” you sigh at the feeling of him licking a strip from your dripping hole back up to your clit. 

“My God,” he whispers, licking his lips. He presses his tongue against you, lapping up your wetness and humming appreciatively. Sunghoon’s eyes flutter shut when he holds your swollen clit between his lips, sucking on it, licking at it, slowly, passionately, the way he kisses your mouth. His movements make you jolt and he chuckles against you, a delicious vibration running along your cunt.

Unable to fully express how you feel, you settle with saying so good through a whine. A match strikes a flame in your stomach when Sunghoon moves his head down a little, letting his tongue tease your hole, his nose bumps your clit and he moans into you when you clench around the tip of his tongue. You can’t help but grip his hair to hold him in place, hoping he’ll never stop.

Shamelessly, you hump his pretty face as your orgasm quickly approaches, reminding you how long it’s been since you were last eaten out — not that anyone has ever come close to making you feel this good.  

His lips focus on your clit again as he presses a thick finger into your hole, curling it up towards your belly button a few times before adding another. Immediately, your toes curl up, everything flashes white behind your eyelids while your orgasm rips through you and Sunghoon moans when you finish. You’re thankful for the way he slows down, letting your cum slip out onto his lips and chin for a beat before sucking and licking your slit to clean you up, holding you down as you squirm against his sheets from the sensitivity. 

Looking just as spent as you feel, he leans back on his heels. His eyes are blown wide, his chest heaving, and his lips are swollen, glistening in your arousal that’s spread all over the lower part of his face. Spellbound and unblinking, he stares straight ahead at your cunt. 

“Hoon,” you say, breathless, leaning up on your elbows. 

“Yeah, baby?” He doesn’t look away when he speaks. The trance seems to break at your lack of a response and he seems to want to cuddle just as much as you do if the way he scrambles off the floor and crawls over the bed to you is anything to go by.

Save for Sunghoon’s coaching sessions, the two of you are practically joined at the hip for the entire weekend. In the mornings and before bed, you brush your teeth together and don’t even separate to shower, stuffing yourselves in the cubicle to make out and lather shampoo in each other's hair or soap on each other's backs. 

It’s this excess time together that makes waking up to nothing but a note in Sunghoon’s absence so disturbing. His handwriting stirs something in you, the short and sweet: miss you already, please come visit me at work :) 

None of the girls want to go with you, so you find yourself trying on different swimsuits and figuring out what you’ll do at the pool on your own. With four magazines you’ve already read, a book, and your laptop just in case, you make your way there, enjoying the sun on your skin as you walk. 

“Hi!” A chirpy voice makes you flinch when you reach the pool. Sunoo’s whole face is curved into a grin when you look at him. “I’m Sunoo!” he says, extending a hand for you to shake. His grip is firm, not matching his smile at all. “Do you wanna hang out with us?” 

Equal parts excited and scared to say no, you nod. Dumping your bag in a locker, you meet Sunoo out by the changing rooms’ entrance, and he smiles when he sees you. You follow him over to the smaller pool where the rest of the boys are, Sunghoon included, and introduces you. 

The boys look around at one another, wondering if Sunoo knows that all of them have already met you. He doesn’t pay it any mind, jumping in and joining them. They all continue bothering each other while you sit on the edge, dipping your legs into the water. 

Sunghoon, who’s been grinning at you since you arrived, swims over to you and stands in the space between your legs. Cool droplets hit your thighs when he lifts his arms up to wrap around your waist in an embrace that might leave others wondering how many years it’s been since you last saw each other. After promising Jungwon that you won’t make fun of his armbands, you card your fingers through Sunghoon’s wet hair, giggling to yourself when he presses a kiss to your stomach. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Well, yes,” he says, looking up at you with a pout on his lips. “I’m just on duty at this pool today. Are you unhappy to be spending time with me?” 

“A little.”

Sunghoon pulls you into the water with him. “Even as a joke I don’t like that you said that.” There’s a crease in his brow that you want to kiss away but he’s already calling the boys over when you have the idea. Before you know it, all seven of them are splashing you with so much vigour that you don’t even bother fighting back. Even Riki who’s taken a liking to you shows no mercy.

As much fun as you had, you can’t help but feel a little drained when Sunghoon takes you home at the end of the day. You end up spending the week with him and his friends, and Riki seems crushed when you politely decline his invitation to poker night on Friday but his spirits lift when you say you’ll treat him to ice cream if he wins. On Saturday afternoon when you get out of the shower, you spend the better part of an hour wrapped in your towel texting Sunghoon, grinning at the messages he sent you while you were catching up on the girls’ group chat. 

sh: riki didn’t win anything last night so don’t let him lie to you, ok baby?

sh: plus im kinda mad at him ngl ..

sh: i wanna see u today

sh: only you

sh: need it :( 

sh: if i find out you’re making plans w riki rn i’ll kill him 

sh: babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

sh: i miss you can i take you out 

you: why are you beefing a kid ur 500 

sh: you’re older than me ???

you: yes and ur my baby bubu bear 

sh: .. 

sh: picnic baby

sh: ? 

you: yes when

sh: rn.. 

you: uhm..

you: let me go get ready i miss u so bad

Your picnic quickly turns into an evening nap session for Sunghoon who, full on pizza and cider, lays down on his stomach with closed eyes and his cheek on his forearms. Meanwhile, you slowly sip cider from a sun-warmed bottle and pick off bits of pepperoni to eat, knowing Sunghoon will be annoyed about it later. The setting sun shifts the sky through warm oranges and purples, casting its hues over the park and Sunghoon’s sleeping form. 

“Quit watching me,” he mumbles, blinking his eyes open and yawning as he sits back up. Soft hair is all flat on the side he’d been lying on and his lips rest in a pout that, when combined with his eyes resting in a permanent squint, makes him look confused.

You watch with a grin on your face as he sits back on his hands, crossing his legs. “I have something for you, actually.” 

“For me?” you ask, shocked, your brows raise, and butterflies go crazy in your stomach. The thought of Sunghoon seeing something and thinking of you drives you crazy; you’re in way deeper than you could ever have anticipated. 

You hear the bikes whizzing past you, zipping down the cycle path over to your left, you can see the people walking dogs, pushing strollers, jogging, walking. But it still feels like you’re the only people here. The only two people left in the world, sitting on Sunghoon’s blanket in the middle of this park you’ve come to frequent. 

“For you. Do you see anyone else here?” Sunghoon chuckles, though you can see his nervousness peeking through the joy on his face. “Well, kinda for us I guess, to put it properly. You know what? No, it’s dumb. Forget I spoke.” He covers his face with his hands, embarrassed. 

“Something for us?” Even though it’s not a new development, the thought of you both being an us, in any capacity, still makes you giddy, and the butterflies in your stomach are bordering on feral. “Baby, come on. If it’s from you it’s not dumb. I promise I’ll love it.” You nudge his knee gently.

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” Your pinky finds his, linking together for a little while longer than you’d expected. 

“There’s some stuff I have to say first though, is that okay?” he asks, continuing when you nod. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but we should probably have some kind of conversation about what’s going to happen when you go back to uni, you know?” 

The thought of leaving unsettles you; of leaving him, but you’re desperate not to show it. “Yeah,” you say, aiming for calm but hitting upset instead.

Sunghoon chews on his lip before he speaks again. “And you’re happy, right? Like, with me?” 

You nod. Of course, you want to say but the words get caught in your head, how could I not be?

“Good.” Sunghoon smiles. “Because I like you, so much, and I hate the idea of you going back and telling all your friends about the totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe you hooked up with over the summer.” He continues when you nod. “So I’ve been thinking it might be nice if, when your uni friends ask about your summer, and you feel comfortable talking about me, that you tell them about me as your boyfriend.” The uncertainty in his tone doesn’t match the widening grin on his face while speaking, and the word boyfriend comes out as nothing more than a whisper but you hear it clear as day. 

Head spinning, you meet his eyes, a hopeful glint behind them as he watches you. “Do you mean my totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe boyfriend?” 

“It wouldn’t upset me if you said that.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hold that thought,” he blurts out, opening his backpack. 

Drawing a deep breath, Sunghoon pulls out a pink box with your name written neatly on it before placing it in your lap and asking you to open it. He chews on his lip while he watches. 

WILL YOU BE MY GIRL ? is written on little chocolates that span three rows. The word girl is followed by six empty slots that you can only assume held the word friend. Between the shy look on Sunghoon’s face, and the gesture as a whole your heart leaps jaggedly in your chest. “Will you be my girl?” you read, unable to keep from grinning like a fool.

“I picked them up yesterday before the guys came over, and Riki..” he pauses to sigh, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “He ate part of them. I think he shared them with Jungwon actually — not that it matters. Anyway, the store’s closed on Sundays so I wasn’t able to replace them or anything, and I didn’t wanna wait any longer to ask,” Sunghoon says in a partial ramble. 

You look down at the pretty pink box in your hands and giggle to yourself. His friends are cute, you think. “I mean, they could’ve eaten the girl part.”

Sunghoon nods his head, grinning. “At least the sentiment still stands.” He eats a raspberry before looking up at you expectantly. “So, will you be my girl?”

With a smile spread on your face, you nod. “Yes, Hoon, I’ll be your girl,” you say, hoping he knows you’ve always been his girl. 

You cuddle in the grass with your boyfriend until the sun goes down, giddy from cider and the joys of summer romance when he walks you to your door. The two of you stand under the light at the doorstep, grinning competitively at one another. Reluctantly, Sunghoon bids you goodnight with a kiss and — just like after your first date — he stands there beaming brightly long after you’ve gone inside. 

A few nights later the two of you have your first sleepover as a couple and Sunghoon seems to take the idea in stride, showing up at your door with an overnight bag stuffed with his skincare, actual pyjamas, and snacks. Plus a bottle of wine he brought for his first meeting with your parents, despite having already had an awkward meeting with your mum at 3 a.m. in the hallway two weeks ago.

With his face glowing under the lamp on your desk, Sunghoon makes a show of bringing up the time he’d talked at length about his friends and says he thinks it only fair that you talk about yours. Your college friends. A blush coats his cheeks when you tell him he doesn’t need an excuse or justification to ask you things he’s curious about. 

This results in him sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of you, asking you silly things like what kind of Youtube videos you like to watch (his ears burn red when you say Park Sunghoon skating compilations), and more serious — to him — things like what your first impression of him was (he covers his face when you say I thought you were the cutest boy I’d ever seen, and it upset me that you missed so much school). 

“Do you think we would’ve dated if I was in school more?” 

“We are dating.” 

“I mean back then.”

“When we were five?” 

Sunghoon nods. 

“Even if we did date back then, we’d have broken up by lunchtime.” 

His jaw drops. “But it’s us,” he says like it’s the simplest thing ever. It takes a while to console your pouting boyfriend but when he moves on he gets back to asking about your friends. 

“They’re like.. the only reason I don’t completely regret picking my major.” The words come out before you can help them. You rarely talk with Sunghoon, or anyone, about your major, never mentioning much more than what results you got or the classes you’re taking if someone asks. 

So it doesn’t surprise you that he sees this as an opportunity to ask you about it. “Why do you hate it so much?” 

“It just makes me unhappy.” You feel your lips sagging at the corners when you finish speaking. “And the thought of working in that field forever, or, at all, makes me feel physically sick.” 

“What are you gonna do after graduation?” 

A tightness occupies your chest. You think about your brother, on the other end of the country, favouring texts over calls so no one has to hear the sadness in his voice when asked about work. You think about the future, all the unknowns awaiting you once you leave the familiarity of the education system. “I don’t.. I don’t know.” You hate how small your voice sounds when you say it.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until Sunghoon mumbles hey, no, baby, it’s okay, and cups your cheeks with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m on your side, okay? You know that. I’m not trying to upset you, baby, just trying to understand. To help.” Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into him, letting you cry into his shirt. “If I’m going about it the wrong way you can tell me, I never want to make you cry.” 

For a while the two of you sit in silence while Sunghoon rubs your back and kisses the top of your head, only speaking when you’ve stopped sniffling. “How about you finish telling me about the girls? Minjeong, Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhuo, right?”

You don’t even remember telling him their names, besides maybe mentioning missing Minjeong. “You remember their names.” It’s not a question, not really. When you pull away from him, looking up, your heart snags in your chest at the sight. Of lovely Sunghoon and his small smile, the Kuromi headband holding his hair back. You want to cry again. 

“I remember everything you tell me.” 

Everything about him is lovely, from his soft cheeks to the Piplup pyjama pants he’s wearing and the way he’s looking at you with literal heart eyes. 

Knowing that Sunghoon has his last competition coming up, you savour every second with him. Barely sleeping that night trying to prepare for the lonely nights to come, memorising the feeling of his arms and the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

His training schedule is rigorous and he’s had to stop his shifts at the pool to accommodate it, committing his days to skating and his nights to you when he can. Though he’s always so tired by the time he gets to your house that he can only sleepily sit through dinner with your parents and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

Like most nights you spend apart, Sunghoon’s face fills your screen, talking about what he did that day that kept him from you. Today’s activity was back-to-back coaching sessions, then going to the movies with the boys, and, now, tired out from pretending to be patient, his eyelids are shut for most of the conversation. He looks so warm and cosy under his duvet that you wish you were there with him, or that he was here with you.

“I can come over if you want me to,” he says, and from the way he sits up, you can tell he means it. 

You hadn’t meant for those thoughts to be verbalised.

Looking to your left, at the space in your bed, you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. Not here. You do want to see him though. Almost desperately. For the good of you both, you shake your head. “Let’s go for a drive?” 

Sunghoon smiles and your stomach turns. “Give me 25 minutes.” He cuts the phone. 

Sitting in the darkness of his car is way worse than having him in your bed. Having started on your knee, his big hand now rests on your thigh, barely an inch away from where your shorts start. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin. Leaning your head against the window, you let your eyes fall shut while Sunghoon sings SZA quietly. Eventually, the car comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” 

It’s too dark out to see anything properly until Sunghoon opens your door for you. “The park,” you say, looking around at the now familiar street. “Wouldn’t be my first choice for a murder.”  

“If you think about it, it’s sorta perfect. Who would hear you screaming for help at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday?”

Sunghoon pulls his backpack and a fleecy blanket from the backseat, and, with a ridiculous grin, you watch him put the blanket down in the grass, not too far from where he’d parked the car. You leave your sandals to the side and sit down next to him. 

“The store was closed, so we’ll have to deal,” he explains, taking out some fruit and two bottles of water. 

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.” 

Sunghoon lets you feed him strawberries, humming appreciatively around your fingers. You take a few sips of water before shifting on the blanket, turning around in the space between Sunghoon’s open legs and leaning back on his chest. He hums the same SZA song from his car and you can’t help but close your eyes. 

You tip your chin to kiss him, accidentally letting your hand rest on his lap. 

Ever since that day in his room, things between you have found a way to turn sexual after a while. Not that either of you seems to mind. Though you will admit that sometimes it is nice to just sit with Sunghoon and watch the sun come up over the hills by his house. Or to watch Mighty Ducks on your laptop with your head on his shoulder. 

Tonight doesn’t seem like one of those “sometimes”, but you really can’t find it in you to complain or want to change anything when he slips his hand down the front of your shorts. More focused on the way your lips feel on his, Sunghoon lazily runs his finger through your slick for a beat before pushing into you and smiling to himself as you gasp against the kiss. 

You pull away from him, shifting around a little, trying to angle yourself so you can see what you’re doing when you tug his waistband out of the way. The sight of Sunghoon’s cock, of his pretty tip coated in precum that dribbles from his slit down his shaft never gets old. If anything, it only turns you on more and more each time. You stroke him slowly, occasionally letting a finger tease the spot below his head, just the way he likes it.

“Oh, my G—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a groan, pressing his lips to yours again.

The breeze tickles your arms, keeping you cool despite the way your skin burns under his touch. He’s close to cumming, you can tell in the way his cock twitches in your hold.

“I want you,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have me.” Sunghoon lifts his head away from yours after you speak, looking down his nose at you. It seems like he’s searching your face for something as he pushes a third finger into your hole. Something clicks in your head, understanding. “Fuck me,” you say, barely short of begging.

His hips buck up into your still hand. “I don’t have a condom.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“No,” he sighs, shaking his head solemnly. “I wish.” A frown teases at your lips. “Why didn’t you bring one?”

You arch a brow. “Why would I bring a condom when we’re waiting to have sex?” 

“Because I don’t wanna wait anymore.” 

“Ok,” you nod, trying to think as he separates his fingers. “Well, this is.. this is me finding that out, right now.”

Sunghoon’s never put a fourth finger in you before; it’s a tight fit. Your head falls back and you give up your poor attempt at continuing to jerk him off. “I don’t care if you don’t. About condoms.” 

“Oh, you’re on the pill?” 

“I ran out two weeks ago, I thought.. you’d give me—” A moan cuts you off. Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you’d give me notice or something.” 

“Notice?” he asks, voice high, incredulous. A beat passes. “I don’t care,” he says eventually. “I need you.” 

You nod your head, relieved. Whining a little when Sunghoon pulls his hand out of you, and whining a lot when he sucks on each of his fingers, one at a time. “I’ll get Plan B in the morning,” you say, scrambling to your knees, facing him. 

“We’ll go together.” A soft smile spreads across his lips as he holds you by the waist. “And I’ll ask Jake to pray for us.”

Hungrily, you watch as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head. There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Sunghoon has a firm grip on your shorts, barely a second away from yanking them off when he stops, leaning away. “I’ve never..” he trails off, struggling to hold eye contact. “I’ve had sex just not.. outside,” he whispers, his lips pouting through his words.

Despite your desperation, you can’t help but feel like maybe this shouldn’t be the moment you two have sex for the first time. You almost can’t believe yourself, having Sunghoon here, hot, sweaty, with his kiss-plumped lips, and lidded eyes; his groans, and his sighs; his wandering hands and hard cock pressed against you, yet thinking that maybe you should wait a little longer. 

“We don’t have to do this now.” 

“I do.”

“Okay,” you whisper, relieved, pressing your lips onto his. You shiver in Sunghoon’s hold, cold and chasing his kiss when he pulls away, shuddering at the feeling of his fingertip grazing your collarbone. 

“You’re cold, baby.” 

You shake your head. “I’m not.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, your body betrays you and your teeth chatter. 

Sunghoon frowns at you, playing with some of your hair beside your ear. “You have goosebumps, and your teeth are clattering. I’ll take you home, come on,” he says, letting go of you. 

“I have goosebumps because I’m horny, and I want you to fuck me,” you admit, feeling your need for him in every part of your body. “And I don’t want you to be nice about it either, I’m already your girlfriend.” 

You watch him gulp. Sunghoon’s eyes scan your face. He leans into your touch when you let your palm cup his cheek, his skin is burning hot, if it was any lighter outside you might have been able to see the pink on his face. He wraps his thick fingers around your wrist, letting his thumb stroke the back of your hand, and his pretty eyes find yours. 

“I want to, so bad, but you’re freezing.” He kisses your palm. “How about I take you home and fuck you there, hmm? I won’t be nice, I promise.” 

Oh, God, you think, clenching around nothing. 

Dazed, you almost agree until something clicks. “Take this off,” you say, practically begging as you tug at his knitted hoodie. His brows knit together. “Let me wear it.” Without hesitation, Sunghoon pulls the jumper over his head and slips it over you. “Please, Hoon,” you all but beg, as you put your arms through it. 

The two of you are close enough that you can see his pupils dilating as his eyes trail over your body. “I like my clothes on you.” Is the only thing he says before kissing you again.

Sunghoon’s hands are all over you, eventually settling on the top of your shorts, as he does his best to tug them off. You raise your hips to help him out before settling back into his lap, whining at the feeling of him under you, touching your pussy for the first time. He throbs against you when you grind down on him.

It all seems so real now. He’s so big; so hard, that you start to worry. Suddenly you remember the ache in your jaw every time you suck him off and how much of him is left over, even when his head inches its way down your throat.

Flustered, you start to stall a little, rocking back and forth on his length, coating him in your wetness. You take him in your hand after a while, jerking him a little to spread his precum and your slick all over him. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re whiling up time, and if he does, then he doesn’t seem to care, simply moaning when you lift yourself off of him to stroke your clit with his tip and tease your slit. 

Sunghoon’s teeth worry his bottom lip as you try to take him, his head falling forward, eyes trained on the spot between your bodies where you connect. His hold on your waist is so firm you can practically feel bruises forming under his fingertips and the sting of his cock pushing into you makes you draw a breath. “Just take your time, yeah?” he mumbles. “No rush.” 

No rush? you think, he must be crazy. You don’t think you can wait any longer, trying hard to sink down on him despite the pain of the stretch. You like it, that sting, the heat, you don’t want to go without it ever again. You must be crazy. Fuck, and Sunghoon are the only things you can bring yourself to say.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he tells you. “It’s okay,” he says, though he doesn’t look like he’s doing any better than you are. 

Sunghoon’s head falls forward once you’ve taken all of him, his teeth sinking into the skin at the base of your neck as he lets out a broken whine. Everything feels a little too much to bear. It’s so hot, when did it get so hot? With the last few crumbs of your brain power, you tell yourself to take the hoodie off, but you feel like you can’t move. 

He fits so well, fills you up just right. 

With a shaky breath, he lifts his head to look up at you. “So beautiful.” Sunghoon pushes some of your hair from your face. “Good girl,” he coos, using his thumb to wipe tears you hadn’t even realised were there. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. Taking me so good.”

Sunghoon asks if you’re okay. It sounds like Sunghoon asks if you’re okay.

Your fist balls around the fabric of his cotton shirt. “Warm,” you whisper. “Too warm.” He loosens his grip around your waist, moving his hands to your hips to pull the hoodie off of you. You lean back a little to let him take it off and feel as if you’re being split open, the angle only pushing him deeper. 

With the hoodie off, the cool summer breeze makes you feel a lot better; makes taking him a lot more manageable. So you move. His pretty face scrunches with pleasure, as a long, heady groan comes from his throat. “You feel so good. So tight.” There’s something in his voice that you don’t recognise, desperation, need. Sweat beads along his hairline, the flush in his cheeks so prominent you can see it despite the dark. 

You want to see him like this all the time. Need to.

His hips buck up towards you, seeming to catch you both off guard if the way you gasp simultaneously is anything to go by. He wraps his arm around your waist, his trembling hand beating against your skin, and lets his other hand rest on the blanket behind him, leaning back on it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you sigh. “How are you so good at this?” You practically clamp your mouth shut, not letting yourself say any more lest you propose to him, or worse, expose your breeding kink.

Sunghoon only gives you a languid smile before kissing you. 

It’s more than a little hard to focus on coordinating the movement of your lips and tongue when he’s fucking you the way he is; lifting you off of him so only his tip stays inside, then thrusting all the way back in, deep and slow, trying to feel every single part of you and doing a good job hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. So the kiss is messy and loud, an exchange of spit and moans but you’re way too turned on to care. 

Before long, he uses his hand to pull down the front of your vest, attaching his wet mouth to your nipple instead and your brain short circuits. He moans into your skin when you clench around him, his body stuttering under you.

“Baby, I don’t..” Sunghoon sighs, lifting his head from your chest to look at you. He’s the picture of desire, of lust, with his messy hair and parted lips, the sweat slipping from his brow bone. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he admits, thick brows pulled into a furrow.

At this rate, you don’t think you will either. His words only make you dizzy, they spur you on as desperation sets in; to see him cum, to feel it. Like always, his sounds are just as pretty as the rest of him, his grunts and his groans, and the ragged breaths that catch in his throat. And you quiver in his lap at the feeling of a knot forming in your stomach, immediately unravelling when his finger catches your clit again. 

Your head falls back. “I’m—” Is the only thing you can say.

“I know, baby, don’t hold back. I wanna see you make a mess.” 

His words send you over the edge, forcing your orgasm out of you while Sunghoon moans and fucks you through it. So good, baby, he mumbles over and over, stuttering through the words when you cum, though you barely hear him over the sound of his cock squelching up into you. 

A shaky breath and the word fuck tumbles from his lips. 

Sunghoon’s thighs tense and his stomach does the same. Shuddering under you, he cums hard, filling you up completely. You’ve never had a guy cum inside before, let alone been fucked without a condom, so you weren’t sure what to expect. But nothing could have prepared you for this. 

Heat courses through you everywhere, and you’ve never been so warm in your life. You can feel every last drop of his hot cum spilling into you, can feel it leaking out around him, slicking up your thighs. Shaking in Sunghoon’s lap, you’re full in the best way, eyes rolling back as your mind goes completely blank. 

Both of you try to catch your breath as he holds onto you tightly, his arms hugging around your waist. You’re having a hard time calming down with him still inside, but you don’t think you could move if you tried, and it seems as though he feels the same, only being able to bring his head away from your chest. With heaving shoulders and a dazed look in his eyes, he smiles up at you, sweet, contagious. Drunk on him, a laugh starts to bubble in your throat, forcing its way out. Sunghoon laughs too, and breathy chuckles slip from you both, happy, delighted. 

He reaches for some napkins, cleaning up what he can with you still in his lap before reaching for his hoodie. You watch as he folds it up a couple of times before putting it down near the blanket’s edge, shifting over a bit to hold you in his arms and lay you down, the hoodie under your head like a pillow. 

You think he must be an angel. 

Gently, he separates your legs to clean you up properly before pulling his boxers and shorts back up. You watch as he looks around the space for something, returning to your feet to help you put your underwear and shorts back on, sniffling a little and making his way to lie down on the grass beside you. Sunghoon reaches over your body and uses the remaining blanket behind you to cover you up. 

Sleepily, you rest your head on his chest, feeling his heart race against your cheek. “You’re so big, Hoon,” you whisper, mind still reeling. 

A beat passes. “Ok, baby, thank you,” he says a little awkwardly, you can feel his chest stutter as he chuckles and you can’t help but smile.

The stars above you beam brightly and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so many at once, peeking through the few dark clouds that drag lazily through the sky.

“You did so well tonight, YN,” Sunghoon tells you after a while. “You always do so well.” Your heart beats in your throat as he kisses the top of your head.

“Really?” 

“Mm,” he hums.

Curious, you look up at him. “What did I do well?” 

“Should I fill out a performance review?” 

“I just wanna know what you’re gonna tell your friends later.” Your heart rate picks up when Sunghoon laughs, sweet, contagious. “I’m serious.”

Into the air above, he huffs a long, dramatic sigh. “You really wanna know?”

“Desperately.”

He leans up on his elbow, looking down at you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, already nervous about what Sunghoon might say. It’s as if he’s the only person in the world, the only one that makes a difference. You can’t help but feel special under his gaze, grateful that you’re the one who gets his attention. His hand is big on the side of your face, his thumb grazes your cheek. 

Sunghoon opens his mouth but closes it before speaking, then brilliant, bright, he smiles. “I think I’m gonna tell them I’m in love with you.” Your breath hitches in your throat. “And, ask Jake to pray for us.” 

And, ask Jake to pray for us, you repeat as if bound by a spell and he nods his head. Overwhelmed, you hide your face in his shirt. “I love you.” 

Back at your place, Sunghoon does a good job of living up to what he’d promised you earlier. Leaving you to wake up that morning in his t-shirt, with your head on his chest and a dull ache between your thighs — though not before, for the first time since primary school, you (and Sunghoon) kneeled by the side of the bed to perform the sign of the cross. He’d stumbled his way through a prayer first and you followed, watching as he sent a text to Jake before eventually drifting off to sleep, tired and sore.

The duvet is bunched at the bottom of the bed, leaving your bare thighs victim to the light breeze rolling through your room. Sunghoon’s mouth is slightly ajar and he snores sweetly. Even in his sleep, his stomach is tight and his soft penis rests cute and limp against his thigh in a way that leaves you stifling a giggle. You want to kiss it. 

Regrettably, you don’t.

“Stop looking at me,” he mumbles, half-heartedly lifting his arm to cover your eyes, though, with his still shut, it ends up resting on your neck.

“I’m not.” 

Sunghoon pries open one of his eyes, catching you. He follows your gaze down his body, groaning when he realises what you’re looking at. “You’re worse than I thought,” he says, sitting up to pull your duvet back over himself, resting over his waist. “I’m never sleeping naked next to you again.” 

You open your mouth to quiz him but he covers your lips with his hand. “Or anyone else, relax.” 

“Good boy,” you mumble, the words muffled against his palm. 

“Ew,” he whispers when you lick his hand, wiping it on your t-shirt before pushing some of your hair away from your face. “How are you feeling, baby?” His voice is soft when he asks, eyes scanning your face for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“I’m kinda sore, but I’m good.” 

“You are?” There’s pride in his voice when he asks, eyes lighting up for a beat before pressing his lips together, trying to hide a smile. His broad shoulders betray him, trembling with silent laughter. Fuck off, you mumble, just as amused as him. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll be gentle next time, promise.” 

Next time. The simple words and all of their hopefulness leave your mind reeling. Laying next to Sunghoon, you grin at the thought of all of your next times with him. Through the seasons of the year; through autumn; through winter, spring, and back to summer again. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks through a yawn. 

You love him. “I love you.” 

You’re expecting him to kiss you when he starts to lean in, but he pulls you tight against his chest instead. He smells faintly like sweat when he hugs you. Like sweat, and sunblock, and peonies. Like kisses during sunset, and late-night swims. Like the happiest you’ve been in a long, long while. 

“I love you, more.”

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[jakecafe]

literally the most beautiful piece of fanfiction literature i have ever read… i am So in awe of this author’s writing, they knows exacty how to say things and what needs!!! to be said!!! the descriptive writing and dialogue is out of this world and quite literally perfect for this type of genre/setting/plot?? honestly ALL i have been wanting and searching for 🥹 so good i’m going to come back to this fic over and over again… zzzzz🤍🤍🤍

last night's story | jake

pairing: jake x female reader word count: 28.2k

synopsis: lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim.

genre: surfer!jake, childhood friends to exes to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, attempt at humor

warnings: surfing inaccuracies galore, reader almost drowns, smut (fem oral receiving, fingering, penetrative sex). MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! please let me know if i've missed anything.

Despite growing up a five-minute drive from the ocean, you’d never quite learned how to keep yourself afloat among the waves.

Looking back on it, you found it quite ironic considering how everything you loved somehow tied back to the ocean one way or another. Whether it was your vacant seaside town, the colorful dishes your aunt prepared for you as a kid, or the people you cherished most– all of it was somehow irrevocably intertwined with the water.

And yet you’d always felt an unexplainable dread when you found yourself a bit too deep in. Once past the shallow end, surrounded by erratic water and a depthless bottom, you found it hard to breathe. No matter how much you fought to stay above, there was always a tide under all the waves, seizing you by the throat and rendering you motionless.

Coming back to your hometown felt a little bit like that– diving headfirst into a swelling wave and fearing you’d never find your way back up.

The handle of the train window jams as you yank it downwards, letting out a harsh squeak when you attempt to pry it open once again. After struggling to tug it flush against the sill, you prop your elbows up on the glass and heave your upper body to lean out, careful not to lose your balance.

Outside, you’re met with the heady smell of brine and the sun’s dying rays. The rusted sign denoting your town’s outer limits flies by in a hazy whisk, followed by the first few houses and tiny streets. The sky is a brilliant blend of soft pinks and warm yellows, the horizons of which frame the buoyant ocean’s glistening ripples.

Australia’s Sunshine Coast has always been beautiful, but the prospect of returning so soon has your stomach in knots.

The loud squawk of a passing seagull startles you into ducking back into the passenger carriage. The stop coming up is yours, but you can’t bring yourself to gather your luggage. Getting off the train seems like an impossible feat when you’re practically glued to its walls, too afraid to face what may be waiting for you once you get off.

A sharp whistle resounds from the conductor’s carriage, and you hear the tracks below you screech as the train begins rolling to a steady stop. You duck back towards your aisle to tug your suitcases out from underneath the seat, palms numb as you grip their handles and wheel them towards the door. You know you can’t stay.

The world outside slows to a painful stop as the train reaches your town’s platform, and you hesitate before pushing the rotational gear to open your door. You’re able to momentarily forget about all your nerves as you struggle to haul your baggage off the carriage, too preoccupied with the fear of missing a step to look up.

Sunghoon’s waiting for you by the singular bench the shoddy platform has to offer, hands pocketed in his light-washed denim shorts. He squints at you through the last beams of the setting sun, lips pulled in an uncharacteristically fond grin. The golden light catches his face at an angle that makes him look like a ghost. He’s everything you remember and yet nothing you recognize.

“Well, well, well,” he tsks, but it isn’t unkind. Sunghoon crosses his arms and looks you over, cocking his eyebrow sassily. It almost makes you want to forego the initial jibing, but you surmise it wouldn’t be a proper reconciliation with Sunghoon without it. “Look at what the tide dragged in. Haven’t seen this species of blobfish before.”

“I missed you too, Hoonie,” you croon, abandoning your suitcase in favor of running forward and looping your arms around him. Sunghoon readily envelopes you in his hold, bringing you into his warmth with a teasing oof.

He’s soft and smells faintly of sunscreen, the generic kind you stopped buying once you moved away to Melbourne. He still holds you like you mean everything to him, and he’s still everything to you.

Pulling back, you study the grooves of his face where the sun dips into, frowning at the chiseled remains of Sunghoon’s younger self. He’s different and grown– his cheeks don’t carry the same youthful chubbiness and his eyes are sharper, nearly devoid of the juvenile spark you’d come to adore so much.

You’ve only been away for two years, and yet Sunghoon looks like a stranger.

The two of you haul your luggage into the back of his junky Toyota, flinging the trunk closed with a resolute bang and crowding into the vehicle to avoid staying out in the humidity for a second longer. The air conditioning system sputters to life after Sunghoon slams on the dashboard twice, and you sigh out of relief once you’re finally met with air that doesn’t feel suffocating.

Leaning back into your seat, you hiss when the heated leather meets the bare skin of your thighs, pouting as Sunghoon drives off from the train station.

“How was the trip in?” Sunghoon’s question is too customary, too formal, but it still distracts you from the lingering burn.

“Fine,” you answer. You pick at the stuffing that’s coming out of a rip in your seat, frowning. “There was a crying baby in my carriage and a weird stain on my seat that I hope was juice, but otherwise just fine.”

Sunghoon hums, peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. He pulls into another street and stops at a red light, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel and shifting in his seat. He clears his throat, uncharacteristically nervous, and finally turns his head to look at you fully, “You look different.”

“So do you!” You’re quick to fire back, feeling flustered. You gesture at him limply with your hand, unsure of how to tell him he looks nothing like what you remember. Attractive, clearly more confident in his skin, but different.

It makes you slightly queasy, the thought that in just a matter of a year or so, you’d lost track of the boy you’d called your best friend for so long. You blame it on the swaying from the train.

Your town’s small enough to cross through with a car in about 15 minutes, but it feels like you’re locked in Sunghoon’s Toyota for several hours. The burning leather under your legs doesn’t ease up, and at some point, the air conditioner stops working and starts bringing air in from outside, so it feels a little bit like hell.

As you round the corner and enter the street where your aunt’s shop is located, you feel your chest tighten with anticipation. The houses you pass are achingly familiar, with shades of blues, yellows, and reds nudging memories that you thought you’d left in the back of your mind. It feels like the neighborhood has been locked in time, put away and forgotten after you’d seen it for the last time two years ago.

But unlike Sunghoon, you find that the shop looks virtually the same as it did when you left. The relief you feel is quickly replaced with guilt.

Parking his car in front of the sidewalk, Sunghoon pops the trunk and the two of you get to action immediately. You heave out what bags you can carry, wanting to minimize your trips to the car, and waddle after Sunghoon as he goes to unlock the front door. In the window of the shop, you spot a note with Sunghoon’s loopy writing spelling out Closed, I’ll be back later!.

Entering the shop feels weird, but not in the way that you’d anticipated that it would. You’re hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia as you look around, taking in the interior of the place with a racing heart. Minus the cheap paint job in an effort to reverse the sun bleaching along the walls, you can find traces of yourself still left behind in almost everything.

By the crown of your foot, there’s a splotchy stain you’d left on the welcome mat after attempting to balance your friends’ coffee orders, too distracted to consider the fact that the cups were hot as shit. Next to you, there are markings along the door frame where your aunt had kept track of your height throughout the years, notched into the wood for you to remember till eternity.

As you step further into the shop, you spot drawings and paintings you’d done as a kid on the wall behind the register, hung up with colorful push pins. Above them, up on the shelves, there’s a potted plant you’d gifted your aunt for one of her birthdays, now much larger and with more leaves than when you had parted with it.

“Auntie kept a lot of your stuff,” Sunghoon voices your thoughts, grinning when you look up at him with wide eyes. “Most of it’s upstairs in the guest room. You’re cool with staying there, right?”

Nodding, you set your duffle bag down with a huff, rolling your neck. The prospect of going up any stairs at the moment seemed almost painful to you, but the thought of falling into bed and resting your head on something soft (and not the dingy window of a train) was too tempting to ignore.

It takes three trips in total to move all of your belongings from the car to the room you’ll be staying in, but Sunghoon doesn’t complain even once as he strains under the weight of your luggage. You gather all of your bags in an empty corner of the room, drawing up a chair to tug open the small window higher up on your wall. Outside, the sky has darkened to a deep purple, and the first stars are beginning to appear in scattered formations.

Collapsing on the bed, you shuffle around until your head hits a pillow, sighing as you sink into the soft material.

“There’s dinner in the kitchen,” he muses, “I bought it before I went to pick you up so it won’t be warm, but you should still probably eat before going to bed.”

“I should,” you sigh, heaving yourself up and blinking blearily at Sunghoon. He leans patiently against the doorframe and stares back at you, sticking his tongue out when your sleepy mind begins drifting off again. You startle, suddenly remembering, “Shit, wait. Hoon, where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch in the living room folds out, and it’s surprisingly comfy. Don’t worry,” he promises, flicking the light switch off and cackling when you squeak in surprise. “That fried chicken isn’t going to get any warmer, by the way.”

“You got me fried chicken?” You mumble as you get up, trudging after Sunghoon into the well-lit kitchen. Indeed, you find a bucket of fried chicken sitting on the counter, covered with a plastic bag in a vain attempt to keep it warm. “Fuck, I love you Hoonie. I’m so glad I came back.”

Sunghoon laughs as you pluck a drumstick off of the top and bite into it like a vulture. He leans onto the counter and continues to watch you eat, a slow grin spreading on his lips.

“Yea? I’m glad, too.”

☀

The decision to move away was one you’d been planning since high school.

Despite containing so many places and people that you loved, you’d always thought that there was something bleak, almost draining about your town. It felt like it was slowly bleeding you out from the inside, and the choice between here and elsewhere was one that was inevitable for you to make.

Jake had always called you crazy when you brought it up, but you knew he’d never get it. His whole life was set up here. Meanwhile, you knew your existence here was only fleeting. A momentary thing, never meant to stay for long.

The logistics of it were simple enough to your sixteen-year-old self; you’d work hard to finish school with high marks, get into a university in Sydney or Melbourne on a scholarship, and leave your town for good.

But the year after you graduated high school was stagnant. You picked up a job at a seaside restaurant and focused on saving up money to afford university and move to an apartment in a bigger city. The work’s long and tiring enough to numb you for a while, but it’s unavoidable that you get sucked up in everything you didn’t manage to leave behind.

Jake’s there too, because he’s always been in every single part of your life and you can’t run from him no matter how hard you try. Freshly-single, nineteen-year-old Jake had committed himself to ensuring that you stuck around for as long as possible, even if that meant inadvertently clipping your wings by telling you he loves you.

You don’t mind it at first. It’s hard to find a problem when the boy you’ve wanted since middle school admits that your feelings are reciprocated. It’s hard to think about moving away when you’ve yearned for so long, when Jake is finally in the palm of your hand and not off with somebody else. You’d forgotten to factor him into your delicate future, forgotten that him loving you back was an option.

It’s enough for a while– even if your job is shit and every day feels like a monotonous cycle of nothing, your head’s in the clouds when you’re with Jake. You feel yourself most when you’re with him, even if you’ve begun to forget who you are without him.

Moving away is at the forefront of your mind until it suddenly isn’t– there’s something keeping you tethered down and you can’t ignore it no matter how much you love Jake.

“I don’t think I can stay here any longer,” you tell him. “I’m not meant to stay here forever, Jake. It’s not fair.”

Jake had looked at you with a tired smile, almost like he knew you two didn’t have much time left. When the light caught his eyes at the right angle, you could see that they were glossy with regret. “I know. But it’s not fair to me to uproot everything I have here. I won’t be anyone if I leave.”

And in a way, you understood. While this place was nothing to you, it was all that Jake had.

That night, you rushed home to pack everything you could fit into a suitcase and backpack. For better or worse, Jake didn’t answer when you picked up, so you left him one last token of yourself in the form of a voice mail. The final decision to move away was made on a whim, finalized with a one-way train ticket you’d bought in the late hours of the night, and you hadn’t looked back on it. Until now.

A week before you were set to finish off your university term, Sunghoon’s name had shown up on your phone at a time far too late in the evening for you to ignore. After months of radio silence, you’d been startled into picking up and stuttering your way through a greeting. You’d barely recognized his voice over the phone at that time.

He’d called with a proposition so stunning you could barely gather your thoughts before responding with a shaky yes. Your aunt had to leave her surf shop behind to get treatment, and desperately needed someone to cover while she was gone. Sunghoon had told you that he couldn’t possibly do it by himself, and he’d called the only person he knew would care so much to arrive on such a late notice.

The decision to come back was not one you’d planned for either. You’d left with the intention of staying in Melbourne until you graduated from university, and foresaw nothing that could bring you back this early. Followed by another ticket bought at an hour so late the sky outside was beginning to pinken, you ended off your last exam and left for home on the same day.

The parallels between the situations were cruel in the way that it felt like you could never really leave– something would always bring you back, no matter how much you ran from it.

The shop is drowning in the morning light when you make it to the bottom of the stairs. It’s too early for you to be up, that much is evident in the way your feet drag behind you, but you cannot afford to flake out your first day on the job. And it seems like your boss is already waiting for you.

“Mango!” You squeal, suddenly all too awake as you run to approach the counter. Your aunt and Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned anything about her cat staying behind as well.

The chubby orange cat blinks back at you unfazed, fluffy tail swishing noncommittally over the cash register. When you reach out to pet the beloved baby, he rolls over on his back and chirps while you coo over him like you’ve personally carried him for 9 months and then birthed him.

You begin setting up to open the shop for the day after you fill Mango’s bowl up and sneak in a few more chin rubs. Though you were no stranger to how your aunt ran things, you found yourself retracing your steps and looking around blankly more than once as you went through the ministrations. You felt like a ghost hovering, revisiting opaque memories and relearning how to navigate what you’d once called familiar.

Your stomach’s in knots over the prospect of having to face people you know again. Last night was different– you’d been locked away safely with Sunghoon upstairs, away from peering eyes and curious mouths. This was about to change as soon as you opened the shop.

You manage to get the doors open with only a two minute delay. No one actually enters the shop until an hour later, when you’ve cozied up behind the counter and taken to eating your breakfast. At that point, you’d shaken away some of the nerves you’d woken up with and are able to welcome the customer with a soft smile that doesn’t feel forced.

Sunghoon comes down to check on you sometime later, still in his pajamas and sporting a surprised look on his face.

“Wow, I’m genuinely shocked you haven’t destroyed the place by now,” he comments slyly, taking a loud sip from his coffee mug.

“I’m more shocked that you’ve managed to keep this place open for so long by yourself,” you bite back. When you hear the front bell chime, you immediately straighten up and call out a friendly greeting to the customer, ignoring the way Sunghoon laughs at your switch up.

He saunters over to join you behind the counter, pretending to busy himself with fixing things on the shelf while the customer pays. Once you’ve bid them goodbye and closed the register, Sunghoon rounds on you and crosses his arms, shaking his head gravely.

“You forgot to give her the receipt that the card machine printed, fucked up big time now. I should fire you.”

“If you came down here to micromanage me, I suggest you go back to sleep,” you huff, reaching out to crumple up the forgotten receipt.

Sunghoon’s face visibly softens. “Hey, you know I’m just messing around, right? I’ve forgotten receipts countless of times before.”

Humming, you begin to clear off the counter and wipe down the surface.

“Are you mad at me?” Sunghoon asks carefully, lingering next to you. “I’m sorry. We used to make jokes like this all the time back in the day, I assumed you’d still be okay with it.”

This makes you frown guiltily. Your hands pause and you turn around to look at Sunghoon fully. “I’m not mad, just a bit on edge at the moment. I’ve been a bit stressed out about this whole thing all week, and it feels like I’m going to explode if something else goes wrong. I guess all this anxiety’s been making simple shit slip my mind.”

Sunghoon nods quietly as if to urge you to continue.

“Everything is so familiar and yet it’s all so strange and I feel like I’ve forgotten everything,” you whisper, voice cracking at the end. “I miss my aunt, I miss my apartment, I miss Melbourne. I feel so silly for not coming back earlier, but I know I wasn’t ready. And I don’t even know if I am now.”

There’s a weight on your chest that’s suffocating you and making the words stick to your tongue like tar. Sunghoon’s eyes are gentle as they look into your own, understanding and patient, and you feel the guilt consume you from the inside.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon. I’m scared to see Jake again. To go outside and see everything that reminds me of him. I’m scared that I’ll have to live with this fear always, that I won’t know peace where I’m supposed to feel at home.”

You don’t realize you’ve teared up until Sunghoon quietly hands you a tissue. You wipe your eyes and laugh shakily at the incredulity of it all– you’d cried enough before leaving Melbourne, convinced you’d forget all about your worries once you were actually here. You were far from right.

Sunghoon’s warm arms wrap around you and your mind blanks for a second. He squeezes you tightly and holds you for a while, until you feel your breathing begin to even out again. Quietly, you thank him and relax in his embrace.

After promising Sunghoon you’d be fine with finishing your shift, you go back to cleaning out the counter. You only have half an hour left, but you’re determined to see it through to the end. There’s a box of inventory that needs to be unpacked anyway, and you’d rather not sit around at the register and think for a minute longer.

Once your shift’s over, you trudge up to your room and immediately slump onto your bed. It’s got a loose spring somewhere that’s poking into your thigh, but at the moment, it’s the most comfortable surface you’ve ever laid down on. You could care less when a nap is overdue.

Mango seems to have different plans, however, as he saunters into your room and meows loudly. You don’t bother to look up until he’s resorted to jumping onto your bed, incessant meowing now right under your ear. You really should’ve closed the door.

Blearily blinking your eyes open, you see that Mango has situated himself next to your bedside drawer and is preparing to jump onto the very limited surface there. Yelping, you sit up and carefully move him back onto the ground, where he can do less damage and knock over less of your belongings. He makes an angry huff, but you ignore him in favor of checking to make sure everything on the drawer’s fine.

There’s a cup that you most definitely hadn’t left. Squinting and peering inside, you find that it’s filled with tea, made from the spearmint packets your aunt used when you weren’t feeling your best. There’s still steam coming out from the top, which means Sunghoon must have made it for you right before coming down for his shift.

You can’t stop the giddy smile that stretches across your lips while you pick up the mug. As you take tiny sips, your stomach begins to warm, and the feeling slowly spreads to the ends of your being. The feeling in your chest unfurls the tiniest bit, and you surmise that despite it all, you’ll be just fine.

☀

Working at the shop is monotonous for a while. You and Sunghoon take turns swapping shifts so that you don’t have to be up with the sun every morning, but you still keep each other company for the later ends of your hours. It’s nice to have someone there with you to fill the gaps in between the customers, someone to whine to about the guy who came in reeking of wet dog and the kid that left sand all over the floor.

Catching up with Sunghoon is simultaneously weird and the highlight of your day. You’d practically grown up with him, and yet you now knew close to nothing about him. His irregular Instagram updates were nothing to lead off on, but you surmise your own lack of social media presence must’ve frustrated him right back.

Sunghoon is more than eager to share stories from the gap in his life for which you’d been gone. You’re able to piece together who he is now with relative ease, even if you’re bridging unfamiliarities in areas you’d thought he’d never change. He’s no longer the awkward, floundering boy you knew for so long. He’s sure in himself and his actions, he’s deliberate with his thinking and purposeful with everything he tells you.

Sunghoon shares with you that he’s almost finished with his kinesiology degree and that he’s been visiting the local hospital more and more often to shadow doctors. He still wants to do medicine, just like he’d told you in high school, but he wants to focus more on sports medicine and hopefully work in therapy. He also proudly tells you that he’d recently gotten his driver’s license, despite refusing to touch a car when you were both finally old enough to drive, to which you snort and tease him with yeah, who passed ya?. 

He’s still your Sunghoon, even if he’s blossomed differently from the Sunghoon you grew up with.

Aside from him, you have Mango to keep you company. The cat barely pays you any attention as usual, instead choosing to nap in places he shouldn’t be and ignoring you when you call him for pets. But you know that behind that tough exterior, Mango loves you so.

To say you’re lonely would be untrue. Every now and then, a customer will chat you up while you’re at the register. They’re curious at seeing an unfamiliar face and you can’t blame them, but it’s sweet all the while. You get a few recognizable faces in between as well, people you went to high school mixed in with older family friends who coo at you and instinctively reach out to pinch your cheek.

It’s Jake’s face that you least expect to see in your shop. You think it’s inevitable that you’d eventually run into him, but it doesn’t surprise you any less.

You were manning the register just half an hour after swapping with Sunghoon when the bell above the door whistles familiarly. You call out a friendly greeting and look up, only to choke on the last syllable. Just from his side profile you immediately recognize him– the grooves of his face are achingly familiar and the sweet tone of his nonchalant good afternoon back is like a punch to the gut.

You know he’s likely unaware that you’re back at all, let alone working here now, but it feels oddly motivated from the universe’s side. Your stomach swoops as you watch him disappear one of the back aisles, and you have a minute to pace your breathing again before he reappears and begins approaching the register.

Your blood runs cold once he finally looks up and notices you. You think your heart’s going to beat out of your chest and fall onto the tile floor when he stops in his tracks and stares back at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” he says surprised, mouth hanging open around the syllable. “Um, hi.”

Your lips twitch but you’re unable to utter a greeting back. Jake approaches the counter like one would a wounded animal, and you hate the way your legs jerk with the want to step back. You think you hear him say something more, but it’s masked by an echoey ringing in your ears.

“Hi,” you croak, mindlessly reaching out to what he’s placed on the counter. Your palms are sweaty and so, so cold and you can’t even feel your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the sharp edges of the box.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Jake says, but it barely registers in your mind. Despite the gaping feeling in your stomach, you laugh at the formality, some color returning to your cheeks. Jake visibly relaxes at this.

“Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting to run into you right now.” Or ever, but you think it’s best left unsaid.

Jake shrugs. His eyes roam over your face curiously and you try not to curl in on yourself. “How long have you been back?”

“Just over a week now.”

He hums, gaze settling on the way your hands fidget with the item until the scanner finally picks up on its barcode. You hurriedly place it back onto the counter and slide it toward him.

“I really do mean it, you know.”

Starting, you blink up at him unassumingly. “Sorry?”

“That I’m glad to see you again,” Jake clarifies.

“What’s all this for anyway?” You’re quick to ask instead, words bubbling out of you like a stream. Your heart’s racing pathetically and you’re embarrassingly hung up on the fact that Jake cares.

Jake doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the change in topic. “I needed a new fin set for my board. I’ve got a few competitions coming up and figured I’d polish things up a bit.”

Right. It was no surprise to you that Jake never abandoned his love for surfing, unlike everything else.

“You should come watch me at the state qualifiers next week,” Jake continues while leaning over the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing you with an impish look. You want to reach out and shove his forehead with your fingers, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t the same Jake you’d grown up with. Whatever you’d once had was forgotten in the past.

“Sure,” you say, ignoring the nagging warmth in your chest. Feigning nonchalance, you busy yourself with tapping on the checkout screen of the iPad, if only to give your hands something to do other than to fidget with your shirt. “Me and how many other chicks?”

Jake laughs good-naturedly, but the momentary lapse of insecurity in his voice isn’t lost on you. You feel guilty for just a moment, but don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. After finalizing his order on the screen, you look up to find Jake already looking back at you, almost expectantly.

“Your total’s $270.59.”

Jake’s face falters the slightest bit, but you don’t think it’s because of the ridiculously high price. “Does that factor in the ‘good friend discount’?”

The phrase makes something sour flood in your mouth, and you resist the urge to scowl. The receipt machine prints out his total, and you rip the paper out with more force than admitted necessarily. You nearly slam it down on the counter in front of Jake, peering up at his shocked face through your lashes. “Yea? What’s my favorite color, Jake?”

Noticeably taken aback, Jake’s confident demeanor slips away as easily as a receding wave. He stutters around his next sentence, and you try not to let your satisfaction show as you open the register. Jake looks down as he counts through the bills in his wallet, pulling out several and passing them timidly across the surface. “Uh–, well, hmm. Something… blue? Wasn’t it blue?”

“I hate blue,” you spit the lie out a bit too quickly, and hope Jake can’t see right through you. You accept the bills you’re handed with pursed lips, slipping them into your register and handing back the few cents you owe him.

“You don’t,” Jake answers immediately, not bothering to reach out and pocket the change. “You love blue. Specifically that light seafoam shade you see on the shore. Said it reminded you of summer.”

Despite how much you want to disagree, your throat feels all dry and your eyes are stinging and you don’t think you can bear to look at Jake much longer without saying something regretful. But something about letting him think he still knows you makes your fists clench and gut boil.

“People change,” you say with an air of finality. “I changed. You changed.”

Jake takes his bag and steps back from the counter with the expression of a kicked puppy. He looks back at you like he wants to say something, something long left untouched, and you resist the urge to hide behind your counter and cover your ears with your hands.

You feel naked and vulnerable– like Jake has carefully stripped away every last layer of your defenses and he can see the rotting remains of everything you didn’t say. You hate how he looks at you, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind and the inner monologue you’ve been fighting since you first met him. Like he still knows you in and out, despite moving away and changing every last bit of yourself that reminded you of him.

“Thanks for shopping with us,” the smile you give him is painfully artificial, and you shut the register with a bang that echoes around the shop. “Have a good day, Jake.”

☀

Besides taking a trip up the coastline, there were only a handful of other things one could do in town to stay busy. You relied on the usual small-town things that somehow never got boring; going to the drive-in theater, drinking milkshakes until your jaw and stomach ached, and driving endless loops around the town.

Problem was, most of these only worked with other people. Your few options decreased even further during the summertime, when leaving an air-conditioned space was essentially a self-inflicted death sentence. Alone or not.

Living in such a small town also meant that out of the three or so choices you had, you were guaranteed to run into someone you knew wherever you went. It was one of the reasons you were so eager to leave, to finally go live in the big city where shops didn’t close at 5 and where you could go for a walk without seeing a familiar face you had to avoid.

And whether or not you dared to admit it, you were afraid of running into someone while out on your own.

You’d nearly forgotten about that aspect when coming back, only to be cruelly reminded on your first designated day off.

“What do you mean I’m not working today?” You cross your arms, frowning at Sunghoon’s figure behind the counter. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You and I both know there’s like, only two possible answers to that,” Sunghoon sniffs, not bothering to look up at you from his phone. “And I don’t think you’d be interested in either of them.”

While true, you also didn’t want to give up that easily. “Shoot.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon finally divulges you with his attention, rubbing at his brow bone contemplatively. “Auntie Lee’s diner got a new arcade machine. Plus you never got to try that cookie dough shake she introduced after you left.”

“Cute, but I feel stupid going by myself,” you sigh. Heaving yourself up on the counter, you ignore Sunghoon’s noise of complaint and prompt him to keep going.

“Go see a movie or something?”

“All the new releases look like shit.”

“Get some coffee?”

“If I have another cup I’ll start vibrating.”

“Yard sales?”

“No, it’s hot as balls out.”

Sunghoon pauses, and you nearly think this is it, you’ve finally gotten on his nerves, but he taps his chin and hums, almost like he’s genuinely as invested in this as you are. And then he looks up at you with something malicious in his eyes, and you know you made a mistake coming to him.

“Jake’s place has a pool,” Sunghoon drawls knowingly, “but I’m sure you already knew that.”

Hopping off the counter, you ignore his cackling in favor of flipping him off. “Go fuck yourself, Hoon.”

The rest of your afternoon is spent very excitingly: you rot around in bed for a few extra hours, switching between three apps until refreshing your timeline no longer produces any dopamine. You get up only once Mango saunters into your room and begins incessantly meowing, a clear demand and order for you to feed him. 

Whilst in the kitchen, you decide to have lunch as well and reheat some leftovers for yourself. As the microwave drones on in the background, you fill out a postcard for your aunt to remind her you’re thinking of her and scavenge the drawers for stamps.

Unsurprisingly, you find your phone nearly dead when you come back, so, driven by a sudden burst of Marie Kondo-like motivation, you forgo charging it in favor of attempting to rearrange the entire layout of your room. It only ends up looking even more like a prison cell, except now you’ve precariously stuck up a bunch of wall decor that you unearthed in the clean-up process. A pretty prison cell.

There’s a band poster above your bed of four dudes you don’t recognize, along with fashion and music magazine cutouts from the 90’s. Your aunt had kept a surprising amount of the drawings little 5-year-old you had ceremoniously gifted her, and you try your best to arrange them in a way that complements the other shit you’d stuck up. Obviously, it doesn’t work out quite well.

Sunghoon finds you laying down, though this time it’s on the floor and not your bed. You hear him sigh obnoxiously loudly, followed by his phone’s camera shutter going off, and then a delayed but very pronounced Sunghoon-y laugh. The floorboards creak as he steps closer, pausing right next to your head.

“I’m going out with some friends,” he announces, prodding your shoulder with his foot. “I’m extending the invitation to you ‘cause I don’t want to have to drag your corpse out of here later.”

You sit up way too fast and your neck flares up in pain, but you ignore it in favor of batting your eyes up at him. “Where are we going?”

“Get dressed, Jay’s going to be here in ten,” Sunghoon sing-songs, not paying mind to the customary middle finger you flash him. “Something you can get wet in, preferably.”

There’s a dirty joke missing somewhere, but you forgo it in favor of jumping up and tugging off your ratty gym shorts.

Making yourself look presentable in ten minutes is a feat, but you manage to tidy up well enough that Sunghoon gives you a thumbs up when you join him in the shop upstairs. Despite the fact that you’re wearing shorts and a tank, it’s hot enough that you have to fan yourself aggressively as you wait for Sunghoon to finish packing his tote bag. He himself is donning a very similar attire– another pair of jean shorts and a loose, tucked-in shirt with a palm tree stitched onto the front.

The two of you are locking up the front door when a car honks loudly from behind you, startling you into dropping the keys by your feet. You grumble as you reach down to pick them up, ignoring Sunghoon’s bellowing greeting back.

As you approach the vehicle, the windows on your side roll down in tandem, and two familiar heads poke out like meerkats to gape at you.

“Holy shit, since when are you back in town?” Heeseung is the first to speak, leaning through the window and breaking off into a wince when he slams the top of his head against the window trim.

You have to hide your laughter behind your hand as Heeseung rubs at his scalp and Beomgyu chastises him for being stupid. They get over it pretty quickly though, and turn back to stare at you like meerkats. 

“Hey to you too,” you flush under the sudden attention, hugging your bag to your front. “I came in last week.”

Sunghoon must notice your discomfort, because he tugs you toward the other side of the car, opening the door for you and covering the top rim with his hand lest you suffer the same fate as Heeseung. Thanking him, you duck inside, scooting in next to Beomgyu and giving him what you hope comes off as a warm smile and not an anxious waver. 

Sunghoon climbs in after you, shutting the door and settling back in his seat with a groan. He reaches behind his back to pull out a fast food wrapper, chucking it at the back of the driver’s seat with enough force to send it bouncing back in his own lap. “Jesus fuck, when’s the last time you cleaned up around here, Jay?”

“I would’ve cleaned up had I known we’d have company,” Jay mumbles sheepishly. He drives off from the store, rounding the corner and setting you off on what you faintly remember as being the way toward one of the main beaches.

“It’s really nice to see you again,” Beomgyu interjects brightly, nudging your shoulder gently with his own. Wordlessly, you lean back into his warmth, letting your shoulders sit flush against each other. You think he gets the message.

“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming back?” Heeseung turns around to pout at you from the front. “We would’ve thrown you a welcome party or something. We missed you.”

Hesitating, you shrink under his unblinking gazes. You hadn’t given it much thought, let alone considered that you’d be missed. “Uh, wanted it to be a surprise?”

“We all know you guys would’ve been annoying as fuck about it,” Jay chimes in, “If I were her, I wouldn’t have told you either.”

“The difference is that we wouldn’t miss you,” Sunghoon chucks another wrapper at Jay, snorting when this one ends up hitting him square on the head.

Despite the growing havoc, you find yourself grinning, laughing along when Jay sends a horribly misaimed empty paper cup flying back. You allow yourself to lean back into the seat and relax, just like you used to do before you left. It’s easy to forget how on edge you were feeling earlier when you’re surrounded by people you’d missed.

You’d left many things behind, but it seems like your fondness for your friends never stopped following you.

Jay brings the car to a stop in an empty parking lot bordering one of the several beachfronts in your town. You remember this particular one being further south, where the waves grew taller and where many smaller-scale competitions were held.

Wriggling out of the vehicle after Beomgyu, you make yourself useful by popping the trunk and retrieving the straw mat that you knew Jay kept around for such visits. It’s now tattered and bears several holes in it after being thoroughly used, but you can’t imagine sitting on the burning sand with nothing underneath you.

Heeseung skips over to help you, hauling a case of beer out from the trunk and balancing it precariously over his shoulder. It’s then that you conveniently take notice of what he’s wearing– a band shirt-turned-tanktop with very revealing armholes– and nearly choke on your spit. Pretending to be unbothered, you train your gaze on the tips of your shoes, trying to focus on the way your toes wriggle, but fail miserably. Heeseung looks too good.

“We get it, you started hitting the gym,” you tease, trying not to openly gape at the way his arms fill out his sleeves.

It seems you’ve made it a bit too obvious, because Heeseung practically preens under your attention, grinning cockily and flexing the bicep nearest you. “Yeah? Just wait till I get in the water. There’s more where that came from.”

The comment combined with the rolling humidity makes you feel like you’re about to pass out, so you sneak one last glance at Heeseung’s arms before scurrying away. You choose to set up camp under the shade of a leaning palm tree, somewhat close to the shore but far enough so that the crashing waves don’t dip into the sand nearby.

As soon as the mat’s down, you flop onto it, spreading your arms and legs like a starfish before someone else can take up the space. Despite your efforts, Beomgyu easily crams into the space next to you, humming a melody under his breath while he unpacks the snacks he’d brought. He offers you a bag of gummies, so you don’t bother complaining.

The rest of the boys join you soon after, hissing once the hot sand begins to burn at their soles.

“Fuck this, I’m going in to cool down,” Jay announces, halfway through tugging his shirt off. “Someone text Sunoo and tell him to bring his speaker. And that inflatable Spongebob ball we found the other day.”

As Jay bounces down the remaining distance to the ocean, you tuck your knees under your chin and watch as a flock of seagulls crosses over the melting sun on the horizon. Despite being later in the afternoon, the air still felt heavy and sticky like caramel, practically oozing down your skin in trickles of molten sweat. You try to fan yourself with your hands, but it’s no use when each new gust of air just felt like you were being submerged further and further into a pot of boiling water.

Sunghoon heaves down next to you and Beomgyu, cracking open one of the beer cans from the case. He takes three, four, five long gulps, sighing at the relief from the cold liquid. When he notices you staring, he holds the can out in a silent offering, but you shake your head and point toward his mouth, where some of the beer had trickled out in his haste to gulp it down.

“Aren’t the waves too small for surfing?” Beomgyu asks.

Looking back at him, you find that Beomgyu’s frowning in the direction of the ocean, where a figure is trying to balance on a board under the lip of a crashing wave. Though you yourself never quite took on a surfboard by yourself, you knew that there were certain tricks one could only perform with taller waves, ones which were certainly not found on this beach during this time of year.

It was typically beginners who practiced on such small peaks, but from observing the surfer for a while longer, you could easily deduce that this most certainly wasn’t a beginner. Though they were having trouble because of the lower crest, their maneuvers were carefully executed and dynamic enough to be on a professional level, and even as the wave dipped, they didn’t lose their balance.

“Sunoo!” Your attention’s pulled back by Heeseung’s excited bellow, and you turn to find another familiar face approaching your mat.

“Are you for real?” Sunoo’s question is directed at you, judging by the way his wide eyes meet yours, and you shuffle around so you can hold your arms out for him. He readily launches himself into your embrace, albeit a bit awkwardly because he has to lean down, but it’s warm and inviting nonetheless.

The five of you pack yourselves onto the mat as you wait out the sun to dip further down the horizon. Sunoo asks you about your life back in Melbourne, and you’re more than happy to answer. In turn, you ask him about his job, about that motorbike he’d always wanted, and about the last boy you remember him having a crush on. Judging by his reaction, not everything had gone according to plan.

It’s nice to just hang around like that, too– even as you can’t help but think about someone missing. By the time your stomach’s all twisted up, Heeseung and Sunoo eventually begin to whine about their muscles cramping and get up to go cool off in the water. You watch as they race to the shoreline, snorting when they both end up tripping because of a wave.

“Sounds like you missed us too,” Sunghoon muses, eyes resting carefully on the side of your face.

Your ears warm at the prospect of being watched so carefully, and you duck your chin to avoid letting Sunghoon notice.

“I’m going to take a dip too,” you decide, hauling yourself up and beginning to tug your outerwear off. Though you immediately feel some sort of relief, it’s short-lived and it only makes you feel more eager to jump into the ocean.

The sand is pleasantly warm under the soles of your feet as you jog toward the shoreline, keen yet careful not to snag your leg on a stray branch or rock. Sunoo and Heeseung have trudged further into the ocean, joining Jay who’s now sat atop one of the huge jutting rocks and sunbathing like a cat. They’re close enough that you can make out their scheming expressions as they approach him.

As the water meets your feet, you’re overcome with an inundating sense of peace. Though you’ve already spent a week back at home, you haven’t yet had the chance to come visit the ocean. Growing up so close to it, it had become inevitably tied with your youth, associated with everything you considered home. As much as you tried to forget about it, the riptide pulled you right back under.

Jay’s squawk of surprise as Sunoo and Heeseung haul him into the water startles you into looking back over at them. You bark out a laugh as you continue to watch their shenanigans, Jay resurfacing and promptly dragging both of the perpetrators under with him. They all yell in unison, cut off once they plummet under, followed by a stream of bubbles as they wrestle with each other.

Any thought of joining them is thrown out the window when you see one of their legs stick out from the water, only to flail around uselessly and be sucked right back under.

You dip further in until the water is lapping at your chest. It’s pleasantly cool against your sun-streaked skin, and as you run your palms through the undulating water, your body readily immerses itself until you’re bobbing pleasantly with each new wave. The noise of the ocean stuffs your ears like cotton, and you can’t help but think you never want to be so far from it again.

An unexpectedly forceful wave has you yelping and rushing to keep your head above the water. When you bring your palms back up, you notice with a sinking feeling that a few of your rings are missing, ones you were sure you came into the ocean with. Cursing yourself for your carelessness, you look around aimlessly, squinting against the sun and watching for any signs of them in the water.

A bright glare reflecting from a stroke’s distance away from you has you venturing deeper, toward a section of the water where you’re certain you see something floating.

You lunge forward, expecting to catch onto the next level of rocks with your feet, but instead, you’re met with cold gaps of water and nothingness. A surge of panic seizes you by the throat, and you have half a second to process that you’re falling before your head’s submerged and you’re entirely suspended in the ocean.

There’s something tugging at your body, relentless and forceful and even as you squint blearily through the water, you don’t see anything there.

You feel yourself go cold all over, and the shock of the situation renders you immobile for a split second. Your legs thrash about trying to locate the nearest surface to find purchase on, but you’re pulled back by another crescendoing wave, and you lose all semblance of direction before you can head for the surface. As the wave flips you, you’re sent hurdling even deeper, where the water grows colder and the noise from above is muffled beyond comprehension.

You feel your chest grow tighter and tighter by the second, a newfound fuzziness suffusing your head. Your lungs burn with the need to breathe in, but you can’t tell which way is up and down and you think you’re going to run out of breath and–

There’s a tight grip at your forearm, pulling you toward the surface with a searing strength. Your legs kick out from under you as you try your hardest to propel yourself along, until another hand joins the other to clasp onto your other arm. You break the surface of the ocean with a ragged gasp, groaning when you feel your torso hit something solid.

You realize you’ve been hauled onto a surfboard as it buoyantly sways atop an incoming wave. Inhaling deeply, you grip the sides of the board until your knuckles turn white, fearful of slipping back into the never-ending whirlwind of water. The roaring of the ocean fills your ears like static until you can’t discern it over the sound of your own coughing.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” there’s a familiar voice above you, but you’re too preoccupied with hacking up water and trying to breathe to look up.

Something brushes your forehead, and you feel your hair being pushed out of your face, allowing the setting sunlight to burn against your eyelids. You blink the world back into view, wincing when some of the salty water dips right back into your eyes. You find an achingly familiar face staring back at you amidst the noise in your ears, and for a split second, you think it’s your oxygen-deprived brain conjuring up hallucinations.

Jake blinks at you timidly when your gaze focuses on him. He looks alarmed, as if the sight of him is enough to send you rearing back into the water. But even in the hazy aftershock of your incident, you’re unable to feel anything but gratitude.

Slumping against the board, you close your eyes and focus on taking deep breaths. The water around you sloshes as Jake maneuvers the two of you toward shore, taking extra precautions not to let any waves spill out against you. You hear shouting from the shore end, where you presume the rest of your friends have caught on to what’s happening.

As the board reaches the shallow end, you feel the same hands envelop your sides, this time bringing you into a secure hold against Jake’s firm skin. Your heart’s pounding in your ears and you’re too preoccupied with taking shallow breaths to focus on how warm Jake feels against you.

The next few minutes feel like a blur in the most literal sense. Your vision is still bleary and you have a hard time making out your friends faces as they cluster in around Jake and try to help him lay you down. There’s so much noise that you can’t discern any words in particular, everything jumbled together into a sequence of distant-sounding, unrecognizable utterances.

You groan as your back hits something soft and you become acutely aware of all the unwavering stares on you. You try to sit up but fail, clearing your throat and taking a few deep, staggering breaths.

“Fuck, I feel like shit,” you rasp. It makes a relieved bout of laughter ring out around you, and you smile despite the discomfort in your chest.

“We’ll give you some space,” Sunghoon says gently, patting your calf. The touch lingers as he draws away, and you follow his retreating figure with your unfocused gaze.

One by one, you watch as your friends pull back, reconvening further away so as not to overwhelm you with their conversations and bearings. But you feel a lingering presence remain by your head, and the curious urge in you beats out the embarrassment you think you should feel. Looking up, you find Jake already staring back.

“Is it hard for you to breathe? Do you feel like there’s still pressure in your lungs?” Jake’s eyes seek yours out anxiously, and you realize with a start that he’s genuinely worried.

“I’m okay,” you promise, “I think I just need to rest. I’m more in shock than anything else.”

Nodding, Jake exhales sharply, and you notice his shoulders deflate. He settles down on the mat, leaving a comfortable gap between the two of you. You watch as the material beneath him dampens from his swim trunks, eyes trailing along the exposed skin of his legs, now covered in smatterings of sand. You only look away when you spot a familiar mole on his upper thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

You’re met with silence, heavy and unnerving. It’s the kind that makes you think you’ve said something wrong, something that needs to be taken back, forgotten. You nearly think Jake’s missed it until you hear quiet shuffling, then–

“S’okay, you just scared me a bit back there, that’s all,” he mumbles. You feel the warm weight of his gaze settling on your face again, but you think any last breath you have in you will be knocked out if you try to look back up at him. Looking at Jake has always been a bit like looking into the sun. “I still care about you a lot, despite what you might think. I was really worried.”

The sincerity in his words makes your chest churn painfully. Breathing in deeply, you reach out blindly with your hand along the mat, feeling the damp straw beneath your fingertips as you search for the familiar callouses you held onto earlier.

“I know,” you whisper, for a lack of better words. There’s something unsaid left hanging in the air, and you hope Jake can catch onto it before it disappears.

Jake’s fingers meet yours, and you hold your breath as they slip between the crevices of your own. You don’t dare to open your eyes, instead focusing on steadying your racing heart, on Jake and his gentle touch along your knuckles. His hold is grounding, but your mind still flutters at the prospects of what if, what if, what if.

☀

The momentum between you two shifts after that, but the nagging voice at the back of your mind stays.

Jake begins joining your group around town more and more often, usually for smaller increments of time between his practice sessions and work shifts. You come to learn that he now works as a trainer at the same academy he started training at, and that he coaches the under-12 group. He’s still busy as ever, but your friends make it a point that he’s always invited no matter when he’s able to join.

Jake takes these invites seriously; he drops by your hangouts nearly every time you’re there, a feat that isn’t hard for you to miss. He keeps a respectful distance but it doesn’t feel like he’s taken to ignoring you and ruling you out of his life completely. If anything, it’s the latter. You know the distance is more for your own sake than anything, and with each time you see him, it becomes increasingly harder for you to stay away.

Jake also begins visiting the shop more and more often, though never to buy anything substantial. He’ll usually do a quick round of the aisles before coming to hang out at the counter, where he’ll make (initially shy) conversation with you before purchasing a Clif Bar and leaving.

Admittedly, you enjoy the company more than you should, even if Jake’s presence is technically a hindrance to your professional work environment.

“Don’t you have a competition to be getting ready for?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, and he stops reading the ingredients label of the bar he’s holding to look up at you like you’re crazy. “I am. This is part of my new pre-practice ritual.”

“What, buying Clif Bars and showing me funny Tiktoks?” Your question’s meant to be amusing, but Jake nods at you, dead serious.

“I think I like the Crunchy Peanut Butter flavor the most,” he hums, handing over the bar so you can scan it. “Also, if I don’t have your socials, how am I supposed to show you all the red panda Tiktoks I’ve been seeing?”

The iPad dings softly as you go through the motions of finalizing his purchase. You feel Jake’s unfaltering gaze follow your hands, and you try not to let how flustered you feel show. “Is this you trying to be slick while asking for my number?”

“Maybe,” he grins. “Only if it’s okay, though.”

Jake slides a bill toward you, taking the bar and pocketing it in his shorts. No matter how confident he sounds, you’re able to tell he’s nervous by the way he wrings his hands behind his back.

Wordlessly, you pass your phone across the counter, trying not to look too pleased as Jake practically whoops and picks it up to type in his digits. When you get it back, you see that he’s written himself in as Jakey, followed by an emoji combination that you can’t make sense of. Something warm stirs in your gut.

☀

It’s your fourteenth birthday when you finally muster up the courage to let Jake teach you how to surf.

The word teach being used very loosely, but rather, just letting Jake mess around with you on his board. At that point, he had been in the academy for just over three years, enough to give both of you some kind of reassurance that he knew what he was doing. Jake had offered you lessons countless of times before then, eager to get you on the same board that had brought him so much joy, but you’d never had the guts to agree.

“This feels like attempted murder,” you whine from where you’re perched on his board, shrieking when a wave jostles you the tiniest bit.

Jake laughs at you, though not unkindly, and he expertly grabs onto your forearms and maneuvers you into a more secure position. He’s surprisingly gentle yet firm, and when he wades a bit deeper into the water, you find that you’re not as nervous as you thought you’d be. He instructs you on what to do when the next wave comes, promising you that he’ll be next to you in case anything happens.

He helps you ride out the first wave, making a show of clapping for you even though you did none of the work. The next few come and go very similarly, until you begin to get a hang of the general motions needed to keep you above the water. The reassurance of Jake’s hands on your skin is enough to have you soaring with your head in the clouds.

When a higher wave approaches, you tell Jake you’re confident in taking on it yourself. His eyebrows arch when he looks at you, but he steps away to let you handle it on your own. Your stomach swells in tandem with the wave and you scream bloody murder once you feel the board move, but you’re somehow able to stay above the water without any of his help.

“I did it! Did you see that? Jake, holy shit!” Your peals of joy are muffled suddenly when a wave slams into your side and your open mouth fills with briny water. Sputtering, you turn to see Jake fail miserably at hiding his amusement, doubling over from his laughter.

“Yah, it’s not funny! I could’ve died!” You scold him, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“It’s a little funny, you have to admit,” he says, and you really can’t disagree with him. “Besides, you’re doing really well. I’m happy you finally let me, even if it’s taken me months of convincing.”

“There’s a reason I don’t trust you,” you huff, but the words carry no animosity and you couldn’t mean them less. You trust Jake with your every fiber.

“I think this is your sign to join me in the academy,” Jake declares.

Frowning, you move to dismount the board and sink into the water next to him. “I can’t see myself enjoying it as much as you do, Jake.”

Jake hums, frowning. You can’t take looking at him upset, so you decide the best option is to climb up on his back and smother him in a tight hug. He complains when your arms come to encircle his shoulders and you cling onto him like gum, but his protests are weak and only motivate you to hug him harder.

“Can I be honest?” The vulnerable edge to Jake’s voice has you stiffening. “I’m scared we won’t be as close soon. I’ve got the academy and school, and I know you’ve got all those tutoring sessions after school too. What if we can’t hang out anymore? What if you start to think you’re too cool for me?”

Snorting, you can’t help but squeeze his shoulders tightly and lean even more of your weight on him. Jake doesn’t seem to mind one bit, hands warm where they’re holding your knees.

“If I thought I was too cool for you I wouldn’t be spending my birthday alone with you.”

“Not true, we had lunch with the rest of your friends earlier,” he mumbles, which earns him a chastising flick against his temple. “Ow, what! It’s facts!”

“Can you just accept the fact that I care about you?” You rest your chin atop his damp hair. “Maybe I even love you. Have you thought about that, Jake?”

When Jake doesn’t respond, you’re left to listen to the crashing of waves around you. You sit with the words in your head, and as anxious as you feel having said them out loud, you know you mean them. Jake’s been an inseparable part of your life for as long as your brain can conceptualize being alive, it’s inevitable that you’d grow to care and love him.

You didn’t know it then, but it was also inevitable the love that you felt would blossom into something much, much harder to ignore.

“I love you too,” Jake echoes, and it’s so quiet you nearly miss it.

Clambering off his back, you fall into the water with a splash.

“My last birthday wish is that you get me to that buoy over there.” Pointing in the distance, Jake follows your finger and squints at the bobbing yellow buoy. You’ve never been that far in, but you feel oddly brave in the wake of the setting sun.

“This is, like, your 5th birthday wish already,” he says without much conviction, already moving to pull the board in closer to you.

“I know,” you grin. “But you love me, so I doubt you care all that much.”

☀

The day of the state qualifiers falls on the first Saturday of January, a warm and humid day with a sky as blue as the ocean. You and Sunghoon close up the shop at noon to join your friends on the beach, where they’ve occupied the closest spectator area to the shore and are frantically applying sunscreen before the shade pulls back from their zone.

As expected, they’re all boasting varying shades of blue– Jake’s (mostly) self-proclaimed lucky color. The whole shtick started at one of his first competitions at the academy, where you and Sunghoon had happened to both be wearing blue when Jake won his first ever podium title. Jake had called you his lucky charms, fully knowing it was silly, yet neither of you ever dared to show up without the color afterwards.

You’re also donning your own bit of blue, a discreetly tucked handkerchief in one of your pockets, with which you mindlessly fiddle as you approach your friends. You’d thought it to be subtle enough, easy to blame on a mindless coincidence, but one raised brow from Sunghoon had confirmed otherwise.

Sunoo’s speaker borders on obnoxiously loud as it blasts Megan Thee Stallion’s Thot Shit, garnering concerned looks from the company of grandmothers that have taken up seats next to you. They seem to reconsider their choice of seating, but the quickly filling lot on the sand leaves them with few options to move. You and Sunghoon have to squeeze in next to Heeseung on the end to fit on the blanket, and end up sitting shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee.

You’re also close to the judging panel, a small shaded hut where a few people in white polos are shuffling around with papers, readying as the tournament draws to a start. Heeseung passes the bottle of sunscreen to you and you thank him with a smile, squeezing out a handful to begin lathering onto your exposed arms and legs. The sun overhead begins muscling through the canopy soon after and you’re forced to savor the last few moments of shady reprieve.

The first competitor is introduced over the speaker, and an immediate ripple of cheering rings through the audience. You clap good-naturedly but can’t deny your attention begins to stray the longer it takes for Jake to be called. He’s one of the last names, and as soon as the two familiar syllables of his name are announced, you perk up excitedly.

Jake and his signature baby blue board appear seconds later, followed by a tumult of deafening cheers from your section. It’s partly due to Sunoo’s incredible lung capacity, but it’s also no secret that your town has always shown up to support Jake in competitions. He’s been a favorite ever since he began winning the junior championships in high school, climbing his way up to the highest ranks along the Sunshine Coast and earning himself the title of your town’s pride.

The rest of the competitors are familiar to you in their own ways. You recall seeing a few of them at past events, where they’d gone against Jake and failed to strip him of his title, and the rest being fellow members of Jake’s surfing academy.

The panel of judges officiates the beginning of the tournament, and with a resounding whistle, the first surfer drops into the water and meets his first wave.

Though you’d been to your fair share of surfing competitions, you’d forgotten the infectious thrill that usually accompanied attending them. The thrum of excitement in the air has you leaning forward throughout the entirety of the first, second, and third heats, watching the surfers tackle waves with an effortlessness that leaves you astonished.

Jake’s able to pass through all of the heats with remarkably high scores, a feat that’s never failed to impress you. The waves he catches within the competition zone are simple enough to leave no room for mistakes, and yet complicated enough that the other competitors struggle in their maneuvers to impress the judges. He performs his usual routine, the one you’d watched him rehearse for years on end during practice sessions, and ends it off with a foam climb that sends a ripple of applause throughout the audience.

As his last twenty-minute set draws to an end, Jake paddles back toward the shoreline while the competitor prepares to jump in after him. He waves over at your section, grinning boyishly when Heeseung wolf-whistles and Sunoo makes a suggestive hand sign at him. Your eyes meet for the briefest moment right before Jake has to exit the water, but it’s all you’re able to think about while the rest of the competition drags on.

As expected, Jake takes a place among the top 3 competitors. He’s just a few points from first place, but it’s enough to qualify him for the next, higher level competition that’ll undoubtedly be more important to him.

As the customary ending ceremony concludes, your group waits for him off to the side, away from the huddle of audience members queuing to get a photo. They’re currently swarming the third place champ, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but there.

Jake appears not long after. He’s still shirtless, which is really awful but also really great for you, and he’s pushed his damp hair away from his face. You think you’re going to die when he gets close enough for you to make out that the necklace he’s wearing is a wooden star charm you gifted him when he first started surfing. You know he’s most likely forgotten who gave it to him in the first place, but the chance that he might possibly remember has you feeling feverish.

Sunoo jumps on Jake’s back as soon as he joins you all under the shade. Jake oofs, but readily supports Sunoo with his arms, who cheers cutely and grips onto him like a koala. You tell yourself that you really couldn’t care less if Jake’s biceps flex from the action.

“There’s our guy,” Jay hollers, ruffling Jake’s hair. He circles Jake like a vulture and tries to jump on Sunoo’s back, which sends all three of them screeching and barreling down into the sand. You can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed even as people look over, laughing heartily at the way they wriggle around and curse.

“I’m going to blacklist you from all of my competitions,” Jake threatens once he’s finally off the ground, scowling as he shakes the sand out of his hair.

“You did really good,” you blurt out. “That last Pipeline came out of nowhere, but you handled it well. Even the judges thought so.”

Jake knows this. He knows his routine better than you do, knows what happened out in the ocean better than you do. And yet he still smiles sweetly, thanks you, and tells you he’s really glad you came. You see the way his eyes flicker towards the bandana sticking out of your pocket, and try not to preen under his gaze when he all but flushes.

“You should all come to mine to celebrate, my mom’s going to be making barbecue later,” he offers. Much to your dismay, he tugs a shirt on and hauls the strap of his bag onto his shoulder.

“Auntie Sim we fucking love you,” Sunoo mumbles.

It’s a unanimous decision, and you couldn’t be happier cramped into the back of Jake’s car.

☀

Aside from your friends, the only thing you’ll admit to missing from your hometown would be Auntie Lee’s Double Cheeseburger and Milkshake Combo™. It was what you ate to celebrate your high school graduation, what you ate with Jake to console him after one of his many breakups, and the last thing you ate before you thought you’d be leaving for good.

But despite Melbourne’s more than abundant choices of fast food, all of the restaurants you’d tried out had only left you missing Auntie Lee more. You blamed some of it on nostalgia, but really, when it came down to your very professional opinion, she just made a really good burger and milkshake.

So, when Heeseung proposes you all hang out again soon, you’re quick to suggest her diner as the meeting spot.

Thankfully, not much has changed there either. Auntie Lee’s hair is now a burgundy red, a shade you think suits her better than her past ginger tint, and she greets you at the register with the same crooked smile you’ve come to associate with her good food. Her apron still has an array of colorful pins she’d collected over the years and a stubborn grease stain right below the neckline that makes you feel oddly reminiscent.

The six of you squeeze into one of the booths by the window, the same one you used to crowd into as high schoolers after late-night study sessions. The formation in which you choose to sit in is strikingly similar as well, and when you run your fingertips along the underside of the table on your side, you’re able to quickly locate a carving that you’d done haphazardly in your senior year.

“Holy shit, our initials are still here,” you say, and Sunghoon reaches under the table to check as well.

As Auntie Lee brings your orders in record time, you sit back against the booth and survey the rest of the table. If you dig far back enough in your camera roll, you’re certain you have an exact shot of a moment just like this captured.

“Inflation somehow never hit this place.” Jay’s looking at the food like a predator, and you try not to giggle. You hear Sunghoon mumble a prompt amen from next to you and you look down at your own food with an increasingly salivating mouth.

“Cheers to us and to the economy,” Heeseung raises his milkshake, and the rest of the table is quick to follow suit. As you laugh and clink your glasses together, you catch Jake’s eyes peering at you from across the booth, but he’s quick to look away when you notice.

As you dig into your burger, you try not to think about the lingering feeling of his eyes on you. Jake’s always had a sort of maddening effect on you– once the thought of him circulated in your mind, getting rid of him was like tugging gum off of hot asphalt.

“My shift earlier was ass but this is enough to fix me,” Heeseung mumbles through his mouthful of burger, wiping at his sauce-stained mouth with a napkin.

“Do you still work at that cafe by the bike rental place?” You ask.

Heeseung furrows his brows and shakes his head adamantly, swallowing his bite before responding. “I left a while ago. I work at that one hotel by the beach now. The one with the funny misspelled sign outside.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you swallow the bite in your mouth and frown. “Huh.”

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore. And I feel like you don’t know anything about us anymore, either,” Jay admits with a pout. His words make your stomach turn uneasily, and you put down your burger with guilty fingers.

“Yeah,” Sunoo hums in agreement, “what’s been going on with you? You told us you were leaving to study in Melbourne, but that’s pretty much all I know. You never post on Instagram either.”

It’s true– when you were first planning on leaving, you had no intention of forgetting everything behind. You didn’t have time for goodbyes, and as shitty as it was, the thought of keeping in close touch with your friends scared you. You worried that what had happened between you and Jake would alter all of your friendships forever, and that they no longer saw you in the same way.

Clearing your throat, you try not to let your voice waver under the weight of their attention. “I do study in Melbourne, I pretty much live there full-time now. Have an apartment and everything,” you pause when Sunoo cheers brightly, and you flush at his enthusiasm before continuing. “That’s pretty much it, though. I was going to work in the city this summer, but I’m honestly kind of glad Sunghoon called. Didn’t realize how much I missed this place.”

Everyone awes, and from beside you, Sunghoon squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Do you live with anyone?” Sunoo asks slyly, popping another fry into his mouth. He props his chin up on his hand, feigning indifference, but you know him well enough to tell when he’s trying to be foxy. “Roommates? Friends? …A special someone?”

Waving him off, you laugh at how his lips quirk up inquisitively. “No, it’s a small space so I’m glad it’s just me. And if you’re trying to ask if I’ve got a boyfriend or girlfriend, you’re not being slick at all.”

The rest of the table laughs with you, but you don’t miss Sunoo’s whine of protest.

Jay crosses his arms, cocking his head. His stare makes you put down your fry. “So? Do you?”

“I expected this from Sunoo but not from you, Jay,” you huff. “Fuck, you’re all nosy as shit, you know that?”

When everyone continues to stare back expectantly, you pout and look down in defeat, “But yes, for the record, I’m single.”

“Jake’s studying in Brisbane now,” Heeseung says out of nowhere, and you look up to see the boy in question choke on his milkshake out of surprise. “He commutes, like, every day. As much as it’s crazy, I respect the grind. He’s always been smart as shit.”

The rest of the table hums in agreement, but you feel Sunghoon stiffen up next to you.

Jake clears his throat and rubs his neck sheepishly, clearly a bit startled by the sudden attention. Not for the first time that afternoon, he looks up at you tentatively, almost like making eye contact with you will sting him. “Um, yeah. I’m studying engineering. Architectural engineering, if we’re being technical. I applied and got in last year.”

“That’s really nice,” you say earnestly. Your throat feels all dry but you’re eager to hear more, almost desperate to grasp at everything you’ve missed in his life since you’d left. “Sounds hard, won’t lie, but you’re smart like that. I’m happy for you.”

Nodding, Jake’s lips twitch, almost like he’s trying to suppress his grin. The edges of his eyes crinkle as he tips his head forward in a show of gratitude. “Thank you.”

You’re not quite sure if you should continue the conversation or leave it where it is, so you reach for your milkshake, awkwardly tucking the straw between your lips to give yourself something to do. As you sip up the last of the liquid, your slurping screeches around the table and you wince.

“Fuck, it’s worse than I thought,” Heeseung groans loudly. His fork clatters in his plate where he drops it, the clang resounding around the empty diner dramatically.

“You two need to fix this, like, now,” Jay agrees, rubbing his temples. “The sexual tension is throwing me off. Do you get how bad that is?”

Frowning, you let go of your straw to stare at them in dismay, and, quite frankly, embarrassment. You’re sure your ears and neck are telling shades of red, based on how warm you feel all over, and you’re sure everyone can see. You knew you couldn’t avoid this for much longer, but the bandaid being ripped off didn’t hurt any less.

“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Jake speaks up. He’s looking at you concerned, but you can’t bear to meet his eyes for longer than a second.

“It’s okay, I know they’re joking,” you say meekly, frustrated with how upset you sound. You’re not, no matter how much you wish you were anywhere but here.

The blanket of silence that swathes the whole table weighs on you like stones. You stare at your empty cup stubbornly, refusing to look up at the pairs of eyes that are watching you intently, some with pity, some with guilt. You feel like a caged animal, backed into a corner and left with nowhere to run.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you announce. Still looking down, you get up abruptly and wade out from the booth, murmuring apologies under your breath as you knock into Sunghoon’s feet.

The night air is stuffy and briny as you breathe in mouthfuls of it. The headlights of a passing car blind you momentarily as you lean against the wooden railing of the restaurant’s porch, making you blink disorientedly. A group of teenagers noisily clamber in past you, and you ignore the looks that get thrown your way.

Jake steps outside soon after. Some part of you knew he would come after you, and it preens selfishly when he spots you and all but jogs to you.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly. There’s some scuffling against the porch floor before he comes to join you against the railing. A beat of stillness passes, then– “I’m really sorry.”

You snort. “Not your fault. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Jake regards you silently, the intensity of his gaze burning into your slumped shoulders. He always looks at you like he can see right through you, right through all of your skin and flesh and ugly secrets. It's unnerving thinking about just how much he knows.

“No, I–”

“Jake,” you cut him off, voice falling just short of desperate. Your knuckles begin to turn white where your hands curl against the porch. “I don’t want you to apologize. What happened between us isn’t something to be sorry about. It happened, and that’s that. Just wish you and everyone else wouldn’t be so stubborn about bringing it up all the time.”

The silence that follows rings in your ears and settles uncomfortably in your gut. You hesitate before speaking again, wanting to gauge Jake’s reaction, but you’re afraid he’ll leave if you don’t hurry.

“I just want to start over. Clean slate,” you mumble.

Jake remains quiet for what feels like an eternity. Your stomach twists anxiously, tossing and turning when his ruminating gaze shifts up from your shoulders and onto your face

“Is that what you want?” Jake’s voice is feeble and it washes over you like a breeze.

Breathing in sharply, you nod.

“Okay,” he says simply.

Then, in an act so unexpected it throws you off guard for a good few seconds, he thrusts a hand between both of your bodies, grinning impishly. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet ya. You come here often?”

The laugh that bursts from you is so raw and genuine and it makes your chest flutter. You take his hand and mutter your name between giggles, ignoring how the warmth encasing your palm is achingly familiar. "Fuck, you’re actually unbelievable. And no, first time in town actually.”

“Really,” Jake plays along easily, smirking when he leans against the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t reckon you need someone to show you around, would you?”

The implications of the offer are clear as day, and you visibly hesitate in your response. Jake’s features soften the slightest bit, like he’s afraid he’s crossed a boundary, and you hate the way your heart swells at this.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say cheekily.

☀

You and Jake have always had somewhat of a normal relationship.

You first met him in primary school, when he was still shorter than you and had a gap in his teeth when he smiled. Having recently moved into town, he was placed in the same homeroom as you, and, by the will something much greater than the both of you, into the empty chair next to you.

It was hard to ignore him for more reasons than the fact that he was sitting just two feet away from you. Jake was full of personality, as you’d come to learn, and as charismatic as a boy could be at the tender age of 7. He was funny, knew a bit too much about whales and turtles, and was nice enough to share his lunch with you on the days you’d forgotten yours.

It was inevitable that he’d become your friend– you’d walk home together, play at the park together, and dig around in the dirt for worms occasionally– and you never thought it would get any more complicated than that. Until you entered secondary school.

Jake followed you into one of the three secondary schools in your town, and it’s where the two of you would come to meet Sunghoon. Although you two were no longer in the same homeroom, you still made efforts to spend the majority of your free time together, now joined by a third. Sunghoon seamlessly became interwoven into your life just like Jake had, and you couldn’t think about a future without either of them.

At the end of your first year in secondary school, Jake started surfing lessons and got his first girlfriend at the academy.

It was weird for you and Sunghoon, now one person less as you gathered at your usual spots at the park, your backyard, and the parking lot behind Auntie Lee’s diner. Sunghoon reasoned that nothing much had changed, but you both knew that wasn’t true. There was a Jake-shaped void that was impossible to ignore, much less fill, as he became more and more enthralled with the sport and his new girlfriend.

You’d never really met Haeun properly, despite how entangled you both were in Jake’s life. You had no reason to believe she wasn’t nice– Jake seemed more than happy every time he talked about her and boasted the widest grin you’d seen on him every time they texted. She was among the top in her age group at the surfing academy, had pretty hair, and even followed you back on Instagram. You really had no reason to believe anything bad.

And yet, you couldn’t help it. There was some deep, ugly feeling within you that you couldn’t get rid of for as long as she was involved with him. Looking back, it didn’t bother you as much as it probably should’ve. When you’d divulged your feelings to Sunghoon, he’d also brushed it off as innate jealousy. Your best friend was spending more time away from you, who wouldn’t be a little bit frustrated?

But from there, everything went downhill. Jake and Haeun broke up by the time summer ended, much to your relief, but it was far from the last girl that Jake got involved with. As the three of you worked your way up toward graduating, Jake grew further into his features and learned to embrace his hobbies with more and more groups of people. It was inevitable that Jake would earn himself a place among your school’s most well-known, and consequently, draw even more attention to himself, both from guys and girls.

Despite all of that, he continued to be someone you and Sunghoon could lean on. He had rigorous practice sessions that took up most of his week but made an effort to visit both of you after school to study and get food. Any time you felt like he was drifting away, he’d reel himself back in and attach himself to your side like gum. Which only made the suffocating feeling in you grow stronger.

It wasn’t until year 12 prom that you realized what was wrong with you.

While Jake had a date from another class, you and Sunghoon decided to show up to the event together, if only to take advantage of the free food and drinks your school was offering. The whole night, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jake from across the dance hall, anxiously watching the way he’d spin his date, the way he’d smile, laugh, and look at her like she’d personally hung the stars up in the sky.

As selfish as it was, you imagined yourself in her spot. And in retrospect, it really couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Are you not having fun?” Sunghoon had asked, hands slipping from where they were holding you by the waist.

When you’d turned back to look at him, the crestfallen expression on his face made you flinch. He looked like a kicked puppy, and it stung more to know you’d been the one kicking this whole time. “I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

“Really?” He’d scoffed, this time fully letting go of you. There was a vulnerable look in his eye as he stepped back, face dipping into the shadows of the dancing lights. “What’s the point of agreeing to go with me if you’re just going to stare at him like that the whole time?”

Everyone had gotten a bit weird around this time, but it wasn’t hard for you to tell what was going on. Sunghoon had never been really good at hiding his own feelings; you knew the cafe study dates were beginning to turn into more than just study dates for him. You’d noticed the lingering touches, the meaningful glances, the fond way he’d call your name. Somewhere along the way, Sunghoon had gotten caught up in you.

In hindsight, it was selfish of you to forgo addressing it. It was selfish to ignore it, stash it away at the back of your mind and hope he’d one day find his way out. But the paralyzing fear kept you so eagerly and cruelly reciprocative, so willing to play along. You already felt like you’d lost Jake, you couldn’t afford to lose Sunghoon too.

“Hoonie, I’m sorry, you know I–”

“I know,” he’d said, lips twisting into a pained smile. His eyes drifted over somewhere behind you, where you knew Jake was dancing with his date, and he shook his head. “And yet some stupid part of me hoped you’d finally get over him.”

In all your infinite luck, it seems like you never fully could.

☀

Slowly and heedlessly, Jake intertwines himself in the fibers of your life once again.

He’s the first face you see in the mornings at the shop. His laugh reverberates in your ears long after you two part ways for the day, his brief, fleeting touches linger along your skin like those of a receding wave’s. His contact name is the last thing you see at night, and he’s all you think about until you slip away to unconsciousness.

You’re so full of him you’re drowning– he’s everywhere around you and you think there’s really no escaping him this time.

“When does your shift end?” Jake pushes yet another Clif Bar across the register’s counter toward you.

The clock behind you chimes softly in response. You squint up at the rusted arrows and turn to Jake inquisitively. “In 10 minutes. Why?”

“Cool,” Jake rips open the wrapper and takes a bite from the bar. Chewing, he grins at you slyly. “You wanna come by mine after?” The proposition sounds more like a question than anything, but Jake knows you’ll say yes.

Jake’s car is a shacky little thing his family gifted him for this 18th. It’s the same as you remember it, with a mess of stickers haphazardly stuck along the dashboard and a row of stuffed animals along the back window that his cousins had left behind. The passenger seat still squeaks when you try to adjust it, and you both laugh when you end up sitting down and the cushion whines from under you.

Jake drives you through a route you know too well. He rolls the windows down (as far as the car allows them) and points at renovated buildings and new lots alike, narrating everything you’d missed while away. You lean against the door and let the breeze wash over your face, fiddling with the bag in your lap.

You’re there but you’re also not– Jake’s voice serves as an anchor while your mind wanders off just far enough not to worry him. These are all places you’ve been with him, and with each passing place, you have to blink away vivid memories that flash before your eyes in technicolor film.

You and Jake celebrating your middle school graduation at the rundown arcade that’s now been modernized. You and Jake troubling over what to gift Sunghoon at the comic book store that’s now shut down forever. You and Jake chasing his dog at the park that now finally has a special fenced off section just for dogs. You and Jake–

“This is the park where you lost one of your baby teeth from falling off a swing. You started crying and I had to take you home on my bike.”

“You remember that?” You blink at him incredulously, face growing hot.

“Of course I do,” Jake says matter-of-factly. “It’s hard to forget when the tooth’s still in my room.”

“What?!” Your bag slips off your lap when you sit up straight, bewildered and embarrassed. “No way, your mom wrapped it up and I took it home with me.”

Jake brings the car to a steady stop by the curb in front of his house. He reaches over across you to help you roll your window back up, and you try not to squirm under his amused gaze. “I’ll just show you then.”

Layla greets both of you at the threshold of the door, yelping once she lays eyes on you. You have a solid second to brace yourself before she leaps forward, propping both of her front paws against your thighs and wagging her tail so fast you worry she’ll start floating. Nearly losing your balance, you squeak in surprise, but are quick to reach out and pet her. 

You coo at her like she’s your own baby and in a way, she certainly is.

She’s soft and warm, cuddly as she headbutts your palms and licks at your fingers. “I missed you so much, cutie.”

“She missed you too,” Jake says, and you look up right as the camera shutter on his phone goes off. Squawking, you cover your face, albeit too late, because Jake giggles at his screen and you hear him mumble a quiet cute.

Jake’s room looks smaller than you remember it being. You think it’s because the small twin he used to have has been replaced by a modest queen, but you’re also no longer fresh out of high school and naive. There are sun-bleached spots in places where his old posters are, the walls now sparsely lined with polaroids and printed film photos.

Your feet subconsciously bring you closer to the walls. You squint at each of the photos, the people in some of them unrecognizable to you. There’s one from the day of your graduation, but it’s just Jake with his mom, along with a bouquet large enough to take up a third of the frame. There are a few of Layla in a wide range of settings, including one that you’re certain was taken while you were at the park together. There’s even one of the sunrise at the beach on a morning with calm waters and no people in sight.

Most notably, there are none of you up there. You reason that it wouldn’t make any sense for there to be in the first place, given everything that had happened, but some pathetic part of you wishes that Jake still held onto you the same way you did to him.

“Here,” Jake says, snapping your attention back to him. He’s unearthed a plain blue box from the depths of his closet, and he’s pushing it towards you with a lopsided smile.

You abandon the photographs and plop yourself down on the carpet. Peeling back the lid of the box, you peek inside and try to ignore the way your breath quickens when Jake situates himself right next to you. Your knees brush together as your fingers slowly sift through the contents, your mind barely registering what you’re looking at in the box.

A bunch of movie tickets from screenings you’d seen years ago. A birthday card you’d painted for him in middle school. An old Pikachu figurine you’d won for him at the fair. A postcard you’d mailed him from a school trip to Sydney. A magazine cutout from when you’d sat down to do vision boards together. A polaroid of you and Jake at the beach, posing with a hyperactive Layla who’d come out blurry on the film. A tiny plastic box with your baby tooth in it.

Your mind is racing so fast you feel the world around you halt still. Your shaky fingers pick up the box, peeling back the napkin that it’s wrapped up in.

“You– Why’d you keep all of this?”

Jake blinks at you like it’s a ridiculous question. “What, am I supposed to get rid of everything that reminds me of you? This box doesn’t have even a fraction of all that, anyway.”

It’s hard for you to wrap your mind around the thought, but Jake’s been holding onto you far longer than you could’ve hoped for.

“Can I tell you something?” Jake asks.

“You already did,” you joke, crumpling up the napkin under your hands and chucking it at him.

Jake catches it effortlessly and grins at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you said you wanted to forget everything from before, but I feel as if I owe you an explanation. If not you, then for my own sake. It keeps me up sometimes, ya know?”

Your breath begins to thin out, but you nod anyway. You’ve known this conversation was inevitable, no matter how much you pushed it off. You couldn’t go back to Melbourne without letting Jake rip off the same bandaid for which he was responsible.

Jake’s eyes are soft as they meet your own, his hands gentle as they seek yours out to cradle them. “I could never be upset at you for prioritizing your own future back then, and I hope you don’t carry any of that burden with you. It was me who was unsure of what was happening in my life, what I wanted to do after high school. And it was wrong of me to try and tie you down with me here.

“If anything, you were the only direction I had in my life. And I was so, so scared I’d lose you to something else. Something better. But when I look back on how selfish I was, how desperate I was to keep you around, I can’t help but feel so guilty. Because I should’ve seen how unhappy you were here, and being with me couldn’t change that.”

Jake’s voice is so fragile you could smash it into a million pieces like fine china. Your eyes blink once, twice, and then your cheeks feel all damp and you can’t hold it in anymore. Jake thumbs at the tears that skid down your skin, and you try to swallow down your erratic hiccups, but even through your sobs, you can feel yourself laughing. Despite your tears, you’re happy.

“I don’t think I was ever unhappy,” you admit. “I was just scared. Scared of getting stuck here like everyone else. Scared I’d never accomplish anything and that I’d waste away the most important years of my life. I was so scared I forgot to think about everything that was worth staying for here. Like you.”

Pulling the box into your lap, you look down at its contents with a teary smile. Though you feel shaken up, there’s an underlying cathartic release to it all– this is the closure that you left without, the closure you thought you were never going to get.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking my tooth home with me,” you tease, pocketing the packaged tooth in your shorts. Looking up, you push the box into Jake’s hands. “You can keep the rest.”

Jake regards you silently, but the look on his face is so soft it makes your ears feel all hot. He nods, looking down into the contents of the box with a smile wide enough to make the edges of his eyes crease up. “I don’t mind,” he muses, “I really did keep a lot of things, huh?”

“It’s cute though!” You’re quick to reassure, and Jake’s answering laughter sounds like fizzy soda pop.

The two of you lounge around on the floor of his bedroom until it’s too hot to even lay around. As Layla enters the room and pounces on you, Jake sits up to look at you while you scratch behind her ears and mumble nonsense to her. “You wanna go in the pool?”

“I didn’t bring my bathers though,” you frown between coos.

“Oh my God,” Jake groans, getting up from the floor and pacing over to his drawers. “You’ve even started speaking like a Melburnian. They’re togs, excuse you, and I can lend you some shorts or something.”

The shorts and shirt he passes you have random cartoons on them and are thankfully dark enough to not go transparent in the water. You clamber up from your spot on the floor and wince as you stretch.

“I’ll change in here,” you tell him. When Jake remains standing in the room with a blank expression, you point towards the door and tell him to shoo.

“Got it chief,” Jake salutes you jokingly, “Layla, let’s go girl.”

“Layla can stay,” you interrupt him, whistling to call her back over. Layla obediently follows, planting herself by your feet and barking at Jake, who remains frozen in the doorway.

“This feels really mean,” he pouts at you, grabbing the door knob to shut the door after him. But even after he closes the door, you can hear his voice in the hallway. “Last one in the pool is a loser!”

Huffing, you look down at Layla and giggle when she nudges your foot as if to say hurry up.

☀

There’s a lightness to your breaths that you swear came after that day at Jake’s. You think it’s silly to attribute it to a mere conversation, but in retrospect, any weight you’d carried before was because of an absence of any such conversation.

You feel good, oddly much so that it’s almost weird. You feel as if the universe had absolved you of all the pain and guilt you had tied to this place, and all you were left with was the fondness and euphoria of finally being back.

Until shit begins hitting the fan soon after.

On an unusually gloomy day for the summer, you and Sunghoon find yourselves on the steps in front of the shop, taking advantage of the opportunity to be outside without experiencing heat stroke symptoms. The concrete is still warm under your legs, enough so that Sunghoon offers up his shirt for you to sit on at one point, but it’s a welcome change from the unpleasant temperatures you’d seen thus far.

It’s Sunghoon’s part of the shift currently, but the store’s been eerily empty for the first half of the day, so you two have taken it upon yourselves to take a well-deserved break. Perks of being your own bosses, and you’re sure your aunt would approve. You’d hardly broken a sweat, and who are you to turn down Sunghoon’s offer of ice cream and a soda?

Besides, listening to Sunghoon fervidly talk about the new tv show he’s started watching while you chow down your cone is a treat of its own. You take the chance to rant about the last weird TikTok you saw while Sunghoon finishes off his own ice cream before it melts.

There’s a natural lull in your conversation at which point you decide to check your phone. Jake’s name is atop most of the notifications on your screen, and you’re not quite sure what to reply to first. Your fingers fidget on the device and you bite your bottom lip, holding back a grin when you finally click on your messages and see a picture of Layla with a hat too big for her head.

“What’re you smiling so much at?” Sunghoon’s voice is teasing, and you have half a second to process his question before he’s cramming into your side and peeking at your phone with prying eyes.

“Hey!” You scold, but it’s too late, because he’s seen the contact name atop, and you can’t think of a lie fast enough before his next question comes.

“You’re texting Jake?” The teasing smirk on his lips melts with the accusatory tone in his voice, and you wince as you lock your screen and hide your phone.

“Why do you sound like that? You’re acting like you’ve just walked in on me trying to hide a body or something!”

Sunghoon’s lips purse and he eyes your side, where you’ve tucked your phone away. “Don’t be ridiculous, this is basically the equivalent.”

“Ridiculous?” You scoff. Something in your throat settles uneasily, and you try not to sound too hurt when you speak again. “I’m just talking to him, Hoon. What are you on about?”

“Really? You’re giving him a second chance after everything he’s done?” Sunghoon fixes you with a dismayed stare, brows furrowed and fists clenched where they rest in his lap. “Do I have to remind you that you left in the first place because of him?”

The lump in your throat grows and you feel like you’ll throw up. Looking away, you blink up at the cloudy sky and try to focus on evening out your breathing. Fights with Sunghoon have never been easy, but fights with Sunghoon about Jake, though rare, always left you numb for days on end.

“I’m not giving him a second chance. We’re friends, testing the waters again, that’s all,” you say meekly. “And I didn’t leave because of him, I was going to study in Melbourne anyway. Stop giving him so much credit.”

Sunghoon’s silence feels like an eternity. You hear him shift next to you, then, out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he stands up. His stare burns into your scalp like the scalding sun. “Even you don’t believe yourself.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are glossy and tender from where you can see them, and it dawns on you that he’s close to crying. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip and his eyebrows are set and furrowed, but you can tell that he’s upset and failing at hiding it.

“It may not seem like it, but it hurt all of us when you stopped keeping in touch after you left,” he continues, wiping at his eyes with his hand. “It sucked a lot. We all thought we lost a good friend forever.”

“Sunghoon,” you call, voice breaking off at the end. You reach out to grab him by the wrist, looking up with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sunghoon, I’m sorry. I’ve always–”

“Had a thing for Jake? Yeah, I know,” he dismisses, smiling shakily. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know. And you know I’ve always had a thing for you. But I didn’t let that get in the way ”

“Because it’s not fair to either of us.” You can feel your throat begin to tighten in the same way it does when you’re about to sob, can feel your eyes sting and your heart falter painfully.

Abruptly standing up from the curb, you ignore the way your skin burns from the heated concrete and reach out to envelop Sunghoon into a tight hug. His arms remain limp at his sides for a brief second, until he hears you sniffle and immediately reciprocates the embrace. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, coaxing Sunghoon into rocking back and forth with you.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much and I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Nodding against his shoulder, you pull back to look at him. The rims of his eyes are red and his face is slightly puffy, but you realize he’s no different than the boy you’ve always held so dear to your heart. No matter the distance you’ve spent apart, the disagreements you’ve struggled over, the spats and rocky paths. He’s still your Sunghoon.

“I love you too, Hoonie.” Wiping at one of the tear streaks on his cheekbone, you gently cup his cheek and ignore the way your heart falters when he leans into your touch. “Even if it’s not in the way I wish I could, I still love you so much."

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a minute, instead resigning to just closing his eyes and melting against your hand. You hold still all the while, humming softly under your breath until he feels ready to move off.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Sunghoon decides. He wipes at the remaining tears on his face, and moves to hold the door to the shop open, gesturing you inside. “I’ve got cookie dough Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer that I need your help finishing. And no, you cannot get out of this.”

Snorting, you step inside and look over your shoulder to tease, “If you seriously think I’d pass on Ben and Jerry’s, we should re-evaluate this friendship.”

Sunghoon laughs, a full-bellied one where you can see the endearingly sharp edges of his teeth and his Adam's apple bob, and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t say anything to that, silently wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he leads you up the stairs. When you look over, he’s still smiling. You think you’ll be okay.

☀

Rolling down the window, you thrust your arm out into the humid evening air and relish in the gust of wind that meets your palm. From your position on the hill, you can see the entirety of the shoreline in all of its tranquil glory, devoid of any visitors and undisturbed in the wake of the sunset.

You think that this is where you’re meant to be– in a quiet world, next to Jake, with every trivial worry left behind.

Jake parks the car underneath the jagged shade of a pandanus tree and races over to the other side to open your door, almost tripping in his haste. Laughing, you step out and help him unload his board from where it’s tied to the roof of the car.

The two of you have routinely begun choosing the same spot on the beach. It’s close enough to the water so that you can reach it without the sand burning your feet, but far enough so that the crashing waves don’t end up touching you. You know it’s the same spot because it’s next to a mosaic made of seashells that has yet to be destroyed.

Jake thinks the mosaic resembles a cityscape, but you think it looks like a blooming rose.

Sometimes, Jake swims around on his board and practices old moves while you watch him keenly. Sometimes, you read an old book or doze off while Jake does laps around the shore. Sometimes, he even invites you into the water with him, and sometimes, you say yes. You mutually bask in the presence of the ocean and each other, and it’s all you really need.

“God, it’s so humid today,” you complain, huffing as you drop your bag onto the sand. Jake hums in agreement and straightens out the blanket so that you can sit down.

“It won’t be getting much worse after this. Summer’s almost over anyway,” Jake says mindlessly, tugging at his own bag and rummaging through it with a pout.

Right. It was at the forefront of your mind until it suddenly wasn’t– leaving again.

The prospect of having to return to a life without Jake and Sunghoon and everyone else you loved here was proving difficult for you to conceptualize. The return ticket sitting in your wallet was long forgotten, tucked away in a pocket and left untouched until now. Your fingers itch to reach for it in your bag, to rip it to shreds and dig it under the sand and forget about it for good.

A nudge on your shoulder snaps you back to the present, and you find Jake holding out a Melona bar in a silent offering. You take it with a wide grin and rip open the plastic without hesitation. You haven’t had these popsicles in a while, probably since the last time Jake bought you one.

“You wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Popping your mouth off of the bar, you lick your lips and crane your neck to look at Jake. He’s in the process of opening his own popsicle, but he’s watching you carefully, almost timidly.

“A bunch of silly shit,” you admit. “Like how I don’t want to go back to Melbourne all that much anymore.”

Jake’s eyes dip across your face, like he’s searching for indications that you’re lying. You think they pause on your lips for the slightest second longer, but then he’s looking away altogether and you don’t know if you can trust yourself.

“I don’t want you to go back to Melbourne either,” he laughs, voice breaking off toward the end. He’s nervous.

“Clingy much?” Your joke’s meant to ease the ache in your chest but it only makes it worse. “It’s fine, you have my number and socials. You can bother me there.”

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. You’ve still got a few weeks anyway, why focus on leaving when we could be making the most of this time?” And Jake’s right. Last you were here, you hadn’t known you wouldn’t be back for a while. You never got a proper goodbye with many people or places. But now you knew, and there was no use mourning the inevitable.

You knew you would be back eventually.

You and Jake finish off your Melona bars and shed your outerwear so you can wade into the water. As your fingertips graze the water by your hips, you close your eyes and wiggle your toes against the sandy floor. You hear Jake dive into the water nearby, followed by a split second of calm before something brushes along your calf and you can’t hold in your terrified shriek.

Looking down, you find Jake peering up at you through the water, his wide grin visible even under the buoyant ripples. He resurfaces with a big splash in front of you, sticking his tongue out at you childishly while you wipe the water from your face. You feel your jaw drop incredulously, and you have half a mind to retaliate and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Jake seems to read your mind, however, because he makes a dash for the shore before you can move to splash him back.

The sand dips beneath the soles of your feet as you chase after Jake, sending water droplets scattering up around you in frantic arcs. You think he’s running toward one of the inlets, the one where there’s a loose rock formation that allows you to venture further into the ocean. He stops where the sand bleeds into dark, jagged rocks, leaving you to catch up to him in seconds.

You barrel into his back and giggle as he turns around to hug you to his chest, shrieking when he lifts you up and your feet kick around aimlessly in the air. Your heart flutters in your throat as you look down to see Jake grinning up at you, eyes crinkled up endearingly and mouth opened around a boisterous laugh. His hands are warm where they’re holding your waist tight, fingers splayed out against your skin.

Jake sets you back down, chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath he takes. Your skin feels impossibly warm even after he’s let you go, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. Against the backdrop of the sun, he looks like an angel.

Wordlessly, he holds out his cupped hand to yours, and you reach out to accept with wide eyes. When he pulls back, you see that he’s left two seashells in the dips of your palms, small and round in shape. The bigger of them is tawny and has a dipping crevice in the middle, while the other is a pristine white with several ridges along its arch. They’re beautiful.

“Do you still collect these?” Jake’s question makes the butterflies in your chest stir.

“I do,” you murmur, feeling oddly bashful that he remembers. “The box is under my bed in Melbourne.”

The same wooden box he’d gifted you for your 16th birthday once you told him you kept all the shells he’d been giving you.

The two of you abandon your blanket and sit on the patch of damp sand you’ve been standing over. The yolk of the sun has begun to slip behind the ocean’s horizon, coloring the water and sky a brilliant red and sending cascading pockets of light along the shore. Jake’s gaze follows the length of the skyline and you can’t help it that yours strays to him.

There’s a rough, pink scar bridging across the length of Jake’s shoulder, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re no stranger to Jake’s recklessness out in the ocean, but the long span of it is unlike the rest you’ve seen on his skin. From its color alone you’re able to tell that he’s gotten it recently, and it hasn’t quite healed yet.

“This one’s new,” he says as if reading your thoughts. Jolting, your eyes snap back to his face to find him looking at you knowingly. “I was too close to an inlet and lost control of my board.”

You hum in response, reaching out to brush your fingertips against the blemished skin. It’s jagged under your touch, warm from where the sun’s kissed it, and you ache to lean down and run your lips over it. Jake exhales softly, head tilting the slightest bit so he can watch you.

“You’ve always been a bit clumsy,” you joke breathlessly, in an attempt to disregard the weird squirming in your chest. But then Jake continues to stare at you silently, and you shift nervously, hand pausing to hover above his back. “Guess you haven’t changed all that much.”

“Neither have you,” Jake mumbles, eyes still caught on your face, “you still look at me like that.”

You burn to ask him what he means, but your heart is stuck in your throat and you don’t think you can speak without saying something you’ll regret.

Yet in a way, you don’t need to ask him what he means. You think there has never been any need for explanations like this. You love Jake, and that’s true without all of the complexities that the statement conjures up. Past or present.

The lapping waves at the shore flood your ears like cotton. Jake’s face is so, so close, and yet it feels like he’s too far away. Like he’s always been.

“Hey,” he whispers, but the word crashes louder in your ears than the waves. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You can’t speak, but the eagerness that bleeds into your nod is telling enough of just how you feel. Jake’s warm hand tenderly cups the side of your face to bring you closer, and right as another wave breaks onto the shore, his lips meet yours in an achingly gentle way.

He’s everything you remember– he tastes like ocean brine and spearmint gum and his favorite iced tea, remnants of the past and the future you’d yearned for. The calluses on his palm are familiar where they brush against your jaw as he angles your face to deepen the kiss, and you try not to practically whine into his mouth when his tongue slips past your lips.

Your hand travels up from his shoulder to tangle itself in his hair, weaving your fingers through his locks with an urgency that seems to throw both of you off guard. Jake giggles into the kiss when you tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and you break off when you feel a string of laughter bubbling out of you in response.

“Wow,” he whistles, face adorably red as he tries to smooth his hair back into place. You snort at his predicament, though you suspect your own state isn’t much far off from his. When Jake reaches out to fix up your hair as well, you go quiet, watching him through your lashes.

The silence you lapse into is silent and comfortable, so unlike the standoffish moments you two shared just a few weeks earlier. The thought of how quickly things between you two changed startles you; you realize that you no longer think twice about all the intimate moments and touches you share with Jake, much less feel guilty for any of them.

The voice at the back of your head is no longer there to whisper incessant reminders of the past, reminders of things you should have never taken with you in your baggage to Melbourne.

“You hungry?” Jake’s question startles you back into the present, and without thinking, you nod eagerly once more. His answering laugh makes the tips of your ears burn red, but you’re far too focused on his proposition of food to care. “There’s a really nice diner in the next town over, and I’d love to take you there.”

“Okay, it’s a date,” you grin.

Jake grins back, and you decide there’s no use holding yourself back anymore. You love him.

☀

Jake’s last competition for the season is scheduled the week before you’re set to leave for Melbourne. It’s a big one– his biggest yet– and in the days leading up to it, you’re not able to catch much of him outside of your shop.

He visits twice. Once to pick up an extra emergency repair kit in case something unpredictable happens during his practice sessions, and once to buy his usual Crunchy Peanut Butter Clif Bar. He tells you he’ll save it for the morning of the competition, kissing you on the cheek and sprinting out the door before you can “distract him further”. Whatever that means.

In a way, you don’t look forward to the competition. It serves as a constant reminder that you’re bound to leave at any moment, and of everything wrong that can happen with Jake out on the ocean. Though every competition carries that same latter risk, this particular one required its attendees to take on some of the highest waves your region had seen in years.

You worried for Jake, and as selfish as it was, for what would come of you two after.

“Stop moping, Jake will still be able to give you dick over in Melbourne,” Sunoo had chastised you one night over dinner, flicking a pickle at you.

You’d dodged it, crumpling up a tissue and tossing it right back at him. “Yeah, but it won’t be the same!”

Sticking to tradition, your friend group had decided to gather one last time for dinner before the tournament day. Jake couldn’t make it– that much was customary, too– and you found yourself glancing at the empty spot in the booth one too many times while eating.

It seemed like you couldn’t avoid talking about your fickle future with Jake, much less thinking about it. You knew that there was another conversation due soon, one which you refused to bother Jake with until he was finished with the season. But it was beginning to eat at you from the inside, slowly gnawing through your defense built on friends’ reassurances.

You’d just finally gotten ahold of Jake again, you weren’t ready to give him up so easily.

The shore is more crowded than you’ve ever seen it. Despite arriving relatively early to the tournament grounds, you and your friends had found the sand chaotically packed, with the only remaining spots to spread out a blanket being near the very back. Stopping by the slanted wooden walkway that leads down to the beach, you survey the entire length of the shore, hoping to find a spot with open space.

“Are you sure we’ve got the right place?” Heeseung frowns at the crowd, scrunching his nose up when a kid screams. Sunghoon shrugs, moving to check his phone.

“Surfing’s a big deal guys,” Sunoo chastises, “what? You don’t believe all these people are here for Jake?”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Jay sets down the cooler he’s holding, stretching his arms out with a groan. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve never seen any beach this packed ever. Even when they had that free-entry hippie festival last summer.”

“There’s literally a poster,” you deadpan, pointing to the information bulletin board off to the side. Half of the board is taken up by a familiar, colorful poster, the same one your entire friend group had adamantly reposted onto your Instagram stories for days, plastered onto its surface. You resist the urge to laugh when a collective ohhh follows at your revelation.

Slowly but surely, your group makes it down to the beach with all of your belongings and elaborate signs, all donning Jake’s signature blue. The competitors are nowhere to be seen, so any plans of seeing Jake before everything begins are thrown out the window. You manage to squeeze yourselves further inward, not quite toward the front, but it’s better than the view you’d have to settle for in the very back.

As all of you busy yourselves with setting up the umbrella and blankets, Sunghoon slips away with the promise of returning with cold drinks. But by the time he makes it back, the audience has gotten impossibly larger, and the cardboard trays in both of his hands begin to teeter as he tries to nudge past the thickening crowd. Sunoo laughs at him, but is quick to rush over and take one of the trays into his own hold.

“This tournament’s for the entire Sunshine Coast,” Sunghoon says in a huff, passing around a plastic cup to everyone. “It’s the biggest event for surfing held in this region in decades. No wonder it’s so crowded.”

“Thanks Hoonie,” you smile. The drink is some odd concoction of fruit punch and other sweet juices you can’t recognize, but it’s refreshing and cold so it’s the most delicious thing to you.

Sunghoon nods, finding purchase on the blanket next to you. He takes a swig of his own drink and pulls back to watch the ice clink around in the cup. “The finalists from today are going to attend Nationals in Sydney. South Bondi, or something like that. That’s what the barista told me.”

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and you almost choke on the liquid in your mouth. Sunghoon pats you on the back while you cough it out, and you put your drink down lest you spill it over yourself. “Nationals? Fuck, I feel like I should know if my boyfriend is trying to qualify for Nationals…”

Jake had mentioned that the gravity of the tournament was greater than any of the previous ones he’d been part of, but you had absolutely no recollection of him mentioning the word nationals. You’re certain you know why he didn’t– the worry swelling in your gut is telling enough. But it’s followed with a burst of pride in your chest that makes you feel so giddy you’re sure the grin on your face looks stupid.

Once your coughing fit’s over, you reach down to pick up your cup and take another sip. But it’s then that you sense four pairs of eyes on you, and you look over to find your friends gawking at you. You curl in on yourself subconsciously, grin slowly melting at their expressions. “…What?”

“Boyfriend?” Sunoo all but yells, breaking the silence. The people around you throw weird looks in your direction, but you don’t pay them any mind.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You surmise that the dramatics aren’t unprompted in this situation because you truly hadn’t found a way to break your friends the news yet either, but could anyone blame you? In your eyes, there was no subtle way of announcing it.

“Ha! Heeseung, you owe me 100 bucks,” Jay claps, reaching to high five you. You return the gesture with an exasperated face, not too keen on being stuck between their childish feuds.

Heeseung dishes out the money from his wallet with a sour expression, handing it to Jay and shoving a middle finger in his face.

“No one’s going to congratulate her?” Sunghoon finally speaks up, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Shame on all of you.” Turning to you, he whispers, “Congrats, by the way.”

The other’s enthusiastic good wishes follow suit, and you can’t help the jaw-aching smile that splits your face. You pick up your cup and chase the last of the liquid in there, both to hide your grin and to quench your growing thirst.

By now, you’d gotten more than used to the routine of surf tournaments. You knew when to expect different sections, how long you’d be able to watch Jake out in the waves, and when to anticipate the final minutes. As the music from the judge’s panel diminishes and is replaced by a cheery, high-pitched voice, you sit back against the blanket and get comfortable.

The participants are all introduced with grandiose speeches that make the speakers crackle from the deafening volume. You make sure to whoop and holler extra loud when Jake Sim is announced, squinting against the beaming sun to try and spot his face among the line of surfers.

Jake clears all of his heats with an astounding performance and form. The audience oohs in tandem with each of his moves, and you have to prop yourself up on your knees halfway through to be able to properly see your boyfriend. You cheer and clap animatedly after he completes each series, heart beating faster with each swelling wave that he meets.

The judging panel also seems to love him. From the way they refuse to break their staring while he’s out on the waves to write anything, to the way they mumble amongst each other with dazed looks on their faces after every particularly difficult trick, you can’t help but feel proud. It’s almost disappointing watching him paddle toward shore and give way to the competitor after him.

Despite the intimidating waves, Jake handles himself well and is able to clear through his routine with ease. He doesn’t lose control of his board even for a moment, braving into the highest waves you’d ever seen him take on. The other participants also seemed to be doing well– though not quite as well as Jake– and you find yourself applauding and cheering after some particularly hard routines.

You think it should come as no surprise to anyone on that packed shore that Jake scores a remarkable lead in first place. He carries the highest wave scores throughout most of the tournament, only bettering them further as the heats pass. You get to watch him perform moves you’d never seen before, moves you’d only seen on the news performed by Australia’s best. He’s truly breathtaking in the water– you know you’d think this no matter who he was to you.

The awards ceremony almost makes you burst into tears. Jake’s gold medal is handed over by the main judge, who shakes his hand and pats him on the back as Jake accepts it with a deep bow. He reaches over to wrap his arms around the shoulders of the competitors who’d won second and third place, congratulating them with an earnest smile. When the flashes from the photographers become impossible to ignore, Jake turns to the cameras and brings his medal up to his mouth, biting down on it cheekily.

The crowd doesn’t begin to thin out for a long while. You’re not able to reach Jake until half an hour after the ceremony’s ended, your boyfriend occupied with on-the-spot interviews and eager fans waiting for a photo together. Meanwhile, Sunoo and Jay race back to the car to bring out the bouquet and balloons that you’d brought to surprise Jake.

When Jake is finally able to attend to his personal matters, he all but runs barefoot on the sand towards you, opening his arms in warning once he’s close enough. You yelp at the tight hug you’re all but swept up into, feet kicking out in the air under you when Jake lifts you and begins spinning you. 

“I’m so happy right now!” He shouts toward the sky, voice breathy from exhilaration.

“I’m so proud of you!” You shout back, ruffling his damp hair. The fringe falls into his face and you push it back so you can lean down and kiss him.

“I take back my congratulations,” Heeseung speaks up from behind you, and Jake sticks his tongue out at him before putting you down carefully. He moves to pat your boyfriend on the back, grin so wide it takes up half his face. “Just kidding. That was sick Jake, you killed it out there.”

Sunghoon and Jay echo the statement and barrel into Jake’s sides to hug him, wrangling him into their holds so they can hold him up in the air. Jake doesn’t even bother fighting against them, accepting the inevitable with a fond grin and rolling his eyes once they let up and put him back on the sand.

“And obviously he’s going to kill it in Sydney too,” Sunoo brandishes the bouquet from behind his back, holding it out for Jake to take.

Jake’s face flushes cutely as he accepts the flowers and balloons, posing for photos as you whip out your phone. The thin gold metal sits like a sun against his chest, illuminated with beams as you instruct Jake to turn toward the horizon. You decide that you’re going to set this one as your homescreen later.

As a few more of Jake’s friends from the academy come up to him to personally congratulate him, you hang back and watch him with a smile. Despite growing up, learning more tricks, and climbing his way to your region’s top spots, Jake’s humble attitude hadn’t changed. He still met the hand of fellow surfers and treated them like equals despite any rankings, refusing to let anyone put him up on an invisible pedestal.

The shore has somewhat cleared out by now, most of the people remaining being the competitors themselves and their friends and families. It’s no longer hot enough to make you feel like bursting, and you decide to jog down to the water to dip your feet into the ocean. The water’s cool against your warm skin, the tiny waves lapping at your ankles in rhythmic motions as you stand there and soak in the last of the afternoon sun.

Jake joins you along with the rest of your friends sometime later. You all stand ankle-deep in the water quietly, and when you look over at them, you can’t help the fond grin that blooms on your face.

“Are we celebrating at Auntie Lee’s?” Heeseung suddenly breaks the silence, and you can’t help but burst into laughter.

“We could,” Sunghoon shrugs. “Or we could just hang out here for a while.”

“Jake and I will join you guys later,” you say shyly, reaching for Jake’s hand. “I have to steal him away for a bit right now.”

“Thanks, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth,” Jay faux-gags, pretending to vomit. You pay him no mind.

You and Jake bid your friends goodbye with the premise that they’ll join you later and load his surfboard onto his car. When you finally set off toward your aunt’s shop, you heave a sigh of relief and lean back in the seat. The air conditioner’s broken now, meaning you have to rely on a crammed open window for pockets of fresh air, but even amidst the sweltering heat of the late afternoon, you’ve never felt better.

“I’m hoping that’s a good sigh,” Jake speaks up from the driver’s seat, “I’m driving as fast as the law allows me to, we’re almost there.”

Snorting, you lean against the door in an attempt to catch as much of the breeze filtering in. It’s a bit tricky, given that most of the surface is hot from sitting in the sun. “It’s good, I promise. Just really happy that everything went well with your tournament. And that I have you all to myself now.”

The food you’d prepared for him earlier in the day is sitting in the kitchen, lidded and ready to be portioned out. You and Sunghoon had dug out your aunt’s fancy dinner plates from the basement and cleaned them off for the occasion, setting the table with them in a manner decidedly too formal now that you’re looking at it again. There’s even a candle in the middle, awfully regal in its glass holder and waiting to be lit.

Jake snorts, but it’s fond. He loops an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I felt like cooking something nice for myself,” you tease. Kissing his cheek back, you move to shrug him off of you so you can sit down. “It just happened that your tournament was also today. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How can I not when my girlfriend prepared a feast for me,” Jake exclaims, sitting down next to you and rubbing his hands. He peers closer at the dishes, eyes going wide at the contents of a particular pot. “Dude, galbitang? Just say you want to marry me and go.”

Your ears feel impossibly hot as you reach for the ladle and begin pouring some of the soup into your bowl. “Hey, less talking, more eating.”

If Jake notices your flushed face, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he silently reaches out with his chopsticks to begin filling your plate with the dumplings you’d made.

As much as you’d like to, the meal is too hefty for you to jump Jake straight after. Once the both of you finish eating and put away the remaining food, you wound up in your aunt’s living room, on her vintage floral couch that’s draped with a nostalgic white sheet.

Jake laughs when he sees it, carefully sitting in the middle so as not to get onto the actual couch. “God, I remember sitting here when we were kids, and your aunt wouldn’t let us watch TV unless we kept the couch covered.”

“I swear no one’s actually touched the real surface of the couch since she bought it in the 90s,” you groan as you settle into the cushions next to Jake. You feel pleasantly groggy, like you could fall asleep at any minute, and it doesn’t help that Jake is so warm and comfortable. “Remember that one time we tried sneaking in TimTams to eat here? I’ve never seen her angrier.”

“That was your idea, by the way, and second, I think she was angrier when we tried to hose down her roses in the backyard. Why were we so evil as kids?” Jake’s head finds its way onto your shoulder, and you try not to shake as you giggle.

Looking at the black TV screen across from you, you make out the matching smiles on both of your faces. It makes your stomach swoop, but you don’t think it’s from the good food you just had. Closing your eyes, you breathe in Jake’s shampoo and sigh. “I miss her a lot, I can’t wait for her to be back.”

You don’t notice you’ve begun dozing off until Jake startles next to you from a buzz in his pocket. Confused, you straighten up and watch as he looks down at his phone with a frown, rubbing at his eyes.

“Shit, Sunghoon texted me that they’re going to be back soon,” he mumbles.

“That sucks,” you say.

The two of you stare at each other for five still seconds, before Jake tosses his phone behind him on the couch and you practically pounce on him. You stagger onto your feet and pull Jake up with you, laughing as you all but race to your room down the hallway. Pushing open the door, you loop your arms around his neck and bring him in for a needy kiss, one you’ve been holding back all afternoon.

Jake shuts the door behind both of you, giggling against your lips when you huff impatiently. Your fingers sidle up under the hem of his shirt, brushing urgently against the heated skin you find. It was getting harder and harder to reel your self control back in around him, and now that you two were alone, you could barely resist jumping him like a predator. But who could blame you?

You also barely resist the triumphant noise that teeters behind your lips once Jake finally relents and takes his shirt off. It’s discarded somewhere in a corner of your room, forgotten as soon as it’s out of your sight. Your hands are back on him quicker than he can turn around, and when he leans down to press his lips against yours again, you feel him smile into the kiss.

“Jake,” you pant, palms drifting up his back with newfound desperation, “Jake, please.”

“Please what?” He teases, breaking off into a surprised groan when you lean down to bite his neck, suckling on the skin and running your tongue over the purpling bruise you leave behind.

Neglecting him of an answer, you continue your venture down his neck until you reach his collarbones. His hands are purposeful where they dip under your shirt to paw at the skin of your tummy and lower back, nudging the material higher and higher until you break off from his neck to take it off altogether.

Jake doesn’t let you continue marking him– instead, he’s the one that incessantly attaches his lips to your chest, tongue lathing over your nipple leisurely. His hand envelopes your other breast and kneads it while your breathing grows laborious, your head falling back as you weave your fingers through his hair. When he switches his attention to your other nipple, you decide you’ve waited long enough.

“If you don’t do something more I’m seriously going to explode,” you warn him, pulling him away from your chest. Jake barks a laugh, wiping at the spit on his chin with the back of his hand before letting you lead him toward your bed.

You fall backwards on the mattress easily, Jake towering over you with heady eyes. He picks up where he left off, plush lips dipping between your breasts and traveling further down with fervent motions.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against the skin of your hip. The warmth fanning from his breath makes you go lax in his hold, and you hazily blink up at the ceiling in an effort to ground yourself.

His nimble fingers slip under the edges of your shorts, and with one quick look at your desperate nods, he begins tugging the material, along with your underwear, down your legs. Discarding the garment somewhere behind him, he hooks one of your knees over his shoulder, angling your other thigh outwards until you’re comfortably spread out for him. You inhale sharply at the cold air that meets your sensitive area, but the feeling is short-lived.

Jake leans in with an eagerness that has your breath catching in your throat. His lips suction right on your clit, and it takes every effort within you not to buck your hips wantonly into the feeling. His free hand settles warmly on your hip bone like a promise, holding you down against the sheets with a strength that only makes you squirm more.

Whining, you try to slow your breathing as his calloused fingers travel up your inner thigh and brush against your sopping entrance teasingly, where they catch strings of your growing arousal. You’re not normally this sensitive, already wriggling and gasping at the mere brush of his touch, but you reason that it’s because it’s him touching you.

You tense as one of his forefingers prods into you, slowly at first, then with a cocky certainty that makes you see stars. He sinks it into you until his last knuckle, curling it against your walls with growing fervor as you relax in his hold. As Jake adds a second finger, you reach out to weave your fingers through his locks, mewling when his grip on your hips tightens.

“I missed you so much,” he hums into your cunt between rolls of his tongue, groaning when you tug on his hair. “Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy for such a long time. Can’t believe you’re finally mine again.”

Something in your chest squeezes, and you look down at him with glassy eyes.

It’s a sight that knocks the breath out of you. Jake’s eyes meet yours over the curve of your abdomen, and he takes the moment to lewdly spit directly onto your clit. He massages the saliva with tight figure eight motions, and combined with the rhythmic pumping from his other hand, it makes you feel like you’ll burst.

“I’m close,” you whisper, voice raw and spent. You feel strung out, like you’ve been stuck on the verge of an orgasm for an hour, when it probably has been five minutes at most.

Jake’s fingers squelch when he speeds up his motions, lapping incessantly at your clit as you continue to writhe helplessly. He looks up at you with dark eyes, fingers curling at just the right angle, and it’s enough to send you over the edge.

You come with a drawn-out whine, fingers clutching at his hair with desperation. You feel your thighs quiver before they settle on the mattress around Jake, exhaling deeply as you lean back into the sheets to calm down.

“Holy shit,” you laugh, covering your face as Jake crawls up next to you. He kisses the back of your hands, peppering more kisses along your arms, chest, neck, and whatever parts of your face he can reach. It only makes you giggle more, shying away from his affection with a racing heart.

“So good to me,” he mumbles, finally pressing his lips to yours. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck and leaning into his adoring touch with uncharacteristic bashfulness. Jake holds you like you’re made out of china, like you’re something precious, and the implications of that make your own heart throb with fondness.

Pulling away from the kiss, you push back on his chest gently, shuffling around so that you can sit up. “Lay down, I wanna ride you.”

You crawl over to one of your bedside drawers, tugging the top compartment open and feeling around until you can find what you’re looking for. As Jake leans back against the headboard and makes quick work of discarding his pants and boxers, you fish out the condom and join him so you can perch yourself on his lap. You tear open the foil, discarding it somewhere off to the side, and hold it up between you two like a gem.

“You’ve been planning for this, huh?” He teases, but you ignore him in favor of rolling the condom down his length. He watches you all the while, sucking in air through his teeth when you touch a particularly sensitive part of him.

“It’s hard not to when my boyfriend is so hot,” you answer, leaning down to kiss him again. His hands settle on your hips, and when you grind down on him experimentally, he practically moans into your mouth.

Leaning back on his lap, you reach down to align him with your entrance, pouting when your first two attempts to press him in fail. He’s awfully slippery with the lubricated condom, and you’re awfully nervous about the whole situation, so it’s no wonder your hands shake as you attempt to do it again. You let out a frustrated laugh, frowning when his cock flops back onto his stomach and you’re left hovering above his lap.

“Let me,” he whispers, gripping his length and holding your hip attentively. He pushes his tip in slowly, eyes trained on your face for any signs of discomfort, and biting his lip as he sinks further. About halfway in, you feel him pause reluctantly, and you hiss as you clench around him.

“Love, you’ve got to relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him when you feel your face begin to burn from embarrassment. Jake’s hands envelop your sides to bring you close to him, and you bury yourself in his shoulder as he slips out from underneath you. “I’m just really nervous. Don’t want to mess this up.”

His hand begins to draw patient, comforting circles on your lower back. You feel your breaths begin to even out, along with your racing heart, and you turn your head to leave grateful kisses along Jake’s neck. He shudders and hugs you tighter. “You’re okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

And that’s the thing– because despite running from your feelings, running from him, Jake has never once let his patience run thin with you. He’s always been right there, waiting for you to come back, waiting for you to love him back with the same certainty that he always has.

It feels entirely unfair. But as you look back at his glittering eyes, at the handfuls of adoration in each of them, you feel your jitteriness slip away and become replaced with wholehearted sureness.

“I’m ready,” you say with conviction, pulling back to rest your hands on his toned chest. “Jake Sim, I’m about to rock your fucking world.”

Jake’s laughter sounds like bells in the springtime. He leans back to watch you push him back in, letting out a drawn-out sigh when he bottoms out and the backs of your thighs meet his hips. The shaky moan that slips from you feels too loud in the quietness of your bedroom, but you can't find it in you to feel shy as Jake’s cock drags leisurely against your walls.

Despite how weak you feel, you’re able to build up a steady rhythm with your hips. With each downward thrust, you revel in the way Jake’s eyes follow you, and in the soft sounds that are coaxed out of his mouth. You reach out to push away the fringe that has fallen into his face, cupping his face for a brief moment before your hand snakes down between your bodies to rub at your clit.

You keen at the feeling, but your fingers are quickly replaced by Jake’s own, which nudge at the bundle of nerves with growing urgency. His hips are rocking back up in tandem with your thrusts, eyebrows furrowed and lips wrapped around a breathy moan that reverberates around the room and makes the heat in your stomach triple.

You feel like a mess; you’re breathing heavy and your skin’s all sweaty and your thighs are burning with the effort to make both of you feel good. But Jake looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and it makes you forget about everything else.

“I’m really close,” you breathily laugh. Your hips begin to stutter as you feel the growing wave in your abdomen swell higher and higher with each of your motions, slowly losing all sense of coordination. Jake doesn’t seem to mind all too much though.

“Me too,” he mumbles the sentiment. The flush on his face has spread to his neck and chest, a pleasant rhubarb shade that you can make out even in the darkness. He’s so lovely, and all yours.

Jake’s thumb on your clit hastily adds more pressure as your breath quickens. Your vision grows blurry at the edges but you can’t look away from Jake, whose eyes are boring into yours.

“Jake, I’m so close, m’cumming, God, please, Jake–” your babbling is cut off when your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, pulling you under and rendering you breathless. You distantly feel your thighs shake around Jake’s hips as you ride it out, followed by a drawn out groan from his side when he hits his own high.

Your heart is pounding in your ears when you slip Jake out of you, and you barely have enough energy to roll off of him before flopping down on the bed. You still don’t quite feel like you’re on the ground, brain all mushy and struggling to piece the night’s events together. A part of you is convinced you’re dreaming, if the hazy ringing in your ears is anything to go by.

“Sweet girl,” Jake coos, brushing the hair that’s gotten in your face. He reaches over the side of the bed to fish his underwear out from the messy pile, tugging the briefs on and standing up. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

The ceiling of your room is bleached a moon white from the light streaming in outside. You listen with a racing heart and heaving chest as Jake rummages around in your bathroom, returning seconds later with a damp rag in hand. He maneuvers your legs around so he can wipe up the worst of your mess, gently hushing you when you whine from the drag of it against your sensitive skin.

“I really hope Sunghoon and the others aren’t back yet,” he quietly giggles, discarding the rag off to the side once he’s cleaned himself up.

“We warned them earlier,” you mumble sleepily. You can already feel an ache settling into your knees and lower back, but decide that it’s a problem for tomorrow’s you to worry about.

Jake lays down next to you and props himself up on his elbow to look at you. Even in the bleak darkness, you can make out the way his eyes won’t drift away from you, the way their edges crinkle when you giggle. Feeling shy, you pull the blanket up to your chin and try to hide behind it.

Jake doesn’t take any of it though. He slips right under the blanket with you, fingers immediately reaching for your sides to try and tickle you. You give up almost immediately, shrieking with laughter and begging him to stop while your feet thrash around.

“You can’t hog the whole thing,” he laughs, “I’m getting cold out here!”

Instead of answering, you drop the blanket on top of both of you and use your free arm to loop around his neck, bringing him in for a tight hug. You nudge your face into his bare chest and kiss him on one of his older scars, whose outline is so faint you can barely make it out anymore.

“How are you feeling?” Jake whispers.

He moves to wrap an arm around your waist and you throw one of your legs over his hips. He’s warm, and you can faintly hear his thrumming heart and each breath he takes. His hand is pleasant against your lower back where he traces meaningless shapes into the curve of your spine.

“I love you so much,” you answer. And you mean it.

Jake’s hand continues without pause, and you think you feel him smile against the top of your head. His lips are soft where they press a kiss to your hair.

“I love you too,” he says. And you know he means it.

☀

Melbourne Central has always felt like hell, but today it seems exceptionally so.

You’d think the entire city has spilled into the railway station at once with how crowded the platforms are, each person practically shoulder to shoulder with the next. After an entire day of traveling, you’re beyond spent and in desperate need to be back home, so it’s with tired feet that you attempt to trudge through the chaos.

“Don’t get lost on me now,” you hear Jake’s familiar voice from next to you, and the weight from your luggage on your hand disappears. “Hold onto me, I need to make sure I deliver you in one piece or Sunghoon’s going to kill me.”

You loop your arm around Jake’s bicep and wince as he maneuvers the both of you through the crowd. Both of you begin to sound like broken records with how often you’re mumbling pardon us and different variations of sorry as you squeeze yourselves past different groups of people. Overhead, the announcer’s monotone voice about a delayed train arrival blends into the amalgamated mess of noise in the station, and you swear you’re going to go insane if you don’t get out of there fast.

Outside, the pleasant autumn sun has you squinting up at the sky and reveling in the fresh air that greets you. Jake tells you that the taxi he ordered is here, and you have only a few seconds to take in the world around you before you’re being whisked away again. As you haul your luggage into the back of the car and cram into the back with your boyfriend, you lean over to watch the city pass you by through the window and tune everything else out.

It’s weird, being in the same position you were in just a few months ago. Familiar buildings fly you by but you’re no longer stricken by grief or holding back tears as you watch them disappear. The feeling in your chest is bittersweet– you’re looking back on this summer with a smile and a warm heart. You’d reconciled with everything you’d been avoiding, and came back with more than you could’ve ever hoped for.

“We’re here,” Jake says, and you blink your hazy thoughts away. Looking over, you find that he has one of your hands in his own, thumb smoothing over your skin gently as if he can read your mind. You smile, squeeze his hand, and step out of the taxi.

Against your complaints, Jake takes on doing most of the work of taking your luggage up to your apartment. He doesn’t let you carry any of the heavier bags, rushing to grab them once he’s hauled them out of the taxi before you can even reach for them. You’re left trailing behind him, trying not to make your leering too obvious as his arms bulge under the weight of your luggage.

The door to your apartment opens with a high-pitched squeak. You trudge in slowly, taking in the sun-lit hall with wide eyes. It’s exactly like you remember leaving it, but now Jake’s standing in the middle of the tiny space, looking around with a grin so earnest it makes your heart swell. You know that it’s only a matter of time before everything here reminds you of him too.

“We’ve got some cleaning to do,” Jake notes as he passes by the dusty shelf in your living room. Looking out the floor-length window that takes up the entirety of one of the walls, he whistles and turns to you with his face lit up. You distantly think it reminds you of a smiling dog, only that his tongue isn’t out. “Yo, this view’s crazy! You can see so much of the center from here. I’d kill to be waking up to this every morning.”

“We do have some nice surfing spots a short drive away,” the implications of your words are clear as day, and Jake’s eyes narrow at you playfully. “What? I’m just saying.”

Jake looks out the window again, humming as his eyes trace the edges of the buildings that stand out against the horizon. You feel a bit nervous being so brazen with your future intentions, but everything Jake’s said and done so far has led you to believe he’s on the same page. “I’ll think about it when I finish this term. I’m serious about getting my degree, but I’m not against seeing your pretty face when I come home every day.”

Nodding, you try not to let the excitement bleed out onto your face, but it’s impossible when Jake’s words sound like a promise. “Hey, when do you need to go back for uni, anyway?”

“My term doesn’t start for another week,” he glances back at you and pouts. “Why are you trying to get rid of me so soon?”

You can feel the tips of your ears reddening and you quickly shake your head. “No no, I just wanted to make sure you don’t end up missing your own important stuff. I’d want you to stay here forever if it were up to me.”

“Right,” Jake drawls, and he rounds the couch to attach himself to your back. You feel every curve of him pressed up against you, and with the way his arms snake around your waist and his hands inch under your shirt, you know exactly where this is headed. “Just so you know, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

“And just so you know, the building in front of us can see everything through these windows,” you say, but Jake’s hands remain incriminatingly low on your hips.

You feel the sigh of his laughter fan out against your neck and your breath hitches. “That’s fine, you’ve still gotta show me your bedroom anyway. So I know where to put our bags.”

“Mhm,” you agree, and the disappointed noise you make when he lets go of you is embarrassingly loud. Jake giggles, and you waste no time in dragging him by the wrist through your apartment.

“My bed’s big enough for the both of us, so you can just sleep with me while you’re here,” you open your bedroom door and usher Jake in after you. It’s cute how nervous he looks standing around, unsure of where to sit or what to look at first. “And stop making that face! You’d think I kidnapped you and I’m holding you hostage.”

After enough coaxing and changing into clean clothes, you and Jake both end up sitting on the edge of your bed, but his mannerisms are still telling of how anxious he feels. His movements are all jittery and his hands run repeatedly over his knees, almost like he’s wiping the sweat off his palms. “It’s just crazy to think about the fact that you have a whole different life here. I don’t know where I’m supposed to fit in, and it’s really hitting me now that I’m actually here, y’know?”

“Jake,” you softly prompt him to look at you, frowning when his eyes meet yours and you see the same uncertainty that you were struggling with in them. You cup his face gently and thumb at the skin of his cheek, whispering, “I can promise you that you’ve got nothing to worry about. There’s more than enough space for you in my life. There always has been.”

With the way he leans into your touch, you can tell that he believes you.

You both lay back against the mattress, if only to rest for a second before you know you’ll have to inevitably get up again. But before you can move to sit up, Jake’s hovering above you with a knowing grin, and you can’t complain much as he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s soft at first, nothing more, but then he’s cupping your jaw and slipping his tongue in between your lips and you know where this is headed.

“We should unpack first,” you half-heartedly mumble between kisses. Jake begins kissing down your neck, and you groan, head falling backwards. Your words come out increasingly less convincing with each vowel, until there’s absolutely zero conviction in everything you’re saying. “We should really… we’ll be too lazy later…”

“That’s no way to welcome your guest,” Jake pouts against your skin. 

You let him continue venturing down your neck until he’s slipping the shoulder of your t-shirt off, eager to get his mouth on your chest, when you startle in his hold and make him pause. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just have something to show you,” you laugh, sitting up and scooting to the edge of your bed. You clamber down onto the ground and look under your bed, reaching out to unearth the box you’d suddenly remembered.

“The box of seashells you gave me,” you tell Jake. You place the box carefully on your bed and begin to rummage through your backpack for the ones he’d given you right before kissing you.

The box is a tiny wooden thing with a metal clasp in the front that opens with a bit of force. You open it and let Jake peek inside, placing your newest additions inside with careful hands. Jake’s jaw is slack as his fingers poke at the different seashells you’d accumulated over the years of knowing him, bottom lip jutting out as he turns to look at you.

“You really kept all of them,” he mumbles in awe.

“Well I wasn’t going to throw them away.” You joke, closing the box and placing it on your nightstand. “Besides, they meant a lot to me. Still do.”

Wordlessly, Jake leans down to kiss your exposed shoulder. He rests his cheek against the skin there, and you reach out to card one of your hands through his unruly hair. It’s not damp from the ocean or sandy after one of his surfing sessions. It’s soft under your fingers, tousled after a long day of traveling, and it smells faintly of mint. 

“You know what I think?”

Jake hums questioningly, peering up at you through his lashes.

“I think we should shower. Then continue where we left off, if you still want, and then nap. Like for a while. And then we can go to that diner down the street I kept telling you about.”

Jake smiles against your shoulder and leans up to kiss you on the nose. You cup one of his cheeks and thumb at the faint freckle near his temple. He looks beautiful, like all of the sunsets you’d seen in your hometown, all of the seashells you’d collected, and all of the roses in your aunt’s backyard.

The edge of Jake’s lips quirks up at your offer. You kiss him before you can respond, and revel in the dazed look and breathy response you draw from him. He’s beautiful, and all yours. “Yeah, I think that sounds like a great idea.”

author's note: if you've read all the way down to here i hope your pillow is cold on both sides, always. i worked very hard on this baby and i hope that whoever reads it enjoys it at least a fraction of the amount that i enjoyed writing it 🤍 if you did enjoy, leave a comment and reblog, it means the world to me!!! support your writers!

taglist: @enhastolemyheart, @fakeuwus, @jakesimsgf, @hannivrse, @jayk2025, @bluesoobinnie, @luvvsjungwonn, @cha0thicpisces, @thejjrl, @sweetjaemss, @ohmykwonsoonyoung, @yaatrickyaaa, @albono-bueno, @itstessasblog, @emiliasstuffs-blog, @ddeonugu, @bloobworld, @loveleejn, @flower-lise, @jayfrvr

©nightdiary 2024. do not repost.

[jakecafe]

oh my god Teeth and Lucifer????? Kill me now Lord just take Me

[jakecafe]

AND OFC,, VIDIA STRIKES AGAIN W A GOOD ASS FIC!!!! god im like speechless,, they never fail to make me squeal and giggle over everything i swear to god. this fic had me on my knees, the way heeseung was written as an indie kid that gave off cas vibes and and and ryung was sososos cute i love him help!!! i loved everything as per usual💔 GO VIDIA !!! MY FAV!!!

operation: sweet talk ➢ lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS ➷ you and quiet, popular boy lee heeseung share being at the top of the food chain at your uni, and there’s no secret you’re smitten. though you’ve never spoken a word to each other, you seem to notice his eyes are always on you. tempted with the possibility he might just like you back, you’re thrown into a challenge where you must prove his feelings for you before the school year ends. let the games begin?

[ word count: 16k ]

PAIRING ➷ lee heeseung x reader

GENRE ➷ fluff, frenemies to lovers (?)

WARNINGS ➷ eventual smut. ( minors dni! )

a/n: GUYSSSS ✋ WITH THE WAY HEESEUNG IS LOOKIN LATELY YOU KNOW I JUST HAD TO WHIP SOMETHIN UP NHHHHH 😩 i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy this lengthy little fic B) p.s, i’m not entirely sure how pool works so please don’t come for me.. ;$?3!2:’ also, there is sexual themes included, so minors please dni! all interactions are deeply appreciated, but reblogs are highly encouraged! tysm for reading. ♡

“ryung,” you whine softly, an outstretched hand wrapping around your boy best friend’s arm. “don’t leave me here alone.” your voice is hushed and desperate over the variety of chatter that slurs from the figures situated at the bar, soothing jazz music muffled by their overlapping murmurs.

“y/n.” your friend giggles, a bony, outstretched finger pushing up the middle bridge of his glasses. you watch his bouncy, chocolate curls fall over his golden, round frames. “i’m just going to the bathroom.” a small, half smile travels up his chapstick slathered lips, his unbuttoned hawaiian-printed shirt catching the soft brushes of the air conditioning. he quirks a thick eyebrow at you, hidden by his curvy fringe. “i’ll be quick. heeseung seems to have no problem with watching over you.”

you groan as you throw your friend a glare, watching as he pokes his tongue out at you in reply. your eyes follow his figure throughout the crowded room, slipping the straw of your chocolate milkshake between your lips. you’ve propped yourself onto the countertop against the large window, your legs dangling back and forth just above the suede, carpeted floor. you’re watching your friends as they surround the pool table just a few feet in front of you, letting out loud hoots and hollers and harsh slaps to each other’s backs.

the harsh, orange tinted lights above you sears your skin in the most aggravating fashion, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as you push your hair back away from your forehead. you always hate coming to these things, but as a part of the cheer squad and your best friend being on the football team, it’s almost mandatory for you and your reputation.

you keep your half lidded eyes focused on the blond haired boy positioning his pool stick rather meticulously across the green felt, when you can already feel those all-too familiar eyes on you under the iridescent lights.

peering up slyly through the lines of your long, mascara coated lashes, you pose your gaze directly into heeseung’s. he’s propped himself up on the countertop on the other side of the pool table, his thighs spread generously against the marble surface. suyun, one of your cheermates, is laid out horizontally down the length of the countertop, her head positioned tautly on the meat of his thigh. your glossy stare is hidden by the shadows creeping out from behind the orange, stark lamp above you, allowing yourself the advantage of examining his slouched, sitting figure.

his pink lips seem to be embracing the end of a pencil dented with bites, his teeth softly chewing the wood. the spine of an opened black, tattered notebook is settled up against the crown of the girl’s head. his unreadable eyes outlined in dark makeup study you for a second longer, before immediately clipping over towards the chaos by the pool table.

you wish you knew what kind of thoughts conjured from behind the orbs of his emotionless eyes as he looks at you, like he always does. your heart springs up inside your chest as you follow his eyes to the pool table, where your head doesn’t stop replaying his intimidating gaze. it wasn’t until a loud, “y/n, you wanna have a go at it?” that you were jostled from your eyeliner-ridden daydreams. you part your drying lips and furrow your brows as you blink yourself back into reality, aware of all the curious eyes now pointed towards you.

you shake your head softly, the straw of your milkshake pushing a dent into the soft skin of your bottom lip. “uh, no thanks. i don’t know how to play.” you let a forced chuckle roll out off of your tongue as you watch your blond friend roll his eyes, offering his pool stick to you.

“c’mon…. it’s not that hard.” you shake your head at him one more time before he scoffs softly with a shake of his head, lowering his stick as he begins making his way towards heeseung. “here,” he turns his body in your direction while he outstretches the stick to the perched boy, his dark eyebrows raised and a smirk growing on his thin lips. “heeseung will show you how it’s done.”

you swallow softly in your throat as you watch the girl on his lap slowly rise from his thigh, a disgruntled expression across her mousy features. heeseung seems a bit taken aback, but still amused and eager nonetheless. his eyebrows are raised as he gently slips the pool stick from the blond boy’s hand, a shy half smile up his pink lips. he jumps off of the counter and heads over towards the pool table with a teasing, long sigh that jostles his shoulders, his fingers rotating the long sliver of wood between them in a show-off manner.

you study him carefully as he bends his upper half over the table, positioning the pool stick accordingly. you hear whispered hushes and murmurs sprinkle themselves throughout the crowd of your friends circled around the tall boy. “what’d i miss?” you suddenly hear ryung whisper into your ear, sounding slightly out of breath.

“just watch….”

in a swift, sharp manner, the tall boy then suddenly clicks the end of the stick up against one of the plastic balls, sending it into one of the corner pockets. hoots and hollers and loud cheers then burst from the excited mouths of your friends. even a small “wow,” whispered from ryung is heard by your ear.

“alright, y/n,” the blond boy, named hwang, then turns to you, after unnecessarily beating the shit out of heeseung’s broad back. “did you see that? you gotta come up here now!” he widens his eyes at you before tugging on your hand, unwillingly pulling you up into the spotlight.

“i’ll play for her!” you hear ryung chirp behind you.

hwang groans, “can it, pretty boy.”

you swallow nervously in your throat as you hike your hoodie sleeves up, preparing to fail miserably. heeseung is now turning towards you, his lanky figure now towered over your rather somewhat short self, his gaze intense under downturned, smokey eyelids. he doesn’t say anything to you, which is nothing but normal, and slides the pool stick into your sweaty palm with a smirk teetering on the edge of his lip.

he then positions himself beside you, which makes you very self conscious and very aware of his sweat-overridden cologne and close body heat. he places his palms on the edge of the table to lean his weight into his arms, gaze ready to witness your move. the sweat beading along your tightened brows drips rather slowly down the smooth curve of your temple. you go over heeseung’s actions in your mind and slowly begin to mimic them, perching yourself over the pool table and positioning the stick up against one of the plastic pool balls.

you remind yourself not to take this harmless, fun activity too seriously, but with heeseung’s tequila scented breath breathing down your neck, you just can’t help it. you don’t know if you’re doing it right or if you look absolutely stupid, because the tall boy beside you is not saying a single word. out of frustration and slight embarrassment, you quickly clink the end of the stick up against the ball. fortunately for you, it slides right into one of the corner pockets just like heeseung’s had.

more cheers of excitement rush into the pits of your eardrums as you’re suddenly being jolted forward into the pool table by the firm, hard hands of everybody around you. your brain was suddenly clouded by the loud hoots and hollers that you didn’t even have time to register the surprising, unfamiliar voice you never thought you’d hear in a million years whisper right by your ear, “atta girl, that wasn’t too hard, now was it?”

“y/n…. did you hear what i said?” ryung shoves his shoulder lightly into your arm, the faint clicks of your shoes echoing across the tiled, cafeteria floor. the two of you weave your way around the crowded round tables of the bustling lunch room, knuckles white as you grip the edges of your red, plastic tray rather tightly without knowledge.

“yeah, you said….” you mumble, eyebrows furrowed as your brain replays the seven second phrase whispered by a delightfully sultry voice. atta girl.. that wasn’t too hard, now was it? “something about…..”

“you’re thinking about heeseung again, aren’t you?” ryung asks you in a rather displeased tone, followed by a soft groan. he picks up his pace towards your designated lunch table surrounded by your friends, leaving you in the dust just a few feet behind him.

your cheeks bloom red with an embarrassed twinge traveling up your spine, settling your tray onto the plastic tabletop as you take your seat beside your friend. a boy named jay sits across from you, his black hoodie hiked up over his blond-dyed curls. his leg is bobbing in a rather frantic fashion, a black fingerless gloved hand plucking a sad, soggy fry out of its parchment paper. “nice of you to join us, gang.”

“jay, you’re my new best friend now.” ryung declares with a mock-frown present on his lips, pushing his tray further across the table so he can fold his arms on top of it. he flicks his head over towards you, teasingly throwing a glare your way. “this one is too lovesick for me to handle.”

“you’re still hung up on heeseung?” jay asks in bewilderment, his eyebrows raising high behind platinum curls. “the weird, artsy boy that everyone likes because he wears eyeliner?” you hear a couple of muffled chuckles across the table that you meekly roll your eyes at, prodding your pathetic lunch food with a fork.

“stop judging me.”

“i’m not judging you.” jay only shrugs, his eyebrows furrowing together as he reaches for another fry. he throws it in the air to catch it into his mouth, but it only misses and boomerangs off of his chin. “i just thought you’d be over it by now, considering he’s practically glued to my stepsister. also, his locker probably gets raided with love notes like, everyday. overrated, in my opinion.”

your mouth falls slightly ajar, your fork stopping it’s torturing against your mysterious lunch meat. you process jay’s words as you painfully watch jay pluck the fry from the floor and plop it into his mouth. “is suyun your stepsister?” you suddenly remember the events from the bar and that girl who had laid her head on heeseung’s lap.

ryung hisses in disgust. “you did not just eat that!”

“i did just eat that, ryung.” jay murmurs in reply mid-chew, throwing the disgusted boy a lazy wink. he then flicks his eyes back to you, an amused curve lifting at his lip in satisfaction of your reaction. “yeah, suyun’s my stepsister. she’s like, obsessed with him. they’re always out doing shit.”

“are they like….” a rosace tint blossoms in your cheeks at your approaching question, avoiding jay’s intense eyes for a lick of a second. “are they… dating?” you’ve never interacted with suyun enough to know this type of information, considering she acts like you don’t exist most of the time.

jay furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose, taking a quick swig of his mysteriously green colored drink. “no, no,” he shakes his head, hiking up his hoodie sleeves. a teacher quickly swoops behind him to pull the hood off of his head, but he quickly pulls it back over his blond curls. “no, she just has a freaky fixation with him. kinda feel bad for the poor guy, my stepsister is a train-wreck. biggest brat you’ve ever seen, always gets what she wants.”

you’re not gonna lie to yourself and say that a little glimmer of hope didn’t flicker behind the irises of your eyes, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. jay leans his body to the side to peer out at something behind you, his chin nodding briefly. “see, she’s sitting with him right now.” ryung and all of your other friends quickly turn their heads to follow jay’s gaze. “talking his head off. probably didn’t give him a choice. someone needs to rescue him from that embodiment of arsenic.”

you suddenly feel a punch in your arm, a quiet yelp slipping past your lips as you throw a glare over at a cheesing ryung. “i say y/n should.” heat swells up your neck. “he’d probably like that. you said he’s always staring at you, right? maybe he likes you back.”

“ryung.” you knit your eyebrows together, reaching your warm palm up to rub at the spot he punched. “ryung.. no.”

“ryung, yes.” jay suddenly exclaims, his eyebrows raising high into his forehead. a malicious yet curious smile lingers at the edges of his lips, as if a lightbulb just flickered on into his head. “please just ask him out. i’d love to see that witch get her broom shoved up her ass.”

“jay… please don’t say that ever again.” ryung whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he begins rubbing his index fingers along his temples. “you give me ulcers.”

“jay,” you furrow your brows and begin prodding at your lunch meat with your fork again, anxiety blooming inside your stomach as you avoid the blond boy’s eyes. “that’d be an embarrassment. i know he doesn’t like me. plus, i don’t want suyun to hate me even more than she does.”

“y/n,” ryung groans, “if he likes you more than suyun, then it isn’t your fault. plus, i see the way he stares at you. almost like he’s gonna jump your bones. it’s kinda scary. i think it’s all the eyeliner.” the boy then suddenly ducks his head down, his hands going to cover the top of his head at the incoming fry that just flew over him.

“probably the eyeliner.” jay says in reply, chucking another fry towards ryung’s head, followed by a squeak from the boy. “if he’s going for an edward cullen look, it’s not really working. maybe more like edward cullen about to pounce on a neck. y/n, you better stock up on some turtlenecks.”

“i don’t think edward cullen wears eyeliner.” ryung chirps from under the table, awaiting another fry bullet to shoot his way.

“yeah yeah, you just like to disagree with me, ryung. another word and you earn yourself another fry to the face.”

“y/n,” ryung chirps from under the table, poking his head out to peer up at you over his rounded, wired frames. “you’ve been drooling over heeseung for ages. i think you should make a move.”

“yeah, and fast.” jay chimes in, standing up to get a better view of ryung. he squints his eyes and points his fry right at the sight of a brown curl peeking out from over the table. “suyun’s planning on asking him out before summer break. heard her say it on the phone.”

“guys.” you groan, folding your arms over the table so you can bury your head into them. “i’m not asking him out.” you hear ryung squeak as a slight thud echoes off of his head.

“then get him to ask you out!” the boy under the table exclaims, a sudden ambush of fries flying over in his direction. “i’m tired of hearing you pine.. and of you zoning out. i was trying to talk about how my new bike already has a flat tire.”

“i’d zone out, too.”

“shut up, jay.”

“would you help me, ryung?” you pitifully ask the boy, your question muffled by the fabric of your shirt sleeves. “help me do it…. please.”

“of course, y/n.” ryung peeks out from under the table at jay, squinting his eyes over at his now sitting figure. ryung slowly climbs back into his seat, not breaking eye contact with the scheming blond boy. “consider it….” ryung mumbles, as the two boy’s begin sizing each other up. “operation… sweet talk.”

“ryung… is the notebook necessary?” you groan, letting your chin rest comfortably in the middle of your palm. you and your friend were seated in a stark, blue booth at your usual meeting place, where you hang around with your cheer-mates and the football team after a game. the local diner.

“hm,” ryung taps the end of a blue-ink pen against the curve of his chin, a miniature, spiral notebook fallen open on top of the plastic tabletop in front of him. “yes,” he mumbles, his dark eyebrows tightened into a line as he narrows his eyes at you. “yes, it is necessary. operation sweet talk is in session.”

“this feels like an interrogation.”

“tell me, y/n,” ryung begins lowly in a teasing, serious tone. he leans forward into the table and clasps his hands together in front of him, tonguing the inside of his cheek. you watch the silver chainlink of his necklace fold over against his notebook. “do you see heeseung often at school?”

“um.” you begin, nibbling on your bottom lip. you avert your gaze onto the mustard and ketchup bottles situated in the middle of the table as you think to yourself, glimpses and memories of your school life painting itself across the canvas of your brain. you can only ever remember seeing heeseung at lunch, sitting all the way on the other side of the cafeteria, doodling in a notebook like he always does. “no,” you shake your head softly. “i rarely am within like, ten feet from him.”

“interesting…” ryung mumbles, quirking a brow. he pushes the bridge of his gold frames up his sloped nose, his eyes scanning you up and down before picking up his pen and hunching over his notebook, scribbling fast-paced writings into its crisp page. “… that is so sad. i might have a better chance at asking him out, then.”

you furrow your eyebrows at the brunette boy, lifting the straw of your styrofoam cup to your lips, sucking up the slow, chocolate milkshake inside. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“what i mean,” ryung sighs, lifting up his thick eyebrows. he straightens up his spine to give you a stern look, tapping the end of his pen against his open page. “he’s always sitting up there on the bleachers when i have practice.” he lets out a soft snort, an amused curve lifting to the corner of his lips. “he probably knows more about my existence than yours.”

at the end of ryung’s discouraging statement, you immediately lift your head up from your palm, your eyes widening and your lips falling ajar. “ryung!” you excitedly exclaim, slapping your palm to the middle of the table. “that’s it! that’s the plan!”

the boy quirks his brow at your sudden enlightenment, his eyebrows knitting together slowly. “you…. want me to ask him out for you? that’s kinda…” the boy’s eyes avert to his briefly scribbled page, his facial expression scrunching up with cringe. “that’s kind of…. a terrible, pathetic idea…”

“no, stupid.” you groan, grabbing the pen settled in the middle of his notebook to begin tapping it against the plastic table repeatedly. for affect, of course. “i’ll start coming to your practices so i can talk to him!”

“oh!” the boy chuckles, adjusting the temples of his glasses subtly. “that makes more sense. kind of offended that’s the only way you’d come to my practices, though, y/n.”

“you know how much i hate football, ryung.” you reply teasingly, attempting to flip the pen through your fingers, but failing miserably. “it’s painfully boring.” you watch the boy slowly shake his head at you as a soft chuckle breathes through his parted, pink lips, letting his back fall against the back of the booth.

“if heeseung was the quarterback, it wouldn’t be so boring, now would it?”

“you got me there.” you mumble with an amused smirk, your attention suddenly being pulled away from ryung’s round face to the movement of the diner’s glass doors opening. your mood immediately falters when you recognize the familiar faces flooding right into your territory, faces you’d rather remember in the confinements of football games and the girls’ locker room.

“just why are they here right now?” you whine quietly to ryung, who throws his head back to take a look after being witness to your sorrowful displeasure. ryung then let’s out a groan, the two of you watching the whole football team and your cheer squad make their way to the front counter.

“hey, where’s jay?” ryung mutters with a soft pout, his neck straining as he tilts his head to scan the unnecessarily large group crowding the counter. “i don’t see him.”

“why would jay wanna hang out with these dumb idiots off the field?” you mumble hastily as you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, your brain frantically trying to scheme a way out of here without being seen.

“you know, y/n…. you have a point.”

“let’s go, they’re distracted.” you whisper to your friend as you lean in closer into the table, making sure he can hear you. you keep your eyes trained on the occupied group as you slowly reach over to close ryung’s notebook with the pen settled in the middle of it, sliding it over to yourself. your fingers itch with anticipation as you and ryung scoot yourselves to the end of your seats, preparing to make a run for it. “okay, let’s—”

to your horror, you and ryung painfully watch as hwang, who was located in the back of the malevolent herd of scoundrels, whips right around and begins walking towards the two of you with an idiotic, dopey smile to his pointed features. ah, fuck. you and ryung exchange miserable looks as you both begin sadly sliding yourselves back into your booths. “hey, look, it’s you freakin’ potheads!” hwang calls out loudly in the middle of the diner, his arms outstretched as he makes his way over. now, everyone, including the turd herd, have their heads turned directly towards you. awesome.

“we don’t even smoke weed.” ryung chokes out as hwang begins crushing his ribs in an uncomfortable looking, bent over, side hug.

“sure ya do, you little twink.” hwang chuckles loudly into ryung’s ear, ruffling up the top of his head with his knuckle. “you little lovebirds are gonna bring me some at our football party this saturday, alright? and then we can all partake in a three-way orgy stoned off our fuckin’ heads!”

“for the last time.” you groan, your cheeks flushing with irritation, your leg bobbing with the impatient urge to kick this obnoxious man right where the sun doesn’t shine. “me and ryung aren’t dating. and there will be no baked threesomes. now,” you slide back to the edge of your booth, slowly standing to your feet with ryung’s notebook under your arm. “will you excuse us, we will be leaving now.”

“but we just got here, man!” hwang whines with knitted eyebrows, his blue letterman jacket sliding off of his broad shoulder. he lets go of ryung, and immediately, the two of you quickly slide past hwang’s clutches and weave your way down the expanse of the diner, practically running out through the glass doors to avoid any more mind-numbing interactions.

“hey!” hwang calls as he watches the two of you leave with a soft pout to his lips. “so the kind weed donation is off or what?!”

you can already see him as you squint through the thin lines of your touching eyelashes, shielding your retinas from the harsh rays of serene sunlight. there, perched perfectly on the highest metal rung of bleachers tucked in the far left corner, sat heeseung, his back leaned over into a notebook that sat carefully against his knees.

the gravel crunches below your black converses, your fists folded neatly away in the comfort of your jean pockets. “just go up there.” ryung, who is walking beside you, leans over to mumble quietly into your ear. “and make some small talk.” you let out an anxious whine as you attempt blinking away the intruding sunlight, the football field and heeseung’s sitting figure bleeding closer into your proximity.

you hope the expensive, vanilla perfume you bought online from a tarot card reader wasn’t polluting the air from the amount you sprayed onto your neck. you might have applied a generous amount, but hey, ryung hasn’t pointed it out yet. so just maybe you and the environment around you were safe.

“don’t be a wuss.” ryung teases, the curve of his lip hiking up as he lightly hits you in the butt with his football helmet, his gaze lingering on you through the absence of his usual glasses. “if you end up chickening out on operation sweet talk, might just give him my own number.”

“shut up.” you groan with an amused tilt of your lips, shoving him lightly in his shoulder pad. he lets out a small giggle as the football field now is nothing but a few feet away from you, ryung shortly departing from your lonesome, nervous self.

“hey,” he calls out, throwing his head back as he jogs towards the open part in the fence. he outstretches his arm to point at you with his helmet. “i believe in you! whatever overly sweet spray you’ve got on will do wonders!” you only glare at him meekly before heading down the gravel over towards the bleachers, your heart beating up inside your ears.

“okay, y/n.” you whisper to yourself, your fists growing sweaty in your pockets. “you can do this.” you take a long, deep breath before slowly perching your foot up onto the first metal stair on the end of the bleachers, thanking every god in the sky that heeseung hasn’t looked up yet. as you begin slowly up the steps, your cheeks suddenly flush crimson at the loud echo of metal that rings out with your every step. you wince, not even daring to bat heeseung an eye, knowing he’s probably already staring at you now.

your body flushes with heat as you decide to just pick up your pace, finally stepping onto the final stair, right at the row where heeseung was sitting. you quickly glance over at him, relieved that he’s still just scribbling in that notebook. the slight breeze of the summer weather wafts heeseung’s woodsy cologne right into your nose. you feel as if you could lift yourself off the ground any moment and float your way right over to him, following his scent like a childish cartoon. you quickly blink your aroma-induced lust away and slowly begin making your way down the bleacher aisle.

you feel a little awkward as you sit yourself down a good distance away from the doodling boy. oh god, you think to yourself, i hope ryung isn’t watching me right now. you chew on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly surging with panic as long, painful seconds go by of you just sitting in silence while you listen to heeseung’s pencil scribble against his notebook. god, take me now please.

“um,” you croak out, your heart leaping up your esophagus. you take a shaky breath and furrow your brows down at your shoes. you immediately let the first thought roll off of your tongue without thought. “do you… smell that too?”

heeseung, as if he didn’t even realize someone had seated themselves beside him, immediately snaps his head over towards you, his eyebrows raised into his forehead. he plucks out his earbud that you didn’t even realize he had in, and holds it at his ear, plopping his pencil into the middle of his notebook. “i’m sorry?” he asks softly, his eyebrows furrowing together as he chews on blue raspberry bubblegum between his pearly teeth.

“n-nothing.” you mumble, furrowing your brows nervously as you quickly shake your head. “u-um,” you avert your gaze to his open notebook, a messy sketch of the football field scribbled onto its page. “what’re you uh… what’re you drawing?”

the boy immediately tilts his head down to his drawing, his silver hoop earrings rattling behind overgrown curls of perfectly messy chocolate hair. “uh, well,” he begins with a soft clear of his throat, the corner of his glossy lips curving up slightly as he examines his doodle. “you see the different hues of blue just above the horizon line?” heeseung mumbles, looking up briefly to point a gold ring encircled finger out towards the sky. “just always looks the prettiest up here. so… i just …. just like sketching it sometimes.”

“oh,” you croak softly, your eyebrows raising as you scoot yourself just a little closer to him to examine his sketch better. he notices your movements and tilts his notebook more into your view with a ring embroidered hand, his loud, noisy music blaring subtly from his exposed earbud. “that’s actually really good.”

“you think so?” heeseung mumbles with a quirk of his brow, the corner of his lip still raised. his eyes flicker carefully among the contents of his page. “thank you, i appreciate it. so, uh, come up here to watch the practice, or what?”

“uh, yeah.” you begin, your eyes then turning to peer out at the variety of players scattered along the football field, subconsciously looking for your four eyed friend. “you see number 12 out there?” you suddenly ask when you spot ryung in the middle of the field. you point your finger out towards him, heeseung’s gaze following it. “i’m here to watch him, actually.”

heeseung’s lips fall ajar slightly, his chin ticking up in realization. “oh,” he mumbles, his eyebrows raising. he then looks back down at his notebook, observing his drawing with furrowed eyebrows. “alright.”

tense silence suddenly surrounds the air encircling both of you, twiddling your thumbs awkwardly as you desperately and quickly try to flick through the files inside your brain for something to say, something to really make an impression. your ears are suddenly met with pencil on paper again, and a brief click of heeseung’s tongue beats you to the podium.

“good job at pool the other day,” heeseung mumbles through a subtle, sly curve of his lip, eyebrows slowly furrowing as he seems to be focused on outlining the white patterns of his drawn football field. “by the way.” he quickly adds, sweat beginning to gleam against his exposed biceps. he quickly flips his pencil in his palm to erase a wonky curve, the wood clanking with his chunky finger jewelry.

for some reason this brings heat to the apples of your cheeks, your brain running a mile a minute. you didn’t notice your mind had completely ran dry until heeseung lifts his head up towards you at your silence, his smirk parting to reveal the bottoms of his lined teeth. “thanks,” you finally nervously chuckle, reaching a hand up to brush back the hair in your face. “it really was just… just luck, to be honest.” the way heeseung had paused his pencil movements to study your reddening face, makes sweat bead along your brow.

his hooded gaze lingers just a second longer, the black t-shirt he had stuffed up under his studded belt sticks to his slouched abdomen from the brushes of the breeze. you try your best not to look. “you’ve never played pool before?” he finally asks you softly, flicking out of his stare to go back to shading his drawing. the slight curve of his lip and the tones of his statements almost feel as if he’s playing with you, teasing with you, toying with how much information you’re willing to give him.

“no, actually.” you finally reply, watching the tip of his pencil slowly curve against his page as he outlines the horizon. “that was… my first time. like ever.”

“yeah?” he quirks, the curve growing against his pink lips. “you’ve got… you’ve got some potential. if you let me teach you how to really play, we could put that potential to use, y/n.”

“i don’t know about that,” you nervously chuckle, your eyelids squinting against the beaming sun as you lift your head up to gaze out into the football field, your eyes following your curly haired friend as he rushes down the grass with a football under his arm. “i don’t really want to improve in that area. not really something i’d ever wanna do again. ever. but… i appreciate the offer, god of pool.”

right after the words roll off your tongue, heeseung immediately throws his head back in breathy chuckles, his eyes squeezing shut. “wow.” he mutters amusingly, shaking his head subtly as he playfully tongues the inside of his cheek. “don’t think i’ve ever been called that before. not sure if i should be…. flattered or offended.”

“maybe both.” you mumble teasingly, your gaze shifting back to his now fully drawn football field. your eyes roam around the curves and shadings of the sky horizon, your eyebrows raising with genuine impression.

suddenly, a lightbulb goes off into your head, a malicious grin pressing at the back of your lips as the most cunning idea of getting heeseung’s attention slithers through the crevices of your brain. you bat your eyelashes over at him innocently. “hey, have you ever… drawn people?”

his eyes immediately flicker back over to yours, his teeth beginning to nibble on his bottom lip curiously. his eyebrows furrow and he cocks his head slightly at you, his eyes traveling around your features as if trying to read you. he then slips his lip out of his teeth with a sharp, hushed chuckle, picking up his pencil and hunching back over his notebook, scribbling lightly against his drawn fence of the football field. “uh, no,” he mumbles, that amused smirk still teetering on the edge of his lip. “i can’t say that i have.” he then mumbles his next sentence with a curious, almost sultry tone that you recognize all too well. he blows a quick blue bubble with his gum, before it pops seconds after. “why do you ask?”

you shrug lightly, your gaze averting down to your lap as you begin to pick at your cuticles. “i don’t know,” you mumble, your cheeks beginning to flush with a nervous twinge crawling up your spine. “just curious.”

your body almost tingles at the low, rasped hum that slips easily out of heeseung’s nose, his attention still glued to his notebook. “just curious?” he asks again, in a tone you cant figure out. “you can ask me the question, i’m not gonna bite.”

your body immediately flushes with heat. “what question?” you ask him in mock-sincerity, watching as he swipes away eraser dust from his page.

“you… are you asking me to draw you?”

“uh,” you begin nervously, his heavy cologne making your brain turn to mush. “only if you want to.” he then looks back over at you, his eyebrows raised up behind his long, curly fringe. you can see the smudged eyeliner lining his eyes and the subtle, silver piercings that line the edge of his earlobe.

“okay.” he chuckles softly, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that only makes you feel dumb for bringing it up. as if on cue, the coach down below on the football field blows a whistle, which causes heeseung to close his notebook and straighten his spine. no other words are spoken between the two of you, as you painfully watch him stand to his feet and jog lightly down the bleacher steps. once heeseung’s making his way down the gravel, you immediately let out an embarrassed groan, letting your head fall into your palms.

never doing that again. now i have a valid reason to never attend ryung’s practices. no hard feelings?

“quiet.” a white haired lady dotted in over-the-top emerald green eyeshadow scowls at you and ryung by the fiction section, lifting a bony finger to her pursed, thin lips. you and ryung immediately both flush with red, muttering an array of sorry’s. you watch as the librarian finally walks away from the section, leaving you and ryung alone again hidden in the back of the library.

“so what i was trying to say was,” ryung whispers, leaning his back against the wooden shelf lined up the wall. he sticks his hands into his denim jacket pockets, before pushing up the bridge of his glasses with a finger. “you think that you blew it with edward cullen in eyeliner two days ago. can you remind me why, again?”

“yes, ryung,” you whisper harshly, your back up against the shelf right in front of the boy. you cross your arms over your chest and furrow your brows solemnly. “i asked him to draw me. he probably thought i was so embarrassing. that’s probably why i haven’t seen him in two days. maybe he’s avoiding me. i wanna back out of operation sweet talk. now. i resign from my position, chief.”

“hey.” ryung frowns, knitting his eyebrows together as he plucks a book from the shelf behind him, taking a quick step closer to you to wack you in the arm with it. “there will be no resigning. you’re just overthinking. give it a few more tries before you give up. you don’t wanna see him frolicking in the freshly dewed grass with suyun on his arm next year, do you?”

you glare at him, a pout jutting at your lips. “…. no.”

“okay then.” ryung rolls his eyes, turning the book over in his hand to observe the cover. his face distorts into disgust when he sees its little women, and immediately shoves it back onto the shelf. “anyway,” he sighs, turning back towards you with a side smirk. “hwang’s football party is coming up, maybe you can—” his eyes immediately dart over to something behind you in the distance, his lips pursing into a line and his eyes widening behind his frames. “um… y/n. don’t turn around.”

your heart begins beating quickly inside your chest with curiosity, your eyebrows tightening above your eyes as you slowly turn around, peeking your head out behind the safety of your wooden shelving. your eyes suddenly land on heeseung, his arm around suyun’s shoulder as hushed laughter takes over both of them. you watch as they walk right by the sci-fi section. your heart immediately sinks to your stomach. ryung sighs. “… okay, i was wrong. they might already be frolicking in freshly dewed grass…. together.”

you let a small sigh pass through your lips, a small lump developing in your throat. “it’s okay,” you mumble, slowly turning back around towards ryung. “i get it, really. suyun’s a super attractive girl and she seems to be… seems to be super amazing to get along with and very funny, as i can see, considering they’re.. laughing and touching, and—”

“y/n.” ryung groans, taking a step closer towards you and grabs your arm, pulling you away from the fiction section. “stop you’re wallowing.”

you groan behind the boy. “where are we going?”

“well,” ryung sighs, dragging you throughout the aisles of books. “i just remembered i need to do a non-fiction book report about a predatory-prey animal relationship before friday.”

“… ryung, it’s thursday.”

“i know.” the boy replies in a disgruntled tone, his pace slowing down as the two of you near the vast book shelf of non fiction books. he slowly lets go of your arm, his gaze wondering around the infinite number of exposed spines. he places his hands on his hips, slipping his lip between his teeth. “it’s a very urgent matter, if you cannot tell.”

“yeah,” you snort, crossing your arms over your chest as you study your friend. “considering you put it off until the last minute. very good time management skills ryung, i must say.”

“why, thank you.” the boy mutters, running his fingers along the array of book spines, his eyes squinting as he reads the fine print lining each one. “man, i might just have to ask if i can extend my due date until monday. but if i do that, i’d have to study instead of going to the football party. so that would suck.”

“ryung,” you groan, leaning your side into the bookshelf, eyes observing your friend’s side profile. “don’t make me go alone.”

“just ask heeseung.”

“no. he probably already asked suyun. you know what, if you’re not going, then i’m not going.”

“you know what, y/n,” ryung mutters, plucking out a thick picture book with a prowling cheetah printed on the cover. he opens it up briefly and flips through its pages. “i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ll go, but i might be in the corner with my nose in a… cheetah survival instincts… book.”

you let out a relieved sigh, pushing yourself away from the bookshelf. “that works, ryung. that’s completely fine with me.” you suddenly freeze at the faint sounds of footsteps suddenly approaching shortly behind you, before you hear a light whisper right above your ear.

“y/n.”

at the sound of the all too familiar low-set voice, you quickly turn around in your spot, making sure ryung’s back was to you so he doesn’t witness you embarrass yourself. your eyes are suddenly met with heeseung’s, who’s dark lined brown orbs are hidden behind strands of dark brown hair, a half curve to his glossy lips and a mischievous glint hidden inside his dark eyes. before you can even part your drying lips to speak, the boy whispers again. “open your palm.” you blink up at him, before registering his words and lifting up your palm, spreading out your fingers.

“what’s….?”

you watch as the tall boy stuffs a quick hand into his pocket, his eyes never leaving your curious features. he slips out a folded up piece of notebook paper, and places it right in the center of your palm. “hope you don’t mind the quality,” he rasps lowly, “may have had to rush a bit.” your brain goes blank with a variety of burning, raging questions, only being able to watch as he begins walking backwards, the curve on his lip spreading into an admiring, amused smile. “see you around, y/n.” the dim lights of the library highlight his adam’s apple as he lifts his chin up slightly, observing you under his eyelashes. he then slips cooly back behind the bookshelf, his footsteps now becoming a distant thud.

you stand there, your brain trying to process everything that had just happened. ryung had now approached you, his quiet voice being heard over your shoulder. “um… y/n. what did he just give you?” you swallow the dryness in your throat and slowly look down at the crumbled piece of paper in your hand, before you slowly unfold it with a slow, inhaling, suspenseful breath.

ryung gasps softly under his breath. “oh…. my god.”

once you’ve unfolded the paper between your fingers, your mouth falls ajar at the image, your cheeks flushing red. scribbled beautifully onto the page, was a drawing of you, sitting on top of a sloppily outlined counter. a cup with a straw was positioned between your hands, the tip of the straw hidden behind puckered lips. your cheeks were dusted with a red color pencil and written lazily in the bottom corner of the page, was heeseung’s signature. right under it in minuscule letters read the date. exactly last saturday, when you had played pool at the bar.

“wait a fucking minute.” ryung whispers in your ear, your heartbeat throbbing in your eardrums. “is that you…. at the bar last weekend?!”

“i think… i think it is.” you mumble in utter shock, not being able to tear away your gaze from heeseung’s unexpected drawing. “look,” you whisper sharply, placing a finger on top of the scribbled drink in your tiny, pencil sketched hand. “my chocolate milkshake…”

“okay, y/n,” ryung chuckles nervously, backing away from your shoulder. “if i were you, i’d either be super flattered or super creeped out. i don’t know which one you should be.”

“i don’t know either, ryung.” you mumble, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “i don’t know, but i’m feeling super attracted to him right now.”

“ew. stop being weird.” ryung mutters, shaking his head teasingly at you with furrowed, hidden brows. he then turns back towards the nonfiction books and crosses his arms over his chest, a dry chuckle passing his lips. “god, you kids are crazy. i’m trying to look for my nonfiction book over here, and guinevere beck is drooling over the picture joe goldberg drew of her last weekend. awesome. this sounds like it’s gonna play out great.”

“you’re so supportive, ryung.”

“next thing you know, edward cullen is gonna suck bella’s blood before she can even say lee heeseung.”

“this is why you’re single.”

throughout the rest of your mind-numbing, boring school day, the only thing that ran inside your mind like a hamster on a spinning wheel, was heeseung and his drawing. your leg bobbed feverishly as you sat at your desk in economics class, mind distorting and blurring the sleep-induced words of your teacher, nothing but visions of that crumbled piece of paper melting through the cracks of your subconscious. as you ate lunch, as you studied in the student cafe, as you talked to your cheer friends in science class. it was consuming your whole entire being, it was devouring you whole.

it was eating at your system so much, that right before your cheer practice after school, you walked right out through the back double doors and right down to the field. you kept the folded drawing warm in the confinements of your jean pocket, your fist softly clutching the parchment as if afraid it might run away. your shoes crunched the gravel below you, eyes observing the football players gathering onto the vast field. i’m going to talk to him.

but unfortunately, to your dismay, you soon figure out that the boy is nowhere to be seen. the bleachers deemed themselves vacant, and it only brought a sour feeling to spread in the pit of your stomach. as you sulkily traveled up the gravelly hill back into the building, you check your surroundings. heeseung is no where in sight. of course this disappointed you, considering you were going to thank the boy for such a thoughtful, admiring, unexpected gesture. but now you couldn’t, and you don’t know just when you’ll get the opportunity again.

hiking up your short, blue and gold cheer skirt, the loud, echoing voices of the girl’s locker room settles inside your eardrums. the room is humid and makes your cheer top almost impossible to put on, considering the stickiness blooming on top of your skin. your mood was already faltered from the absence of lee heeseung, that there was no point in conversing with your cheer mates. you had already established this thought in your head, when a familiar, squeaky, annoying voice chirps right into your ear.

“y/n!” suyun squeaks, making your head want to physically pop like a pimple right off of your body. you imagined the puss would squirt all over rhee suyun. “are you going to go to hwang’s party after the game on saturday?” you don’t even dare turning around to look at this beady eyed rat right into her sinister little eyes. you begin fetching your comb from your open locker, quickly beginning to comb out the length of your hair.

“i don’t know.” you mumble, not willing to repeat yourself if she asked. “i always go, don’t i?”

“well yeah,” suyun chuckles, spraying heavy amounts of flower scented body spray all over herself. “i just ask this time because, well, i don’t want you to be sad when you see me and heeseung together. that’s really all.”

you pause your comb’s motions midway in your hair, clenching your teeth together. anger rises up your spine and blooms throughout your chest, your eyelids fluttering shut to maintain your own sanity.

“yeah, y/n…. i know you have a thing for him. i heard jay telling that little gay boy with the glasses on the phone last night.” her tone was almost too innocent, acting like she wasn’t the most vile being to ever hang around. you decide to stay silent, slowly finishing your brushing. “it’s okay, no hard feelings. at least you know he’s mine now, right? glad we could chit-chat, y/n!” you hear her locker slam with a soft thud, before her white tennis shoes clunk swiftly down the slick, locker room floor.

yeah, you think to yourself, as you push your locker door shut, hastily tying your hair up with your usual gold ribbon. your mind flickers with images of heeseung’s sweet drawing and the rosy blush he gave you, despite the fact that any possible blush you could have had that day would’ve been completely invisible from the low lights. he’s aaaalll yours.

god, ironically enough, you wish ryung was here. the one night you were supposed to go clothes shopping for hwang’s party, exactly one day prior, jay calls him up for help on his nonfiction predatory-prey book report. and who’s one to say no to their secret football crush only you’re aware of? not choi min-ryung. you’re fine with it really, you’re just walking by yourself down the risky, shop heavy part of town in the rain at 10pm. psh, you don’t need him.

you let out a solemn sigh as the plastic bag strap between your fingers grows clammy through the feverish, cooling air. your pace is slow and patient as the bottoms of your shoes clobber down the stone sidewalks lining the lines of shops by your right, all decorated with illuminating fairy lights and crimped, pastel awnings. you let your heavy shopping bag containing denim shorts and fishnet stalkings bump up against your legs as you walk, mentally groaning at the increasing amount of drizzles plopping on top of your head.

under the glinting moonlight, your eyes scan for any possible shop that would contain face paint of any sort, knowing the whole cheer squad and football team would be participating with cheeks striped with blue and gold. you can’t be the only one without it. as you walk by a craft store, your eyes trained on its beaded jewelry display, you’re suddenly startled by someone clearing their throat rather loudly beside its entrance.

you halt suddenly in your tracks, eyes trying to focus in on the figure sitting beside the entrance, their back against the brick. it’s hard to study them under the dim street lamp lights, only coming to the realization once the bellowing smoke cloud pouring from their lips simply dissolves under flickering, orange light. heeseung. “well, aren’t you a daring girl. seems a little dangerous to walk by yourself at night, huh, y/n?”

you watch in shock as he peers over at you under half lidded eyes, the back of his head lolling towards you as it leans against the brick. you watch the curve of his lip and the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, his layered, brown hair brushed back from his forehead. he studies your frozen expression and lifts his eyebrows at you, his ringed thumb flicking ash from the back of his cigarette.

shit. should have wore my perfume. “uh,” you mumble, watching the glint of his silver, dangly star earrings. “i know, but… i’m fine.” is all you can mutter out as you watch him place his cigarette back between his parted lips. “what are you um,” your cross your arms nervously over your chest in an attempt of mock-confidence. “what’re you doing out here? stalking me?”

heeseung let’s out a short chuckle, eyebrows furrowing as smoke begins blowing out of his nostrils. “no, y/n.” he then lifts up the plastic bag seated beside him that you didn’t notice before. “same thing as you, i can see.” you nod slowly at his shopping bag, your eyes lingering on his figure as the top of your head is suddenly being pelted with raindrops.

“ah,” you squeak, reaching your arms up above your head, as if that’ll stop the water’s ruthless beatings. you watch as heeseung climbs to his feet, dropping his cigarette down towards the sidewalk.

“c’mon, before it gets worse.” he reaches his hand out towards the craft store door, fingers wrapping around the door handle. he opens up the glass door for you, waiting for your figure to step inside. you quickly head inside the air conditioned store, an immediate sigh of relief slipping past your lips.

“thank you,” you mumble to him as he files in right behind you, the door closing with a slight thud. “maybe they’ll have face paint.” you mutter, eyes beginning to roam the infinite amount of uniquely lined shelves. you wonder down the first aisle you see, faint pop music wafting it’s way into your eardrums. your eyes scan the shelves briefly, acknowledging their souvenir-like knick knacks. you didn’t realize heeseung had been following you until you hear his soft voice somewhere close behind you.

“so, where’s your boyfriend?” you hear him ask, causing your heart rate to increase and your eyebrows to furrow. you slowly turn around in your spot, eyes narrowed on heeseung’s figure that was leaning coyly into the end of the shelf, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his ripped, black skinny jeans. his cheeks were surprisingly dusted with red, a shade you haven’t seen on the boy before.

“who’s my boyfriend?” you ask him hesitantly, watching his eyebrows tighten confusingly. he tongues the inside of his cheek and let’s a curious half smile tick up his cheek, his stuffed-in black button up clinging slightly to his abdomen.

“uh..” heeseung begins hesitantly, his eyebrows tightening even more above his brown, doe eyes. “you know… kid with glasses. number 12..?” you notice the way the red in his cheeks deepen just a little more.

the gears of your brain begin turning, a light red blooming at your own cheeks. “ryung?” you begin shaking your head softly, your lip tensing with a soft curve. “ryung is not my boyfriend. ryung is gay. he’s just my best friend.”

“oh,” heeseung let’s out an embarrassed, nervous chuckle, reaching a toned arm up to rub at the back of his neck. his eyes dart to a hawaiian bobble head on the nearby shelf. “that… that makes sense. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize.” you giggle softly, flashing him a comforted smile. you turn your attention back towards the tacky knickknacks, plucking one off of the shelf to examine it in your palm. “he, uh, bailed on me last minute. to answer your question.” you see in your peripheral vision heeseung reaching out for a knick knack on the same shelf, turning it over into his palm.

“he’s not a very good friend, then, hm?” he mumbles, his tongue peeking out briefly to moisten his lips. “leaving you by your lonesome like this.” he then makes three tsk noises with his tongue, his head shaking teasingly. “highly irresponsible.”

“it’s not like i’m alone now,” you mumble, your finger dragging along the shelved objects as you slowly begin down the aisle. “you’re here with me.” you hear heeseung hum behind you, his signature, woodsy cologne floating into your senses.

“how do you know you can trust me?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the shelves. “you don’t really know me very well, y/n. i could be a criminal waiting to jump you and take all your money.”

you let out a short chuckle. “you’re right, kinda sounds like something you’d do. considering you drew me without my knowledge at the bar last weekend.”

“…. not gonna lie, that one hurt.”

you giggle at his reply, stopping in your tracks when you spot packs of face paint hung on metal rungs towards the bottom of the shelf. “thank you for the drawing…. by the way. i really liked it.” heat blooms to your neck as you slowly crouch down, fingers brushing along the words lining the packages. “just curious, what inspired you to draw me that day?”

heeseung hums low in his throat again, his fist rummaging inside his pocket for his cigarette pack. an admiring smile etches into his cheeks and lifts his rounded ears, strands of his hair falling into his eyes. “remember on the bleachers i told you that the skyline was just so pretty up there, i had to draw it?”

you pause your finger’s motions, heat blooming across your neck and throughout your body. “yes.”

you hear the flicker of heeseung’s lighter. “should you need a further explanation?”

you stay crouched down, ears tuning into heeseung’s scorching words, the tips of your ears burning red. “so… you think i’m pretty?” you ask him hesitantly, glad that your crimson cheeks were hidden from heeseung’s view.

“no,” he mumbles, after blowing out smoke from his new cigarette. “i think that you’re beautiful.”

you felt as if your body could melt into the ceramic tile flooring. “um,” you begin, your temples pulsing anxiously. “so… why didn’t suyun tag along with you tonight?” you ask him quietly, quickly trying to change the subject so you don’t embarrass yourself further.

“she’s already got tomorrow sorted out.” heeseung replies softly, leaning back into the shelving. you slowly climb back up to your feet, with two packages of face paint in your hold. “she also uh,” heeseung begins, a teasing smile edging at his lips as he quickly glances down towards the ground, lifting his cigarette to his lips. he takes in a huff as you turn towards him with anticipating eyes, his eyebrows quirking as smoke bellows out of his nostrils again. “she told me something about you.”

you suddenly widen your eyes, your brain remembering the last, dreadful conversation you had with the beady-eyed girl. your heart begins to thrash quickly against your chest. “what did she say?”

heeseung studies your facial features, that same, taunting smirk playing at the edge of his lip. “she said you have a secret you’re hiding from me. she wouldn’t tell me what it was, though.” he then cocks his head at you, his eyebrows furrowing teasingly. you watch the edge of his long, star earring dance against his shoulder. “anything you’d like to add on that subject?”

you swallow nervously in your throat, avoiding his intimidating, intense gaze. you pretend to peer down at the face paint between your fingertips. “…um, no. i don’t even.. i don’t even know what she’s talking about.” god, you sound so unconvincing. you wish you were a better liar.

“yeah?” he quirks, his tongue swiftly rolling against the inside of his cheek and out between his lips, taking one step closer towards you. “y/n.” he whispers, leaning his head down closer towards your own. he props his elbow up against the shelf, leaning his side into his arm. his cologne burns your nostrils. heat blooms across your cheeks as you watch his eyes study your lips. “i’ll tell you my secret, if you tell me yours.”

your throat grows dry, slowly taking a step back from his looming, lanky figure. “i…. i can’t right now.” you tell him through a bite of your lip, watching his eyes examine your nervous features. “later. okay? i promise.”

heeseung narrows his eyes at you teasingly, his slender fingers slowly pushing his cigarette back between the comfort of his lips. “okay.” is all he mumbles, a sly curve growing up the side of his lip. the air seems to grow tense as you head for the checkout line, the manager catching heeseung smoking and kicks him out of the store. you giggle to yourself as you watch him exit through the glass door, a lingering thought dancing on the edges of your brain.

hwang’s party was absolutely nothing like you imagined, considering you thought it’d be held in his mother’s run-down basement. you stand right outside the gymnasium entrance, mascara coated eyelashes blinking up at the huge blue banner hung across the top of the doorframe that read go ravens! in tacky, gold glittered writing. there were hundreds of students filing in and out of the gym, all decorated in the properly colored spirit attire.

you feel your brain pulsing with each techno beat that pounds through the ginormous overhead speakers. you lean over towards ryung beside you, who was clad in his blue and gold ravens jersey and ripped, denim skinny jeans. “has hwang always had this many friends?”

you watch as ryung eyes the gym entrance with intimidated, wide eyes, his finger slowly reaching up to push on the bridge of his glasses. he slowly shakes his head at your question. “i don’t think so….”

“oh,” you shortly gasp, “did you bring your non-fiction book? for studying purposes?”

ryung chuckles nervously, a red color spreading to the expanse of his cheeks. “um, no…. i left it at jay’s house.”

you snort at his confession and slap him briefly in the back. “good job, dummy.”

you had asked ryung prior for his blue letterman jacket, considering you couldn’t find the right shirt for the occasion, and decided to wear it today over a plain, black cropped camisole. your fishnet stalkings sat uncomfortably tight under your shorts and against your skin, having to adjust yourself every few minutes. your hair had been tied up with your golden cheer ribbon, matching hairstyles with all of your cheermates. you almost reached up to itch your cheek but quickly changed your mind when you realized you’d smudge your blue and gold cheek stripes. “so… are you ready to go in now, or…. do you wanna stand out here like idiots for a few more minutes?”

“no, let’s go.” ryung chirps, clapping his hands together. he quickly begins heading towards the gymnasium entrance, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “c’mon, y/n, i heard they spiked the punch this year.” you roll your eyes and nervously begin following your friend inside, intimidated by the large groups of people around you. you and ryung suddenly halt to a quick stop though, when hwang suddenly jumps out in front of you.

“aye, my stoner loners made it!” the boy hollers, his shaggy blond hair adorning a blue stripe right down the middle of his head. he then pulls the both of you into a bone-crushing bear hug. the two of you groan. “bring me that promised devil’s lettuce, or what, kiddos?”

“hwang, please get me out of your armpit.” you groan, your nose face first into the warm, onion-scented cave of his forbidden forest. “please, before i start violently sobbing.”

“sorry, sorry,” hwang chuckles nervously, letting the two of you out of his clutches. “you guys go out there, and have some fun, alright?” he beams, placing both of his hands in the air for the two of you to high five. you and ryung hesitantly do so. “yeah! though i’d watch out for that spiked punch if you wanna be able to drive home tonight!”

hwang let’s out a fit of loud laughter, smacking the two of you hard into your backs before drifting off to converse with other new party attendees. the two of you stand dumbfounded in the middle of the action like little lost puppies, not sure what to do next. “do you want to.. um.. check out the food first.. or..?” you begin to ask, before jay is trudging himself through the crowd of already sweat-covered bodies right towards the two of you.

“c’mon, children,” the boy says through a half smile, clad in a black t-shirt thrown over a royal blue, long-sleeved undershirt. he pops the bubbelgum between his teeth and grabs both of your wrists, dragging you through the hoard. “i saved you guys some seats at my table.”

jay leads the both of you over towards a large round table lined up beside the other round tables by the gym wall, all decked out in gold tablecloths. two of jay’s buddies from the football team already occupy their seats, your eyes landing on the two open ones right beside jay. he pulls out both of the black, plastic chairs for both of you, keeping his grip there as you sit down against the plastic. he leans his head down between you two, so he can speak over the loud commotion of party goers. “what do you guys want to drink?” he asks loudly over the pulsing of the speakers, your eyes just now noticing his gold, glittery eyeshadow.

“uh,” you shake your head softly. “i don’t want anything right now. thanks, though.” jay nods at you, before turning his head softly towards ryung.

“do you wanna go get some of that spiked punch?” he asks the boy excitedly with a grin curving at his lips, which results in ryung hopping right out of his seat.

“fuck, yes!” jay then drags ryung back through the crowd, leaving you alone by two dudes you don’t even know. you’re not sure just how long the two boys are going to stay there, god knows what they’ll be doing, so you let out a small sigh and stand up from your seat.

right as you stood up, you noticed the lighting of the room had changed. from a bright, pink illuminating haze to a deep, purple one, darkening the gym and everyone’s facial features. the song had changed too, now sounding a little bit more and r&b and a lot more dreamier. you reach down to adjust the stockings sitting against your skin as you slowly emerge towards the center of the gym, where students were either seen dancing, making-out, or swaying lightly with their friends.

you nibble on your bottom lip as you subconsciously scan around the gymnasium for that one familiar face. after a good few seconds of not spotting the dark haired boy, you had concluded to yourself that he probably just wasn’t there yet. walking further towards the hectic crowd, your world suddenly comes crashing down onto you when you spot him. not only did you spot him, you also spotted suyun, who was indeed swallowing his face. they were kissing. rather fervently you might add, watching their hands claw all over each other. you suddenly felt dizzy, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

there was something off about heeseung’s gaze though, but it was hard to see under the dark purple lights. you squint, walking further into the crowd, noticing his eyes aren’t closed, nor are they on suyun. they’re right, directly centered on you.

this makes your heart rate increase, now being bumped by surrounding bodies. your chest suddenly surges with adrenaline and with anger, a lump now forming in the back of your throat. an idea flickers to life up inside your brain, and you immediately begin weaving through the crowd. you trudge your way to the refreshments table, where jay and ryung still linger by. they seemed to be taking shots of the punch and laughing to each other when you approach them, your temples pulsing with frustration.

“ryung.” you begin firmly, trying not to let your lip quiver. the boy’s laughter immediately dies down at your troubled expression, setting down his shot glass and walking closer towards you.

“hey,” he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “hey, what’s wrong?” you can tell he’s getting tipsy by the slur of his words, but you don’t even care right now. you grab onto his wrist and pull him into the crowd, where he begins protesting. “hey!” he exclaims confusingly, letting you drag him through the students. “what are you doing?”

your eyes quickly scan the group for heeseung and suyun again, your teeth nervously chewing on your bottom lip. you spot them, their lips still locked and his eyes still on you, and you turn back towards ryung. “ryung.” you begin firmly with raised brows, grabbing him by the shoulders. “i’m going to make-out with you.” the boy blinks, the color draining in his face and his eyes widening. his body goes stiff.

“what—?”

you immediately cut him off when you crash your lips onto his, the feeling immediately uncomfortable. you could tell the hesitancy in ryung’s rhythm, but he quickly responds the deeper the kiss becomes. you keep your hands tight on his shoulders as his hands find your waist, too drunk out of his mind to even make sense of the situation. you flick your gaze towards heeseung a few heads away from you, the music drifting loudly into the pits of your eardrums.

nothing else matters in the moment except heeseung, your eyes warning him, communicating with him. his eyes do the same, as his own kiss with suyun grows deeper and messier, his eyebrows furrowing in your direction. he’s got to be drunk, you think to yourself, as you stick your tongue in ryung’s mouth. what is heeseung doing? your mind was racing with questions that you didn’t have time to acknowledge, all you had to do was just keep kissing ryung and keep your gaze on heeseung’s, who’s eyes never falter from yours.

who’s it gonna be? your eyes seem to say, as you can feel the lump growing in the back of your throat. look away from me, do it. your eyes look at him with plead, with hurt, your mouth growing tired against ryung’s. is he doing this out of spite? your temples were pulsing and ryung was beginning to pull away, when heeseung parts from suyun first.

the boy disappears from suyun before you could even notice, your eyes beginning to blink tears from your eyelashes. ryung can feel it against his cheeks, and he slowly pulls away from you. “am i that bad of a kisser?” he slurs, his hair sticking up in places and his cheeks rosy.

“no.” you grumble, reaching forward to fix his crooked glasses. your neck starts to grow red with guilt, suddenly feeling ashamed for pulling ryung into it. “ryung.. i’m sorry i—”

“it’s okay, y/n.” ryung smirks softly, eyes flickering between yours. suddenly he’s being pulled away by jay’s eager hand, and he throws his head over at you before allowing himself to be dragged away. “i kinda liked it!”

you roll your eyes at ryung’s obvious drunken behavior, now suddenly being shoved around by more surrounding students. tears were threatening to spill from behind your waterline, and your head was beginning to throb with a raging headache. you were feeling hurt and betrayed even if it wasn’t your place to be, you just couldn’t help it. this boy knew what he was doing with your emotions like he always did, and that split your heart right down the middle.

your vision became blurry and your throat was beginning to burn, your gaze pointed down towards the overcrowded floor as you start weaving your way through the tightly packed gymnasium, shoving people’s shoulders and bumping their hips. you suddenly squeak to an unexpected halt when a warm pair of arms begin wrapping themselves around your waist from behind. heat immediately blooms across your already flushed face, the gears in your brain pausing their rotations. you feel a sharp chin being placed on the curve of your shoulder. “well, aren’t you just a pretty little snake?”

heeseung. your jaw clenches with bubbling anger, the tears becoming warm behind your eyelashes. “what is that supposed to mean?” your voice is wavered and quieter than you wanted it to be, but you couldn’t help it and you didn’t care. your blood was boiling and your mind was spinning.

“thought you said ryung wasn’t your boyfriend.” he whispers confidently into your ear, his breath reeking of mint and the slightest hint of alcohol.

“i thought suyun wasn’t your girlfriend.” you declare hesitantly, lacing your arms frustratingly over your chest. the heat from his embrace was making your skin prickle, the dreamy music from the speakers now a distant blur in the depths of your ear canal.

“she’s not.” heeseung quickly retorts, fingernails picking at the golden studs in your belt.

“then why were you kissing her?” your temples begin pulsing even more, sweat now trickling down the side of your cheek. you were annoyed. you just wanted to go home. silence begins embracing the both of you, the loud chatter and noises from the surrounding students filling in the white noise.

you hear heeseung inhale slowly, his arms further encircling your figure, trying to become closer to you. his chest was pushed up against your back and his face was right beside your neck, his body practically meshed with yours. “she started kissing me first, and i was going to pull away, but i saw you walk in. i was trying to make you jealous.”

this only made anger rattle up against your system even more, your jaw clenching in utter irritation. your mind was swimming with confusion, your brain about to explode inside your skull. your lips part hesitantly, your tongue laying dry inside your mouth. “what…?”

heeseung’s breath grows closer into your neck, his nose brushing up your jawline. goosebumps began to erupt all across your body, his breath warm in your ear. “i’ll tell you my secret….” he whispers, his embrace growing impossibly tighter. “if you tell me yours.”

you swallow the large lump settled warm inside your throat, your heart rate beating loudly inside your eardrums. you nibble at your lip and contemplate your next move, your mind going over everything that had just happened in the span of thirty minutes. you knew deep down exactly what heeseung’s secret was, you knew it was obvious. this was your chance, your one time opportunity to tell this boy how you feel about him, despite all the pent up anger you’ve been storing inside yourself. so with a shaky breath, and a hesitant tongue, you slowly turn around in heeseung’s grasp.

his hands stay warm on your waist as you settle your palms against the damp skin of his neck, the paint stripes on his cheeks nothing but faint smudges. your eyes examine his disheveled, crimped hair and smokey, black eyeshadow, his silver hoop earrings and his collared, unbuttoned blue t-shirt. a silver chain rested comfortably against his collarbones and the hem of his shirt hid behind his usual studded belt and black skinny jeans. your eyes nervously gaze up into his own, where a worried, flushed expression takes over his admiring features. “i like you.” you whisper to him, the words foreign on your tongue. your thumb brushes up against his prominent jawline. “now tell me your secret.”

you watch his neck as he swallows slowly, his eyes flickering among your features. the edge of his lip suddenly curves up subtly, his eyes panning down to gaze at your glossed lips. “i’ve known about your little game this whole time.”

as if your heart wasn’t already jolting out of your ribcage, you feel as if you could puke up the pulsing muscle any second now. your face immediately drains of color and you furrow your eyebrows hesitantly. “you.. did? what… how? how did you know?”

“let’s just say,” heeseung softly chuckles, cocking his head at you. he scrunches his nose for effect in his next words. “suyun overheard jay talking about it last week. and suyun tells me everything.”

“so,” you begin, your palms beginning to grow warm against his neck. for some reason, the lump in your throat was developing quickly again. god, jay, you little shit. “you knew this whole time, but you still led me on? you still played around with me? is that what’s happening?”

“y/n.” heeseung begins softly with raised eyebrows, pulling you closer into his chest. he leans his head down towards your ear, where he noses down your jawline. “i’ve got more than one secret.”

you can feel him smirk up against your cheek. you blink, your cheeks growing flushed as everyone around you becomes an afterthought. you could predict his next words, but oh, how you wanted to hear him say it. “can you tell me…?”

“are you sure you don’t have one more?” heeseung whispers, his lips stretching into a lazy smile as he nibbles the flesh of your cheek, his slender hands traveling along the curves of your waistband. “i think you’ve got another.. dirty lil’ secret in the back of your mind. i’d like you to share it with me first, y/n.”

your cheeks flush with heat at his low-set whisper tingling into your ear, the alcohol in his breath intoxicating your own system. you swallow thickly in your throat and slide your palms down over his bare, toned shoulders, blocking out the way hwang yells something stupid over the speakers to the dancing crowd. the feeling of heeseung’s warm, heated touches and sinful whispers sure does make heat swarm to the pit of your belly, arousal soon clouding up inside your brain. it’s like he could read your mind. “i want you to..” you whisper hesitantly, swallowing nervously in your throat. your heart was beating erratically against your chest, and you could tell heeseung had noticed your nerves.

you hear a light hum breathe out through his lips and against your cheek, pulling his head back slightly to rest his chin back onto your shoulder. he then clasps his hands together against the small of your back, pulling you closer into his chest. “go ahead, y/n…” he whispers, beginning to sway softly to the overhead music. you take a deep breath and wrap your arms further around his warm neck, your cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder as the comfort of his embrace begins easing your nerves. “you can tell me, i promise i won’t judge you.” he whispers again. “tell me what you want me to do.”

you swallow the lump developing in your throat as you flutter your eyelids closed, focusing on the faint rhythm of you and heeseung’s swaying hips. you can hear his quick heartbeat against your chest, his breathing soft by your head. “i want you…” you lick your lips briefly, “to touch me.”

heeseung hums coyly. “i’m already touching you, y/n.” he whispers, and you can practically hear the amusing smirk etched across his lips. you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“you… you know what i mean, heeseung.”

“it might just be the spiked punch, but, i can’t figure it out for the life of me. please do explain, y/n.”

you groan shyly into the curve of his neck, heat blooming against your skin. you feel heeseung’s chest vibrate subtly with his soft chuckle, your lips parting hesitantly. “stop… i’m not explaining. tell me your other secret.”

heeseung breathes in a shaky breath, before letting it softly travel out through his nose. “i want you to wear me,” he whispers lowly into your neck. “like your pretty perfume.” your skin bursts out with an array of goosebumps, your letterman jacket now sticking to you with sweat.

your mind moves a mile a minute. “what.. what do you mean?”

you hear him chuckle softly at your question, before he parts his lips. he moves his head closer towards your neck, where he slowly and carefully, bites down softly into the skin of it, where he slowly begins sucking a hickey right into the flesh.

you gasp lightly at the sensation, warmth beginning to fill the pit of your belly. you let your hands roam around the nape of his neck and reach your fingertips into his damp curls, thankful for the business around you. a new, upbeat song had begun playing from the overhead speakers, bringing in more swarms of hyperactive students.

your body had been flushed with permanent heat at the suction of his lips on your skin, his bite soft but hurtful. it felt good, a little too good, and that feeling soon spread throughout your whole lower body. he slowly lifts his head back up once he’s sucked a good, evident purple bruise into the line of your neck, his lips shiny and parted. “heeseung,” you begin, eyes flickering among his prideful half smile. “heeseung, please…. i- i want… more.”

he lets a quick giggle slip past his lips, his hands finding the indentions of your hips to settle them there. his fingers had slipped under your letterman jacket, where the coldness of his rings stung your bare skin. “i dunno.” he shrugs, eyes focusing in on your desperate lips. you notice the red blush to his tan cheeks. “maybe if you beg for it some more.” he teases, “i like the way you say please.”

before you can even reply to his suggestive statement, he’s suddenly being pulled away from you. you catch suyun in the act, her face distorted in anger and her grip firm on his arm. “we’re going to the car.” she huffs, heeseung keeping his eyes trained on you.

“wait!” you plead, but you can only watch as heeseung gets pulled through the crowd. you bite your lip and begin trudging through the students towards them, where you hear their hushed banter.

“… i can’t believe you’re cheating on me!”

“… suyun, we’re not even dating, for christ’s sake!”

“… that doesn’t even matter!”

your emotions get the best of you as you begin weaving your way through the crowd, your head pulsing. night begins settling down around your small university, tiredness beginning to spread its way throughout your skeleton. you don’t let that stop you as you watch suyun and heeseung disappear down the hall, your chest beginning to heave with heavy breaths as you skid to a stop right at the gymnasium entrance. you bend over slightly to rest your hands onto your knees, dreadfully watching as suyun takes heeseung around the corner.

shit. you begin to nibble on your bottom lip in frustration, wondering just what the hell suyun could want with him. as you decide to wait for his arrival, rather shamefully you might add, you walk over towards the wall beside the gym entrance, letting your back lean against it. you fold your arms over your chest as your mind begins racing down the track of your own thoughts, conjuring up scenes of suyun’s displeasure. she’s probably telling him off, you think to yourself, hands reaching up towards your ponytail to readjust your slipping, gold ribbon. he did makeout with her to woo me over. you let a small, patient sigh escape your lips, counting the minutes you stand here by your lonesome.

your mood then wilts when time passes a little too slowly, now doubting the boy might never come back to you and fulfill your pathetic, eyeliner-frenzied fantasies. once you decide suyun’s probably just killed him and threw his body in a ditch somwhere, you slowly lift your back from the wall and turn on your heel, ready to walk sorrowfully back into the gym. i guess i could join ryung and get drunk off spiked punch, drowning my sorrow in fruity alcohol. speaking of, i wonder what he’s been—

your head then snaps back behind you once you hear soft clicks of footsteps heading down the slick, tiled hallway, your eyes softening at the sight. heeseung heads back down the length of the hall rather cooly, for someone who just got screamed at, a fist in his jeans pocket and a cigarette perched between his lips. his eyes fixate on you, peering over at you under his dark, smokey eyelids. he keeps his gaze locked as he slowly lifts a hand to the end of his cigarette, taking a huff before smoke bellows out of his nostrils. his hair had been pushed back from his forehead, his layered, brown locks laying perfectly disheveled atop of his head, really pulling off the wind-swept look, you think. his cheeks stay flushed and his exposed collarbones glint with sweat under the lighting, your heart rate increasing as he approaches you.

“waiting around for me?” he quirks as his pace slows the closer he walks towards you, your own feet beginning to move towards the boy. you watch his eyes rake down your figure briefly before smoke wisps out behind his askew smirk. “how sweet of you.”

“what did suyun want?” you ask him softly, stuffing your own hands into the comfort of your shorts pockets. his eyes stay on you as he’s silent for a quick second, pulling the cigarette away from his lips to flick at the end of it.

“she just yelled at me for liking you. apparently, i led her on. even though,” he raises his eyebrows, “i actually have told her i’m only interested in her as a friend. plenty of times. she just doesn’t like to listen to stuff she doesn’t wanna hear.”

you smile amusingly at his story, your own eyebrow quirking up. “so… where is she now?”

“she left.” heeseung replies softly, rolling his eyes teasingly. he then takes another huff of his cigarette, slipping his bottom lip between his teeth before throwing his head back to gaze down the hall, his eyes examining his surroundings. “so… what do you want to do now?”

your cheeks flush at his taunting question, your gaze averting down towards his black shoes as you shrug your shoulders, a shy curve growing at the edge of your lip. “how’s uh,” you lift your head up to look at him. “how’s your hickey looking under this light?”

heeseung’s eyes dart smoothly down towards your neck, where you watch the muscle of his jaw softly clench. he then inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling dramatically through an approaching, teasing smirk. “looks too fucking perfect on you. no surprise, anyway. only makes me want to give you more. god, so badly, you don’t understand. i’ve been keeping it in for too long, y/n.” he tsks with his tongue before slowly shaking his head at you. “too fucking long. you’re intoxicating.”

your body swims with burning heat. “are you sure that just isn’t my heavy vanilla scent?” you begin teasingly, trying to hide the utter anxiousness and arousal in your subtly coy tone. you slowly walk up towards him, placing your hands firmly onto his shoulders as you watch his half lidded eyes gaze down at your features.

“that scent smells good too, but, i assure you, it’s not.” he mumbles, reaching his free hand up to run his fingers softly through the lines of your hair. “how about i take you somewhere else?” he then whispers, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly in his throat. “let me give you what you’re wanting from me.”

your heart begins pelting loudly against the confinements of your ribcage, the pit of your belly swelling with pooling arousal. your eye then catches a lonesome door just down the end of the hall, where a gold plaque that reads supply closet is bolted onto the door. god, you’re so impatient. “..please?”

before you know it, you’re being softly placed onto a small, plastic table located in the crammed, stuffy room of the locked supply closet. the two of you don’t even care, for your lips are moving too fervently against each other’s to even recognize what little room you have.

the dim room was only being lit up by a single, flickering lightbulb hanging from a chain into the ceiling, heeseung’s head brushing it as he slid quickly through the door. you had peeled ryung’s letterman jacket and threw it to the dusty floor somewhere, your hands tangled up in heeseung’s sweaty hair as his own palms were secured lowly onto your hips. he leans in desperately to deepen your messy kiss, his eyebrows furrowed as he slips his tongue into your mouth, resulting in a soft whine from the bottom of your throat.

heeseung was breathing heavily through his nose, his body flushed with heat. his hands then slide down to the curves of your sitting thighs, where he then slides his hands on top of them. he presses his ringed thumbs into the soft meat of your thighs, slowly spreading them farther across the table. his teeth drag your bottom lip harshly as it recoils with his release, his glossy eyes fixated on the slickness of your lips. “i want to eat you out.” he mumbles confidently, causing a pang to bolt at your core. he then sticks his thumbs up under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps erupting against your skin. he then lets a lazy curve tick up his lips. “it’s already wet under here. just makes me desperately want to tongue-fuck you.”

you let out an uncontrollable whimper at his words, your fingers clinging tightly around the sweaty locks of hair curling around his nape. “go ahead, please. do it, i want it.” you let out breathlessly, your eyebrows furrowing with want. he only smiles in reply to your pleads, pressing his lips down into the soft skin of your neck, where you tilt your head to the side to give him more room. he immediately begins sucking a harsh hickey into your skin, his fingers smoothly and slowly unbuttoning the top of your shorts. you adjust your legs to let him slide them right off of you, gasps of breath slipping from your lips as he sucks painfully slow into your neck.

he then drags your underwear and fishnets down your legs together, his lips moving down the line of your throat. he quickly discards them towards the floor, his hands then pressing onto the table for his own leverage. your exposed skin is cold against the plastic of the table, goosebumps prickling at your legs. his lips quickly work there way down to your chest, where you immediately pull down the strap of your camisole to give his lips room. he sucks a soft hickey into the side skin of your breast, your mind swirling at the feeling. you lace your hand through the curls on the top of his head, a whine leaving his lips when you tug on them slightly.

he works his lips down the length of your body, cocking his head to the side to suck another hickey into the dip of your bare waist. the feeling of warm saliva and the harsh bite of his teeth only increases the heaviness of your breathing, whines climbing up your throat. he’s leaning over your thighs now, his hands now gripping the sides of them softly. he sucks another hickey into the side of your thigh, where you feel him hum against the plushness of your skin. his rings are cold against your thighs, his fingernails digging softly into them. “you’re like a sweet, little treat.” he rasps into your thigh, peppering it in wet, quick kisses. “like my own, little dessert, wanna devour you whole and lick you clean.”

your body melts at his breathless words, goosebumps erupting across your whole body when his warm lips edge closer towards your pussy, his fingers then spreading your thighs out even more. he peers up you darkly under his eyelashes as he pauses his head right at your wet cunt, your mind swimming at his lustful gaze. he lets a half smirk crawl up his lip as he keeps his eyes up at you, slowly letting his tongue fall out between his parted lips and licks a slow, detrimental stripe up the sensitive line of your pussy.

you let out a breathy gasp at the sensation, your thighs suddenly tensing beside his head. your fingers grip the edges of the plastic table, the back of your head falling against the wall. “oh, fuck.” you whine, sweat beading along your brow. his tongue stays out as your juices gleam atop of his tongue, a short chuckle slipping past his mouth. he then slides his tongue between his lips, glossing up their pink skin.

“you’re so pathetically wet.” he mumbles, as he leans his mouth back into your pussy, his tongue giving the line of it another quick lick. “just from a lick. too fucking cute.” he whispers, as he presses his warm, wet mouth into your cunt. whines escape your lips at the wet feeling, his tongue circling around the tense warmth of your clit. you can’t help but reach out for his hair at the pleasure, tightly wrapping your fingers around his curls.

he begins almost whining against you, his feverish tongue lapping deeper up inside you. he then cups his mouth against your cunt, his tongue curled inside you, and begins sucking lightly, his fingernails digging deliciously into the soft, red skin of your thighs. your mind goes fuzzy at the feeling, soft, airy moans spilling from your lips. his deep, desperate hums vibrate against your core and send shoots of pleasure down your spine, your fingers pulling on his hair and your thighs tensing tightly against his head. “heeseung…”

a sharp whimper warms your pussy as you tug on his hair, the ends of his cold hoops dragging up against the exposed flesh of your thighs. with his hair in your fist, he lifts his head up away from your cunt, his eyes flashing deeply and desperately up at you.

you peer down at the boy, his lips slick with your wetness. it’s dripping down his chin and smearing around his cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed tightly. “so fucking filthy,” he whines, eyelashes batting up at you. “never needed my mouth on someone’s disgustingly wet, mind-fucking pussy more in my life. i want to obliterate you until you’re fucked-dumb with my tongue.”

just heeseung’s sinful words alone were enough to cause another rush of arousal out of yourself, heeseung’s wet lips peppering kisses quickly into the side of your thigh. “you still with me, baby?”

“yes.” you choke out, heeseung nodding swiftly up at you before pressing his mouth back into your soaked cunt. he whines more at the slick amount of heat he laps up with his tongue, circling it around your clit and sucking on you softly. your brain fogs up and your thigh muscles are sore with how much they clench around the boy’s head, his hands having to push them down harshly onto the table.

he prods his tongue in and out against your clit, his, fast heaving breath humming against you. you can’t take it anymore, lines of whimpers slipping past your parted lips and your desperate fingers clawing at his hair, your arrival growing with each passing second. heeseung can feel it too, licking, deep, dirty stripes up the inside of your cunt, his face slick with your arousal. “come on baby, please,” he whimpers into you, dragging his fingernails softly up and down the length of your thighs. “cum on my face,” he whines, “please? will you make a pretty little mess for me?”

his words were only an icebreaker as your high suddenly takes over you, your lips parting with an uncontrollable whine. your fingers had gripped hard into his hair as you cum all over his mouth, his fingernails gripping hard into your thighs. “fuck,” he groans, once you’ve finally released all that you could onto his flushed face. you let your shoulders slouch back against the wall, your eyelids fluttering shut as your tired body falls slack. your lips are parted with heavy, deep breaths, your face slick with sweat and your thighs trembling with ache.

“ah, shit, y/n.” you hear heeseung rasp, as he slowly climbs up from your cunt and leans over you, his hands now balancing himself against the table. you peer up at him, his cheeks shining with cum and his hair matted to his face. his lips provocatively gleam and you watch as your arousal drips down the defined curve of his chin. he then smiles widely down at you, a prideful blush blooming in his sticky, wet cheeks. “i didn’t know someone could cum so fucking much.” he says through a breathless chuckle, leaning in towards your lips to press his wet mouth against your own. “made such a fucking mess. got so wet for me, made my head spin.”

you smile shyly at his statement as he presses multiple, messy kisses into your dripping mouth, his hands going to situate in the curves of your hips. “i want to go again.” you whisper teasingly against his lips, your hands crawling up his jaw to cup his sweaty cheeks in your palms.

“you’re a nasty girl.” heeseung softly chuckles through a smirk, peering at you with raised eyebrows. “your little number 12 friend is probably worried sick right now.”

“i think that punch will keep him occupied.” you reply through an amusing smile, as heeseung leans in to pepper your jaw in quick kisses, his hands pulling your hips closer towards him. “wow, heeseung,” you mumble teasingly, “all that, and you haven’t even asked me out yet.”

you feel the boy giggle lowly against your ear, teeth nipping at the curve of your jawline. “i have to think about it.” he whispers into your ear, teeth now prodding at the skin of your earlobe. you let a small giggle airily slip through your lips. “i’ve got the rest of the year, don’t i?”

a/n: I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS FIC HHH :(( please let me know with an interaction of some sort, i absolutely appreciate all types of feedback <333 HEVEHEF IVE BEEN THINKING OF MAYBE DOING A PART TWO BUT IM NOT SURE IF I WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER HEESEUNG SERIES AGAIN..?.?.?.? IS THAT LAME??! idk guys decisions decisions. lemme know if you’d like another part so i can get a good idea of if i wanna do it or not 🤔 maybe i’d make a taglist 🤔 idk yet..! BUT ILL LET YOU KNOW!! hehe <333

my cool kid homie squad: @5xiang @svnoofy @qolaroidlove @vampbrr

( p.s. join my cool kid homie squad (perm taglist) or your moms a loser… and you won’t be considered one of heecrush’s cool kid homies… wow… would never wish that on anyone. sniff.. 😪😪 )

[jakecafe]

HERE I SAY THAT VIDIA IS MY FAV FAV FAV EVER!! her writing is j SAURRR GOOD!!! HELLO!! BF JAKE!!and ofc i never will ever fail to say this over and over again, BUT i can really genuinely imagine every single detail and action that truly brings everything to LIFE,, like i can imagine them doing certain things that is said and IT SUITS THEM.. WHICH IS WHY I LOVE LOVE LOVEE VIDIA’S WRITING <333 AND AND AND JAKE!! JAKE!!! def gonna read this tn again hehe.. 💗💗

pretty girl ➟ sim jaeyun. 18+

SYNOPSIS ✶ in which you and your dopey, obnoxious boyfriend sim jaeyun decide to go out on what should have been a peaceful friday night. though when you successfully leave him dumbfounded at what’s hiding under that pair of denim shorts snug tight on your hips, the night turns out to be just the opposite.

[ word count: 5.7k ]

PAIRING ✵ sim jaeyun x reader

GENRE ✵ fluff, smut

WARNINGS ✵ sexual content

a/n: helloooo everyone B-) back with another nsfw piece this time for jake ;) sexual content is ahead so minors pls don’t interact!! i hope you guys like this one, i had it in my drafts forever tbh T^T. all interactions are deeply appreciated but reblogs are highly encouraged! :> tread with caution, & happy reading! ♡

“took you guys long enough.” heeseung smacks his palm against the plastic table in the middle of the mall food court, where he sits to await you and your boyfriend’s presence. his teasing eyebrows raise up high above his eyes as he watches you and your boyfriend jake approach his lonesome figure.

you give the boy a teasing glare, clutching your plastic bags full of clothes in your firm grip. “hey,” you hear your boyfriend beside you, an amused grin spread across his pearly teeth. he slips his palm out of the back pocket of your denim shorts. “you can’t say anything, you spent like two hours in the lego store.”

heeseung snorts, watching the two of you pull out the metal chairs in front of him. “okay, but i bought like one thing. y/n, how much money have you spent so far?” heeseung asks you amusingly, leaning his back against the chair and draping his arm over the top of the seat beside him.

your cheeks heat up as you snag the handles of your bags over the edge of your chair, scooting your seat further up to the table. “uh, i don’t know. not that much, heeseung.” you tell the boy, a teasing smile curving up your lips.

“what’d you buy at the lego store?” jake nods beside you, furrowing his eyebrows in heeseung’s direction. you watch your boyfriend as he adjusts the black beanie thrown over his chocolate curls, the edge of his lip ticking up his cheek slightly.

“do you want to see?” heeseung asks him with an excited grin spreading across his face, his chain earrings dangling against his jawline. you groan and roll your eyes at the boy’s childish interest, watching as heeseung leans over in his chair to fetch his lego store bag placed onto the floor.

“hell yeah, i do.”

you lean over into the table, placing your chin into the center of your palm. you watch mindlessly as heeseung begins talking about the lego bat-mobile set he’s placed on the table, your mind in a devious, far away place. as you sit there and gaze at heeseung’s toy, you can’t help but wonder if jake’s noticed. he’s had his palm hooked into your back pocket the whole time you were inside the clothing stores, hoping, even praying for maybe a little realization from your boyfriend.

maybe a little, y/n… are you wearing underwear? or, y/n…. are you wearing a — thong? with that dopey, red, flustered expression across his structured face. but no. you thought for sure with the shortness of your shorts and just how tight they clung to all the right places in your thighs, that he would have noticed. he should have noticed the absence of lining beyond the denim. with his hand basically pressed to your bare asscheek, he completely disregarded any curious thoughts to your wardrobe and gazed aimlessly at the variety of anime t-shirts that littered the walls. great. amazing. awesome, even. you were disappointed, that’s for sure, your mind even toying with a little, maybe he’s not in the mood. but you mentally laugh at that conclusion, knowing your boyfriend was always in the mood. so what could it possibly be?

so as you drift off into an aisle inside your next clothing store stop, you make sure no one else is beside you as you turn towards your boyfriend. “oh, jake,” you begin in a hushed tone, averting your attention towards the circular rack of clearance clothes in front of you. you pluck out a long sleeved crop top, holding up the piece of clothing in front of you. “is this cute?”

you watch as your boyfriend rests his elbow on top of the rounder, his eyebrows raised into his forehead. “it’s cute.” he mumbles to you with a slight curve to his plush lips, his eyes subtly rolling down your figure. “i think it would look cute with these shorts.” he follows right after, leaning over to you to pull the waistband of your shorts slowly, letting it softly snap back against your hip.

you look down at your shorts hesitantly, a slight heat creeping up your neck. “oh, do you?” you ask him innocently, turning around so he’s exposed to your ass. “these shorts are kinda…. a little tight on me. don’t you think?”

“yeah but,” jake begins with a pretty, wide grin to his tan cheeks. “they look good on you.” he softy shrugs, further leaning his side into the rounder. “so it doesn’t matter.” you blink at your boyfriend a couple times to really study him, wondering if there’s any sort of lustful attraction hidden behind those glossy, brown orbs. when he snaps his gaze back up at your face, lifting his eyebrows in reply to your devilish stare, your heart sinks when you notice he’s not phased.

he lets out a breathy chuckle. “what?”

“nothing.” you slump your shoulders and slip the crop top back onto the rack, wedging it between two other shirts. “i’m gonna go find heeseung.” you tell him through a long, dramatic sigh, slipping your palms into the back pockets of your shorts. you turn on your heel and ease your way through the various clothing racks of jiyan’s thredz, your disappointed gaze roaming eagerly around the vicinity of the small, mall store. once you’ve spotted him by the men’s pants wall, you hurry your way over towards him.

“hello.” you greet him softly, watching as he snaps his head over towards you. he stuffs a pair of cargo pants back onto the shelf, his hand slipping into his pocket as he averts his gaze to your face.

“hey,” he begins with furrowed brows, running a hand through his black hair. “where’s jake?”

“jake is….. getting on my nerves.” you begin amusingly, lacing your arms over your chest. “so i left him in the aisle.” heeseung snorts and averts his gaze over to his right, tilting his chin up to peer over at the aisles on the other side of the store.

“what’d he do, y/n?”

“he didn’t do anything. that is the problem.” you sigh over towards your friend, following his gaze in search of your brown-haired boyfriend.

“huh?” heeseung mumbles, confused by your words. he then quickly shakes his head and peers back over at the jean wall. “you know what… i don’t even wanna know. can you just tell me which pair of jeans looks better? i have to pee and i want to get this over with.”

“sure,” you chuckle, veering your head back over towards the tall boy. “i have to pee too, now that i think about it. anyway, which pair of jeans are we talking about?”

you clutch your bags firmly by your side as you make your way across the tiled floor of the mall and towards the restrooms. somewhere behind you, heeseung and jake shortly follow on your tail, probably conversing about more geeky boy stuff. you try your hardest not to let frustration overtake you, but you can’t help it when you’ve elicited absolutely no reaction from your boyfriend.

it hurts just a little bit, anxiety blooming inside your chest. you thought it was quite obvious by the thin material of the snug denim cupping your ass, checking yourself out in your bedroom mirror to make sure it was obvious, before even agreeing to go out. so you huff and puff as you finally head inside the girl’s open restroom, gloomily setting your clothing bags by the entrance. it’s awfully quiet, you conclude, noticing the way all of the bathroom stalls had their doors creaked ajar. you let out an echoey sigh of relief at the vacancy, turning towards the full length mirror mounted onto the tiled wall.

you stood there gazing at your reflection, wondering how in the world your boyfriend hasn’t noticed. hasn’t felt it, even. trapped in your insecure thoughts, you suddenly flinch slightly at the sudden wall slap that echoes across the bathroom, jake’s hand placed firmly beside the mirror.

“y/n.” his hushed voice bellows, his body closely leaned into yours. your eyes widen slowly, snapping your head over towards him as heat spreads into your cheeks.

“jake,” you hiss, slightly pushing on his chest. “that scared me. get out, someone might come in and see you.”

“no.” he grumbles with an amused curve to his lips, his eyes examining your disgruntled features. “heeseung just told me you’re angry with me. he said because i’m, ‘not doing anything.’ what does that mean?” he lets a quick chuckle spill past his lips as you eye him through the mirror, lacing your arms over your chest.

“jake, get out. i have to pee.”

“no,” he whines, grabbing your arm with both of his hands as he shakes you slightly. “i don’t want you to be mad at me. tell me, what am i not doing, y/n?”

“fine.” you groan, slipping your arm out of jake’s grip. you take a few steps back away from him, placing your hands on your hips as you spin around slowly. “do you notice… anything… about me?”

you watch as jake leans his side into the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. he quirks an eyebrow at you playfully, an amused smile tilting his lips. “um, no,” he briefly chuckles, eyeing the pout of your lips. “um… you.. are wearing new lip gloss?”

“no, dummy.” you mumble solemnly in reply. “just forget it. seriously though, i have to pee, please get out.”

“y/n.” jake whines again, throwing his palms up to cover his face. “i’m gonna start sobbing into my hands if you don’t tell me right now.” a tingly feeling spreads throughout your chest as you reach your hand out towards him, lightly swiping at the curls peeking out from under his beanie.

“jake,” you sigh, a slight flame to your cheeks. “you haven’t noticed that there’s no underwear on my ass?” you thread your arms over your chest once again, noticing he’s peeking at you through the cracks of his fingers.

“what?” he mumbles, “what did you just say?”

“you’re an idiot. i thought it was obvious. you had your hand against my ass like, all day.”

“y/n.” jake begins, removing his hands from his face, a slight red tint presenting itself across his cheeks. “you’re not wearing … underwear?”

you let out a teasing sigh, turning your gaze back to the mirror to start messing with your hair. “i… am wearing underwear. it’s just,” you begin, glancing over at his doe eyed expression in the mirror. you let a small curve hike up your lip. “hidden underwear.”

“hidden underwear?” jake exclaims through a firm whisper, his eyebrows lifting in frustration and curiosity. he stuffs his hands firmly into his pockets, leaning his side back into the wall as his eyes trail down your figure again. “can i see?” he whispers to you, causing you to snort through your nose.

“no. get out.”

“y/n.” jake whines, turning his torso to slap his chest flat against the wall, his arms spread out on either side of him. “y/n, please, i can’t take this torment.” you let a breathy giggle burst passed your lips as you continue touching at your hair, relishing in the high-pitched groans emitting obnoxiously from your boyfriend.

“maybe if you’d noticed beforehand, i’d show you. but you didn’t. so suck it up.”

“that is not fair. like, at all.” jake replies lowly, an amused lilt to his voice. you bat your eyelashes over at him as you gaze at his cheek that’s squished against the wall, his glossy eyes planted on you. “you’re just a mean person. you hate me so bad. why do you enjoy teasing me?”

you do nothing but chuckle under your breath, leaning over towards him to begin pushing at his side. “jake, leave.” you groan, his body squeaking as he slides against the wall, struggling to push him off. “i need to pee.”

“are you ever going to show me?” he quietly whines, lifting himself off to the wall to let you push him easily out of the bathroom.

“no. go find heeseung and build your little cat woman car.”

“um… it’s a bat-mobile. get it right. i can’t believe you. what is happening right now?”

“same thing, jake… stop.”

“hey, heeseung?” you had sat yourself on top of heeseung’s leather couch, jake on one side of you, and heeseung’s friend hyejin on the other. you were tired from all of the aimless walking done inside the mall, your shopping bags resting at your feet. “is there anywhere i can try these clothes on?”

your eyes train on the tall boy in the kitchen, who opens up a bag of dried fruit in his grip as he leans over his kitchen counter. “uh, the guest room at the end of the hall. it’s got a,” he pops a dried strawberry into his mouth and furrows his eyebrows. “a wall mirror. or you can use the bathroom.”

you nod at heeseung’s suggestion, going to stand to your feet. you slowly rise up from your spot, bending down slightly to pick up the bags placed against the couch. you feel a slight smack to your ass as you slowly throw your head back to widen your eyes bashfully at jake. “can i come with?” he whispers through a lazy, amused grin, adjusting the beanie draped over his curls. you quickly straighten up and swivel your bag over to smack jake in his knees, causing him to wince and lean over.

“no. that didn’t even hurt.” you scoff to him playfully, watching as he dramatically begins rubbing his knee. you then step around him to head towards the hallway, going over heeseung’s directions in your head. okay, it’s at the end of the hall… end of the hall…

your eyes immediately fall onto the door just a few feet away, the bottoms of your black platform boots thudding softly against the brown, decorative carpet. you hum a pretty tune under your breath as you softly turn the doorknob, heading swiftly inside the air conditioned room.

you seemed to be lost inside your own little world as you tried on all of your clothes, modeling them teasingly in the large mirror that covered the expanse of the wall. garments ranging from crop tops, lacy tank-tops, cargo shorts, furry, cropped jackets. you had just stripped out of your frilly, denim skirt when a soft knock on the door makes you jump inside your skin.

your tone is hesitant when you part your lips, slowly peeling off your cream colored cropped sweater. “yes..?” you call out hesitantly, your heart beating up inside your ears at the long, ticking seconds of no response.

“y/n,” you hear jake outside of the door, your cheeks immediately flushing with rosace shades. “could i please come in? i’m sorry.. don’t break-up with me. let me make it up to you.” you immediately roll your eyes at his cheesy statements, now aware that you’re only in your bra and the lace embroidered thong you’ve been sporting all day.

you let out an exhausted sigh, crossing your arms over your chest as you flutter your eyelids shut for a mere second. “fine… come in.” the door slowly opens, as reds creep up your neck. jake peeks his head into the crack of the opening door, pulling his soft black beanie up away from his forehead to peer out through his chocolate fringe.

once his eyes fall onto your appearance, his mouth immediately falls open. he swings the door open, his hand still on the doorknob as his eyes rake your figure up and down, his plain, black hoodie embracing his lean torso admiringly. “y/n.” he whispers, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead. “i fucking hate you.”

you can’t help but a let a soft chuckle spill past your lips, watching as jake strides over towards you and immediately pulls you into him, his warm hands quickly fitting into the bare curve of your hips. his lips quickly find yours, his pace already fast and messy and you can’t keep up with it.

“i’m so fucking stupid.” he breathes into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him push you softly into the foot of the bed. his lips move down your chin where he cocks his head to press soft, quick kisses into your neck, his hand traveling down your hip to slowly cup the curve of your ass. “i’m not gonna lie,” he rasps against the skin of your neck, sending goosebumps across your throat. he slightly nibbles on the skin there. “i kind of really want to fuck you in this, right now.”

“maybe you should close the door first.” you whisper into his mouth teasingly, before he mutters a short ‘fuck.’ you take a seat on the foot of the bed as you watch him quickly slam the door shut, wincing at the loud volume. you giggle softly as he frantically reaches the bottom of his hoodie to peel it off of his heated figure, tossing it somewhere over onto the floor. he pulls his beanie off of his head and discards of it too, immediately going back to approach you.

his lips find yours again as he leans forward to push you back onto the bed, now hovering over your figure. his mouth is wet and desperate against your own and he’s leaving small whines into the warmth of your mouth, his hands traveling down the sides of your waist to softly prod at the lace straps that hug your hips. “jake,” you breathe into him, your fingers brushing against the sweaty skin of his nape. “i wanna ride you….”

he whines again into your mouth, his breath heavy through his nostrils. “please, y/n,” he’s whimpering against your lips, his hands traveling further down to cup both of your asscheeks, which fit exceptionally well in his big hands. he lifts your hips up slightly as he presses himself into you, your legs wrapped around his waist. “please… i want that more than anything.”

“do you deserve it, though?” you whisper into his mouth, pulling his bottom lip out between your teeth. “you didn’t even realize i was wearing it at the mall…”

“no, no,” the boy pleads, and your heart leaps at just how desperate your boyfriend is being. he then presses his nose into your cheek, leaving wet kisses into the warm skin as he murmurs into it. “no, i, just, i won’t even— i won’t even move. you can— you can use me. just please.”

an immediate pulsing sensation is sent down your body, your mind suddenly clouded with need. “okay.” is all you mumble into his mouth before he climbs up off of you, immediately going to fumble with the belt looped around his low-set jeans that sit perfectly below his v-line. drool practically drips from your chin just drinking in his sight, his body gleaming with sweat and his biceps flexing as he swiftly and smoothly snakes his belt out of its loops. he peels his pants off of his legs before hiking down his boxers, a ring lined hand pushing back the dangling, matted locks of his dark hair.

he then hovers back over you and locks his lips back onto yours, his fists dug into the mattress on either side of your head to prop his body up. you push up on your elbows, following his lips, to push back on his chest, pushing him onto his back. you immediately begin straddling his thighs, just the sight of his hardened dick enough to make lust cloud every fiber of your being. his hands stay latched to your hips as his lips continue moving against yours, fast, messy and desperate. “please, y/n,” he whispers, slowly dragging your bottom lip out with his teeth. “show me how much i don’t deserve it.”

fuck. you separate from his lips to lift yourself up against him, lining his dick up with your entrance. his long, slender fingers help you push the front part of your thong to the side. “oh my god,” he pants, his hair falling into his eyes as he examines your underwear. “your pussy looks so pretty in this thong,” he mumbles, bringing a jolt to your core. he fixates his hands to settle on your hips, peering up at you under his eyelashes and through his dark, matted fringe. his skin looks delectably tan under the lamp lights, you think to yourself. a wide smirk stretches up the sides of his lips as he eyes you, his eyebrows raising high into his forehead. “wear this for me more often.”

you roll your eyes at him as you grip his shoulders, slowly going to sink down on his big, hardened dick. “shit,” the boy whimpers, his eyebrows tightening above his eyes as he watches himself sink inside you. “aw, shit.”

you make sure to sink down on him painfully slow, feeling the twitch of his thighs and the increasing pace of his breath. you wince because it hurts, regretting not preparing yourself beforehand. but soon, the warmth fills you up rather deliciously as you accidentally let out a soft moan. you can feel jake slightly buck up inside you, followed by a displeased whine. you stifle in the groan that presses behind your lips at his action, sinking your nails into the skin of his shoulders. “no.” you mumble, peering down at him teasingly through your eyelids. “you can’t move, remember?”

“sorry,” jake whispers, eyeing you through his eyelashes. his knuckles are white against your hips and his thighs are twitching. “i’m sorry.. sorry.” satisfied with his reply you slowly pull yourself up off of his thighs, his dick dragging up against the wet warmth of your walls. you both simultaneously let out an airy groan, your lips fallen ajar at the satisfyingly painful stretch of your core.

“shit, jake,” you gasp for breath, his nails digging into your hips. “did you get bigger?” you watch as another slow, wide grin stretches along his lips and reveal slivers of his pearly teeth, his eyebrows low-set above his glossed over eyes as he gazes up at you.

“dunno, sit on it some more and tell me.” his tone is deep and scratchy as his chest heaves heavily up and down, his hands sliding up and down the sides of your waist. he bites his lip harshly as his eyes dart back down, watching you slowly sink back down onto him. “y/n…” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as his fingernails dig into your hips again. “y/n… dammit..”

“yeah?” you whine, beginning to pull up off of him faster this time. you know your pace is absolutely agonizing for him, but it’s fun on your end. you like watching him unravel below you. “what is it, baby?”

“please go faster.” he whimpers, leaning forward and ticks his chin up, lips pressing into the side of your neck. he peppers kisses into it that barely make contact, lips frantic and warm. “please… for the love of god, go faster… i beg you.”

“maybe if you tell me i’m pretty.” you slur through a breathy moan, slowly sinking back onto his dick. you hear jake mumble a deep, fuck, into your neck, biting into the skin at the pleasure. his breath is shaky and erratic through the tunnels of his nostrils.

“you’re my pretty girl.” jake whispers shakily into your neck, followed by a stifled whine as you start circling your hips with his dick buried inside you. “fuck, my pretty fucking girl and—and her pretty fucking pussy. all decorated for me.” you feel his thighs twitch below you with approaching desperation, a string of whimpers tickling at the junction of your neck as you feel the cold metal of his earrings brush against your collarbone. “if my pretty girl doesn’t pick up the pace in five fucking seconds though, i’m pulling out.”

a sudden knock on the door behind you completely jostles the sense out of the both of you. jake immediately leans back to widen his eyes at you, color draining from both of your faces. jake suddenly whispers a string of fucks, before attempting to hold in his quiet laughs, lips tightening into a line. you clear your throat, trying to sound as coherent as you can. “y-yes?” you call out a little shakily, not breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. jake slams his palm over his mouth.

“uh.. me and hyejin are going out for smoothies.” you hear heeseung declare from outside of the door. “i was gonna ask if you wanted to come. is jake in there too?” a sudden thrust against your g-spot unintentionally throws you out of the loop, gulping an immediate, loud gasp of air that you were pretty sure heeseung could hear.

your cheeks immediately bloom with heat, your eyes not tearing from jake’s. the boy has a big, idiotic grin spread out along his pearly teeth as he begins vibrating with silent giggles, strands of his soaked hair against his eyelashes. you glare at him hard, making sure to sink your nails hard into his shoulders as he winces.

“uh… guys..?”

“no, we’re good.” you immediately chirp, eyes staring daggers into the obnoxious grin on your boyfriend’s face. “jake is also—” another buck of jake’s hips sends a suppressed whimper to the back of your lips, one that you knew heeseung could probably hear too. “….in here.”

“um… okay. i don’t know what’s happening in there, but i’m just gonna leave now. i’ll see you guys later.” once you hear his footsteps disappear down the hallway, you immediately start slapping jake hard in the chest. he scrunches his shoulders and tries covering his chest with his arms, breathy giggles erupting from his lips as he winces at your smacks.

“hey… stop hitting me.”

“you’re a fucking prick.” you mumble as you quickly push yourself up onto your knees, jake’s dick sliding out of you. jake’s laughter suddenly dissipates as he realizes you’re climbing off of him. he immediately shoots up, his hand swiftly grabbing your arm.

“hey, hey, no, no, what’re you doing?” he pleads in a whine, pulling on your arm. “hey, stop. stop. i’m sorry, wait.”

“no,” you whine as you start slapping his hand, trying to resist his pulling, but he’s a lot stronger than you. he quickly jerks you back as you continue to protest, practically throwing your back against the bed. you gasp lightly at the impact as he immediately hovers over you, caging your head between his toned arms. he lifts a hand up to swipe stray, matted hair away from your forehead. you swat his hand away. “stop.” you whine, but you have no intention of stopping him. “get off of me.”

the corner of his lip is hiked up into a lazy smirk and his cheeks are flushed, his silver chain earrings dangling up against your jawline. “let me make you cum and then i’ll get off of you.” he mumbles under his breath, glossy eyes flickering among your features. “yeah?”

“i don’t wanna cum anymore.” you mumble back, your eyebrows furrowed teasingly. “i’m done. i wanna be done. you’re an asshole.” you cup your hands around his warm, sweaty neck and pull his face into yours, your lips connecting softly. you thread your fingers up through his damp, disheveled locks.

“yeah, you do.” he whispers into your mouth. you can feel the tip of his dick brush up against your sensitive entrance, a quiet gasp bleeding into the warm cave of his mouth. “don’t lie to me.”

“please.” you slur into his mouth, trying to press your pussy further onto his dick as it brushes softly against you. you hear jake chuckle airily into your ear, before pushing his cock slowly inside you. a loud desperate groan slips past your lips as you dig your nails into the nape of his neck.

“you’re a little fucking brat.” he whispers into your cheek, a low whine muffled into the skin as he begins bucking his hips inside you. his lips travel back to your lips shakily, immediately molding them with your own. his pace slowly gets faster, the warmth building up inside you as pleasurable sensations prickle up your spine. you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, brain going cloudy at how much he’s stretching you out.

jake groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, separating sloppily to dip his head down, biceps flexed as he hoists himself up a little more. he watches himself pound into you for a quick second. “god, that— that pretty little thing can take a fuckin’ beating, huh?” he slurs as he whips his head back up to you, teeth nibbling down the line of your jaw. you can’t say anything but let out whines in reply to his deep, rasped question, feeling his thrusts getting faster with his approaching climax. you’re on the edge too, you’re core tightening with pressure. “why is your pussy so good for me, y/n?” his words are shaky and his chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths, your back arching off of the sheets deliciously. you squeeze your eyelids shut, your teeth tightly clamping down on your lip as the pressure in your core grows.

“i think you just love getting your brains fucked out of you, y/n. look at— look at how you take me so good, and i’m— i’m fucking the absolute shit out of y—you. my pretty, fucked-out baby is being such a good girl for me.”

his words add instant heat to your belly. your legs begin to shiver as they tighten hard around jake’s slim waist, your arms tight around his neck. you lift your head up to lift it into the warm, damp juncture of his neck, knowing you’re on the edge. “jake, fuck….” you moan desperately into his ear as you finally reach your high, your body being jostled against the bed with each quick, sharp thrust. you bite down into his fragile skin as you begin to see stars, feeling wetness bloom all over your thighs and on jake’s hips.

at the feeling of your cum soaking every inch of his dick, he immediately stops his thrusts. he keeps himself buried inside you and hangs his head low above your chest, letting out frantic, intense breaths. once you finally come down from your high, you slowly lean back from his neck and thread your fingers up his scalp, your eyebrows furrowing tiredly. “why’d you stop?” you breathe into his face, watching as his forehead sweat drips onto your breast.

“said i’d make you cum, didn’t i?” he finally replies in a deep mumble, the edges of his lips quirking up. he peppers your face in swift, short kisses before slowly pulling his dick out of you, whispered fuck’s slipping past gritted teeth. his dick immediately drips your juices onto the mattress, and you suddenly feel bad for whoever washes these bedsheets.

“but,” you furrow your brows and jut your lip out into a pout, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. you watch as his figure straightens up from the bed, his body gleaming with sweat as he searches for his boxers among the floor. “but you’re still hard, and you didn’t get to cum. why didn’t you just—”

“well,” he sighs teasingly, hiking his boxers carefully up over his hard dick. he looks over at you under half lidded eyes before swiping his sweaty hair back from his forehead. “i felt bad about the heeseung thing. so i.. revoked my cumming privileges.”

you let out a teasing scoff, a short chuckle leaving your bitten lips. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard. you just like torturing yourself.” you let your back fall flat onto the mattress with an exhausted sigh. “let me make it up to you later.”

a breathy giggle spills from jake’s lips as he begins hiking his jeans up over his hips, his head tilting back for a quick second. he then eyes you through his lashes and let’s a smirk curve to his lips again, fastening his belt across his his low waist band. “next time, i’m pulling the thong off with my teeth.” he raises his eyebrows teasingly as your cheeks flush with reds.

“okay, jake,” you say with a curve of your lip. “whatever you say. now, are you gonna leave me just laying here, or are you gonna come hold me? they won’t be back for a while.”

“i’m coming, i’m coming,” jake mumbles, struggling to zip the fly up on his jeans. you watch as he begins walking over to you, cursing under his breath as he continues toying with his zipper.

“you didn’t, though.” you tease as you outstretch your arms in his direction, watching his face contort with cringe at your joke. you giggle at his reaction, the boy falling right into your open arms. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck as his arms wrap around the expanse of your upper back, his thighs caging your own. he immediately buries his head into the nook of your neck and presses soft, slow kisses down the line of it.

and as if he read your mind in that moment, picking up on your secret need for affirmation and validation, he starts mumbling into your neck. “my pretty, pretty girl… soo fucking good. you’re so fucking good at taking me. no one could ever take me as good as you.” your cheeks bloom crimson as his switches his lips back and forth from your neck to your cheek. “i love making you cum, you’re the only girl in the world who deserves it.” his whispers tickle your neck and you giggle slightly at the sensation. jake notices and blows a raspberry right into your neck.

you flinch and let out a teasing gasp, jerking away from his face. “my turn.” jake whispers as he presses his nose into your cheek, huffing out air into your skin.

“your turn for what?”

“compliment me.”

“your dick is enormously big. good job.”

jake blinks down at you, before immediately straightening up to his feet. he ignores your teasing giggles before mumbling, “….. i hate you.”

perm taglist! @5xiang @svnoofy @qolaroidlove

[jakecafe]

this drabble was so cute,, dies sobbing crying dying

[1.45 pm]

"sunghoon, it's really cold."

sunghoon sighs, wrapping the blanket around himself tighter, as if it isn't already tight enough. he sees your blanket-wrapped figure and notices how you're slightly shivering, but he doesn't need that information to conclude that you're freezing because you've already complained about it to him at least 20 times.

and he can't even get annoyed with you, because he too thinks it's extremely cold.

"i know y/n, i'm sorry. but we can't do anything else about it until the electricity comes back and the snow in front of my door melts."

"do you have any more blankets at least?" you ask, moving closer to the crackling fireplace for at least a little more warmth, causing you to shift closer to sunghoon and for your knees to touch his.

the cold is so prominent that the direct contact startles you both, but the sparks of warmth that fly from the interaction give you both the same idea.

seconds later, you're wrapped in his arms, both of your blankets spanning from around the back of his torso and covering the front of yours to maximize full heat efficiency. in your five years of friendship, you and sunghoon were never particularly touchy, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and the heat radiating from your closeness is definitely a good reward.

however, the lingering thought at the back of your mind is that half of your warmth is coming from your extremely flustered feelings being this close to your crush, but you hope sunghoon chalks up your red cheeks to the chilliness rather than attraction.

"we should've done this sooner," he whispers, tucking his head into the curve of your neck, and at this point you're simply overheating from the simple gesture.

"but isn't it a little too warm?" you respond, your voice a little hoarse from the contact.

"i wouldn't be complaining, who knows how much more cold it could get. besides, i kind of like this position; you're really comfortable, yknow?"

you're really what now?

he plays with the hair at the nape of your neck before continuing.

"i think i could get used to this."

yeah, you think you could too.

[jakecafe]

sobs bc how did i just find this. I LOVE ALL OF JAYFLRTS WORKS GOD LITERALLY MY EXACT HUMOR SOBS SO SOSOOO GOOD her smaus are always the best</33

sugar daddy

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha and ningning from aespa)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, mutual pining, college au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, catfishing (don’t try this at home), heeseung and mc are painfully dense, heeseung and seonghwa sound nothing alike but mc is bad with names, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which heeseung accidentally becomes your sugar daddy, but funding a sugar baby is hard when you’re a broke college student.

TAG LIST ▸ at the bottom (send me an ask here or comment if you’d like to be added!)

PLAYLIST ▸ click here!

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i had a txt one of this but since it’s old i wanted to remake it for enha, so i hope y’all enjoy it! ♡ also Yes i used some random faceless pic for mc’s pfp but you can imagine whoever !

Keep reading

[jakecafe]

an absolute masterpiece. ive read this about a billion times,, the realism and feelings and emotions and real life problems … everything was written so well . honestly this has me speechless , i love it so much and it truly changed my life and viewpoints on many things. a must read and def a fav forever <3

14 steps to a better you | jake sim.

or, the perfect sobriety program to heal a quarter-life crisis.

synopsis: "If you're not in your middle ages but are already suffering through the pains of financial security, does that make it a quarter-life crisis?" Jake asked as he looked back on the last three years of his student life. He did have many unforgettable moments and sleepless nights, but the excessive consumption of beer and neon-lit raves came crashing to a halt after everyone around him decided it was time to focus on their respective career paths. Left with an empty to-do list and an uncertain future, he meets you, a person who was on the different side of the same coin.

cast: jake sim x fem!reader, ft. leo (trainee a) bc aussie LMAO

genre: coming of age, angst, opposites attract or sth idk

wc: 40.1k

warnings: RATED 15+; profanity; mentions and implications of food, alcohol, and marijuana consumption; implied sexual activity; slight mentions of death and suicide; slight mentions of weight at one point; very existential; reader has a breakdown and an anxiety attack at some point; without spoiling i will say that there's mild depictions of violence at some point; workplace trauma

a/n: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NEUROTIC/GOING THROUGH SOMETHING AT THE MOMENT. this fic is an extremely heavy work so do read with caution and make sure to double (triple!!) check all the warnings before continuing. anyway, a friend and i were thinking about what would've happened to jake if he didn't join enhypen, and we could totally see him in the cs, physics, or engineering program at unsw or umelb. he'd definitely have his own apartment because his parents are minted, and he could have been an eshay. who knows haha. anyway hope you enjoy this story, which is heavily based on "14 steps to a better you" by lime cordiale!

p.s. i know this story is set in australia but pLS excuse my american spelling because i'm too used to writing in american english ;-; (mom instead of mum, color instead of colour, center instead of centre, etc.)

playlist !!

© orpheyeux 2022. please do not repost, translate, or cross-post my works onto other websites or forums.

i. that's life!

Summer vacation was a brief period of time that anyone who didn't have a full-time job looked forward to. It was a time of sunshine, beaches, and massive amounts of sweat for all the reasons the world could offer. For Jake, it was a delightful time of consuming copious amounts of ice-cold beer in front of bikini-clad women that played beach volleyball with equally muscular macho men. It would have been a tad bit nicer for him to have more time at the gym, but he was swarmed with self-inflicted expectations of maintaining a regular distinction or higher in a prestigious university. To venture into the gym as occasionally as they did meant sacrificing a good portion of time that could have been spent on immersing himself in advanced mathematics and organic chemistry. With the time he spent regularly attending parties, raves, and whatever occasion he could use as an excuse to drink more with friends, he had to sacrifice a jacked, Promethean body at the expense of his academic record. He was already struggling to maintain his current distinction, and if he didn't raise it to a higher distinction by the end of the year, he was sure that he'd lose the only thing that made him stand out from the rest of his cohort. This meant three things to him: no more parties, no more designer shoes, and no more spontaneous road trips to the next music festival.

Although he managed to get by with his current lifestyle, a new set of obstacles threatened his nightly routine. The first instance of disruption was when he was in his third year of university. Instead of having the usual clusters of house parties and pub crawls with his friends, he witnessed some of the wilder ones don smart casual clothing to attend internship interviews. Sure, they still had their share of fun, but each invite to his apartment was turned down with a "next time" or "not now." He understood that some of his friends were scheduled to graduate a year earlier, but that did not stop him from trying to get them to loosen up from their new schedules of collecting career-related experiences to polish their resumes. In hindsight, the only occasion as of late that fulfilled his criteria of fun was the graduation party for his friends outside the science and engineering program. After that, he realized it was now his turn to don the smart casual outfit and send his empty resume to every tech company he could find.

Even if he tried to return to the haze of blurry memories and the rotting stench of vomit across his apartment floor, he knew it was too late. He already turned twenty-two last month, he's graduating next month, and all his friends have either started working full-time or have secured a career path to work towards.

This was his last summer as a full-time student—and then, it's one step into adulthood.

He tried to search for opportunities in his major. After all, there were many places one could go with an engineering degree. He scoured through multiple job listings, written cover letters for major companies worldwide, and contacted professors to write letters of recommendations that he could rely on. For extra measure, he forced himself to have "the talk" with his parents about his future, giving them false reassurance that he had an idea on what to do after he graduates. When asked about the prospect of attending graduate school, he pursed his lips into a thin line and shrugged his shoulders, telling them that he's "thinking about it." Sure, another two to three years of school would mean he had more chances, but the four years of inflated tuition fees and living expenses drowned him in a sea of guilt that could only calm down once he found a way to secure his income.

His apartment—which collected endless noise complaints and eviction threats—was now engulfed in a deathly silence of pensiveness. Desktop monitors that reflected empty word documents and excessive numbers of tabs opened became his main light source for a while. Eventually, two whole weeks of rejected applications and subpar interviews made him resign to an entire summer of playing video games in his room. None of his friends had the free time to go on a nightly escapade of pub crawls with him anymore, and spending the night alone outside took a different level of maturity that he himself didn't achieve yet. Dating apps were out of the question too, since he wasn't really in the mood to hook up with strangers. Sure, a one-night stand would probably instill the initial thrill of young adulthood in him, but what he truly yearned for was to have a cold beer with the boys again while propping foldable chairs by the beach to talk about anything and everything.

He's lost count of how long he's been a homebody, but a rough estimate pointed him towards two weeks and a half. The first week was technically productive, but each second that passed by was marked with application rejections and zero calls back from employers who should be desperate to hire more young people in a stagnant economy. Naturally, anyone would want to escape the pains of reality through channeling anger and frustration into violent online battle royales. His body clock was slowly getting accustomed to living in Pacific time, and the lack of alcohol in his system almost felt like a spiritual detoxification that prophets and priests go through. Even if lying down on his couch while munching on a bag of Smith's was no better than spending all his nights getting too drunk to remember how he ended up half-naked in a tattoo parlor, it was still an accomplishment nonetheless to survive solitude. To think someone like him could come this far without social activity was a spectacle to behold, and even he believed it warranted a self high five or a pat on the back.

Maybe a part of adulthood was finding happiness in the little things—such as spending time on your own. If everyone was too busy to spend time with him, then he should perhaps get used to seeing himself as a companion.

From the large glass windows of his orange-tinted room, he could see the sun dipping itself in the warm waters of the sea. Cars zooming past the highway harmonized with the array of street musicians that occupied every corner of Camperdown Park. Once he opened the doors to his veranda, the wind carried with it a comfortable heat that reminded him of the countless summer vacations he'd spent in a country he's grown to call his home. While the rest of the world was engulfed in the white, icy touches of winter's embrace, the streets of Australia beamed with a vibrant, tropical feel. This would have been a perfect day to have a blaze with his mates and relive the good memories of a distant past, but enjoying the view from his veranda while drinking a cold beer or two had the potential to become his new favorite pastime.

Jogging back indoors, he took three cans of beer from the mini-fridge in his room. A sigh escaped his lips as the cool sensations of the metal alloy touched his palm. He took the can to his neck, pressing it gently towards his nape to relieve himself from the humidity of the open air. It took time for his body to process the sudden drop in temperature from the beer can, but time was something he had in abundance. For now, the woes of finding employment and building his resume evaporated with the air that left his lungs. All that mattered right now, when time seemed to stop in an eternal summer of marmalade-tinted sunsets, was the taste of beer that overwhelmed the corners of his mouth after two whole weeks of sobriety.

He closed his eyes, further immersing himself in the ambiance of white noise produced by his surroundings. Screeching car wheels, electric guitars, dogs barking and howling at each other, teenagers screaming profanities as they zoomed past the streets on their skateboards—all of the sound Australia had to offer was ringing in his ears, reverberating with a strong beat. He leaned in closer, opening another can of beer. Its refreshing fizz permeated in empty air, slicing through the bustling din of the city. His lips hovered over the cold surface of the can, taking in the fleeting, malty aroma that filled his nostrils. It was a classic, familiar flavor that swished and tingled his tongue, flashing quick images of a transient yet unforgettable youth in his head.

There was a beep that disrupted his moment of tranquility, and he furrowed his brows at the sight of the notification on his phone. Another email politely rejected his application, with the same automated response of wishing him luck for his future ventures. The time on his phone read 17:49, but the strength of the sun's rays seemed to disrupt his perception of time. Although notes of violet began appearing among the streaks of white clouds in the sky, the sun was still brimming with a blinding radiance.

"Jake, right?" The mention of his name sent shivers down his spine, and he snapped his head toward the direction of the voice. Keeping his grip on the now lukewarm beer can in his hands, his eyes met a figure he was sure he'd met before, but the alcohol had blocked fragments of his blurred memories from uncovering your identity. He was sure he'd met you somewhere, and your silhouette certainly evoked a sense of familiarity in him. Was it at a bar? Or a club? Perhaps a house party? Maybe a concert or a music festival? No matter how much he tried to plunge into the depths of his memories, he could not find a single name or a place. Nonetheless, he was confident that he'd met you before.

"Of course, you wouldn't remember me." You uttered under your breath, laughing bitterly at the puzzled expression etched on your neighbor's face. Jake returned the sentiment with an awkward chuckle, raising the can of beer to his lips once more as he emptied its contents. He crushed the can in his hands and tossed it behind him, automatically reaching for another beverage.

"Sorry mate—but I swear on my dog's life that I've seen you somewhere before. Promise." He said, dragging his chair closer to the edge of his veranda. You did the same, standing up from your seat to lean on the railings of your balcony. He raised his can of beer to you, taking a huge sip with a deep sigh. Your sips were lighter and more consistent to ensure that you didn't house too much gas in your stomach.

"So, who are you again?" He asked, balling his hand in a fist as he held a burp down his throat. He tapped his chest with his palm in rhythmic pats, easing the buildup of carbonated wheat that bubbled in his stomach. When he tried to look deep into your features, a delayed outline would follow, creating shadows out of nowhere with the brightness of the setting sun. Was he always this weak with alcohol? Or was it just the two-week period of sobriety that did a number on him? Whatever it was undoubtedly made your afterimage linger with every subtle move you made. When a gust of wind blew in your direction, your hair would float in the air, each strand seemingly having a conscious life of its own. The dull luster on your head almost looked like a halo from where he was, which didn't help him remember who you are at all. If you were someone he'd met at a party, he would have had your contact information and social media by now, and he would have at least recalled your name or which faculty you were in. He was sure he'd seen your face somewhere, but to pinpoint the where unexpectedly took too much brainpower to process.

You twirled the can of beer from side to side, swishing the viscous liquid within and feeling its weight shift between each movement. Each time the weight of the can fell to your right, Jake would furrow his brows deeply, pinching his nose as hard as he could. The gesture didn't help him jog his memory, and it only made him look ridiculously focused on something that should have been a light joke. When the can's weight fell to your left, he would heave a deep sigh, as if he was slowly giving up at trying to remember where he met you. At some point, he chugged through his last can of beer, and you tried to toss him a can from your cooler. He was able to catch it mid-air with quick reflexes, but upon seeing the brand, he gave you an awkward smile—one that immediately told you his entire personality through the beer he drinks. To be fair, you were being too harsh on him. It's not as if he played an essential part of your life, and your encounters with him only consisted of quick nods of acknowledgment when you saw him leave the door. Letting your share of momentary fun reach its abrupt halt, you tossed him another can of beer—this time, it was the same brand as the one he just finished. Muttering a word of thanks under his breath, he hastily reached for the pull tab and opened it with a pop that sliced through the distant magpie's cries.

"Depends on how you put it. I've been your neighbor for about two years now, and I've been collecting your bills because the guys at the gas company keep fucking up our room numbers." You said, leaning further towards his veranda. The metal railings pressed into your skin, leaving a geometrical pattern of rectangles across your arm and legs. He took a step back, leaving his mouth agape at the mention of the word "neighbor." Now that you've mentioned it, he did remember seeing you in the building from time to time. Still, he was either too drunk to stand or too tired from studying in the library, so a lot of the "hellos" and "goodbyes" that you two have probably exchanged flew out of his head from fatigue.

Then, it hit him.

You were the person that moved in two summers ago, when he came home from the Rainbow Serpent Festival. There were two large suitcases next to you as you twisted and turned the keys to your new home, and he offered to teach you how to unlock your door. What happened after that remained a big blur in his head, but if he didn't see you on the corridors of the apartment hall or anywhere else in the city, that meant that you were a busybody who quickly adjusted to life in New South Wales. Judging from the way you looked, he could guess that you were the type of person who would probably avoid him in university. Even if your hair was tousled with the breeze at the moment, you kept it in a neat ponytail that highlighted your face shape. Your outfit looked straight out of an office comedy, save for the cozy shorts you wore instead of a pencil skirt or slacks. It was a rather odd combination, but it added to the type of person you might be in his eyes. A dedicated worker by day who knew how to unwind on your own after long hours in the cubicle—which, now that he thought about it, added another element of surprise to the enigma of his next-door neighbor. You didn't look much older than him, yet you had the air of an adult that was too far out of his reach. The way you slowly take sips of your beer, even if the urge to chug it all in one go was one of the few examples of mature restraint that he began to admire as he spent each second drinking with you.

Maybe, just maybe, you were the key to his current slump. If destiny or fate or whatever spiritual bullshit were to align the stars in his favor, then the rejected applications might be a sign that pointed towards you. Sure, he knew nothing about you, but you looked like a full-fledged adult with enough experience in the "real world"—someone who can help him polish his resume, practice interviews with, and maybe gain tips from. Indeed, you didn't mind him asking about the inner workings of the job market and what your employer looked for when he hired you, right?

He considered asking you if either he could come into your house or vice versa, but he realized that his living room was a total mess. The coffee table had pieces of potato chips all over its surface, and empty boxes of takeout were scattered across his carpet. Ideally, the latter was the best option, since he assumed you regularly cleaned your living quarters. Then again, there was no point in asking if he could barge into your apartment if the two of you were already engaged in a conversation. Plus, it was a rational guarantee that it would be better to continue your talks without the gaping, empty border of two balconies.

In one quick gulp, he consumed the can of beer in his hands and crushed it between the metal railings of his veranda. Instead of throwing him another drink, he raised his palm in the air and rushed back inside his apartment, leaving you puzzled with his impulses. He seemed to be the type to act without thinking, but there was an air of philosophical intrigue surrounding him. From what you could guess with your first formal encounter with him, he would move depending on his mood while thinking about everything at once, mind calculating with all the outcomes and possibilities in rapid succession. He was the type of guy who would talk on tangents because there was simply too much going on in his head.

"He definitely reminds me of someone." You muttered under your breath, then took another long sip of your lukewarm drink. Beer sure tasted better when it was ice cold, and you rushed back to your apartment to pour the rest of the contents in a glass with some ice. A German would indeed rebuke you for your actions, but what can you say? You needed the drink to keep its chilled state, or else you'd throw it into the sink and waste it away.

Before you could close the glass doors to your balcony, the doorbell rang three or four times. You didn't need to check the peephole to know who it was, and yet Jake's presence in front of your door surprised you nonetheless.

"Come in," You greeted with a smile. Jake kicked his sandals off and gave your living room a quick scan. A small smile stretched his lips at the correct guess of his intuition. Despite your rooms having the same architecture, the sheer difference in furniture and cleanliness paled compared to his room. You had a few plants as decor in the entrance and beside your flat screen television, while he kept his space as sparse as one could. The scent of lavender hit his nose the moment he breathed in, and he traced its aroma to a burning candle perched in the middle of your glass coffee table. He saw a Nintendo Switch idly sitting beside the array of cushions on your couch, prompting him to take a mental note of asking for your ID sometime later.

Jake held a small cooler in his arms, and after he took in your humble living space, he immediately darted towards your balcony door. Once he propped up his cooler beside yours, he took a wayward folding chair and slumped right into it. After a few seconds, he immediately fixed his posture and gave you a slight bow, muttering strings of incoherent apologies about his youthful impoliteness. Using your laughter as a message of forgiveness, you hovered your glass towards your uninvited guest, clinking it to a new chapter of acquaintanceship.

"You look awfully comfortable in a house that you've been in for the first time." You joked, raising your glass towards your lips.

People like Jake, who exuded an air of comfort, were the type of people who knocked all the walls you've built to guard yourself. An aura of benign intentions spread to whoever they talked to, and no sign of malice was present in their actions and words. It was a very contagious ray of positivity that you desperately needed, and that was probably why you didn't hesitate to let him—a complete stranger before your coincidental meeting at your respective balconies—into your house.

"By the way, I've also been keeping your noise complaint letters because somehow maintenance keeps sending them to my room instead of yours." You said, breaking the small moment of silence between you two. Pointing your index finger to the stack of letters on your kitchen counter, he excused himself to jog into your apartment. From his distance, you could see him scattering the neatly stacked pieces of noise complaints around the entire counter, with some of them flying around your kitchen. He waved the most recent one in your direction, suppressing a deep chuckle that burst in echoes bouncing back and forth between the standard white walls. You returned the sentiment with a bout of laughter of your own, taking another sip of icy beer as you watched him snort at each noise complaint. When he returned to your balcony, a tinge of pink on his cheeks intermingled with the orange tint of sunlight that dyed his skin, giving him the urge to cover his face with his can of beer.

"Sorry about that, I really am." He uttered, clearing his throat to dispel the carbon that continued to tickle his stomach. By now, he was pretty sure he'd have a bad case of acid reflux tomorrow.

"Nah, it's fine. Destiny or whatever seems to work in my favor since I'm usually out whenever you host parties in your apartment." You waved off, pointing your chin at the noise complaint that was still on his hand. The humidity of the summer weather caved the paper into itself, and Jake pressed its corners on his lap, straightening it with his palms. He began folding it into a paper airplane, delicately folding each wing with skilled hands. You watched as he attentively admired his craft, letting go of the paper as soon as another breeze hit the balcony. The paper airplane's destination was a mystery, and all you could do was watch it soar down the busy streets you've watched since you moved to the city.

"Speaking of parties, I've been meaning to ask, but it's been quite quiet recently." You questioned. His eyes glowed momentarily, brown pupils dilating with the brightness of the sun. It should already be past six, yet the skies were still vivid with harmonious blends of warm tones. Violet streaks were more prominent now, but it was not enough to call it a night.

"Yeah, everyone's just busy with their own stuff, you know? I guess it's that time where everyone grows up to fix themselves and get a job or something." Jake answered, keeping the speed of his speech as slow as he could. This was a chance for him to steer the conversation in his favor, and he wanted to keep his excitement as low as possible. Eagerness was a trait that many employers looked for, but eagerness in excess was desperation—a characteristic that led to the downfall of his internship applications.

"Jobs, huh." Your voice was a faint whisper now, and if Jake didn't lean forward, the breeze would have carried it away from his ears. Your eyes were now watching the melting ice cubes that diluted the jaundice hues of your drink, watching its once clear, symmetrical shape loose structure in the murky pool of fermented yeast.

"Jobs." He repeated, sharing the same dejected sentiment in your voice. Heaving a long, deep sigh, he diverted his eyes to the endless afternoon sky, watching a couple of magpies fly from one direction to another. He didn't know magpies could fly that high up, considering the fact that he's seen most of them perched atop benches in Camperdown Park.

"They suck." There was a poisonous undertone in the way you spoke now, causing Jake to flinch a little. There was no lie in the sentence, and he found himself nodding in agreement. Jobs do suck, but what sucked even more was not having a job to complain about in the first place. "Money can't buy happiness" was an absurd statement, because happiness needed time, which was measured in money. To have time, one must have enough money to buy that time, and to get money meant sacrificing the present to a future that always seemed to go further and further away from his grasp.

"I know, and I've never even been employed before," Jake said. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you, considering the noise complaints he's managed to pile up. Nonetheless, your mouth still went agape in bewilderment at the thought of someone his age with absolutely zero job experience of any kind.

"Not even a part-time job?" You asked, jogging your memories back to the countless jobs you took on the side during high school and in your first year of university. How you managed to maintain a high academic standing despite carrying two part-time jobs still baffled you, but you suppose that was the reason your friend circle was small enough to count with your ten fingers. This could also be another reason you steered clear from social media, only downloading WhatsApp to communicate with project group mates and work colleagues.

"Well, I don't know if tutoring counts. I was also a research assistant for a bit, but I wasn't paid, so I wouldn't really consider it a job." Jake explained. To be fair, tutoring his niece with a small allowance shouldn't be considered a job, and his time as an undergrad research assistant had been an unpaid volunteering activity. Either way, any opportunity in his sparse resume was automatically considered a job to him.

"Research assistant for…?" You didn't want to show your disdain towards him, but your tone made it evident that you didn't believe him. Sure, one should not rely on assumptions to create a mental character of a person, but when all she knew about him was his excessive obsession with nightlife and raves, the only thing you could think of was "how?" How did someone like him, who certainly didn't look like the type to do well in school, secure a research position in his undergrad years?

"My mechanical engineering prof. He was doing some research on hydrodynamics, and an assistant's position was open, so I went for it." Jake replied, showing the screenshot of an email he had with his professor as proof. He knew you didn't mean any harm, but this was one of the few opportunities he had to brag about his lack of accomplishments. In a sense, you were right—becoming a research assistant during undergrad was a rare opportunity, let alone in his second year of study. To top it all off, it was his professor that decided to reach out to him, making him the chosen few who the professor himself handpicked.

"Why didn't you continue? That sounds like a solid position to me." You asked, taking his phone to zoom in on the email.

It was an odd way to find out that he attended the University of New South Wales, or UNSW for short—which struck a painful chord in your chest. Sure, you were an alumnus at an institution with a higher overall ranking than his, but UNSW was a better business school than where you graduated. To add salt to your wounds, UNSW Business was one of the only schools that rejected your application. At the same time, every other university you applied to accepted you into their commerce program. The worst blow to your ego was the realization that Jake entered the number one school for his major in all of Australia. UNSW consistently ranked first in the faculty of engineering and gained worldwide recognition for housing some of the most employable graduates that the country could offer. From this perspective alone, your academic achievements failed to compete with the prestige of his alma mater and program.

"I got bored, and the prof was really difficult to work with." He replied nonchalantly. You nodded your head to every word he said, diverting your gaze to the corner of his lips. There was a smirk plastered on his face, exuding an air of pomp and circumstance. Of course, you took his pridefulness as a joke, scoffing at him in the process. However, what changed within you was a newfound respect for an otherwise unrespectable guy. Despite being beneficial to his career, leaving an apprenticeship out of honesty was a commendable trait that highlighted your own cowardice in the workplace.

Noticing the shift in your exception, Jake puffed his chest out with pride. Just like everything good in his life, however, the short period of egotistic bliss evaporated into a shell of self-doubt and shame. He was aware of his school's reputation and his major, but it was for this same reason that he couldn't call himself a student of the university with dignity. He should be getting opportunities left and right based on the prestige of his alma matter; he should be able to secure a job, let alone an internship because he's attending one of the best schools in Australia; he should have no trouble networking or finding a company to commit to because many employers were supposed to want students in a top school. He technically had one more year of university to go before he graduated. Still, most of the students in his program already had a solid idea of what to do after graduating. For those without a fiery passion for engineering, they simply took the route of gaining as much experience as possible to become an attractive candidate for major tech companies around the world—which was what he tried to do. Still, the perseverance of getting up after each rejection simply didn't exist in him.

Failures and rejection were two things he never had the pleasure of experiencing. He was lucky enough to have everything handed down to him on top of a silver platter—whether it be genetics, talents, or sociability. This should have given him a general upper hand in everything, but the cold truth was that he never had the push to try hard enough because everything always worked out for him. It didn't help either that his brother bore the first-born's responsibilities, often receiving a stricter regimen than himself. While his brother learned to gain independence and persist through each obstacle that life had to offer, Jake was pampered with support and parental protection. He was never compared to his brother at the dinner table, but he reckoned that a slight competitive streak would have given him a reason to work harder and envision a clear, vivid image of his goals and aspirations.

"How about you?" Jake asked, shaking off the swirling thoughts that spiraled down his head. The past is the past, and nothing would have stopped who he was back then to quit the apprenticeship for more free time.

"I got fired." You bluntly blurted, averting your gaze from your drinking companion of the afternoon.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I got fired." You repeated through gritted teeth.

There was not a single second between his bafflement and your simmering anger. The open air felt suffocating, choking him out and leaving him breathless. The humidity and heat of the Australian summer came in full swing, batting his lungs and throat with the forces of nature. Indeed, there was something he could do to alleviate the tension in the air, right? Say a comforting sentence or two? Maybe give you an awkward hug? Or pass you another beer to make you drink your woes away? The last one was his least preferred option, but it seemed to be the most realistic. In your current state, words lost all meaning. Physical touch was out of the question too, since you were probably a woman who kept your guard higher in times of anger, self-doubt, and disappointment.

You gave a few minutes of lethal silence between you two, eyes glued to the empty glass in your hands. There was no weight to swirl between your palms anymore, which gave the glass a certain lightness. You tightened your grip around its surface, controlling the urge to throw it out of your balcony. Venting your anger out through violence and reckless behavior didn't serve a single purpose to your problem since throwing all your glasses and ceramics off your balcony did nothing to get your job back. So, for now, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, feeling through blank space to find your cooler's lid.

"For what, if I may ask?"

Jake's fragile, gentle voice was like an anchor that sunk you back down on the cold tiles of your balcony. The heavy weight that bogged your shoulders down slowly lifted itself away from you, prompting you to melt between the fabrics of your foldable chair. You craned your head towards him, feeling the heaviness of your skull hit the bones of your left shoulder. He took a can of beer from his cooler to press it on your neck, dragging his chair closer to yours. Closing your eyes once more, you felt the shape of his knuckles and gave it a small pat.

"I wouldn't be here, hopelessly drowning myself in shitty, cheap ass beer if I knew."

Your breath tickled Jake's hand, reanimating the cool sensations of the beer can. He softly pushed the can to the nape of your neck, carefully watching the twitches on your face to take note of your current comfort levels. Once a sigh of relief escaped your lips, he took the can up to your jaw, allowing you to rest your head on the back of his hand. Right now, you were just the right amount of drunk to rely on the touch of someone you've just met for comfort. It was not enough to throw yourself in his arms, and you were confident that it'd take much more for you to sleep with him—but in a sense, this amount of inebriety was just enough.

"That makes two of us, then." He muttered, letting his head rest on the crown of your head.

You tilted your head at an angle where you could see his eyes, watching it sparkle under the sunlight. Even if the two of you knew absolutely nothing about each other, there was a familiarity that felt akin to an old friend from a distant past. The night was slowly seeping through the marmalade skies in a blend of violet, washing away any remnants of the day. What should have been an hour felt like an eternity, evoking both shared a sense of liminality. Each breath one took was the exhalation of another—a bone-chilling, cellular connection that rattled the innermost parts of both your bones. A balcony you had to yourself felt like a space for the two of you, a waiting room for the impending dread of reality. You, a woman with too many dreams, and he, a man who couldn't dream at all.

"I mean, now that I think about it, I'm sure you sort of understand why you can't get a job or an internship, right?" You asked, breaking the silence that rendered both of you as equals in the presence of a looming future. Jake tilted his head to meet your glittery pupils that were simultaneously dull and lifeless. Removing the can of beer that was glued to your neck, he tugged at the pull tab and took your hands in his, curling each of your fingers to hold the can. You nodded your head, taking a small sip. The beverage's bitterness was accentuated when it wasn't cold enough to drink, and you scrunched your nose in mild disgust at the bubbly, malty flavors that burst into your tongue. You passed the can onto Jake, who took a quick swig of the drink.

"I don't wanna admit it, but I can see why." He said, slurring his words with a certain bitterness. His head felt heavier, and you gently took his temples in your palms. In one swoop, you managed to switch positions without alerting him in his semi-drunken state. Now, your head was resting on top of his messy mop of black hair, and he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck.

"Experience?" You asked, taking the can off his grasp. In exchange, you covertly slipped a chilled bottle of water in his palms, watching him flimsily twist the cap off only to pour the contents all over the two of you. You bit your lip in restraint, doing your best to hold your laughter. Feeling his feverish warmth through the top of your head, your best guess was that he was the "late bloomer" type of drunk. He can consume copious amounts of alcohol and retain his consciousness, but at some point, all the effects would come crashing down in an instant to render him in a state of unreasonable happiness.

"What still baffles me to this day is how many employers want "experience," but even the experience itself requires more experience that I can't get because getting a degree and studying hard just isn't enough anymore," Jake replied, putting the entire weight of his head on your shoulder. Raising his arms up high, he exaggerated a set of air quotes before dragging them back down on his lap.

"Well, at least you had your share of fun while it lasted, right?"

"I guess I did? That's if I can have a family of my own to share these stupid moments with, though."

"Not a fan of marriage?" You asked. Jake took his head off your shoulder and lowered his head to match your eye's position. One thing about him that didn't change regardless of his sobriety was his attentiveness, which was displayed through subtle movements.

Jake widened his eyes at the word marriage. He didn't say anything for a while, leaving his mouth agape only to shut it back. A short hum escaped his lips as he brought his knees up to his chin. Although the chair was too small to contain his legs, he did his best to make sure that his knees wouldn't hit your arm.

"I've thought about it, but I can't really see myself with a wife and kids right now. I mean, I've failed all my internship interviews, and my resume is too blank right now. The only thing I have in terms of personal branding is my grades, which anyone can achieve if they study hard enough or whatever." Jake murmured. His voice was slightly muffled, and you leaned closer to hear him better.

"How can I provide for a family when I don't think I can even provide for myself?"

A long, arduous silence fell with a thud. Night came with the dark glow of the moon, sinking the sun into the depths of the faraway seas. You averted your eyes from him, feeling for your cooler yet again. Without hesitation, you opened a can of beer and quickly emptied its contents, feeling the faint dizziness that always occurred when you would drink too rashly. Jake looked at you with concern while holding back any fiber of movement that might escape his fingertips. He knew the feeling all too well, and if he were in the same position, he wouldn't want someone to stop him mid-way. He kept his lips in a thin line, watching as you longingly gazed at the night sky. The empty can in your hands rolled past the metal railings of your balcony, plunging straight into the streets below.

"Jake," You said. The way his name rolled of your tongue had a piercing quality to it—almost as if his body jolted with an animatic shock that rushed in his veins.

"Yeah?"

"Let me tell you something," You continued, facing him while clamping your mouth shut, peering deep into his eyes. For Jake, it was almost invasive—as if you were looking inside his entire anatomy.

"I graduated with First Class Honors in my batch last year." You started after a long pause. Jake could tell that your head was rustling with many rampant thoughts, and he kept his silence.

"I'm not trying to brag, but I also have enough so-called "experience" in my resume. I have completed several certifications that should have aided me in my job interviews. I've completed enough internships in my summer vacations to qualify me for a job in my desired career path. I was an intern for CommBank, Westpac, and ANZ, to name a few, and I've even joined executive positions at my university's investment banking clubs as another qualification to write about. Many of my professors have written me referrals to top finance companies in the country, which should have boosted my chances of securing a lifelong path of financial security. I've devoted three fucking years to my education, my future plans, and my dreams, and yet I was fired today because I was "not the best fit" for my role."

You were now staring at your bare feet, which were spread across the cold, marble tiles of your balcony. Jake said nothing, but you could feel his eyes lingering on your hunched figure. Your voice was drained of all energy and feeling, and all you wanted to do right now was to go to sleep. For how long was a question you didn't bother answering; the only thing your body felt was the fatigue that came with living as a struggling young adult in a happening, big city.

"Wow…" Jake whispered. It was a voice so low and quiet that if you hadn't listened carefully, it would have been blown away by the breeze.

"Wow, right?" You repeated with the same volume and tone. You took your knees to your chest and mimicked Jake's curled position, tilting your head to an angle where you could see his face bathed in the moonlight. The remnants of the day have disappeared with the sun sinking deep inside the seas across the city. Now, it was officially night, and the city lights shone like a string of stars in the North.

"What a monologue," Jake said, forcing himself to speak. Fate worked in beautiful ways, and instead of finding an answer, he found empathy. He didn't know whether to smile, cry, lament and scream at you for not having a solution to his woes, or to throw his beer can to the depths of the night. As he'd expected, you should have been the model example to follow—and yet, after all your incredible accomplishments, you were on the same boat as him.

Sailing, drifting, and floating without a destination in mind. There wasn't even an anchor to hoist down in this boat the two of you were in, nor was there a port to dock. You, a veteran captain holding accolades with navigation, and him, a shoemaker who had never even sailed on a ship before.

"I should have applied for a major in theater or something. Then I could have probably secured a lifetime of performing with a company." You smiled, staring into space. You stood up, head spinning in a daze at the sudden movement. The moonlight was dancing in circles as you concentrated your sight into its bright, white glow, and you eventually let your hand depend on the cold touches of your balcony's metal railings to stay still.

"Do you actually like theater?" Jake asked, following suit. He passed a bottle of water to you, and you allowed the transparent liquid to cure you of your vertigo. At this rate, you didn't know if the culprit was excessive amounts of alcohol or the event that made you drink in the first place.

"Never been interested, but man, I'm fucking desperate." You laughed. You took your elbows to the railings, allowing your chin to rest on your forearms.

"Mood," Jake replied in a whisper. You turned around to lean your back on the railings, switching your view from the endless spots of white city lights to the mundane, empty neatness of your apartment's living room.

"Might become a stripper type of mood?" You asked, shuddering at the thought of him in a strip show.

"More like might open an Onlyfans kinda mood."

"If only you were hotter, right?"

"Hey! I bet my body count is way higher than yours!" Jake exclaimed, widening his eyes.

"It probably is, and that's most likely why you couldn't have the time or energy to actually look for internships that might help you with your future." Your chin was now resting on your shoulder, stifling a burst of laughter that tickled your lungs.

"Ouch, you're one to talk."

"Double ouch, mate." You said, nudging his arm with your elbow.

Jake turned away from the horizon of the city, leaning his body on the metal railings of your balcony. Your living room was completely submerged in a lonely, comforting darkness that called for your return to its quarters. You closed your eyes and felt a warm wind roaring up in the summer night. The wind was a little stronger than the breeze in the afternoon, and the two of you could hear the tree branches rattling with the telephone poles on each street. Jake's shoulder brushed past yours, acting as your only source of warmth in the sudden drop in temperature. You were supposed to feel cold, and you could physically feel the hairs on your skin shiver, yet you found the cold comforting. You didn't mind staying like this for a little longer, mindlessly staring into the dark abyss of your apartment with your new companion.

"Anyway, what now?" Jake asked without raising his head.

What now? Let's get out of here and never look back! Fly to Ireland or whatever, since I'm sure I have enough money for two tickets, was what you wanted to say, but all that left your lips was a sigh. It would've been romantic to fly and relive your life with a stranger you've just met—in fact, it was an idealistic scenario that felt like a movie. If this ever were a film, you weren't sure about Jake as the male lead, but some parts of him taking the role made sense. He fit the cliche of an extroverted youth who surprisingly thought a lot about his life, and he had pretty features to qualify as an actor.

You raised your head from the view of your apartment, staring deep into Jake's figure. Even if the two of you were supposed to be opposites, there was a truth hidden beneath his lids that only someone like you could understand.

Jake was terribly tired of the world—and so were you.

"I don't know? Try again?" You said, breaking the comforting silence between you two. Jake snorted at a seemingly rational response, as if to tell you that the idea of trying again was ridiculous.

"If only I could get the motivation, mate."

Something in his sentence hit you like a truck. Trying again and again without a sense of direction was akin to a headless chicken running around. In a world where everything seemed planned to the dot, positivity and blind faith almost sounded like a lukewarm joke—but motivation was a different phenomenon on its own. One thing that was clear from your coincidental encounter with Jake was how your thought process worked. Jake didn't need to look at you to understand that you were still hung up on finding a specific reason for being fired out of the blue, and you were aware of Jake's pensiveness when it came to where he went wrong in his internship applications. It was painful to admit, but humans have only come this far due to a strong perseverance to move forward. It took countless falls for humans to walk as they do today, and the intense desire to walk was what pushed for the act to become a primary function of the human body. Instead of pondering at your failures, the two of you needed a reason to get up and try again.

"I have a plan." You said, eyes widening at the sudden moment of eureka. Jake looked at you, puzzled at the sudden fiery passion exuding from your figure. At this rate, he didn't need you to turn the lights to your living room on—your aura was bright enough to set the entire building on fire.

"If it's coming from a bigshot like you, then it better be worth it."

"What do you mean bigshot? You're talking to the BCom smartass who can't even get a job in the finance sector. Meanwhile, you're in STEM. You have plenty of opportunities to find employment!" You sarcastically scoffed, beckoning for him to follow you inside your apartment. He took his cooler in one swoop and tried to catch up with you, who had already reached the light switches by your foyer.

"Well, I guess I'd be the first to break the STEM myth of financial security, because I can't even get a single internship."

The moment you turned the fluorescent lights on, Jake took a good look at his unexpected friend—or acquaintance? A neighbor who he wants to drink with more often? He didn't know what to call you just yet, and who knows? Maybe he'd never have the chance to call you various labels. There was a transparent, fleeting quality about a meeting that was too good to be true—almost as if seeing you at the balcony next to his was just a dream he'd one day wake up from. Even under the artificial, bright lights of your apartment, you had an ephemeral, fragile glow around you—one that mimicked a saint coming down from heaven to pass judgment on earth.

"Let's go on a race, Jake." You said so naturally and smoothly. The clarity of your pupils made his heart thump, striking a right note within him. It wasn't too demanding or forceful—it was just the right amount of inviting that swelled his heart with the intensity of emotions as a young adult.

"A race?"

"Like, who can get a job first or who can secure an internship first. The details don't matter, but healthy competition is sure to keep us back on track, right?" You explained. Taking a few steps back, you shut the glass doors to your balcony, hearing a loud thud that echoed across the vast walls of your living room. Checking to see if the lock was working, you then pulled the curtains in one, quick motion, covering the romantic, high-rise view.

"I don't really work well under pressure, mate."

"So do I, but one thing university has taught me is that deadlines give me the push I need to go through with something. If this race can serve as that push to get us back on track, then we're bound to find success one way or another."

You spoke haltingly, but each word you uttered became more incredible than the last. Initially, he was skeptical of your sudden proposal. If both of you were failures in the eyes of society, what's to say that another try would land you in the same spot you're currently in right now? Then again, the reason Jake had managed to maintain his high academic standing was owing to the threat of expulsion. If he didn't study, he would fail and get kicked out of school—it was as simple as that. In a sense, him being good at studying was always a result of a looming consequence that he didn't want to go through. If he were terrible at school, then he would get expelled—ergo, he would lose all his chances. By having something like a race to kickstart his productivity, he could see himself trying a little bit harder than usual.

"So, if the end goal isn't a job, then what is it?"

"There is no clear end goal, but it's kind of like a situation where we constantly one-up each other." You paused, leaning your body on the kitchen counter. "Say, if you successfully become an intern, then I have to one-up that by securing a job. Then, you have to secure yourself a job, and then I'd have to work hard for a promotion. Kind of like that."

"What's the point if there's no winner in this "race"?" Jake asked. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, fidgeting with his smartphone.

"I haven't thought that far yet, but the winner to me is someone who's reached a level of peak adulting, if you catch my drift. Like, You don't have to have a family, but you should be financially secure enough to call for early retirement, or have enough money to buy your own property."

Jake had been standing in the space between your sofa and the kitchen, keeping his hands glued to his pockets. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular, but at the same time, they were staring right into yours—as if he were searching for a treasured item he'd lost long, long ago. You moved from the kitchen counter to brush past his shoulder, inviting him to sit next to you on the sofa. He took his cooler with him and tapped on its lid, as if to ask if you wanted another beer. You shook your head and fished for the remote—which was hiding under the massive pile of cushions that occupied your large sofa. He took one of them and gave it a tight hug, burying his head on its soft surface.

"Yikes…. That's gonna be one long ride with you then, huh?" He muttered through the pillow on his face. You took a smaller cushion and threw it in his direction, marveling at his over-reaction. He returned the pillow and yelled "balls out," prompting you to catch it before it fell out of your reach.

"It all depends on our motivation, I suppose. I mean, who knows? You could join a huge tech company and gain enough more than what I'd make in five years." You said, using the pillow he passed to you as a headrest. Heaving a sigh, you raised your head to the white ceiling, painting an image of Jake as a successful engineer. It was a possible outcome—one that you should be happy for if he ever reaches that level of success. However, there was a throbbing pain in your chest that increased with each lapsing image of Jake's foreseen success. Unlike you, he had more options to explore; he just didn't search far and wide enough, only limiting himself to whatever he studied in university. Contrary to being in finance and accounting, engineering had a diverse and readily available job market. In theory, it was never too late for Jake to find something to do to earn money.

To think that some fields have a higher demand than others was unfair to you, but there was nothing you could do. Engineers were more valuable than investment bankers or hedge fund managers. To top it all off, their line of work was more honest than yours will ever be. Maybe you should have been better at the right kind of math, or perhaps you should have gained more interest in the physics classes you slept through during high school.

In the end, however, there was nothing you could do to change the outcome of your current life. Even if you had the option to restart at a certain checkpoint in your life, everything would always be the same. It didn't matter if you ended up taking the path of law, architecture, medicine, or computer science—unlike Jake, you were never meant to succeed no matter how hard you tried.

You bit your lips, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down your temple to your jaw. Jake held your remote, rapidly skimming through each channel until he found a rerun of a football match.

"Watch me gain a net worth higher than Elon Musk's tomorrow." He said absentmindedly, eyes focused on each player's movements. You could tell he was trying his best to hold back, poorly managing his attention between the large flatscreen and your conversation.

"In your dreams, fucko." You replied without any malice. He took another cushion from your sofa and attempted to kick it in your direction. You picked the pillow up from the floor and served it like a volleyball, watching as it landed right on his cheek.

"Wow, we're not that close, you finance shill." He said. You expected him to follow with a "just kidding" or "gotcha," but he simply kept his eyes on the game, biting the tip of his thumb as each second passed by. There was no reason for you to feel hurt—after all, the two of you had just met today. You weren't a figure to remember in the routine-like hallway "hellos" and "goodbyes," and from this point, all you were to him was a noise complaint collector and a neighbor he had no clue existed.

"I'm in, though, if that's what you're wondering right now," Jake said as if he read your mind. The corners of his face lit up with a smile, and he took the remote to turn the game off. You returned his smile tenfold, feeling your cheeks rise up to fold your eyelids into crescent moons.

A sudden buzz disrupted the short period of camaraderie you shared with Jake, and a wave of pure shock overwhelmed your face. Before you knew it, time had significantly passed and changed the date etched on your phone. You showed your phone to Jake, prompting the same expression to appear on his face. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry with joy; you've forgotten how good it felt to have a companion you could talk to for hours on end. Sure, you did have your small circle of friends to talk to, but most of them were already too busy with their own lives that you were always left with your own accord. It was moments like these where you grow to realize the need for human interaction and empathetical connections—in a sense, nobody can survive alone, regardless of how much they've convinced themselves that they could.

"See you tomorrow? Or later, I guess?" Jake said as soon as he reached your foyer. He wanted to tell you he was extremely grateful for your existence, and that he wished he could stay longer, but nothing came out of his mouth save for a small smile. The same bittersweetness was returned in your gaze, and he took note of your expressive nature. Perhaps one day in the future, he can openly make fun of you for not being as aloof as you thought you were.

"Nah, only see me when you have news about your internship." You replied, slowly pushing him out of your door. You tucked his cooler between your arms, closing the door to your apartment shut.

"Ouch. You could at least have me over for dinner or something." He said nonchalantly. "We're neighbors, after all."

In the silent, dimly-lit hallway of your floor, you plopped his cooler down to kick it in his direction. You held the feeling in your heart; the urge to convince him to stay dying out for the simple reason that you had absolutely nothing in your fridge or your pantry. Plus, there was all the time in the world. It would be easier to talk to Jake from now on, and there were many mornings, afternoons, or nights that the two of you could use to share another beer while eating a home-cooked meal.

"Jake, I just got fired, remember? I don't think I have the money for takeout or groceries." You said, leaning your back on the door frame. Jake lifted his nose in annoyance, as if he forgot that the two of you were in a slump.

"I would say I could treat you, but I have nothing left in my allowance right now. Gotta wait 'til the end of the month until I have money again."

"Imagine having an allowance." You said while rolling your eyes.

The hallway's silence engulfed the two of you in a dreamlike state. A shared, peaceful moment where breathing was enough. Never in your life had you thought this measly, somewhat worn-down apartment hallway would become a place you'd want to be in forever. For you and Jake, the hallway symbolized a terminal in and out of society—for him, it was the space between the sanctuary of his apartment and the cold reality of university. For you, it was akin to a train station you'd pass to connect one remotely different world to another. Right now, however, when both of you had nowhere to go and nothing to do, it was the perfect purgatory to kill time and forget about adulthood. Here, there was no looming future or a past to think about—it was the present in its purest, finest form.

"Anyway, I guess it's time for me to write those emails and polish my cover letters." You said, disrupting the bubble of safety that the two of you shared. Reality is wonderful in many ways, and eventually, you'll have to come out of this dejection to move forward.

"Jesus, you're already starting?" Jake exclaimed, dumbfounded at your productivity.

"What? I'm taking this seriously!" You replied, turning around to head back to your apartment. Giving him a slight wave without looking back, you unbolted the lock and left the door ajar, loosely hanging your body on the curved, metallic door handles.

"Man, I could go for another beer."

"Learn how to drink alone." You said, jutting your chin towards his cooler.

"Whatever."

"Anyway, see you." With that, you flashed him a wide smile, gently closing your door afterward.

Jake took a step towards your door before it completely shut. Once he heard your lock click, he stepped back with a sigh, hitting his back against his door frame. Taking a deep breath, he dragged his cooler next to him, longingly admiring your door. It was the exact same design as his, and there was nothing to look at apart from the wooden, lacquered finish and the shiny luster of the steer handles, but he caught himself staring. Right now, your door was the only thing he saw, and he took the last can of beer in his cooler, raising it as high as he could before taking it to his lips.

ii. no plans to make plans.

Where do I start?

Jake was back where he started two weeks ago, watching his laptop overheat with a hundred tabs of job listings open for the world to see. However, instead of spending another week in his cramped, messy room, he forced himself to bring his laptop and charger to the kitchen counter. Pillows and blankets strewn across his bedroom floor were now thrown over his sofa—which wasn't as grand or comfortable as yours. Even if he was essentially repeating the same process of mass applying, checking emails, and receiving calls, there was a stark difference in the change of scenery. For one, being in an open space made everything feel less arduous and suffocating, as if the sun's rays directly gave him energy in a human rendition of photosynthesis. When the breeze from the sea started to blow into the city in the afternoons, he would take an extension cord and do his work in his veranda. Sometimes, he'd see your shadow pacing back and forth in your living room. You would either be holding a phone or your laptop, keeping the same anxious, rapid pacing. He'd often pretend you were on your veranda instead, which further stimulated his productivity.

When another three days or so of application rejection came crashing down his ego, he reached out to you while swallowing his pride. After all, you looked like the type of person who attended every networking opportunity or career-related seminar that your school would host. In hindsight, he knew he should have participated in those seminars and relied on his university's resources, but upon hearing your complaints about how useless they were, he heaved a sigh of relief and continued spamming his resume to the hundreds of listings on his laptop.

How do I start?

"Maybe stop searching within your major or focus area," You said one time when he met you again at your balcony. "I don't really know much about engineering, but I'm sure there are more applications to what you're doing at school—like, I don't know? Environmental engineering? Physics shit? Software or industry-related experiences?"

To his surprise, there were many fields and sub-fields within his program that he ignored because he focused too much on his area of study. Sure, he'd prefer an internship that had something to do with what he was studying, but desperate times call for desperate measures. In the myriad of tabs and bookmarks he'd amassed from recruitment sites like Indeed, Glassdoor, LinkedIn, and SEEK, he had compiled an endless list of opportunities—all of which were remotely connected to his major. There was one on medical technology, another on assurance, and opportunity to work for renewable energy sources. While avoiding the companies and organizations he had already applied for, he repeated the same process of mass sending his resume and slightly tweaking each cover letter. Of course, he learned to swallow his pride and call you for advice after getting another barrage of internship rejections.

"The thing about cover letters is that you really want to stand out."

The two of you were in your usual balcony setting, facing each other while staying within your own rooms. You made slight renovations to your apartment a year before, and one of the useful modifications you asked for was to have an outlet bolted in somewhere. You ended up doing most of your work indoors, but you supposed you'd finally put the outlet to good use by forcing yourself to meet Jake in your respective balconies.

"And how do I do that?"

"It really depends on your perspective." You continued, searching for the email from your career mentors and marketing acquaintances. "Employers have to look at, like, billions of resumes, so they want something unique."

"Nothing about me is unique, though," Jake said, resting his elbows on a rickety, plastic table.

"Nobody's the same, but nobody's any different either. As I said, it's a matter of perspective." You replied while working on your own set of cover letters. "For example, I've lived abroad for a year through an exchange program I did in China, so I wrote that in and tweaked a few words here and there to make me look more "global," if that makes sense."

"Why do Australian companies care about me being "global" when I'm just gonna work here for the rest of my life?" Jake asked, taking the time to curl his fingers into air quotes. You kept a smile to yourself and continued working on polishing your resume. Now, air quotes would always remind you of Jake no matter how hard you tried to distance the two.

"The goal for many companies is to break the global market, so like it or not, you're gonna have to have something remotely international in your resume and cover letter." You replied, leaning your head to your seat to bathe in the warm summer sun. Closing your eyes, you listened to Jake's frustrated grunts, picturing him fidgeting with his keyboard or furrowing his brows at the word global.

"Hmm,"

Jake technically considered himself a Korean-Australian, but because he's spent too much time out of South Korea, he didn't strongly identify with the country's cultural identity anymore. His thoughts and speech were all in English, and he struggled to read Hangul. Even if he could advertise being bilingual, his inability to speak the language in a professional setting hampered down all the opportunities to exploit whatever multiculturalism he had left in him. He was more of a unilingual person than a proud Korean national at this rate. The only people who used Korean in his life were his parents, brother, and some of his Korean friends—although the last group of people only spoke it to hide whatever taboo topic they could not discuss in English.

"I'm checking your LinkedIn right now, and you've listed yourself as Jaeyun Sim. But on your resume, you just wrote your name as Jake. Are you a dual citizen or a Korean-Australian?" You asked. So far, the only thing admirable about Jake's LinkedIn profile—and to a greater extent, his resume—was the quality of his portrait photo. While you took yours at the Australian embassy's photo booth, Jake's picture looked as if he hired a photographer to take employable shots of himself in the backdrop of his university's campus grounds. He was probably lucky enough to know the right crowd—ergo, the type of people who pretentiously brought their mirrorless camera everywhere they went, proclaiming themselves as a "social media photographer," when their photos only look good because they have pretty people in high quality.

Nevertheless, the photo completely drew you in, and you found yourself tilting your laptop against his direction, using your trackpad to zoom in on his face. You've felt like you've seen his smile countless times since meeting him, but to have the exact moment of bliss frozen and captured in an eternal frame evoked a feeling of enchanting bewitchment within you. It wasn't to say you found his features handsome; it was, in your part, more so what his smile conveyed. The more you stared at it, the more your lips began to curl upwards, mimicking the photo etched on your laptop screen. It was the type of smile that was so fascinating you couldn't help but become infected with its radiance.

Any employer should be tempted to hire a smile like this in an instant, you thought. When he obliviously asked why you were smiling, you shrugged him off and boasted about a non-existent job offer.

Feeling Jake's puzzled eyes linger in your hunched, smiling form, you cleared your throat and shut your laptop. You weren't able to count how long you've been dozing off, but the bewilderment in Jake's furrowed brows gave you a good guess that you spent approximately five or so minutes staring at his LinkedIn picture.

"So, as you were saying," He continued, gently pushing his laptop to the side to have a better look at your face. "I emphasize and exploit me being Korean to appeal to employers? Correct?" Jake said bluntly. You heaved a sigh and took a bottle of water from your cooler, dousing your dried lips with a little bit of moisture.

The sun was scorching hot on that particular day. He knew he should have resigned inside or spent the entire day in your apartment, but being too close to you meant throwing pillows at each other while drinking copious amounts of beer. You probably shared the same train of thought like him, which was why you did your best to endure the searing rays that turned every metallic object nearby into a frying pan. From time to time, he could see your sweat dampen your shirt, darkening its initial color into an unrecognizable hue. You also excused yourself multiple times to go back inside your living room to cool down or change your clothes—something he also did after hours of persevering through a sweat-drenched tank top.

"For starters, you can start with marketing your dual citizenship—like, because you're a Korean living in Australia, you have enough experience to communicate between two different cultures or whatever." You said after a long, drawn-out hum. Your voice had the right timber, neither extensively textured nor flat. It was a hum that immediately allowed him to visualize you in reflective thought, hunched over with your knuckles to your chin. Sometimes, you would start to blink excessively, pinching your nose while staring at blank space. What went through your head in these moments was something he didn't have an idea of, but seeing you focused gave him his own push to match your absorbed demeanor.

"After that?"

"I don't know? Any special traits? Being a team player, or working well with adjusting to a new environment?" You suggested.

Special traits?

In a blink of an eye, you suddenly had a box of orange juice in your hands. Taking the thin, plastic straw between your lips, Jake watched the once transparent surface of the straw slowly turn a bright, artificial orange with your delicate sips. You craned your head to the left, as if to ask him if he wanted anything. In response, he shook his head, pretending to scroll through various internship listings and workshops.

In the corner of his eyes, your cooler would always capture his vision. There wasn't anything special about it—it was just a typical cooler that anyone could find in Woolworths. Its design had a standard, trademark blue finish with a white, hard plastic lid. Yours had foldable handles on top of the lid, but the point stands the same; in the end, it was just a cooler. What made it uniquely enigmatic was how your cooler was probably the most well-stocked cooler he's ever seen. It was smaller than the mini-fridge he had in his room, but all types of beverages were crammed in its small container. You also never seemed to run out of drinks, housing a bottomless, infinite supply of whatever you wanted to drink at any given moment. A few days ago, when he saw you take a call in your veranda, you had a bottle of mango cordial in your right hand, taking consistently paced sips as you enthusiastically talked to the other person on the line. Today, you didn't have any beers inside, but you had some cartons of various juices and cans of ciders and seltzers.

What are my special traits?

It was much easier for Jake to direct the question back to you, who now had a can of lemon seltzer resting next to your laptop. It wouldn't do much to help your resume stand out, but if you applied for a beverage company, he had a feeling you'd be hired immediately. Consuming every other beverage but water was, in retrospect, a rare trait, and it could undoubtedly count for a cool party trick or a fun, quirky fact about yourself. Say, if you opened a conversation by saying you could blindly tell the difference between five different apple cider brands, you'd amass a good amount of attention from everyone who happened to be around. If he had the chance to visit your apartment, he'd try swapping a few of your drinks with foreign or off-brand counterparts to see if you can tell the difference.

He tried to think about all the things that made him special in a certain way. He's played the violin for the school orchestra, he's been in both football and rugby clubs throughout his school life, and he was a part of the student council in the last two years of high school. Compared to his empty resume as a university student, his life in his primary and secondary years was more fruitful.

To think about it, many children that shared the same age and social class had all the opportunities in the world either directly handed down to them or forced onto their daily lives by parents who want what's best for their children. In Jake's case, he'd say it was the former. He never felt like his parents were pressuring him to do well in school or join a diverse range of extracurriculars, but it was always at the back of his head to do whatever he could to make his parents proud. When he was a toddler, it meant behaving well in pre-school and making a sizeable amount of friends—for instance, bringing home a perfect test score or a victory from a football match guaranteed a hearty dinner with some of his favorite foods in his primary years. When he was a teenager, each accomplishment he'd add to his school record garnered a burst of joy from his mother and a satisfied nod of approval from his father. Even if he knew they wanted him to "be happy," he was always aware of a looming counter scenario where his so-called "failures" would make them lose hope in him and his future—one where he didn't excel in sports or academics, simply living a mundane life of being as average as one can be. Would his parents continue to shower him with the support he's been receiving so far? Would he continue to unconditionally receive the so-called parental love he got right now if he didn't meet their unspoken expectations?

At that moment during the hot, December summer, sitting in his veranda adjacent to yours, he had an epiphany. One that rattled to the deepest depths of his bones, turning his tanned complexion into a ghostly pallor.

Throughout his entire life, all the way back to when he spoke his first words, he had never truly done something for himself. His affinity for math and physics mostly comes from a subliminal force that his parents pushed on him at a very young age—that doing well in math and science meant doing well in life, which, in return, means he's doing well in general. Sports? It just meant he knew how to cooperate in a team, giving his parents and his family the satisfaction that he knew how to socialize and work with others. In hindsight, all of these subtle pushes towards a path of financial security and broad notions of whatever "success" meant were what his parents thought would be best for him. That was technically one way to show their love and care for him—because what parent would want to see their child fail?

However, it left more room for Jake to think about all his hobbies, acquired tastes, and virtually every single aspect of the life he's lived so far. To what extent were his preferences dictated by his parents? How much of what he liked came from his parents encouraging him to go to football practice or enroll him in private violin lessons? What part of himself was truly, in essence, himself?

Here, he returns his thoughts to you. Although he knew nothing of your private life, family background, and hobbies, one thing he could quickly tell was how independent you were. He wouldn't call it childhood neglect, but he can guess that your parents gave you enough freedom and choice to find what you want to believe in and do what you feel is best for you. There may have been a slight hand in guiding you to a particular path, but your headstrong voice and sharp, hawk-like gaze unquestionably came from the assurance that you know what you wanted for yourself. Even a pastime as small as taste-tasting all the beverages Australia had to offer was, in a sense, something uniquely yours to keep. It was an affinity you decided to build throughout the years because you've grown to love the sugary drinks that you chose. If it were him, he would probably ask for his mother's recommendation, then his father's, then his brother's, then his friends' before making a decision of his "own."

Humans were wonderful creatures who had the extraordinary capabilities to learn and adapt from their surroundings. A further evolution from this survival tactic was the curation of inspiration and creation. People learn from others; then, they adapt what they learn to create and reinterpret something new. In a sense, no human was utterly original, because originality itself was a constant process of remixes and reinventions.

For this disruptive epiphany, Jake no longer believed he was human. He can learn, but he never interpreted anything in his life on his own terms. For instance, he learned to play the violin, but he simply follows the score without making his own slight changes in his playing style. The same can go for sports, where he knows the basics of the game, but he doesn't do anything to improve the team's strategies in a new way. "Go with what you know" was always a phrase that escaped his lips whenever the situation called for it—almost like a mantra to ground himself,

"So, have you thought about any traits yet?" You asked, interrupting his train of thought. The juice box you had in your hands was now lying idly on the surface of your coffee table. A soft, mesh pencil case was placed over the presumably empty juice box to prevent you from littering.

"I can't really think of anything off the top of my head," Jake said after a long, well-thought pause.

"Well, we got something to start with, so try brainstorming from there," You suggested, nodding your head in the rhythms of your movements. When you opened your laptop again, your head followed the momentum, arching slightly backward at the sudden brightness that overwhelmed your eyes.

Most of the friends that Jake has made so far often tell him that labels were reserved and changed depending on a monthly development. Sure, he didn't hit the month mark with you, but he was the type of person who called anyone he exchanged social media accounts with a "friend." With you, however, it was a different story. Your lack of social media aside, he still had no idea what to call you? He initially talked to you as a mentor figure of sorts, but that slowly delved into an empathetic connection that was too informal for a mentorship.

Sometimes, the two of you felt like the same person. One look in each other's eyes usually conveyed your respective emotions. This was usually in your veranda, where the two of you were content with standing next to each other in silence, sipping your woes away with watered-down beer. On other occasions—usually, when he asks you for career-related advice—you felt distant. Not too far away like strangers, but not as near as he wanted you to be.

Right now, you were at that specific distance that he didn't like—neither friends nor strangers; just two people on the balcony, nothing more, nothing less.

"Thanks, I feel proud of being exactly like every Korean-Australian engineering student." Jake bitterly uttered, rolling his eyes at the wanton prospect of marketing his ethnicity.

"Hey, if you think about it that way, you're not gonna get the position," You said, standing up from your seat to prop your elbows on your balcony's railings. "As I said, it's a matter of perspective. If you try to think of it as your strength, then your mind will naturally expand and think of other aspects of yourself as an asset."

Jake stood up and followed suit, leaning as far as he could to close the burgeoning distance he felt between you two. Now, you felt like a nostalgic friend again—a warm, cozy feeling of kindness that made him feel like it was okay to exist.

"Here you are telling me you got fired for no reason, but the board was probably just scared of what you'd bring to the table or something," He said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your mouth was agape, too stunned to say a single word. There were moments like this where Jake showed effortless kindness in his own abrupt, arbitrary way—one that didn't demand anything in return. It was almost addictive, and you found yourself holding back, gripping the railings of your balcony as tight as you could.

"Earth to Jake?" You said. "You never compliment me, so I guess this warrants a break,"

Your sudden loss of confidence and calm was hard to tell in the summer, and you masked it with your own way of expressing thanks. Even with your eyes heavily squinting at the sky, Jake took your awkward way of thanking him with a burst of laughter. Maybe you'll throw him something in your cooler—better yet, a rather pricy can of good quality seltzer that he saw when you briefly opened it to get another juice box.

"Seconded, but tell me our current scoreboard."

"Let's see,"

You took your phone from your pocket, quickly scanning through apps and emails you've received in the past week. You then checked the texts that Jake sent you on each company or internship opportunity that rejected him.

"You got rejected from three internships, and I've received two emails from employers discussing interview dates and times." You said with a smile, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. Truth be told, you couldn't see anything due to the glare from the sun's rays, but you've scanned through your emails multiple times to memorize what was usually on top of your inbox. Though, to protect his ego, you held off on mentioning two more companies that gave you a call about a potential interview and a brief tour of the company.

"Fuck you," He spat with a smile, raising his two middle fingers in the air. Perhaps this was another way of him showing his kindness to you, and you returned the gesture with a large heart over your head.

"You're welcome."

Since then, another week had passed. Jake doesn't see you as much as he would like, and small glimpses of your reflection in business casual clothing didn't suffice to the casual balcony banter that slowly became a part of your daily lives. It took him a while to process that he was already one month into his summer vacation since most of his days were spent tweaking his cover letters and answering phone calls about interviews. However, when the Facebook posts about Christmas countdowns and house decor began appearing all over social media, he decided to call you to celebrate Christmas together.

Usually, he would book a flight to Brisbane to see his family, but, he thought of staying in Kensington this time. Most of the people he knew back home were already working full-time jobs, and those that were still in school probably had a lot to talk about. As much as he wanted to see his family, he was willing to wait another year until his graduation to face them with even a minuscule amount of honor and pride. The same could be said for his high school friends back home—reunions were events he regularly attended, but in his current state, he would much rather stay in Kensington than listen to the success stories of his childhood friends.

Most of his classmates went home for the summer, and some stayed behind to study for deferred exams or escape the harsh winters of their homeland. Awkward reunions and a lack of conversations aside, he mostly stayed behind after you told him you weren't going home.

"I can't really see my mom right now, especially now that I'm unemployed." You said on the phone when he asked about Christmas. Most of the people who lose their job in movies often go back home to their families to find their footing back. Usually, he would point this out to you, but he decided to nod along with your short call. Your voice felt so far away, owing to the slow pauses you'd often take whenever you talked about your family or your hometown. He didn't pry much into it; after all, he didn't believe he had any rights to do so. As your peer, he had to keep a sizable distance that didn't tread out of his impromptu mentorship with you. As a friend, he understood that you had your own set of boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. As your neighbor, he mostly stayed quiet about the soft sniffles he'd hear from the other side of the wall.

Now, as your holiday companion, he was walking next to you at the farmers market in Leichhardt, hoisting a large, canvas tote bag filled with fruits up his shoulder.

You got a juicer as a Christmas present from one of your friends, who came by to visit you since her family lived in Sydney. She moved to the U.S. after meeting an American international student who she fell in love with, and now she's making more than enough as a young professional in Wall Street. She's tried to talk you into moving to the U.S. or Canada, since the market for finance specialists and investment bankers flourished more in the North American continent. You've thought it through for a few months, but you couldn't bring yourself to move to another country. Adjusting to a different culture or being utterly homesick wasn't an issue to you—it was more so the horrifying scenario of being unemployed in a foreign country.

On Christmas day, Jake woke up to his phone's ringtone right by his ear. He knew who the caller would be without checking the caller I.D., so he threw on a shirt from the floor and rushed to the door. As expected, it was you, carrying a massive juicer in your hands. There was a wide grin plastered on your face, even if you struggled to carry the thing with both hands.

"Can I come in?" You asked, leaning your back against his doorframe. You propped your knees up in support, resting the bottom of the juicer on your thigh. The natural thing to do here is to help you carry the useless machine to his kitchen, but it was that masochistic urge within you to deal with things yourself that prevented him from lending you a hand. If he were to help you carry it to his kitchen, it would be when you gave up and asked him for assistance.

"Is that a freebie from your new workplace?" Jake asked, stepping aside to let you in. Though, judging from your rather casual outfit, you didn't look like you came back from a job interview. Accordingly, you shook your head, dragging your legs to his kitchen.

"It's a gift from a friend." You continued between huffs. "When she asked me what I wanted from the States, I told her to find the most American home appliance ever."

The juicer was now on his spare counter, adding a touch of minimalism to his empty kitchen. When he first moved in, he didn't feel the need to fill his kitchen drawers with tools and frying pans that he would never use. The only item he needed was a pot to boil instant noodles in and a microwave to heat up takeout or frozen meals. He did buy a spatula and a Teflon pan last year to start cooking scrambled eggs. A new addition to his pathetic excuse for a kitchen was a toaster—which he decided to buy after complaining about his frozen waffles and bread going too soggy in the microwave. Now, with the juicer in the corner, he can slowly see his kitchen become a useful part of his apartment. Who knows? After a juicer, he might go for a hand mixer or an air-fryer.

For now, though, the juicer alone served its purpose of allowing Jake to envision what a kitchen should look like. Contrastingly, the juicer was currently just a huge steel block of machinery. If there were no fruits to juice, then was it even a juicer?

"I thought Americans would rather use a blender," Jake said, looking at the magnificent, strange machine that blended into his apartment.

"I guess that works too, but many people here already use blenders," You replied. "Juicers are a bit different since I haven't seen anyone I know own one—not even the person who got this for me from the States."

"My mom used to have one until she threw it out for a blender," Jake said. There was a crumpled manual attached to the side of the juicer, and he slowly peeled it off to read it.

"Yeah, well, mine didn't. We just bought juice at the supermarket." You retorted, folding your arms to your chest as you watched him read the small instruction booklet.

"That's probably why she threw it away, because she realized that children don't really care about health or sugar content," Jake added, remembering a time when his mother would make him freshly squeezed juice. In hindsight, he appreciated the effort that his mother put into making him and his brother's lunches, but as a child, he never really cared much for quality. As long as something was delicious, he was content with whatever went into his palate.

"You know what? Let's get some fruit." You said out of the blue. Jake was too stunned to speak at the moment that he just went with your impulse, following in silence as you took his hand to drag him out of your apartment complex. He didn't take a shower, nor did he have the chance to change into better clothes, but by the time his head started working, he was already inside the bus, next to your side profile. You were watching the rows of tall buildings across the street pass by, each window emitting a pretty blue light. Your eyes trailed along, hypnotized by the alluring luster of the sunlight's reflection.

By the time the two of you reached the farmers market, you were already running off to one of the fruit stalls, carrying a large canvas bag that you impulsively bought along the way.

"Jake! Over here!" You beckoned, turning back with a large grin on your face.

You gripped the canvas bag tight as the summer breeze strengthened, blowing some of your hair off your face. Bathed under the blue skies and the colors of the sun's rays, you were a picturesque scene out of a movie that Jake had watched back in high school. He couldn't remember the title, but there was one part of the film where two people without labels go to a farmers market in the U.S., spending time together for the first time without the complications of lust.

What are you, my girlfriend? He wanted to retort, but kept his mouth shut instead to jog to where you were.

Once Jake had caught up to you, you pulled at his shirt's sleeve to drag him everywhere—to your favorite stalls, the flea market section that sold weirdly intricate trinkets, and of course, the produce section that seduced your noses with fresh fruits.

Throughout the day, there were definitely times where you've lost Jake somewhere. He would always make sure to call you whenever he ended up on the other side of the market or if he was caught up with another pushy salesman's pitch, but that still didn't make your job of finding him any easier. Precious time you could've spent on browsing more fruit stalls often had to be sacrificed to look for Jake, and whenever you did manage to find him, he had a look of joy on his face that was too difficult to turn down.

"So, you're telling me you've never been to Leichhardt before?" You asked, after chasing him down to a handmade jewelry stall. Jake proudly held a bracelet wrapped in petite packaging, carefully removing the tape to reveal colorful, childlike patterns with pearls and yellow smiley faces. Taking your hand in his, he wrapped the accessory onto your wrist, admiring his purchase. He showed off his own wrist for extra measure, which was adorned with a larger rendition of the bracelet he got for you.

"Nope. I mostly stayed in Kensignton because of school." He finally responded, after you had to repeat your initial question to him. "I never took you as a person that went out a lot."

You took your arm up to the sky, using the sunset's marmalade glow to watch the white pearls turn into a shade of bright, pale orange. Jake took his bracelet and did the same, taking his phone out to take a few photos.

"I didn't, but I used to go to the farmers market with my ex a lot when I was still in uni." You casually replied, pulling your arms back down to your sides. Jake stopped in his tracks and looked at you with wide eyes—something you initially took as an insult. Did you really think I was never in a relationship? You wanted to ask, but kept your tongue locked behind your teeth, anticipating whatever was going to come out of his mouth.

"Wait, you went to USyd?"

"Yeah? Why?" You answered, taken aback by the unexpected question.

You showed him a photo of your graduation ceremony last year to back up your claim. It was your run-of-the-mill set of pictures with family, friends, and classmates wearing the classic black graduation gown above your plain dress. There was one photo of you with a smile he's never seen before, displaying the laminated diploma with your name signed by the Dean. You were standing right in front of the campus lawns, arching your head to the side. Your eyes lit up in crescents, forming curvatures with the apples of your cheeks. Jake tried to picture himself holding his diploma with a smile as bright as yours, but he shivered at the thought of seeing himself graduate.

"I should be bowing down to you or something, mate." He abruptly uttered, catching you off guard. Although you should be used to the arbitrary and swift way Jake changes conversation topics, your mind was now filled with your memories as a full-time student. Sure, a year may seem recent, but graduation felt so far away from your current self. Until now, you were an official part of the workforce in national surveys. Currently, you were back to square zero, falling under a category worse than those who aren't considered employed. To think that you would experience your first steps into adulthood along with one of your biggest fears was surreal to you, and all you could do was heave a deep sigh. The least you could do right now was to hide your woes and uncertainties from the person who sought direction in you.

You slowly took your phone back into the canvas bag, which was now filled with all kinds of vibrant fruits. The last photo that Jake looked at before giving your phone back was a photo of you and your ex, smiling happily as you played catch with your diplomas in the sky. By then, the two of you had already broken up, but it was an amicable departure with no trace of bitterness or spite.

"Says the person who's gonna graduate from UNSW," You replied a little later, making up for the lack of comedic timing by impersonating a narrator.

"Why did you move to Kensington when it's a thirty-minute bus ride to your campus?"

Jake's question shouldn't have struck a nerve in you, but it did. By now, the sun had already set halfway, embracing the entire marketplace in a velvety glow. Streaks of violet that painted the afternoon sky harmoniously blended with the neon lights that began to shine in the looming darkness of the night. You pointed towards a nearby cafe, and he followed along, carrying a paper bag of fruits and freshly baked bread in his arms.

"I was gonna move in with my ex, who went to school in the same uni as you." You started once the two of you found an open seat. Taking the menu into your hands, you called for a waiter and ordered what you usually did when visiting this cafe. Jake decided to have what you were having on a whim, mostly because he couldn't look at the menu long enough to decide on something.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it," Jake replied with a small, forced smile.

"No, it's fine! It's all in the past now." You replied, frantically shaking your hands in his direction. "Anyway, we broke up after I signed the lease to the apartment I currently live in. The rent was also cheaper than the rooms I was looking at in Camperdown, so I decided to stay."

He nodded at each word, noticing how fondly you talked of your past lover. How he wasn't a bad person, how both of you had naturally fallen out of love, and how in another life, you would still choose to date him despite knowing the eventual outcome. There was no hint of romance or affection, however, and your nostalgic tales of going on dates at cafes or turning his dorm room into a mini bar sounded more like your typical college montage than an ideal relationship.

Did you come here with your ex too? In this very seat, sharing the same drink, with that big smile on your face?

By the time your drinks had arrived, Jake had been staring out the window for what felt like an hour, watching people turn into a quick blur that blended with the shadows that expanded as the sun slowly descended back down to earth. At first, you tried to alert him—tap his shoulder, call his name, or even swap your drinks to see if he'd notice. However, after five more minutes of waiting, you decided to leave him be. A part of you had a feeling that he was going to bring it up in the conversation at some point, and another started to run several simulations on what might have triggered that response.

"You know, I didn't think of you as someone who'd be in a relationship." Jake blurted out after a long pause. He kept his eyes on the window, chin rested on his palm.

"How come?"

"I don't know? You seem like the type of person to prioritize work over anything,"

You laughed bitterly, forcing yourself to look at the man in front of you. Of course, you just began getting closer to him, so a few bumps on the road was to be expected. Even then, the reality of human complexity began to baffle you—one moment, the two of you felt attached to the hip, and all of a sudden, you couldn't even talk to him without worrying about the smallest details. Perhaps this was how people worked, or you were simply doomed to have all the personal relationships in your life end in a cold flame.

"Honestly, I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult." You muttered under your breath after a long, silent pause. You gave yourself the time to examine his features under the dim lights of the crowded cafe. With the way he sat right now, elbows glued to the table and gaze wandering off the mundane view of the window, you couldn't help but hold back another sigh from escaping your lips.

You really do remind me of someone,

"It could be both," Jake replied, sharply turning his head back to you.

"Both…" You repeated, nodding your head.

You took your cold coffee to your lips, pressing the liquid onto their surface out of habit before taking small sips. Jake did the same, realizing that his mug was still full. When you raised your ceramic mug to your lips, he flimsily repeated, causing both of you to laugh at each other.

And just like that, everything seemed to be alright again.

"How about you?" You asked between chuckles, carefully timing your drink so it wouldn't shoot up your nostrils.

"I think it's quite obvious,"

He put his drink down and flashed you a smile wrapped in layers of emotions. You slowly picked apart at each one, curating questions in your head based on the twitches of his cheek or the solemnity of his gaze. There was a refreshing air to him when he spoke about his previous relationships, and you nodded accordingly to each story he had to offer. Although reluctant at first, he was already an unstoppable chatterbox by the third sentence, as if he exhaled stories of endless summer flings, nights to remember, and relationships that were too short to be considered serious relationships. By the last girl, his breathing slowed into that of mild relaxation, and you understood well enough what he just went through.

Catharsis.

It was probably the exact reason why you decided to share your own previous relationship with him, despite the short time you've known him. Stories of exes between a cup of coffee should be something told after a few months of knowing each other, but with this version of Jake in front of you, you felt that you could share everything and forget about it the next day. Judging by the lightheartedness of his tone throughout his own lists of past lovers, you were relieved to know that he reciprocated the sentiment.

There was also a slight hint of envy in the atmosphere at your contrasting stories. Sure, yours didn't end up in a bonafide disaster like some of Jake's stories, but perhaps the amicability of it all made it even harder for you to process. There were no feelings of love and affection between you two anymore, and yet here you were, reminiscing over him like he was the best part of your life. For Jake, it was his supposed aloofness to it all. He was supposed to act like he didn't remember or cherish the drunken night-outs and temporary nature of his relationships, yet whenever he was asked about it, all the details came crashing down at once. The smell of the air, the distant sound of the sea, and the bright smiles of whoever was next to him at any given moment. There were a few hazy fragments that took more time to visualize, but everything else came in full clarity.

Was it nostalgia? I don't know.

"I don't even think I've ever been with someone for four months since leaving home," Jake said, reflecting on all the so-called relationships he'd been through. "I kept telling myself I didn't have time to commit, but when I think about it, I was probably just scared."

"Scared of?"

"Rejection? I don't know?"

"You don't wanna get dumped, so you dump them first, right?" You blurted out, then covered your mouth as a sign of apology. He gave out a small chuckle, taking his drink while slowly shuffling his seat. He nodded his head towards the window, and you gave him space to sit next to you. Once the two of you were side to side, brushing shoulders and sharing the same drink, he reached for the menu to refill your orders.

"Well, not really. It's more like I draw the line before things get too serious."

"When do things get too serious?" You asked too quickly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Nah, it's fine." He replied, shrugging you off and giving your shoulder a light pat. "To be honest, I haven't thought about it. It just happens instinctively, when my gut tells me that I'm slowly going mad or something."

"Mad as in?"

"I start to think about her every day for no reason, or when I prioritize seeing her over my uni work or my friends. Things like that."

That's what being in love is supposed to be, dumbass, you thought, emptying your drink right before the waiter came to refill your mugs. Jake surprisingly kept his eyes off the alcoholic section of the menu, opting to order one of the cafe's cute lattes. Considering your order was a sugarless dark roast, you lightly hit his shoulder as an apology for instinctively ordering too fast. He offered you his drink, and the two of you took photos of it before clinking your mugs together. You didn't know what you were raising your glass for, but perhaps it was to recognize your camaraderie regarding hopeless romance and failing adulthood.

"Yeah, being in love is scary, isn't it?" You replied, feeling the warmth from your mug. "You start to lose track of everything around you, your judgment gets skewed, and you start to devote your all to a person that has the potential to call it quits and leave at any given moment."

"I mean, I can see how the struggle is worth it if the end goal is a wholesome, pure relationship based on hard-earned trust, but I don't really see myself going through the process to get to that sort of place."

The hums of Jake's voice resonated within you as he spoke, and you took his words to heart. Being in the middle of young adulthood and full employment definitely left both of you on a confusing, unnavigable threshold. By age, the two of you were technically considered young. Both of you had just turned twenty-two, and there were many years ahead of you to figure yourselves out. At the same time, you being out of university and Jake having to decide what to do before he officially enters the workforce adds a time limit to just how much you can continue living outside the shackles of adulthood. In a sense, you had too much time in your hands, but simultaneously, you didn't—and right now, you were feeling the dilemma in its entirety. There was all the time in the world to continue the race towards employment and a "stable" career, and yet each time idly spent together made it clear that time was running out.

"I kind of understand," You nodded, taking the mug to your lips. "Why get a boyfriend when I can have all the benefits and not get hurt with a friend, right?"

You gazed at the window, taking another sip of your bitter beverage. Feeling the weight of Jake's head on your shoulder, you took your hands to ruffle his hair, rubbing gentle circles on his temple. The sun was no longer present, and just like that, the night came with the vivacity and vibrance of the city. Both of you knew that in some part of your souls, you were using each other to fill a certain emptiness. Whether it was a lack of love or direction in life didn't matter so long as the effects were the same.

"Never thought I'd agree with you on stuff like this," Jake muttered under his breath. You leaned your head on the crown of his head, softly chuckling in response.

"Well, this is coming from someone who prioritizes my career over anything else,"

"True."

Deja vu had rushed into your system as you felt Jake's head hit your chin in a state of panic. He was juggling his phone between his hands to turn the blaring ringtone off, which turned heads in the entire cafe. Jake rapidly bowed his head as an apology, excusing himself to rush out the door. He then waved at your reflection in the glass window, turning back to finally pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Jake greeted his unknown caller, slowly lifting his phone right next to his year. He watched your reflection as you waved and ducked your head into your own phone, casually scrolling through whatever you missed. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw you gather the canvas bags of fruits and several groceries upright, leaning them on the seat's frame so they don't topple over.

"Jake! I haven't talked to you in a while! Is now a good time?" A familiar voice replied on the other end of the line.

"Ah, Prof Lewis! Long time no talk!"

How did you get my number? Jake thought. As far as he could remember, he only gave his professor his school email during his voluntary apprenticeship.

"I sent you an email a week ago, but I didn't get a reply, so I thought I'd call you." The professor's voice was slower and heavier than usual—perhaps it was the signal? Or maybe it was about his poor job as an assistant. Whatever it was, Jake held his breath in silence, heightening his senses to hear what the professor had to say.

Amidst the cacophony of the bustling city and the tourists who trotted around Leichhardt, all he could hear was his breathing and the shuffling of papers on the other end of the line.

"It's about your independent research and the thesis you wrote," The professor spoke after a long pause filled with the sound of rustling paper. "I was reading through it since your supervisor asked me for my input."

Shit.

Professor Lewis was one of the stricter markers he's encountered in university. Although he wasn't unreasonable by any means, he was notorious for giving out exams that tested his students' critical thinking rather than their memorization skills. He was the type of professor who often emphasized real-life situations and case studies in his lectures, adapting his stories into an exam about fluid mechanics or machine kinematics. Whenever he—not his T.A. team—personally called his students, it either meant they flunked his assignments or had an opportunity to work under him.

"Jake," Professor Lewis' voice started with a deep sigh. Upon hearing his name, Jake held his breath even more, anticipating the worst. In his defense, he did devote his all to his thesis—after all, academics were his only saving grace. If he lost all the opportunity to gain internship experience or work co-op jobs, then he had to have something commendable in his resume to prove that he was something with the theoretical skills and knowledge for his career path.

"You're one of the few students who have amazed me since you've attended my fluid mechanics class. You've blown me away again with this thesis, and I really think you should consider going into research."

One thing that Jake couldn't comprehend about Professor Lewis was his monotonous voice. He couldn't tell if his professor was serious, sarcastic, or downright cruel. By this point, Jake felt his head go dizzy with a barrage of emotions that swelled in his chest. Should he be happy that one of the toughest professors enjoyed reading his thesis? Or should he be nervous and scared at the prospect of taking his first step into adulthood? What if all of this was a joke? No matter how much Jake wanted to reply, all he could muster was a silent breath of awe.

"I've already worked with you before, when you helped me out with my own research. So if you need a referral letter for grad school, just come to me and we can work things out." The professor calmly said.

"I'm also looking for a research assistant again—this time, it's on electron flow in 3D materials. This position is also a paid opportunity, since we're working with other schools across the world."

"Of course, I'll give you some time to think about it, but—"

"When do I start?" Jake interrupted, failing to contain his excitement. It was easy to tell how difficult he was finding it to accept that all of this was really happening.

"Great! You're supposed to start after you graduate, so that's around March. You have two months to prep yourself, so I'll send some research papers and articles you can read in your free time." The Professor added.

"If you're interested in making money on the side, I can also get you a teaching assistant position in one of my classes."

"Thank you so much, Prof Lewis. I won't disappoint you,"

The call was over as soon as it had started. Jake rushed to you with a wide grin on his face, taking your shoulders inside his arms. Everything was happening too fast, so you didn't have enough time to react. Instead of pushing him away, you joined him in his own little celebration, slowly taking your arms to his shoulder blades and giving each wing a gentle pat. Jake was naturally warm, but there was something special to the temperature he exuded. The coziness you felt from his embrace was too infectious, and you found yourself cheering with him despite not knowing what to celebrate in the first place.

"What's up? Your mom?" You asked under your breath. You felt him shake his head on your shoulder, giving you a chance to let go.

"Nope, even better." He replied with a smile.

"Your ex who wants to get back with you?"

"Guess again,"

"That girl who ghosted you some time ago, who now wants to talk again?" You chuckled. When the waiter came with the bill, Jake stopped your hand and took his credit card out, giving you a sly wink. Despite your inner protests, you knew that there was nothing that could stop Jake in his current state, so you shrugged your shoulders as a sign of forced approval.

"That's not any better than an ex, but alright."

"So, you've scored a date?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

This girl, I swear.

Jake took his card back in his tiny wallet, startled at your seemingly childish guesses. He would have expected a career-oriented person such as yourself to find out immediately, but he held his tongue, enjoying your somewhat subtle displays of youth. Taking both the canvas bags and his own paper bag of groceries in his arms, he held the door with his feet. You did a dramatic curtsey and grabbed one of the canvas bags, telling him that you needed to help.

"What is it, then?"

"It's that prof I used to work with."

"Hydrodynamics guy?" You replied, imagining the typical image of a mad scientist. You didn't even know what the word meant, but somehow, you were able to remember the conversation where Jake mentioned it.

"Yeah, he read my thesis, and he wants me to work for him again."

The sudden news almost made you drop your canvas bag of fruits to the ground. In the knick of time, you caught a bright, red apple that glowed even in the darker areas of the city streets. You should be happy for him—after all, the reason you started this was to help him out of his slump. As the person who graduated and entered the workforce first, it was your job to mentor him and guide him. However, you didn't expect him to turn the tides this quickly. Although his term ended, his graduation ceremony was later in March. Considering the time, you'd at least expected for him to rely on you a little more until he finally held his diploma in his hands.

On the surface, you forced yourself to muster a smug, prideful smile. Deep inside the depths of your heart, however, you knew that you had nothing to do with Jake's impressive accomplishments. When people mention the haves and have nots, all you can think of is the difference between yourself and Jake. Unlike Jake, who was naturally gifted with intelligence, you had to work to get to where you were back in university. Every prize and position you've held could've slipped away from your hands if you didn't strive to maintain your standing, and each day was a struggling battle of fighting against natural talent.

"Great! You're finally catching up to me!" You said, trying your best not to stutter. You continued to watch each step you took carefully, hoping you wouldn't fall any time soon.

Like a series of blurry shots taken by a moving camera, all the colors of the city faded—images of the buildings and the telephone poles flashed through your mind in a nauseating frenzy. You saw Jake in the distant future, working his way up the research and development ladder in a laboratory somewhere in North America. The thought alone sent endless shivers down your spine, and you did your best to snap out of it, filling your head with the Jake that was right in front of you.

"Oh, I think you need to catch up to me." He replied, returning your smug tone tenfold. "This position is paid, and he asked me if I wanted to become a teaching assistant for a bit."

"Two jobs?! Jake, that's fucking insane!"

Each word of assurance that came out of your mouth boomeranged back to you, filling your chest with an immense pain that made it too difficult to breathe.

"What happened to the three job interviews?" Jake suddenly asked. You halted again, quickly catching the fallen fruits back in the bag before they fell to the ground.

"Everything's next week because we're on holiday." You replied with a small smile, hiding away the pain that stabbed you more ferociously with each second.

"Anyway, what do you say? Pub crawl?"

"Nah, I've grown past the pub crawls and night outs after leaving uni." You muttered, passing off the chance to celebrate with him. "You can go if you want, though."

Please go alone, don't mind me at all. You wanted to say, but kept your mouth shut and went along with the usual tone. Without even realizing it, your fingers instinctively pressed themselves against the bag, leaving marks on some of the fruits that were inside. Kicking scraps of rocks in the pavement that led to the bus stop, you tried to hold back the tears that were waiting to burst out of your eyes.

"What, and celebrate with some randos? I mean, that's what I'd probably do, but what am I gonna do with all these fruits?"

"I can bring it home? We're neighbors, so I can just drop it off the next day and make you some orange juice to help you recover from your hangover."

Even though you kept saying the same excuses through different sentences, repeating yourself so often that Jake saw through your facade, your tone managed to remain opaque—with no hint of melancholy in it. Jake, who believed himself to be an observant fellow, can't even seem to notice that each second you spent with him suffocated you.

"Why can't we just test the juicer out together?"

"What about your pub crawl?"

"I'm not really feeling it if you're not coming with me."

Disguising your distraught tears as that of joy, you hooked your arms onto his, using his shoulder as a handkerchief to wipe all your pain away. By the time the two of you had arrived in your apartment building, you took the fruits to his room and made yourselves a terrible rendition of a strawberry daiquiri. Before you knew it, you've lost count of how much vodka you put inside the juicer, hysterically laughing while watching strawberries get crushed in the cylindrical, metallic plates of the machine. Jake, too, felt the four walls around him cave in, melting into one, fine puddle. The darkness of the night seemed too still, startling him—and yet amidst the void, you seemed more sharply visible than anything in his line of sight.

Jake didn't understand it, and he didn't have the power to think anymore. The floor to his veranda was slowly merging with his feet, turning into a tunnel that led back to you. He wasn't so sure with what he saw as of now; one second, you were extremely joyful, covering his cheeks with sloppy kisses and high-pitched laughter. In another, you would cradle his arms and bury your face in his shoulder, lamenting in incomprehensible bursts of anger, bitterness, and despair. With each emotion you showed, you grew more and more transparent—almost see-through in a sense. It was as if you would disappear into thin air if Jake didn't hold you tight or feel your rapid pulse on his nimble thumbs.

"C-can I—"

In the very balcony that brought the two of you to what could've been a path of camaraderie amidst the battle called adulthood, Jake's arms felt your shape with the cool breeze of the summer night, perfectly molding each crevice of your body with his touch. His warmth resonated with yours on a cellular level, dispelling any winds that caressed your bare neck. Holding his cheeks in your palms, you allowed yourself to surrender to his moon-shaped gaze, sloppily touching his forehead with your own. The sparkle in Jake's eyes was of someone who believed in dreams—that reality can manifest into one's hands with a single push. You closed yours and grazed your lips to his nose, then to his cheek, and then to his soft lips, hiding the terribly painful gleam with the sweetness of your tongue.

And so, fate had decided that Jake no longer needed you anymore.

iii. elephant in the room

"So, tell me about yourself,"

You heard the door close. In front of you were two suited men—one that looked fresh off the boat, and the other, who was probably a veteran hiring manager for at least a decade. There was an unearthly disquietude that loomed in the entire room, making the blazer you donned feel heavier than it already is. You've been through many practice interviews, and you've already memorized the patterns of the questions that were going to be thrown in your direction. Adding to that, you've recited all the "curveball" questions to your memory, crafting several idealistic responses to each and every one of them.

And yet, despite how much preparation you've done over the years, the first half of an interview always had the same, foreboding atmosphere that holds a firm, suffocating grip on your neck. In an instant, your mind goes blank, failing to recall all of the training and preparation you went through. Despite the rush of blood to your head, you mustered a small, gentle smile to your interviewers, folding your hands to your lap while fixing your posture. Then, you made sure to keep your eyes on the two men in front of you, recalling the importance of nonverbal first impressions.

"Well, I've been a professional finance analyst for over a year, specifically in the commercial sector. I previously worked for a large pharmaceutical company to provide business partners with investment analysis and sales strategies. Now, I'm looking to expand my experience across different industries, particularly the tech sector, which is why I am very interested in joining your company." You said, dictating every word of your story with a humble, yet confident tone.

"Pharmaceutics? That's quite rare for a young person like you," The veteran replied, flicking his pen back and forth to scribble nonsense onto a notepad.

There were industry secrets across several forums you've scoured regarding job interviews—how pretty privilege prevails for women, how the notes hiring managers to jot down are just for show, and how the questions being asked have a predictable, universal formula that is recyclable across all sectors. Using the weapon of femininity, you exuded a gentile, dainty air of sensibility, carefully timing your glances between the veteran and his timid assistant. Whenever you spoke, you made sure to widen your eyes a little, playing with the light to add sparkles to your irises. You also made use of your hands, keeping them at a level that emphasized your sentences, yet never disrupted the flow of the conversation.

"I've voluntarily worked as a finance analyst at the University Health Center for two years, which gave me the necessary experience and skill set to work in the medical finance field."

"I see," The veteran said with a hint of contempt. "Young professionals like you frankly intimidate me, because you lot are all overqualified!"

"Thank you," You replied, keeping your cheeks lifted in an inviting smile.

This HM's a fucking asshole.

When hiring managers use the term "overqualification" to reject a job applicant, it is usually out of an absurd inferiority complex. Suppose parents spend all their income on sending their children to a top-tier university without a guarantee of securing employment. What was the point of marketing the "perfect education" to produce useless overqualified children who have too many skills for a specific job? The more you wrapped your head around it, the more you realized how empty and outlandish the standards for hiring managers were. The current norm of company loyalty also made it harder for an "overqualified" person such as yourself to secure a job in your early steps into adulthood. It should be akin to common sense that people come and go, and as much freedom a company has laid off their workers; workers should also have the freedom to take a leave or find better pay when it suits their interests.

"So, why did you leave such a huge company to work with us? If I were you, I would've stayed and worked for a promotion!"

What a bitch!

Although you've anticipated a question like this to appear at some point in the interview, you were still taken aback by how it was asked rather early. Usually, questions relating to conflict or job complications came in the later phase of the interview, after the hiring manager has gathered enough information about their applicant. Nonetheless, you skimmed through the scenarios you've replayed in your head, finding the perfect solution to clear the challenge presented in front of you. In situations like these, it was extremely important to appeal your skills and expertise to the usefulness of your employer's company. It was also a crucial step in your direction to express genuine interest and intrigue with how the company's vision and mission align with your work ethic. With your thorough research on each of the companies you applied to, you eased yourself into the steel chair you were sitting on, maintaining your straight posture while brightening your smile.

"Well, your company paved the way for fintech in Australia, and I would love to be a part of the team that made financial products easier to access to the Australian population." You explained, tilting your head to the side and utilizing subtle body language to the fullest.

Hiring managers were always unreadable. They were either enthusiastic about your presence, or completely indifferent to you. From experience and the mentors you've encountered, you've understood that the attitude presented by a hiring manager during an interview did not guarantee employment or an acceptance of an application. It was the same story you've heard when your high school friends got rejected by some of the top schools in the world. Initially, they came home from their interviews gushing about how they connected with the interviewer, only to receive a deferral or a complete rejection from their "dream school."

The room was now flooded with a stuffy weight that made you lose your breath with each word. There was no use trying to read through your interviewer's face, yet you still tried, using a smile to cover up your intentions. Are they satisfied with my experience? Do they think I'm "overqualified," or is it the opposite? Should I have reduced some of my experiences in my resume? Have I done enough?

Have I done enough?

"I know that your team has started this company to help citizens become smarter with their home loans, helping millions of consumers worldwide to easily understand the complexities of finance."

The veteran tapped his pen to his desk in a predictable rhythm, each motion synchronizing with the rapid palpitations of your heart. You took some time to swallow all that was building up within your mouth cavities, hearing every gulp and swish that your body produced. His assistant gave quick glances between his laptop, you, and his superior, frantically typing the meeting minutes in the same rhythmic pattern as the veteran's pen.

"The part that spoke to me, in particular, was how this position has given me the chance to fully switch over into the fintech sector, showcasing my years of experience in data analysis and SQL."

You could've sworn there was magic within the veteran's pen, for each tap he made on the table's surface slowed time for you. Whenever you blinked, your lids would feel heavier than before, and the weight of your head was overbearing. At any rate, you anticipated your breath from stopping altogether, turning your vision into blurred dots and abstract figures of pure matter.

"Joining a fintech company like yours makes sense to me because I believe your position has given me the opportunity to combine my technical skills with my interest in finance and investing."

The veteran's pen had stopped, and time stopped with it. The small, circular wall clock in front of the desk was completely frozen, and the assistant had stopped typing on his laptop. All sound ceased to exist, .trapping you in a vacuum of nothingness. At this moment, you were heavy and light at the same time—feeling weightless yet too grounded on the cold tiles of the corporate office. You've practiced your introduction and your responses hundreds of times before, and yet your tongue was never accustomed to the tension that drifted in the spaces of the questions the hiring managers had asked you.

The veteran's mouth remained open, as if he wanted to interrupt. Instead, he put his pen down, idly staring into the crevices between your brows. There was a look of boredom on his face, which was cleverly disguised with an artificial, uncanny smile that made his lips turn in an unnatural angle. Despite the cheery, upturned structure of his cheeks, his eyes were duly impatient by your answer. Feeling the sweat trickle down your temple, you cleared your throat and allowed yourself to breathe, finding the perfectly concise way to wrap up what essentially became a show-and-tell presentation of all your superior achievements.

"Although I did say I was planning to leave medical finance, I believe that my input and prior experiences can boost your company's financial products by providing people with patient credit assistance. With this, I can confidently say that I am very excited to see how I'll be able to contribute to the firm."

"Interesting,"

You began to dig your nails inside your palm in an attempt to activate your nerves. Although you tried to suppress any form of pain or discomfort with your well-practiced smile, you dug further and further, feeling a trickle of blood gush out of your skin. Your breathing had slowly gone awry, and the veteran transformed into a person you've been trying to forget.

In an instant, the four walls of the office building melted down into the wallpaper that haunted your dreams, transporting you into an endless spiral of all the things in your life that made you afraid of continuing into adulthood. Even if there were only two people in the room that watched your every move, you sensed a hundred pairs of eyes that were currently peering right through your flesh and bones, tearing each muscle fiber apart until all that was left of you were fragmented scraps that were too broken to piece together. A high-pitched ringing started to grow louder and louder in your ear, making it difficult to hear what the veteran was trying to say. You tried to lean closer to salvage what was left of the interview, but instead, your hearing had worsened. The banging noise of the incessant ringing merged with the extremely rapid palpitations of your heart. You kept your heeled feet on the ground as much as you could, attempting to fix the sudden wobbliness that attacked your legs.

"Our country adopted a rather complex hybrid health system, and there are a good amount of people—such as expats and foreign residents—who might need the financial assistance." The assistant blurted out, resuming his inhuman typing on his laptop.

The veteran nodded along, taking his pen to his chin in pensive thought. He then took your file and flipped through your resume—just as he did when you entered the room. Adjusting his glasses, he leaned into his assistant's ear, whispering inaudible mumbles that were too soft from where you sat. The assistant nodded his head along, typing again on the keyboard while the assistant drew circles on a specific point of your resume.

"You did say that you left your previous workplace—am I right to assume that something happened? Perhaps a conflict with your boss or colleagues?"

Checkmate.

The veteran twiddled his pen while keeping his eyes on your resume, glancing back and forth between you and the sheet of A4 paper that practically defined your life. Swallowing all that was left in your mouth, you took a deep breath and rehearsed the answer you had prepared.

"Well, our department was working together to procure a logistics report on the company's new R&D project. My department head and I were arguing over the calculation of the projected budget, and this fight stretched into the day we were supposed to present our findings. Thankfully, we peer-reviewed our respective methods, and because the third parties mostly agreed with what I've calculated, we used my findings in the presentation."

The last thing you saw was the look of disappointment and disdain on the veteran's face, pictured in sharp clarity. Faint voices of the assistant's panic and the door flinging open entered your ear canals, but you were too quick to shut down, allowing your lids to close into a momentary peace. In the darkness, your head spun in an endless spiral that led to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Flashing images of that fateful moment echoed in your head, replaying fragments that were buried deep into the back of your brain. While everything else remained patchy, you would eventually piece each fraction of the memory into a whole picture, reliving the same specific scene over and over again. You're not sure when you'll be released from the spell that locked you in, but at this point, you didn't feel like trying anymore.

You were immediately rushed to the nearby hospital, spending a few moments in the ER before going home. The assistant had stayed until you woke up, giving you his business card and signing off with a "you'll be contacted accordingly." This has been the third or fourth time you've collapsed during a job interview, and each time you recovered, you were given a sedative that amplified all the things you've tried to forget.

You could still hear the voice of your former department head bouncing back and forth throughout your whole body, calling you a bitch and more colorful insults, among other things. Your cheek still tingled and trembled from the harsh slap you received after the presentation that should have guaranteed you a promotion.

You think you're so smart, huh? Graduated from a top school with high distinctions, had internships for big companies, worked in a fucking hospital when you're not even a med major?

Who the fuck do you think you are?

I honestly wish I knew the answer to that. You thought, staring at the white ceiling of the emergency room. Sleep was coming to you again, along with the hysteric bursts of anger your former department head had subjected you to. You tried to close your eyes again, feeling the nurse's presence coming closer. Instead of counting sheep, you counted the number of insults it took for him to break you.

You didn't mean to do what? Make me look stupid in front of all our business partners and investors? Is that what you wanted to do, huh? Make yourself look like this prissy miss goody-two-shoes smartass bitch who's so special because you don't have a dick in the workplace?

Fuck. Off.

When you closed your eyes, the office came to a complete picture. It was a sunny afternoon, and you had been working for the company for eight to nine months. Although you were a new face, you had quickly climbed up the ranks for being an efficient worker who meticulously crafted every logistics report and went through all angles of a risk assessment. In a sense, you were the perfect financial analyst that any company could ask for. If you had taken mathematics, you would have been the face of what an actuary should be, over-analyzing everything from all perspectives to produce accurate, solid advice moving forward.

Picturing your former department head's face was a difficult task. No matter how hard you tried, all you could see was a dark cloud of pure matter, erasing any semblance of what a human face should look like. In some renditions, you could only see the silhouette of his body—his underbelly sticking out of his expensive, leather belt, the smell of nicotine and beer that twirled in his middle-aged breath, and the cold touch of his wedding ring as he twisted your wrist and launched his palm on your cheek.

You told them what? That you did everything right? That your boss can't even do his own fucking work and gets something as basic as statistical calculations wrong?

It was tiring, really. Arguing with yourself all the time, having all these different voices in your head replay the same scenario as you tried to convince yourself that you weren't at fault. You know you did the right thing, but if the right thing had barred you from ever succeeded a job interview, then was it truly the right thing?

Feeling all the air accumulate inside your lungs, you took in the scent of antiseptic and alcohol that filled the air. Ironically, your former workplace's headquarters had a similar, chemically-infused aroma throughout the entire building—especially when you passed by the Research and Development section. You often had to visit the labs to run through the logistics with the research team, and you also checked whatever costs and equipment they needed to ensure everything ran well. It was also your former job to gain more insight on what it took to develop a vaccine or discover a new flu pill, running the prices of chemicals and lab maintenance expenses in your head as the gas mask filled you with your own breath.

Women.

Would it have been different if you weren't a woman? If you were a man, would your former department head treat you better? Would he have praised you instead of firing you on the spot? If you kept your entire background the same but applied as a man instead, would he still lash out like that? Or would he give you backhanded compliments and watch you slowly climb the corporate ladder to success?

How much of a difference would it have made if you weren't you?

This is why I can't stand you. It could've been so easy to just shut the fuck up and let me do the talking, but no, you had to answer that one question about the process and tell the truth instead!

You can vaguely remember what had happened in the conference room. In a neatly pressed suit that you got dry-cleaned specifically for this event, you had a clipboard to your right, while a pointer to your left. When investors and business partners had asked about who calculated all the numbers to show a detailed prediction on where to take the next term's sales strategies, you quickly blurted out your own name instead of passing your work off to your boss, who desperately needed to keep his position. Unlike you, he was someone who got into the company based on his vast network and his social skills. Everything you lacked, such as naturally flawless presentation skills or innate charisma, was something he had. In turn, you were the one who had the theoretical skills necessary for your job and your department—the smarts that carried the team.

Here's my answer: you're fired.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, feeling your breath quicken again. The same nurse had rushed back to you, patting circles on your shoulders while helping you stand up from your position. On his hand was a couple of white, pristine tablets that he gently told you to drink with water. Bowing your head as thanks, you slowly took the pills onto your palm, tossing them inside your mouth in one, swift motion.

Your table's cleared, your stuff's in the trash, and you don't have a place here anymore.

Get lost.

I wish you the best in your future endeavors.

After a few more hours in the emergency room, you slipped your heels on and showed your health card to the receptionist, filling all the necessary paperwork. The hospital got back to you with a couple of blood tests and chest x-rays, showing you that your vitals were normal. The only thing that differed from your last few interviews was the recommendation of a checkup to discuss a potential detection of anemia in your system. You politely took the tests and stuffed them in your bag, waving goodbye as you wobbled out of the hospital.

When you regained enough composure to start seeing clearly again, you took small strides to the bus stop that led back to your apartment. As you walked along the jagged pavement, tears began to flow one after another. The streets, your footsteps, the eerily quiet buildings—everything seems distorted and warped. You felt your breath halt again, feeling a harsh, firm grip on your neck. The cool, summer breeze stung your eyes, and you wrapped your blazer to your shoulders to keep yourself warm.

Things that your eyes normally took in, like the city's skyline or the rows of trees and telephone poles on each block, were blurred with the watery residue of your tears. Everything came zooming in your direction, and you felt too powerless to stop it all.

It was rather pathetic to you that one man can hold so much power over your future. One man and his string of words could render you defenseless and frozen still, unable to move forward from everything that had happened. Wherever you went, no matter what company you applied to, and whoever you called for a job interview, all traced back to the one man that put a nail in the coffin of your first steps into employment.

Whenever you felt like giving up, you started to see Jake's face cheering on, encouraging you to stand up and try again. Who cares about what a dumb, fat boomer has to say? You know your worth! You heard him say right next to you, with the same, bright smile on his face as he tossed you a can of cold beer from his cooler. There was no denying that tomorrow would come, or the day after that—who knows? Maybe next week would arrive just fine, but it was so hard to keep living an endless cycle, and you were tired of feeling the same, sick feeling that muddled the depths of your soul.

You wanted it all to end, but for now, you decided it was time to go home. Seeing Jake wasn't on your list of priorities, but you just needed to be in your room. Nothing good would come out of it, and it was just another way for you to prolong your idle, still life as an unemployed citizen. The more you questioned everything, the more you flooded yourself with bigger waves of despair. Right now, you were utterly devoid of all hope in the world.

Before you could see the dim, distant glow of the bus' headlights, a nostalgic voice delicately said your name.

Jake?

You abruptly turned around and saw the person that once made you feel at home, gently waving his arms in your direction. The timber of his voice as it bounced back and forth between your ears tugged at your heartstrings, painfully tightening your chest with a wave of ease.

"Leo?" You cried out joyfully, remembering how it felt like to say his name again.

He slowly picked up his steps, dropping his backpack on the floor to give you a warm, tight hug. In one fell swoop, he lifted you off your feet, twirling you around with the hot, summer breeze. You nuzzled your head onto his neck; the two of you were past the point of awkward greetings and shyness.

"Wow," Leo said, taking your cheeks in his palms. His eyes were always so glassy, "It's been so long,"

"Yeah…" You replied, burying your head on his shoulder. It was a nice reminder to know that the crown of your head still fit perfectly by the crook of his neck.

"You got thinner, huh?" He said, hoisting you up in the air again.

"Work hasn't been the best, to be honest."

"Do you have time?" He asked, taking your cheeks in his palms. You took his sleeve and inhaled the aroma of coffee beans and vanilla that always surrounded him. What a timing, you thought to yourself.

"Yep! I was just on my way home," You replied, masking your tear-filled voice with one of pure happiness. Even if the two of you weren't together anymore, Leo always evoked a feeling of home whenever he was with you.

"Sweet. Wanna go to the usual place? For old time's sake,"

"Sure."

As the two of you walked to the cafe that witnessed your many firsts with him, you looked up at the sky, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that in this world, there was no place for sadness. Not a single one.

Leo loved any place that specialized in serving drinks. Coffee shops, tea houses, pubs, bars, smoothie shops—he loved all of them equally. According to his friends on campus, he could often be seen by the nearby cafes, drinking the recommended brew of the day. He used to frequent local boba chains until they suddenly gained popularity, making him resign to another type of daytime beverage. If you wanted to find Leo, you could just look at his Instagram stories to see the label of the cup or glass he was holding. He planned to use his platform to become an influencer at some point, but he decided to do one better and switched his major from biochemistry to dietetics with a minor in journalism.

"Many people talk about food, but nobody really focuses on drinks." Leo would often say. "I say they're equally as important—like, having the wrong wine paired with steak can completely ruin the taste."

For some reason, all the men you've encountered in your life had something to do with drinks or beverages. Your father worked as a senior marketing specialist in a large coffee company, then proceeded to target eateries and other foodservice establishments in his mad rampage. Your first crush was someone you met in your part-time job at a pop-up smoothie bar. Your first boyfriend saved you from a spiked drink, then proceeded to share his cup of seltzer with you. Leo was a man who wanted to write about the wonderful world of beverages—and now, you had Jake, who used to smell like energy drinks and beer. Now, he smelled like fresh fruits owing to his newfound obsession with your juicer.

No wonder he reminded me of someone, you thought, staring at Leo. A thick menu was covering half of his face at the moment, but the uncanny resemblance almost made you fall off your seat. Looks-wise, he had nothing in common with Jake; while Jake had the features of a golden retriever, Leo's sharp and glass-like eyes resembled that of a prized cat. Perhaps this was why he always smiled; it was as if the sun itself didn't exist when he didn't.

Unlike Leo, Jake didn't need a reason to smile. His lips were always curled into a wide, inviting grin.

Even if the two of you went to different schools, his friends were aware of who you were. Through the lens of his Instagram feed, the two of you were a picture-perfect student couple who complemented each other in every single way. You had a solemn, yet graceful aura, while he was always cheerful. Your dates were always documented in the form of covertly taken videos of you and polaroid pictures—which he would share online after asking for your permission.

He was always late to your dates, mainly owing to his lousy sense of direction. He'd often miss bus stops or ride the wrong route, so as a compromise, you offered to move to where he currently lived.

This day, too, you were able to catch a glimpse of Leo's phone on Google Maps, and you offered to send him to his destination.

"It looks like it's gonna rain,"

"Nah, I think it's just gonna be the usual hot weather." You replied, taking your hand out to feel the soft patters of light rain on your palm. "Tomorrow's a different story, though."

"Isn't it funny?" Leo uttered out of the blue, but with careful thought. This was one of the many aspects of Leo that reminded you of Jake—impulsive, yet pensive at the same time.

"What is?"

"We used to be so close, and now, we're talking about the weather," He said with a smile, easing all the pains your heart had gone through.

Although it wasn't the turn of events you had predicted, you were definitely grateful for having the chance to sit and chat with Leo again. After all those years of subdued greetings and busy deadlines, you were finally able to see him again, reminiscing all the memories you've made with him so far. You knew how much he tossed and turned in his sleep, remembering the time when he kicked your chin in the morning. You were always the first to witness his unruly bedhead in the morning, and you often helped him out with lathering unhealthy amounts of styling gel to keep some strands locked in place. It was a thought that occurred to you from time to time, but maybe if the two of you were still together, then you wouldn't be worried about your former department head too much. Perhaps you would just complain to him about how you accidentally mixed in your colored clothes with your whites in the laundry machine, thus tainting your work-related dress shirts in a poor rendition of a psychedelic, tie-dye design.

As always, once the two of you had started talking to each other, there seemed to be no end to your conversation. Leo had filled you in about starting his own coffee house, specializing in Vietnamese-styled brewing techniques. He then went on to ramble about how coffee takes time and effort to craft, while you listen, carefully sipping your drink. You then filled him in with the good parts of your former job, masking the fact that you got fired with stories of your accomplishments in a relatively short time.

While you were talking, Leo stared straight into his empty, ceramic mug. An upset look was on his face, which he quickly masked by flashing you his usual grin.

"I know that face, Leo." You said, heaving a sigh. Sometimes, you forget how much you've been with him.

"You know something, right?"

"Wel…. I have a friend in J&J's HR department who kinda filled me in with the brief details." Leo replied after a long, careful pause. "I've been meaning to call you about this, but I guess I just couldn't get the courage to."

"What a small world, huh?" You said bitterly, taking a huge sip of your latte.

"Anyway, I'm really sorry to hear about what happened."

"If you're worried about your reputation in the office, please don't." He continued. "Everyone was—and still is—rooting for you. They just couldn't really say anything bec—"

"Because they'll lose their jobs, right?"

"Finishing each other's sentences as always,"

In the old days, you fell in love with Leo's ability to turn bluntness into comedy. Right now, it struck you as obnoxious. You gripped your own mug tight, dragging the cold tea to your lips. Was he always this annoying?

"Oh, another thing I've heard through the grapevine," He added.

"Yeah?"

"Are you with Jake now?"

"Jesus Christ, I can never run away from you, can I?"

"I mean, if it were any other guy, I wouldn't really ask, but," He paused, swirling his cup of coffee in his hands. "This is Jake we're talking about. He's notorious on campus for being a party animal."

"We're just neighbors, Leo." You jokingly spat, masking your shock through the white, ceramic mug that covered your mouth. "Aside from seeing him in our apartment building, we don't really talk that much."

"Kyungmin saw you holding his hand at the bus stop going to Camperdown."

"I didn't know Kyungmin lived so close,"

"And it's really not a big deal, Leo. I was just accompanying him to my campus because he had a seminar to attend there," You quickly added, keeping your chin attached to the corners of the mug.

"Look, I'm sorry if I sound very defensive right now. Truth is, I just can't wrap my head around this—I mean, whenever I think I know you so well, stuff like this happens, and then, I can't understand you." Leo said, putting his drink down to stare at the window. You did the same, mimicking his stance to avoid eye contact.

"Personally, I really think it's good that you found someone like him. Sure, he's wild and all that, but you need someone to teach you how to go out more and have fun, you know?"

"Thanks."

After you dropped Leo off at the location he wanted to go to, you ended up on the other side of town. Before you knew it, you reached the familiar roads and alleyways that greeted you every time you came home. From where the two of you were, there was a good view of your apartment building through the foliage of trees it was tactfully hiding in.

"So, you live there, right?" Leo pointed. You nodded in response, hoisting your bag up to your shoulder.

"We were gonna live there together because there were many cute cafes and bars around the area,"

Leo was just the right height, but his confident, robust disposition always made you look up at him. The more you glanced at his side profile, the more you began to see yourself in Leo's shoes. What would you do in this situation if you were Leo? You would probably open a cafe on impulse—perhaps a bar? A resto-bar! Maybe you'd even start your own juice company or travel the world to write articles on beverages.

You loved how determined and goal-oriented Leo was—in a sense, you chased after it. Despite that, however, you knew you couldn't keep up with someone like him, and that was perhaps why the two of you were never meant to be together. When you were with him all the time, you grew to hate him for how he seemed to find his own wants and purpose in life.

You were always drawn to Leo's sunny, yet serious attitude—but right now, you needed to be alone. Not even Jake's enigmatic, magnetic charm could instill any form of tranquility in your heart, and you didn't even try to explain your relationship with Jake to him. Even if you did, Leo would just shrug his shoulders in confusion, giving you the same, bright, yet dumbfounded grin that he always gave you whenever he wasn't sure of things.

"Well, bye, I guess?"

"Bye."

Deep down inside your heart, you wanted to stop him by the sleeve, look him in the eye, and ask him he still felt anything for you? Did he love you like he used to? Did he find someone new?

"Cheer up, kiddo!" He exclaimed, grabbing you by the waist and twirling your around in the middle of the park one last time. Even if your laughter bounced around in the air, the sad gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

"Yes, sir."

By the time you took the elevator to your apartment's floor, it was already evening. Everything was back to its melancholic, lonely aura, and you swayed back and forth, allowing all the weight on your shoulders to push you further into the ground. You saw Jake's silhouette waiting by your door, and he jogged to you with the same, blinding grin on his face. Just like Leo, he took you in his arms, rubbing gentle circles around your disheveled hair as you keep your arms to your sides.

"So, how did it go?"

"Fine." You replied, laughing bitterly into his chest.

"I tried out the juicer for the first time on my own, by the way," He said. You buried your head further into his chest, guessing the fruit that he decided to mess with.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I have a pitcher of cranberry juice." He said, slowly pushing you in front of him to see your face. "Thought I'd make it so you'd have something to drink when you come back."

"It's fine. I'm not that thirsty."

You gave him a soft smile, taking his nimble hands off your shoulders. After giving him two pats on his cheek, you turned around, swaying back and forth to the languid motions of your body. Before you could reach your door, Jake firmly held your hand, stopping you in your tracks. Nothing came out of his mouth, but the silence was enough for you to know what he wanted to say.

"Can I go?" You muttered under your breath, taking one step forward to your apartment's door.

"Sure?" Jake replied, as if he'd snapped out of a spell. "I mean, you're probably tired from all those interviews, right?”

He immediately let go of your wrist, standing still as he watched you wobble to your apartment. It took a lot of strength within you to hold yourself back from running into his arms and crying to your heart's content. Sure, nothing was stopping you from doing so, but that was the problem—you weren't strong or ready enough to lay yourself bare to a man like Jake.

As you reached your door, you double-locked the door, slumping your spine on the hard, wooden surface. The pain had struck you with an unforgettable intensity.

Am I losing my mind? You pondered. It was probably the side effects of the medicine and sedatives you took in the emergency room, or the lingering feeling of Jake's touch. Perhaps it was Leo's sudden visit that cast a spell on you? Or, it could be the words that kept replaying inside your head. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could hear was your former department head's voice., growing louder and louder as the silence engulfed your entire apartment. Taking your bag to your chest, you curled up in your entrance with the dirty footprints and shoes aligned on your doorstep. Once you felt safe enough, you buried your head and cried.

Feeling Jake's presence behind your door, you sunk deeper into the leathery surface of your bag, remembering all that you could from the day you got fired. You weren't crying about the specific memory, but instead, you were crying for everything that went wrong in your life.

iv. following fools

Before Jake knew it, autumn came. He had been working for Professor Lewis for two months tops, along with his side gig as a teaching assistant for a kinematics and numerical analysis course. He would often check up on you by ringing your doorbell until you would peek your head in the small gap, greeting him with a weak smile. You had grown sickly, prompting Jake to use the juicer to make instant nutrition-packed smoothies for you to gulp down in one go. As expected, all of the job interviews you’ve been to rejected your application. Some said you needed to get yourself checked, and others mentioned how they didn’t want “baggage” like you to undermine the workplace. Of course, you took all of the rejections to heart, using the time alone to think about a new road you might start treading to.

By this point, you had already forgotten your race with Jake, kicking yourself out of the competition. You haven’t applied to a single job posting since your last visit to the emergency room, and you’ve spent your days idly resting inside your apartment, either listening to mellow music, drinking fruity seltzers from your cooler, or spending the entire day within the covers of your duvet.

Having Jake with you was a little nicer than being alone, but you often had to push him away so he could focus on his own career. After all, he was already turning the tides to his failures. He went from a lost, young adult, to someone who was set on going to graduate school in the States. He had briefed you on his decision, and you listlessly listened to him ramble, often finding yourself floating between the planes of existence. Most of the time, you didn’t know where you were anymore, nor did you even bother to figure it out. Being in a worn-out state of reverie had been your default, and sometimes, you would take your cooler with you in your sleep. It didn’t matter if the cooler had frozen your head off, because, in a sense, it was all the company you had.

At some point in time, you stopped letting Jake inside your apartment. Whenever he’d ring the bell, you would pretend you were asleep. You shut all your electronics off as well, barricading yourself within the confines of your room. You never frequented your balcony as much as you used to, and all you did was waddle like a fish gasping for air beneath your heaps of pillows and bedsheets. The only thing you had in your hands was your cooler—which was now empty. The ice inside had also poured out onto your bedsheets, and you rolled yourself in the freezing, tingling sensations that your nerves felt whenever your skin touched the damp fabrics of your bedsheets.

Without Jake or your busy life, your apartment felt too big—almost like a maze. There was no way around it, and you would lose yourself in the vast spaces that one felt too cramped to contain yourself.

Whenever you did try to move a few things around for a breath of fresh air, your joints would give in, and you would end up lying down on the cold, hard floorboards. The pain and discomfort didn’t matter to you anymore, since feeling such sensations in the first place were just enough.

Despite the rather reclusive and selfish way of life you’ve adopted, Jake still had the patience to visit your door after your shift. Each time, he would ring the doorbell about eight or ten times, then he would sit by your doorframe with a beer in his hand. You didn’t need a peephole to know he was there; like everything in your current, idle life, this was a part of your routine. Without opening your door, you would turn your back against where Jake was, silently communicating that you were still alive and well. Once he was either too tired or satisfied enough to know that your presence hadn’t left him yet, he would slowly get up, press his cheek on your door, and go back to his own apartment.

Time seemed to pass by slowly and swiftly at the same time. Days and nights merged into one for you, and you found yourself sleeping at random times of the day. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep at all. Every time you tried to close your eyes for a good night’s—or day’s—rest, all you could see and hear were the echoes of your former department head. His thick, gruff voice was whispering right next to your ear, making you relive the entire scene over and over again. The sores on your cheek would flare up each time you took your palm and heard the same smack that he had done that day. Though, with the absence of the ring, you had to hit yourself harder to feel the burning, tingling tremors that activated your senses.

On days when you couldn’t sleep, you would suddenly crash for two to three days. It was a draining pattern, but your body had slowly gotten used to the poor treatment it had been receiving so far. In one moment, sleep would come crashing down on you like a tidal wave. No matter how hard you tried to resist closing your eyes, your body would surrender to the silent lullabies that wrapped you in an infinitely deep slumber—so deep that the white noise around you disappeared into an empty, dark void. You couldn’t hear the sound of your hair rustling with each move, nor could you hear the languid, heavy breathing that escaped your nostrils.

You were too used to waking up lonely, with nothing but your empty ice cooler or your fading duvet. You’d then look through the small gaps of your thick curtains, aimlessly attempting to count how much time had passed since you closed your eyes to drift off somewhere. The most bizarre thing about all of this was how you never even planned to sleep. The process of closing your eyes was a rather painful one due to all the flashing images you would see at once before your brain would shut off and reset into a blank canvas.

Sleeping the entire day made you feel as much guilt as spending each second awake, unaware of what time it was anymore. It was almost shameful in a sense, especially when you look back to how productive you were.

If I saw myself now, I would definitely punch myself in the face, tell myself to get up, and go fix my hair, makeup, and clothes to apply for another job.

You looked back at your days as a happier, livelier person. Sometimes, you longingly stared at the veranda, vividly seeing a happier, wide awake version of you wearing summer shorts and a tank top with Jake. The two of you would do what you always did with him, which was to share an ice-cold beer from your cooler while looking at the horizon from your high-rise view. At this point, you couldn’t even tell if it was recent, or if it was a distant past. The more you dwell on it, the further those memories treaded into ancient history.

One evening, you awoke to a familiar presence next to you. The darkness that filled your room had the same effect as the infinite abyss beneath your lids, and you felt around your bedroom, trembling in the half-darkness that engulfed your sanctuary. You felt the jagged, sharp corner of a leathery object and immediately tried to grasp it. Upon realizing that it was flat, you quickly stumbled out of the comforts of your duvet, blindly fumbling for the light switch. It had been so long since you’ve properly moved your joints, that standing up for a long period of time exhausted you. It was moments like these where you realized just how much the human body could survive. Sure, you were weakened to a barely functional state, but you were still able to pull yourself together and place your feet on your cold, damp floorboards.

Just as you found the light switch, a smooth, satin-like fabric grazed through your waist, circling you in a warmth that you’ve never felt for so long. Slowly turning your head around, you saw Jake in his graduation gown. It felt like it had been so long since you’d last seen his face, so it took more time for your memories to adjust and craft his face from scratch. You started from the mop of his hair, to the line that curved onto his nose, and then to the crinkles and crevices of his lips. Fragments of your time with Jake began floating back into your head one by one, and you lamented at how something so recent felt so ancient at the same time.

After tracing his face with your hands, you blinked several times, trying to figure out if the man in front of you really was Jake. To you, Jake was a man who always smelled like beer and instant noodles, having a clumsy air of youth around him. He had a permanent smile carved onto his face, and even if he didn’t know what he was going to do with his life, there was always an innate warmth that seemed to gently wash his woes away. This was a man who was fine no matter where he’d end up. He was a man who was loved by the heavens, who guided him into being the saccharine, overbearing, yet naturally kind man that he is today. In a sense, he was summer incarnate—impulsive, but carefully optimistic.

The Jake in front of you, dressed in a black graduation gown and a suit, had a different charge of energy around him. This wasn’t the unsure, lost, yet carefree Jake that you met in his veranda. The man in front of you was someone who had finally found himself an even footing in the journey called life, and he was taking one of the first of many steps that led him into a fruitful future. His lips still curved into the bright, familiar grin you’ve grown to love, but there was a maturity to it that you couldn’t put a finger around. He seemed more subdued than he usually was—which was highly evident in his much more relaxed breathing. Instead of the spontaneous bursts of energy and impulse he often subjected himself to, his inhalations and exhalations were controlled, almost as if he had finally settled himself into a direction he was satisfied with. This Jake, to you, was one that harvested all the ripe fruits of a summery youth. Now, it was time for him to shed all his outgrown leaves and start anew, letting the past die to start another spring.

You had started talking to him around the summer, when you lost your job, and he couldn’t find one. Now, it was autumn, and he had graduated with higher distinctions. You, on the other hand, have started regressing into a state of hibernation off-season, idly passing the time until the spring would miraculously come melting your ice-cold walls.

The leathery, flat piece you managed to feel was the cover of his laminated diploma. It was just as you had pictured—it has his name written in a gothic, Victorian font, and several scribbles of his university’s dean and board of administrators. The gold and red colors of his hood stood out in the dimly-lit lighting of your room, causing you to close your eyes and look down at your feet.

“Hey,” He greeted, forming your name on his lips. You can hear his soft, subtle smile through his voice. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of your room, you noticed that some parts of Jake’s gown had been torn to pieces. He sheepishly attempted to hide the damage, curling the cloth beneath his fingers.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” You replied, looking out at your bedroom door. The details were something you would ask from him later, when you were better. For now, you were somewhat in a state of pure shock and awe at Jake’s willpower. Under the dim, yellow lights of your bedroom, you could now see the streaks of dried blood that shone with each move he made.

You’ve really outdone yourself, huh?

You groggily opened the door, beckoning for him to follow you to your balcony. The moonlight shone like fluorescent lights, reflecting the city skyline like the vivid, technicolor of television. You wrapped yourself in your duvet, letting the cotton mold into the shape of your body.

“Can I come over?” He asked, eyes tracing the path he took to get to your room.

“You’re already here, stalker.” You laughed.

Seeing Jake again under the moonlight made you lose all senses of reality. Now, the two of you were back to square one, and you fixed your slouched posture to mimic who you were before—a somewhat pompous, bitter, yet well-meaning woman who had too many goals and aspirations, but zero dreams.

To Jake, you were not in this world right now. Your eyes had lost their luster, turning cold and lifeless as you peered into him. Suddenly, all the time he’s spent with you seemed so far away. He didn’t know if climbing from his balcony to yours was a dream, but all he knew was that he was right where he started. It was here, in this very balcony, where he took his first, bold step into crafting a foreseeable future for himself, and it was also in your balcony where he finally saw how big of an influence you’ve had in his life. Maybe if he didn’t have the chance to meet you, he would still be lazily struggling through his internship applications, dragging a blank resume and a half-assed attempt to his thesis to his grave.

“Do you want something?” You asked, your voice a bit weaker than usual. He shook his head, taking a lukewarm can of beer out of his suit pocket. He reached into his back pocket and took another can of beer, letting its semi-cool surface rest on your cheek before he let you open the can.

Just then, he became aware of the heaviness in the balcony. It was as if he was sucked into the abyss that consumed you for weeks on end, slowly consuming him until he was lost in your infinite, dark void. He felt that if he stayed here beside you for too long, he would be completely erased from this plane of existence with your brooding, big gloom. From the corner of his eyes, he watched you steps slowly inch towards the metal railings, your legs gently kicking yourself to bend over and see the ground that was awaiting you.

“Shouldn’t you be with your friends and family?” You asked out of the blue. As your silhouette obscured the moonlight, Jake lunged forward to touch you, feeling as if you were going to disappear if he was too late. You felt transparent and cold to the touch, and he softly pulled you away from the railings of your balcony, gently guiding the crown of your head onto his chest.

“I told them I was tired,” He said, placing his head where he knew it belonged. “The graduation ceremony’s pretty long, you know?”

“What about the after-party?”

“I wouldn’t wanna go without you,”

You bitterly chuckled underneath his chest, slightly hitting him with all the strength you had left in you.

“You’re not missing much?”

Feeling Jake’s chin bob back and forth, you took his face in your palms, allowing yourself to take in all of his features. Even if your hands felt cold from the residue of the beer can and the autumn breeze, he took it as a kind of warmth that only you could exude,

“Drinking freshly squeezed juice or whatever you have in your cooler sounds more fun,”

“Weirdo.”

“So, what do you say? I can bring the juicer to your kitchen if you want,” He said.

You removed your hands from his cheeks, crossing your arms while pointing your feet on his mild injuries. He showed you his arms, which had sustained a rather large cut from dangerously climbing the brick, rocky linings of your apartment building. In the ensuing silence, he felt his chest compress tightly as he watched you take his scratched arm, softly tilting it from all angles to see just how much he had done to himself.

You had a blank stare, as if you didn’t understand what was currently happening. After heaving a deep breath, you stretched your weakened joints until there were at a movable level. Then, you eyed the spots of blood that added an abstract vibrance to the off-white, rocky material of the building you shared. In a swift, agile hop, you had jumped out of your balcony’s railings to grab onto the first pile of stone—then, you took another step, looking straight ahead to Jake’s veranda instead of the ground. Through the corner of your eyes, you felt Jake panic at the sight of your current self doing something as extreme as rock-climbing, but you tried to wave him off and reached for the next rock.

With a sudden level of determination swelling inside of you, you managed to make a rather stupendous effort to stretch your arm out to the rock above. Then, as you felt the weight of your body hang low, you pressed yourself against the wall, feeling its hard, textured surface tickle through your thin shirt. Without trembling, you found a footing you could work with, then hoisted yourself onto Jake’s veranda. Lifting half of your body to a level where you can kick yourself past the railings, your balance slipped from one rock to another, causing you to roll onto his tiled floor in all doors. You felt a shot of pain spread across your right palm, so you raised the unscathed one as a greeting. Despite the weather’s rather warm temperature, Jake saw swirls of white smoke escape the corner of your lips, and he quickly sprinted to his own apartment.

Frantically kicking his oxfords off to turn the lights on, he saw the blood gush through your palm—which you held high with a proud smile.

“Now we’re even, right?” You smirked, trying to mimic the former, fiery gaze you once had. You then made your way towards his refrigerator, pulling through all the drawers and sections until you found a pack of cranberries that were yet to be juiced.

He jogged to his kitchen, plugging the juicer and lifting its lid. He had to pinch himself several times to see if he was dreaming or not. Even if it was a dream, he was still ecstatic to see you alive and somewhat well.

Before you unwrapped the cranberries from its packaging, you rushed to Jake’s bathroom and scoured through every nook and cranny until you found rubbing alcohol and a pack of unused cotton.

“What about our celebration juice?” Jake asked, watching you slowly return to your former self as you tore through a box of band-aids.

“Your celebration juice, remember?” You replied, quickly returning to the kitchen counter.

Pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball into his injury, you watched the pristine, pure cotton turn into a maroon hue. Jake hissed at the sudden pain, and you patted his shoulder with the back of your hand. He then proceeded to do the same to you, and for a moment, the two of you were nursing each other back to where you should be.

After patching on the last piece of the band-aid on each other, the two of you quickly blended up a non-alcoholic, freshly-squeezed batch of cranberry juice that you enjoyed inside washed paper cups from his takeout. You took slow slips, weakly smiling as you tasted all the hidden flavors packed inside one, tiny berry. Who knew cranberry could taste this good, you thought to yourself while staring deeply into your cup.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” You started out of the blue. Jake had already finished his own cup of cranberry juice, and quickly went for a refill. When he came back, he gingerly shook his head and flashed you a big smile.

“What for?”

You slowly nodded, averting your gaze back to your slowly diminishing drink. You didn’t know if it was Jake or the juice that had a magical effect on you, but you strangely felt at ease—like the currents of the nightly breeze that gently swayed from Jake’s open veranda to his room. Nostalgia hit you, and you began to remember the details of the summer night you spent in his room. The two of you were getting drunk off strawberry daiquiris, and before you knew it, you woke up next to him with both your clothes scattered on the living room floor.

“I don’t know? Ignoring you for almost a month?”

“Two and a half weeks, plus four days.” Jake corrected, slyly raising his glass and taking another sip of the fruity beverage.

You placed your cup down on the tiled floor, watching the moon slowly hide beneath the murky, navy clouds of the night. Jake resisted the urge to take your hand into his, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you slowly adjusted into a more relaxed position. Now, you were lying down on his veranda’s floor, listlessly staring at the abyss that you were too used to seeing. Jake did the same, spreading his graduation gown’s hood for the two of you to use as a pillow.

“I don’t know why it was so hard to just, tell you about it, you know?” You started. He turned his head towards you, tracing your side profile with his hands as you continued to talk.

“It was just supposed to be one moment of my life, and I wholeheartedly expected myself to move on from it. I mean, it’s normal for your manager or boss to shout at you or lash out at some point—that kinda stuff comes as a part of a package we receive when we start working, if that makes sense.”

Jake nodded along, watching the curves of your face slowly morph into that of exhaustion. You were too tired of it all, and you were completely worn out.

“I say I can’t remember much of it, but it comes into full clarity every day. I see myself back in the conference room, after I had just finished my presentation. I see the faces of all the investors and business partners who were blown away by my work. In that scenario, I couldn’t possibly let my boss take the credit for something I spent sleepless nights trying to perfect, right?” You narrated the entire story like a comedy, raising your voice in annoyance and mockery towards the man that had scarred your employment life. However, underneath the layers of jokes and anger, Jake sensed your frightened self, one that hid beneath all those blankets to create a world of your own.

“I have all the necessary qualifications, so I thought it would be easy for me to find another job. But every interview I went through makes me see him in all the hiring managers that ask the same stupid question of facing conflicts in the workplace. No matter where I went, I saw his face and felt him slap me back and forth into failure. His words kept ringing in my ears, and even when I try to get back on my feet to try again, I remember his stupid face wishing me luck in my future endeavors or whatever.”

Turning yourself to face Jake, you held back the tears that began streaming out of your eyes. Your chest had tightened with each breath you took, and without hesitation, Jake gave you a soft kiss on your temple, letting your head rest on his chest. You gripped his dress shirt tight, as if doing so would transfer the immense pang of pain you felt on your chest.

“As cheesy as this sounds, you’ve been on my mind the whole time. I practiced lines and phrases by mumbling to myself, playing scenarios in my head where I was able to open the door and say, Jake, I have this thing I need help with. I tried to muster up the courage to call you. Whenever I felt that you were waiting by my door, or when you’d piss me off by ringing my doorbell so many goddamn times, I tried my best to just get out of bed and open the door—but somehow, I just couldn’t.”

You leaned your ear onto Jake’s chest, feeling each rise and fall. You then heard the consistently gentle beats of his heart, synchronizing with the calm rhythms of his breathing.

“Jesus, is that it?” Jake joked, making sure to check on your reaction to see if you were okay. You gave him one of your signature light hits, firmly patting his chest while stifling a burst of laughter.

“What? I didn’t want you to see me like this,” You retorted, curling into a ball and hiding yourself underneath Jake’s graduation gown. Slowly unwrapping you out of his long, dirtied gown, he held your face in his hands, watching your sadly cheerful face emit a radiant, ethereal glow. You leaned forward and closed the gap between you two, feeling the warmth of his lips flare throughout each vein in your body. You tasted the cranberry that remained on his tongue, smiling beneath the kiss as you crinkled your nose underneath his touch.

“I really needed you to make me laugh,” You whispered as you rubbed your eyes from all the tears that spilled out.

“So, does that mean I won this race?” Jake asked out of the blue, keeping his arms hooked onto your waist. You squirmed out of his grasp and raised two middle fingers at his face, hopping off to head out of the door.

“Don’t be too cocky, you Nobel Prize-winning motherfucker,”

“I suppose we’re doing a second round then, huh?”

You nodded, flexing the lack of muscle you had on your bicep. Before heading back inside your apartment, you waved goodbye, watching his smiling face through the gaps of his door. As you headed for your own door, you abruptly turned around upon hearing your name.

“If I wake up tomorrow, you better be right by your door, filling your cooler with all the canned drinks that Woolworths has to offer, yeah?” He teased, scrunching his nose into a wide grin. “I haven’t completed my transformation to become the Australian Spiderman yet, but if I feel like I’m gonna lose you again, you better expect me to rock climb my way into your house,”

“We’ve known each other for a short, somewhat long-ish time, and I wanna go to many different places with your or share whatever future work stories I might have. So take your time, and promise not to disappear on me, yeah?”

Tearing a portion of your shirt, you tied your hair into the exact same ponytail you had when you first met him. With a smile, you gave him another middle finger, heading straight to your door with no regrets.

Back in your room, you heaved an exhausted sigh, picking up the duvet you’d left on your balcony. You saw Jake take a breather from his veranda, and he tossed you a can of lime cordial. Raising your glass for the many more you’ll drink together, you said cheers and fuck it to the future, clinking glasses in the air and tasting the refreshing fruits of life.

v. on our own

It was early in the winter when Jake began to work under Professor Lewis full-time. While initially, he was doubtful about the direction he would take as an engineer, he had learned to discover the beauty of science, thus fully committing to continue his studies. In his university, Jake had been slowly climbing the ladder to success, earnestly working as the best assistant he could be. He would always stay after lunch breaks to talk with Professor Lewis on his new research proposals, and every off-topic deep dive into the future of Artificial Intelligence or scientific breakthroughs that can benefit the environment.

He had stopped working as a teaching assistant, but he would often stop by to see his previous students, quickly catching up with their lives or giving them occasional advice about the future. Whenever a young, impressionable adult shared the same doubts as he did in the distant past, he would tell stories of you, and how knowing the right person can definitely install motivation and push one in the right direction.

“Of course, it’s also important to recognize your own efforts and work for yourself, not for others,” Jake would always emphasize as his students gathered around him to talk about his step-by-step process into the field of engineering—especially at a relatively young age.

Although he had decided to pursue a master’s degree, he consulted with Professor Lewis for a potential deferral. When asked for a specific reason, he bluntly stated that he wanted to spend more time with you in Australia before he had to leave for the States. Adding to that, Professor Lewis’s research being nominated for the PM Prize’s for Science definitely held him back for a few more months to an entire year in Australia.

Despite the fact that it was a seemingly long process, Jake had slowly started to find more passion in his work, discovering the daily importance of his studies and how science can be used to help the world. While his focus was mainly on machine learning and robotics, he was open to knowing more about the sub-fields of what his discipline had to offer. One of the areas that piqued his interest was environmental engineering—something that Jake initially saw with scrutiny before he graduated from university. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t see the grave importance of environmental action. Rather, environmental science as a discipline was often seen as a joke in the STEM field, so he shied away from showing any form of intrigue or interest in the area.

Now, given his independence from the hierarchical toxicity of university, he finally began to delve deeper into his dreams to be an essential part of the R&D field. While you were the push that he needed to throw himself in a specific direction, it was Professor Lewis and his colleagues that truly added more insight and depth into the amount of work and effort that went into each journal article or independent research. Soon enough, he began helping other engineers with their own research as an assistant. When asked about whether he would conduct his own research or not, Jake would tell people like Professor Lewis that he needed a little more time to figure out his niche and start working up an interesting question to answer.

Other than his steady achievements, he had also built a steady network of amicably friendly colleagues who were more than willing to write him referrals to a company or a higher-level institution. In fact, it was thanks to his long relationship with Professor Lewis that he could get the opportunity to study at the University of San Diego, with a major focus on the field he’s particularly interested in. He had already been on a few business trips to the States, touring schools and seminars to familiarize himself with the country. For you, this meant Jake would come home with a bag full of tooth-rotting souvenirs that had too much sugar in a single piece.

It wasn’t to say that you weren’t busy either. Although some of the fintech companies you tried to apply for accepted your application, you decided to have a fresh, clean start and ended up using your high academic standing to make money as a private tutor. Whenever you had free time, you would work as a barista at a cozy, small cafe that Leo and his fiancé owned—though most of your income often comes from your private tutoring gigs. When you were lucky, you would usually get free meals that were paid in full by the family of your students, who were primarily wealthy business owners or foreign expats who settled in the country. Sometimes, you would help Leo curate new drink items that were bound to sell well, and the couple often paid extra for your financial inputs on sales tactics and logistics management. You still considered yourself unemployed, but you managed to get by just fine with the two jobs you juggled throughout the past few months.

On the weekends, you’ve decided to keep yourself as busy as Jake by working as an accountant at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Compared to the arduous process of interviews that you had to go through, you were lucky enough to slip through via one of your former professor’s referral letters. Truth be told, you never really had an interest in art. To you, it was just something you couldn’t wrap your head around. If something looked beautiful, then it was art—and then, when it didn’t, it was still called art. You couldn’t comprehend how an intricate drawing of Napoleon riding a majestic horse could be in the same category as a canvas painted in black. One clearly took more time and effort than the other, and yet both were considered valuable to society.

It wasn’t until you had to write a report on the next Mucha exhibit that you began to grow an affinity for art. During your breaks, you would take the time to tour each exhibit for free, making an effort to read through the little blurbs that contextualize a piece of art. Although you’ve known many artists that were political in their goal of making art, you had never seen someone as dedicated as Alphonse Mucha. Even if politics weren’t something you greatly cared about, it was his perseverance and stubbornness that struck a chord in you.

You had initially known Mucha as the artist who made beautifully decorated posters of alcoholic beverages—such as his posters for Moet Chandon and Fox-Land Jamaican Rum. Mucha, who had been a victim of countless misfortunes, never gave up on his passion for creating. Even if he was too poor to go to art school, and even if his major client’s theater burned down in his early years as a struggling artist, he kept on pushing himself until an Austrian nobleman eventually discovered him. The latter offered to pay for his tuition at a critically-acclaimed art institute. Even then, misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went—suffering through both world wars and was constantly persecuted for his Slavic background, he eventually succumbed to pneumonia, leaving a legacy of intricately decorative artworks to his name.

After reading through a collection of his masterworks in a single sitting, you then began to prioritize your gigs at the museum more so than Leo’s cafe or your job as a private tutor. Of course, managing three jobs definitely takes a toll on you, but the more you immerse yourself into the world of art history, the more your heartstrings tugged with a newfound passion that kept burning until you sacrificed some of your savings to begin your journey into art.

In the middle of the winter, you had taught yourself how to draw.

After earning more than enough by working double-time as a private tutor, you quit and devoted most of your time to the art museum. It was an exhilarating experience that managed to warm you up despite the cold weather. You bought three books about art—art history, basic techniques with all kinds of 2D media, and art theory. You went through them one by one, often keeping yourself up at night hunched over, mind suddenly filled with colors turning into vivid pictures that almost felt tangible enough to touch with your fingertips. You would read them everywhere—on your or Jake’s sofa, in the kitchen by the juicer, or in one of your balconies.

To have more space, you’ve impulsively sold almost all your furniture after a long talk with Jake. He had offered for you to live with him, potentially filling his extremely sparse apartment with some of your furniture. Since your lease hadn’t ended yet, you covered all the walls with newspaper and plastic, making sure each crevice had been targeted. Digging through your old newspaper and junk mail collection, you found a pile of Jake’s noise complaints—which you ended up plastering across the living room. Jake pitched in and decided to make half of your former abode his home office and laboratory, where he would tinker with a 3D printer he received from Professor Lewis as a graduation gift.

Most of your income would be spent on buying the right kind of paints, brushes, and tools that helped you ease into painting. Since you’ve never paid attention to any of your art classes prior, you heavily relied on the three books you bought, which grew tattered with every minute you started a new portrait.

Jake would often surprise you from behind after his work, watching you silently focus on mixing the right colors with each part of the picture. Sometimes, he would see you make detailed pencil sketches on a large canvas, and a part of his routine was to watch your hands repeat the same strokes to build an image that looked like it would leap through your canvas any time soon.

You poured all your earnings into fleshing out your skills, and you felt no remorse for how much material you had to waste to paint the perfect picture. It didn’t matter if you were angry, dejected, anxious, or happy—despite all your mood swings, you painted through them all.

Sometimes, you would situate your easel across the large, glass window that led to your balcony. Whenever Jake was free, you sat him down to paint still-life portraits of him, often snapping whenever he was too squeamish. In return, he would make handy little helpers for you, testing his tiny robots out to see if they could carry paintbrushes to you when you needed them. At one point, he made a sculpture using nothing but his 3D printer. On the one hand, you were in awe with the development of Artificial Intelligence, but on the other, you were somewhat taken aback by how uninspiring and simple everything had become. What was the point of going through the trial and errors of oil painting when a robot can do it well on the first try?

It was perhaps this sudden mismatch between you and Jake that drew you closer to each other. Jake had finally found the drive to do research, and you have found a hobby that can ease your heart into a tranquil state. A smoke alarm, a sentient arm, a portrait of Jake’s side profile, or an ink illustration of what you saw in your dreams—all of these were the products of the creative space that you and Jake had built together.

For a while, the two of you had lived in perfect harmony. By day, you went to your respective workplaces. By night you would sit by your easel and start a painting, while he would lock himself in his home office to work on editing and reading through Professor Lewis’ research or tinkering with app-controlled robots to mess around with you whenever he could. At heart, the two of you were just children living out the creative bliss of building a world of your own.

When it was late enough, Jake would usually be the first to call it a night, tapping you on the shoulder to eat dinner together and sleep. On the weekends, the two of you had tried to make a compromise and spent the day off—which was usually spent with you painting more portraits of Jake. When he asked why you chose him as your muse, you simply shrugged and kept your eyes on your brush, deepening the shadows below his neck.

No matter how romantic the scenario sounded, both of you knew deep down that it was a temporary fix. Perhaps that was why you cling to each other too much, spending each second off work with each other. Now that the two of you had found a certain path to take in life, it was just a matter of bidding farewell to move on to the next stage of your life. For Jake, he had already made it clear that he wanted to pursue his graduate studies in the States. You gave yourself more time to think about what country you wanted to go to, but your main concern was your budget. Unlike Jake, you didn’t have a scholarship or parental support to lean on. You were relatively independent your whole life, often taking part-time jobs throughout high school while doing your best to maintain your grades. It was the same outcome when you were a university student, where you sacrificed your leisure time at the expense of doing well in school and earning a stable income.

Now that you’ve managed to find a way to fuse your hobbies with a potential career, you decided to take up art history in the Czech Republic. The tuition was free for nationals and non-nationals who knew a good amount of Czech—plus, it was the home of Alphonse Mucha, so you decided that your next destination would be to relive your days as a student in Prague.

A couple of months had quickly passed by between you and Jake. Amidst the trial and errors of your portraits and his stable job working at his alma mater, the two of you grew a little distant. Sure, you’d crack the same jokes after coming home from work, feel your fingertips memorize each corner and crevice of your bodies, share a glass of juice or beer by the balcony—but all of that was to eventually vanish like a puff of smoke dancing in the sky.

It was towards the middle of August when you broke the news about moving to Prague. He had just come back from a business trip to Melbourne, and you had the acceptance letter set on the kitchen counter, right next to the juicer.

“When’s your flight?” He asked, using the rustling of his coat to hide the pain in his voice.

“Tomorrow night, actually.” You replied. “I’m living in a dorm, so they want me to be there a bit earlier.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you’re very busy with work,”

Jake held his tongue from talking back to you. He hated it when things would escalate into a full-scale fight. Nowadays, along with the cold winds of the winter, he had fully felt the stagnant, cold air that formed between you two. Of course, the love and affection as still there, but it had become increasingly difficult to talk to each other without bringing up the sensitive topic of parting ways. Now that you were leaving, Jake took his frustrations aside and greeted you with a long, warm kiss that transparently flourished with all the complexities he was feeling.

Jake had called a day off for tomorrow, insisting that he had to take you to the airport. Fortunately, most of your art supplied had already been shipped to your dormitory, save for your sketchbook and a couple of portable watercolors you can use during your layover. For the first time in a while, the two of you were together again, reliving a distant past when your relationship was dictated by a race into employment. Taking the same bus to the farmers market, you gathered all the fruits that you could in the world, while Jake busied himself with all the ingredients to make your farewell feast. You could sense the subtle notes of pain in his eyes whenever he tried to hold your hand, as if letting go meant you would disappear from his sight forever.

Even if it didn’t seem like you reciprocated the sentiment, you, too, felt an immense pain in your chest at the thought of parting ways with Jake. The worst part about this entire ordeal is the possibility that the two of you will settle and never come back. Jake would definitely have more opportunities in the States, and you were convinced that you weren’t coming home anytime soon. Visits to each other’s countries were a rarity considering your schedules, and the vast difference in your fields also made it harder to plan a date or spend time together.

You stopped by the same cafe where Jake received a call from Professor Lewis, taking the same order and remembering as much as you could. Jake had joked about making strawberry daiquiris again, but you turned down the offer, considering the overwhelming hangover you got from that night.

As the two of you walked back home, you avoided talking about your flight or San Diego. For now, being together and spending time with just the two of you meant creating a warm, safe place where the past and the future ceased to exist. Everything was moving in the present, and time flowed in a loop that made this entire day last forever.

For Jake, however, he felt a looming premonition that evoked the same feeling as due dates and bill invoices. Ignoring it only heightened the feeling of never seeing you again.

As the night descended, the two of you combined all the fruits that you could fit into the juicer, potentially destroying it to pieces. Luckily, Jake made a few adjustments to its core before the two of you started your despicable experiment of making the best—or worst—juice in the world. It took hours to fit all the first in, and at some point, you had to take the blender and the food processor out to turn everything into a hodge-podge of slimy mush. For added flavor, you took a bottle of wine and poured half its contents inside, while Jake emptied three cans of beer and doused it all over the poor excuse of a beverage.

After a few hours, your promise of sobriety was broken, and you were extremely drunk. Right now, you were in a hypersensitive phase where a lot of things overwhelmed you to the point of shedding tears. He sat by you on the cold, tiled floor of his veranda, and you longingly gazed at the skyline, stretching your hand out as far as you could to touch the glimmering skyscrapers that blurred into phosphorescent rivers.

“Man, I’m gonna miss this place,” You muttered, slurring your words. Jake had prepared a glass of water right next to you, and he let your head land on his shoulders with a thud.

“Me too,” He replied. All of a sudden, staying in Australia or moving to San Diego didn’t make a difference anymore. He had initially wanted you to come with him to settle down and start a new life in the States, but you refused, telling him that art school was too expensive there. Even if he offered to pay for your tuition and expenses, you had firmly stood your ground, reinforcing your own so-called will in your typical fashion.

Jake had prepared for a scenario where you had stayed in Australia. Of course, he was still hellbent on pursuing his graduate studies in the States, but he was also open to the idea of staying with you and living your lives together. Sure, he had more opportunities to further his career, but there was really no point in doing all that when you weren’t there to listen to him about his thought process. In a sense, he envied how you showed your love for him.

In one fight that happened a week before, you were focused on a landscape painting of Camperdown Park, finding the right colors to replicate the tones and mood of the area. It was a sudden click of the tongue; an automatic trigger that escaped his lips.

“Why are you choosing a school so far away?”

Placing your brush down, you turned your head to look deeply into his eyes, which twitched with disbelief and pure disappointment. After watching your hands and hanging your apron to a coat rack, you leaned your body on your former kitchen counter, eyes sharp with a complexity of emotions that swirled in your irises.

“I didn’t ask you that question when you chose to go to grad school in the US.”

That was the first fight the two of you had in a long time. Although fights were, for the most part, rare between you two, those that happened tended to explode as quickly as they built up. In your case, it was how you didn’t have to be next to him all the time to prove that you loved him. Letting your voice get caught up in your throat, you didn’t hold back on all the words that stabbed his heart at once.

“I’m choosing my own path so I can return to you as a better woman—both for you and for myself!”

Looking at you know, head peacefully rested on his shoulder, he had finally learned to appreciate what you meant when you uttered those words to him.

“Think of it as a see you later instead of a farewell or a goodbye,” You’d often explain whenever Jake had the urge to bring up the complications of a long-distance relationship to you.

See you later,

In a blink of an eye, Jake was helping you weigh your luggage at the airport before check-in. He had bought you a couple of hangover pills to make sure you didn’t get airsick, and you treated him your last meal together.

Amidst the white noise of voices from all angles, all he could hear was your steady breathing in the space that you shared with him. The departure and arrival signs, flashy souvenir shops, and the rows of seats were all a blur to him, and the only thing he saw in full clarity was your nervous face. You would glance up at him from time to time, taking his hand in yours to give it a tight squeeze. Sometimes, you would rest your head on his chest, feeling the palpitations of his heart on a cellular level.

“What if I bring back a family when I see you again?” You asked out of the blue.

The two of you were now seated at one of the plane spotting areas of the airport. Tracing your fingers to patch that of the sleek, slim airplane that recently took off, you kept the corner of your eyes on Jake as he fiddled with his thumbs to find an answer.

“I honestly don’t know how I’d feel,” Jake replied after a long pause. “But, I still feel like I’ll love you the way I do now—even if you started a family somewhere.”

Nodding at his every word in satisfaction, you held back the tears that were beginning to trickle down your eyes. This could be the last time you’ll ever see Jake. Both of you were to live your new lives as adults in faraway places from here on out. Jake bit his lip in anguish, too, upon seeing the tears roll down your cheek. He took his thumb and wiped your eyes, while you took your sleeve to pat his tear ducts.

“How about me?” Jake asked, repeating the same scenario. “What if I find another girl? Sleep with other women? Won’t that be a problem for you?

“The Jake I knew wouldn’t be worried about keeping things casual,” You joked despite your cracking voice.

Checking your watch, you took your backpack and hoisted it over your shoulder, using the same sleeve to furiously dry your eyes. Jake took his arm around your shoulder, letting his nose memorize the notes of your cologne. Hand in hand, the two of you ran together until you reached the departure gate.

“I mean, in all seriousness, we’re obviously gonna need some form of release one way or another, and who am I to stop you from doing that, right? I don’t think it’s love to restrict your freedoms when I’m not physically there,”

There were already a couple of people lined up to pass the security monitors, loosening their shoelaces or removing their accessories. You started by taking off the bracelet that Jake bought for you at the farmers market, then removing the same old watch you’ve kept since high school. Stuffing both in your pocket, you beckoned for Jake to accompany you until the line was short enough for you to enter.

“Jake, listen,” You blurted, snapping your head to look at his eyes. Taking both his hands in yours, you fought back another flurry of tears with a large grin on your face, taking his hands to plant a soft, delicate kiss on both sides.

“How can I ever forget you? You’re single-handedly the most important person in my life. You’ve helped me get over a pretty big hurdle in my life, and without you, I don’t think I’d be able to be who I am right now.”

The line was getting shorter, and you swiftly pulled him down to give him one last kiss. Jake resisted the urge to lock his hands on your waist, pulling you closer at the risk of boarding late.

“Think about it this way: We’re obviously gonna meet other people in our respective countries. That’s how life is. We’ll fall in love, get our hearts broken, then rinse and repeat the cycle over and over again. All I want you to know is that despite all the people that I’ll see and meet, you’ll always be you, if that makes sense.” You said, tightly holding his cheeks on your palms.

“Like, I’m not gonna meet another Jake, because you mean too much to me.”

With two more people left on the line, you let go of Jake’s face, waving goodbye as you walked on. You began to take off your shoes on the other side of the room, putting your phone and all your variables inside a basket.

Before you could pass your body through the metal detector, your phone buzzed with an intensity that startled you. Allowing the person behind you to go first, you asked airport security if you could take this call, tiptoeing to see Jake’s face right in front of yours.

“I don’t care if you come back to me with all the accolades and prizes the world has to offer, or if you show up at my doorstep empty-handed. I won’t even care if you’ll be a mother with children or a senior citizen by then. As long as I can see you again with a proud, heartfelt smile on your face, content with what you’ve achieved so far, then that’s fine. That’s all I’ll ever want and need from you.” He said, both through the phone and to your face. After planting a quick kiss on your forehead, he tearfully gave you a heart-wrenching smile, causing all of your tears to flow down at once.

“So please, take care of yourself, yeah?”

With a nod and a wave, you placed your phone on the basket with all your things. No matter how hard you tried, you always found yourself looking back, tracing Jake’s silhouette as you passed through the metal detector.

epilogue: we just get by!

Vítejte v Praze!

It has been ten whole years since Jake had last seen you. Although the two of you would frequently call each other whenever you could, your busy schedules had prevented you from booking flights to your respective countries. Jake, in particular, had a busier schedule than you, owing to his career as a full-time research scientist specializing in machine learning at San Diego. You also kept your promise of carving out a successful career path for yourself, managing to become an art historian that traveled between Australia and Europe to either promote Aboriginal art or restore artworks that were destroyed during World War II. You also dabbled into the film industry, using your understanding of forms and shapes to create artistic, silent films that were surreal enough to confuse most of your audience. Funnily enough, your timing was always off when it comes to Jake, because by the time you'd have texted him about arriving in New York, he was already on a flight to Germany to attend a conference. Whenever you managed to catch a flight back home, you would also miss him at the airport. If Jake had arrived in Sydney, you would have already left for Europe. When you would send him photos of your old apartment building, he would reply with the hot desert sands of his new environment.

There were months—even years—when he wouldn't receive any contact from you, which often made his longing for you worse. No matter how much he tried to fill the empty, gaping void you left him, he was left unsatisfied and underwhelmed.

When he got the opportunity to go to Prague, you held off meeting him, saying that you weren't finished with your "magnum opus" yet.

"I need to be finished with this before I can see you!" You squealed on the other end of the line, failing to contain your giddy excitements. To this day, he can still remember the exact timbre and tone of your voice, wanting to share everything about this "huge" project you were working on while simultaneously keeping everything under wraps.

As such, you and Jake had made another promise to hold off from seeing each other until one or the other was genuinely proud of how far they've come. Of course, the two of you kept tabs on each of your accomplishments. When you saw Jake and his team get nominated as one of the candidates for a Nobel Prize in Physics, you took an entire video of his speech—which was inaudible due to your incessant screaming. In return, he would screenshot multiple articles where you would appear, either as a guest to an exhibit's opening night or the person being exhibited.

Sometimes, Jake would book flights to New York, admiring some of your artworks that were permanently being exhibited at MOMA or The Met. He would also watch your short films in local theaters, which he often never understood because it felt like there were no dialogue or story to follow. You didn't consider any of your projects as special, but he admired each brush stroke and lining you did, going so far as to overanalyze your works despite knowing nothing about art. You would also return the favor by forcing yourself to read through his published articles. Sure, they were incomprehensible combinations of numbers, letters, and graphs, but you nonetheless did all you could to show your support for his work.

As the years went by, the two of you had naturally started talking less. Especially in the years leading up to your late twenties, he had expected you to send him a photo of your child—perhaps even a marriage photo to show him what he missed out on with you. However, all you would do was send him a portrait of his face every year, signing it off with a ten-paged letter that gave him a small window to your life in Europe. When you turned twenty-seven, you had moved out of Prague to live in a village called Bavory, isolating yourself in a cottage with nothing but your painting supplies and poor Wi-Fi connection. You had resorted to sending Jake handwritten letters that often took months to arrive in the States, so you timed everything in advance, ensuring that your letters would arrive on the intended date.

While Jake wasn't used to the sudden shift into analog communication, he nonetheless started to return your long letters with that of his own—however, instead of writing them by hand, he bought a vintage typewriter and typed his letters back to you. There would always be a leap of joy in his heart whenever you said that you were still comfortably alone in the greeneries of a foreign village. He, too, would elaborate on how you were still the only thing on his mind, and that he was working towards furthering his career as a means to win against you in your ancient race.

To have a childish bet last for more than a decade continually showed Jake, and as he dragged his suitcase outside of the arrival gate, he checked the last handwritten letter you sent—which was two years ago. In it, you had briefed that you were finally finished with your "magnum opus," sending him an entire itinerary to follow. He smiles bitterly at the letter, watching the ink spread between the corners of the pages. Although he wasn't visiting Europe in his own free time, Jake was glad that he was able to stop by for a week—which he believed was enough to go through the itinerary you had prepared for him. In an old-fashioned style, you even drew him a detailed map of landmarks he had to pass by to get to your "magnum opus." For extra measure, Jake had crunched all the landmarks into his GPS, pinning all the destinations to his smartwatch so he would receive regular notifications on where to go.

As soon as he saw the duty-free shops that lined the entrance to the airport, there was a large, flower-wreath displayed right by a giant welcome sign written in a language he didn't speak. If you were here right now, then he definitely would've asked you to demonstrate your expertise with the Czech language, perhaps teaching him a few phrases or two to pass of as a decent tourist.

He stopped by the flower wreath, examining all the pictures of people that had fallen victim to the devastating plane crash of Qantas A380, which went missing in the North Atlantic Ocean. The first time he's seen the crash on the news, he immediately texted and called you about it. He'd spent days trying to contact you on the phone, clinging onto the hope that you miraculously made it. For the past year, it has always been his routine to take his phone and call your number despite hearing the automated voice instead of your own.

In a way where you taught Jake many things—from building his resume to pushing himself to reach further heights and gain satisfaction for his growth as a person—you also taught him how to grieve. In a sense, your death was the first one he had experienced, and to this day, he still couldn't wrap his head around it. He was still in a stunned state, where he spent a few months shutting himself inside his room. Staring into space became associated with tracing the outline of your side profile into thin air, as if you'd miraculously come back to life if he had done so.

In the second phase of his grieving period, he had surrendered to a life of work. Long gone were his so-called days of young mischief and debauchery, and he often slept within the cold cables of his lab, immersing himself in his research until everything around him started to fade away. Of course, your face lingered on in his head, and it often distracted him from his task. His colleagues had called for his temporary removal from the team, and he spent more months alone in his room. He did try to get help from the recommendations of his superiors, but all he did was fake a smile to his therapist, telling her that you were never coming back.

Some parts of him had blamed himself—what if he was more assertive? What if he had chosen to fly to the Czech Republic with you? Or, what if the two of you had communicated more, reaching a compromise to stay and settle in Australia. Such questions and scenarios often entered his headspace, giving him a picturesque future of what could've been. Would the two of you have gotten married? Started a family a twenty-seven or twenty-eight? Had your first child this year?

What happened instead was a promise that can never be fulfilled.

Then, he began to think about you. If you were to see him at his worst, when he spent days, weeks, and months doing nothing in his room, what would you have told him?

I thought you said you weren't gonna end up like me, and look at you now! Been there, done that, mate.

Even the way you died lived up to your misfortunes with the unexpected—you lost your job in the most absurdly ridiculous way, you took the biggest career turn of your life, and then, you died sinking in the middle of the ocean. What a life! He thought. Surely, if you saw him sulking in front of your picture frame, you would take endless videos of him or bully him about it.

Since the last time he'd seen you, he's met many amazing people he was proud to call his friends. He's even met many potential partners that he believes he had fallen in love with. However, every time he tried to enter a new relationship, he would always see your face, lurking in the shadows with a bright grin that cheered on him. Sometimes, he could see your silhouette under the moonlight whenever he held a woman that wasn't you. He would begin to visualize your face, often screaming your name whenever he was with someone else. He found it funny in a way—all his promiscuity and short games put to a halt by a ghost called you.

And so, despite everything, he forced himself to carry on. He knew deep down that it was what you would have wanted for him, and he was aware that moving forward was the only way for him to go.

It was currently summer in Prague, and the temperamentally warm winds wrapped Jake in tenderness as he slipped his bracelet off, hanging it right by the corner of your picture frame. To visit a place you called home without you was something he didn't think he would do soon, but he couldn't resist. After all, you did say that you were finished with your project.

Following the street lamps and rocky pavements, he ended up in front of a narrow, stone building with an oak green roof. The town around him was nothing like the empty streets of San Diego or the bustling student hub of Kensington—hell, he would even add that his hometown of Brisbane had absolutely nothing compared to the beauty that was right in front of him.

"If only you were here, right?"

He didn't know what type of architecture it was called, but he took some photos using a camera that he had bought before this trip, knowing that he was going to stop by Prague against the wishes of his colleagues. He then attempted to ring the tiny bell that was attached to the corner of the building, just as you had instructed. After fruitless attempts to find a rope, he looked up to find out that the bell itself was glued to the corner. Stifling a bout of laughter, he took another one of your ten-paged letters, skimming through the instructions you've written for him to follow.

As he went inside, he was greeted in an unfamiliar language. To his right, there were several brochures and pamphlets displayed in both Czech and English. He took the one that had your name on it, buying a ticket to follow the route of your exhibit. You had called it "14 Steps to a Better You: Self-Development and Growth in Art."

The first few pieces were once he had seen you paint in the former studio you shared. There was the painting of Kensington's skyline from your balcony, and the landscape oil painting of Camperdown Park that you had replicated into a fine, detailed image. Then, you had various pencil sketches of a man with a coffee machine, accompanied by a girl who always had her apron backward. Several action sketches seemed as though they were drawn on a whim, and Jake knelt down to read the blurbs to the pieces that caught his eye.

Then, he entered a darker room, where some of your short films had been on display. One of the films had documented your life of isolation in Bavory. It was a 35mm, still-shot of you sitting by your easel, painting whatever you saw in front of you. Sometimes, you would be seen fixing the wires to your Wi-Fi router, only to give up halfway. As he stepped closer, he took his letter out and saw that this very letter in his hands was the exact same one you were writing in the film. Once you were finished with the letter, you would go back to painting on your easel, looking out into the far open of your window.

He didn't know if you did on purpose or not, but your easel was faced away from the camera, making it impossible for the audience to see what you were painting. Considering that this was a fourteen to fifteen-hour-long self-produced documentation of your life in a rural village, some of the audience members were lucky to catch a glimpse of you switching the canvases in your easel.

After watching you sit around in your cottage, he consulted the pamphlet to check what was next. Since his eyes were too fixated on the pamphlet he held, he failed to notice that many eyes were now on him. As he looked up, he saw faces of strangers and random bystanders contort into that of shock, widening their mouths agape at the sight of him.

Compared to the last one, this room was well-lit, showing one, extremely large canvas with Jake's face depicted in various art styles and forms. Jake almost dropped his bag and whatever he held, but he managed to snap out of his daze before disturbing the peaceful quiet that engulfed the entire gallery. For a few seconds, he did his best to avoid eye contact with all the museum-goers that peered deep into his soul. Fortunately, the people in the room had begun to avert their eyes from him, going back to admiring the portraits of himself drawn by you.

Even if all of these portraits were supposed to resemble him somehow, he wasn't able to recognize the first portrait. You decided to you a smaller canvas, using harsh brush strokes to smear Jake's facial features. He wouldn't have known that this was him until he saw the details you put into drawing the neon glow of his room.

Upon checking the pamphlet, he saw that each section of the canvas was numbered from one to fourteen.

The section that was marked "one" had bright, neon colors that glowed in the dark. It was an outline of what he would have looked like in your eyes in his hay day of raves, music festivals, and nightly hangovers. Jake had tried to contain his laughter and shock, lamenting at the striking accuracy you had with interpretation. The section marked "two," which was slightly below "one," was rough, cross-hatches combined with smears of black and dark green acrylic paint. His facial features were hard to make out, but he could guess that the section represented the start of his slump—the realization that he was no longer as young as he used to be.

The ones marked "three" and "four" both had warm, sheer tones that had him drinking beer on the balcony. For "four" in particular, the beer can on his hand was replaced with a laptop and a box of orange juice. He stepped closer to examine the details of the enormous painting, praising you for having such a keen eye for the smallest things.

"Five" had a portrait of him carrying a canvas tote bag of fruits with the pearl bracelet he had just placed in the airport memorial. An intense ache began to throb throughout his chest, tightening it as he stepped back to view the painting in its entirety. He tried to control the warm, hot tears that began to roll down his cheek, and he took his sleeve to dab his cheek and eyelids until his entire face was dry.

"Six" and "seven" were him in his graduation gown. The former had his portrait phot from the yearbook replicated in a hyperrealistic style via colored pencils, and "seven" had the injury he sustained from taking the risk to climb over to your balcony. Rolling his sleeves up, he heaved a nostalgic sigh upon seeing the faded remnants of perhaps one of the biggest risks he's taken in his life.

"Eight," "nine," and "ten" were artistic renditions of him in his work. For "eight," he was in Australia, wearing a pristine white lab coat while working with wires and cables that were outlandishly drawn to create an eerie humanoid that looks like him from specific angles. "Nine" was the first photo he'd sent you when he arrived in San Diego, but with your own artistic touch to it. You had a giant version of him essentially build sandcastles that looked like androids and robotic arms. For "ten," you had drawn a rough, charcoal sketch of his speech when his team got nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physics.

"Eleven," "twelve," and "thirteen" presented alternate scenarios of who he would become in the future. All three were rather similar in nature, carrying a sci-fi aesthetic to it, but Jake held his breath and tried not to laugh at "thirteen," which showed him as one of the engineers that enabled human mass migration into Mars.

The last section, "fourteen," was right in the middle. Instead of an intricate, original piece of work, there was a square, glass mirror that had the words "you" written on top. The more Jake looked into the mirror, the more he could hear your voice right next to him, smugly introducing your piece with pride. If you had lived long enough to see the fruits of your project pay off, then you certainly would've been the victor of this little race between the two of you.

Soft sobs quickly turned into hushed, muffled laughter, and he covered his mouth with the pamphlet to control himself. He still didn't know if this was one, elaborate prank that took you almost an entire decade to finish, or if it was your own way of proving to him that you've never forgotten him throughout the decade you've spent apart. Who knows? Maybe, in some ways, you knew that your time was coming, so you wanted to leave a dramatic piece of work that showed him and the rest of the world that you had a message to convey.

To have him face-to-face with himself instead of you was a rather creative way of greeting him after ten years of absence. As Jake continued to look deeper into his own reflection, tears slipped down his face again one by one. He tried to sob quietly, while giving his eyes the time to breathe and let everything out. In the ten years of needing to see you—there you were, right in front of him. Truthfully, he was still wrought with an endless cycle of despair that twisted and turned inside his stomach, but the least he could do right now was to see you again.

There was no use in saying goodbye. Those were some of the many words you told Jake before leaving for Prague. Instead, he faced himself for the last time in the small, rectangular mirror, whispering a quiet, yet completely audible see you under his breath. As he walked out of the gallery, the summer winds turned, cold. He lovingly looked at the crumpled, tear-ridden pamphlet that was in his hands, and he mustered the courage to open it, reading the epithet below your "magnum opus,"

This piece is dedicated to the person who showed me how to grow and become comfortable in my own skin—to accept what made me who I am, and to learn to love the failures I had to go through. 14 steps are not enough to guarantee success or a fruitful future, but seeing his sheer motivation to better himself inspired me to do the same. What I want to share through these portraits is not the steps to betterment themselves;

I want to show how knowing the right person to grow with can start your own 14-step program to a better you.

taglist— @zhongriot @floraljae @jitaros @catsmenu

[jakecafe]

SOSOSOSOSOO CUTE AND THE WAY JAKE IS WRITTEN IN THIS HAS ME HEART EYES FR💔💔 my soft boy jake but he loves teasing you agenda is satisfied rn 🫶🏼🫶🏼 love this sm!

ACT NOW, THINK LATER! | S.JY

pairing: jake sim x reader (she/her pronouns) genre(s): university/college au, strangers to friends to lovers, summary: in which you kiss a stranger to prove to your friends that you’re over lee heeseung, only to discover that this stranger is completely entangled in your life word count: 9.6k warning(s): alcohol consumption, mentions of being tipsy note: this is based on this victon subin timestamp i wrote last year, but i kind of lost inspiration for it as a subin fic and wrote it into a jake fic lol. anyway, enjoy!

masterlist

“I change my mind,” Sunghoon said, standing at the party host’s door. “Let’s not go.”

You smiled, used to his introverted behaviour. “Okay,” you agreed. “We can leave if you don’t want to go in.”

“No,” Sunghoon sighed. “We should go in. If we don’t, everyone’s going to think that you bailed because of Heeseung and Hana.”

You groaned, glaring at him. “You know what, just because you said that, we’re going in whether you like it or not,” you decided, opening the front door and gently pushing Sunghoon through the doorway.

“Hey,” he protested, stumbling slightly over his feet and laughing when he saw your irritated expression. “I said that everyone else would think that, I know it’s not true,” Sunghoon defended himself. 

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[jakecafe]

AGSHDJSISISI THIS ONESHOT HAS MY HEARTT<33 THE WAY SUNOO IS WRITTEN HAS ME IN CLOUD NINE FOR REALZZZ AND HIM BEING ALL PUFFY CHEEK SND EVERYTHING SHDJ the little banter here and there and the casual conversations always immerse me in with everyone … i love love love vidia’s writing sm <333333:(((

dance with me ➢ kim sunoo.

SYNOPSIS 𖦹 in which the air is tense between you and your best friend kim sunoo at heeseung’s halloween birthday party, where neither of you know you fancy the other. but when a certain boy that sunoo doesn’t like wedges his way right between the two of you, it unwillingly brings hidden feelings to light.

[ word count : 6k ]

PAIRING 𖦹 kim sunoo x reader

GENRE 𖦹 fluff, light angst, friends to lovers

WARNINGS 𖦹 profanity

you weren’t sure just why the 2010 monster high theme song was being played from your best friend heeseung’s overhead basement speakers, but hey, you weren’t complaining. as you emerged down the wooden stairs of the basement staircase, your eyes glaze down towards the top of your shoes. you focused in on the soft clunks of your black platform boots, your fishnet gloved hands patting down the lace bottom of your dark purple dress.

i mean, i guess you did sorta have an idea as of why such a song had been playing. it was october, nearing one of the best holidays of the year, where leaves burn a dark orange hue and wind paints noses red. as your eyeliner lined eyes dart around the purple illuminated vicinity of heeseung’s basement, you noticed not many people had arrived at heeseung’s birthday party. you finally emerge down the last step of the staircase, an exaggerated sigh from your best friend sunoo emitting shortly behind you.

“this music is too loud.” he groans as he scrunches his nose up, reaching his hands to his ears to plug his index finger into them. you let a half smile spread across your darkly coated lips, turning towards your friend once you’ve made it to the floor.

“you’re not vibing with monster high?” you tell him over the echoey, dark techno beat. you cross your arms over your chest, the aroma of bakery items oozing it’s way into your nostrils. sunoo glares over at you through his own thickly applied eyeliner, his eyelashes curved up towards his dark, furrowed eyebrows. you examine the rosace tint of his cheeks as his silver, spider chain earrings dangle under the lavender glow of the lights.

“it’s hard to vibe with busted eardrums.” he replies to you, causing a giggle to erupt past your lips. he keeps his eyes on you as you turn around to follow the scent of delectable heaven, your dilated pupils landing on the long fold out table against the wall. drool basically drips from your chin at the sight of all of the desserts adorning the plastic table.

“sunoo, look.” you throw your head back towards the boy who slowly walks up beside you, lowering his hands from his ears. “do you think heeseung would be mad if i scarfed down this whole table?” you whisper firmly to him, leaning over to nudge your elbow into his arm. a scoff is heard in reply, wafts of sunoo’s cologne mixing with the buttered croissant aroma swirling around in your nasal cavity.

sunoo stuffs his fists into the pockets of his dress pants, watching as you pluck a chocolate chip cookie from a spiderweb decorated tray. “at least there’d be someone eating it.” he replies to your question, turning his head to peer out at the five other people in the basement.

you bite into the warm cookie, letting out a quick snort before shrugging. “true.”

“y/n..” sunoo begins, his eyes now examining the length of your figure. you raise your curious eyebrows over at him. “are you wearing the dress i said i liked?” he asks you with an amused lilt to his voice, his dark eyebrows raising and his cheeks blooming reds.

you finish chewing the cookie between your cheeks before peering down at your dress, your own cheeks blossoming with approaching heat. “oh,” you chuckle, swallowing anxiously. “yeah, i guess i am.” perfect. you think to yourself, acknowledging your accomplishment. he noticed.

“you look cute.” he tells you nervously, a wide smile spreading across his pink lips and squishing his eyelids shut. you give him a whispered thank you, before wiping your hands off on your dress and examining sunoo’s own outfit.

you quirk your eyebrow teasingly at the suit adorning his body, his hands quick to grip his blazer insecurely at your amusing stare. “what?” he chuckles anxiously, his own gaze peering down to examine his unnecessary formal attire. you admire the reddening of his cheeks, ignoring the way more of heeseung’s friends are heading down the basement steps.

“i like your…. suit?”

“stop.” sunoo groans, his hands flying up to cover the expanse of his reddening face. you giggle at him admiringly, turning back towards the dessert table to fetch another cookie. “i don’t - i don’t know what to wear to parties.”

your heart flips inside your chest at the growing red color that blossoms throughout his round cheeks and down to his neck, watching as his eyes avert everywhere but your face. you watch him blow air out of his nostrils and puff his cheeks out slightly, a small giggle leaving your lips as you lean over to swipe a fallen, black curl away from his desperate eyes. “it’s okay, the suit looks good. but i think i know how i could make it look better. a little more…. party like, a little less.. prom date.”

sunoo groans, slumping his shoulders forward before reaching out to snag a chocolate cupcake from the fold out table, sulkily peeling off the halloween wrapper. “okayy miss fashion police. help me, i don’t want to look lame.” he whines with a soft pout, his eyes focusing intently on his delicate unwrapping. you study the arch of his furrowed eyebrows before placing a hand on your hip, eyes observing the length of his figure.

“hm…” you narrow your eyes at his neatly ironed black tie, before dragging your gaze up to his tightly buttoned white collar. you finally swallow your chewed up cookie and lick your lips, watching as sunoo takes a giant bite of his chocolate cupcake, his suspenseful eyes trained in on you. “let’s lose…. this.”

you reach forward as sunoo pauses his mouth movements mid-chew, letting you slowly strip his blazer off of his shoulders. he places his cupcake back onto the dessert table for a brief second, letting you peel his blazer from his arms. “there you go.” you comment, the end of your lip curling up slightly. you watch as sunoo peers down at his long sleeved dress shirt, his palms going to swipe at his pants to rid of his crumbs. you let a dreamy sigh tumble from your lips as you throw sunoo’s jacket over your arm.

“this is better?” he mumbles with a soft pout, ignoring the sudden person who wedges themselves between the two of you to grab a chinese donut from the dessert table. you nod in reply to your friend, waiting for the person to pass to reach back over towards sunoo again.

“aaand..” you mumble, your fingers going to loosen his black tie, before unbuttoning a few buttons from his collar. “okay, there. all done. you look….” you take a few steps back to really take in his appearance. your eyes observe the rosace tint of his cheeks as he pulls at his collar, your mind admiring just how pretty he looks. you watch him lean over to grab his cupcake again, his mouth widening as he goes to take another large bite out of it. the way his black hair tousles just around his lined eyes and flutters around his spider earrings brings a jolt to your chest. you pretend that the way his white dress shirt brings out his olive skin tone doesn’t make heat rise up throughout your body. “…good.”

you watch a smile press up against his cupcake-full mouth, a small, breathy giggle erupting from his nostrils. “do you think so?” he mumbles mid-chew, a bright rosace fluttering to his cheeks. he breaks his eyes away from your own, turning to place his half eaten cupcake onto the dessert table. for a minute, your ogling gaze remains on the pleasing sight of his attractive attire, a tense air building up between the two of you as you slowly inhale through your lungs. you let the soft, upbeat pulses of the music fill the thick space between you, your gaze then shifting down to awkwardly adjust the hem of your dress.

“uh, yeah.” you clear your throat, your hot, flamed cheeks facing towards the hardwood floor. “i do think so.”

the silence from sunoo causes your nervous eyes to shift up towards him quickly, watching as he avoids your eyes. he stuffs his fists into his dress pants and flutters his eyelashes at the floor, a shy curve threatening to tick up his pink lips. you’re suddenly startled out of your tense admiring when heeseung’s loud voice is heard from behind you.

“did you guys try the pound cake?” you watch as his arm snakes out from behind you, a ring lined hand reaching for the stack of paper plates. his floral cologne makes its way into your nostrils, your lips parting to let your tongue form words against your drying mouth.

“uh.. no.” you nervously chuckle, watching as sunoo pricks a chocolate covered strawberry off of its tray. “but, uh, hey, heeseung.” you straighten yourself up and turn your body towards the tall boy behind you, nudging him softly in the arm. the boy hums and raises his thick eyebrows at your gesture, his eyes roaming around the contents of the dessert table.

“doesn’t sunoo look… chill? likes he’s ready for a party?” you ask him amusingly, sunoo pausing his chewing to widen his eyes at your question. you hear a short giggle from heeseung behind you, his own round eyes observing sunoo’s new look.

“ah, yeah. he’s lookin’ real cute. who are you helping him impress, hm?” heeseung leans his pointed shoulder into you teasingly, his spindly fingers wrapping around a flaky croissant lavished in powdered sugar. you throw a glare at him in an attempt to override the anxious feeling welling up in the pit of your stomach, the silence soon pulsing awkwardly in your eardrums as you watch heeseung slowly bite into his croissant, powdered sugar quickly falling and coating his black sheer, see-through button up in dots of white.

sunoo’s abrupt, maniacal laughter quickly causes a chuckle to bubble up your throat and push passed your parted lips, heeseung’s croissant paused at the entrance of his mouth. “did you not see the plates, heeseung?” sunoo spills between giggles, his upper half hunched over with his palms positioned on his knees. heeseung groans and lowers his treat, a pout jutting at his lip and red hues blooming in his cheeks, a lazy hand reaching up to swipe the sugar from his shirt, but he only makes it worse.

“heeseung.” you begin amusingly, outstretching your arm towards him. you ignore sunoo’s round of laughter that spikes at heeseung worsening situation, your eyes falling on the boys solemn face. “here, take sunoo’s blazer.”

without a word, heeseung slowly reaches for the coat hooked over your arm, his pout still present on his lips. a curve threatens to etch up his cheek, his glossed eyes pathetically meeting yours as he slips the blazer from your arm and begins sulking away. “i’m never eating food again….” you hear him mutter, before you and sunoo watch him with giggles spilling through your nostrils.

more of heeseung’s friends had trickled down the stairs and into his basement, loud chatter soon flooding the air between you and your friend. the two of had now fallen silent as you lean your backs against the edge of the dessert table, your eyes watching the lively teenagers. it seems as if this long, plastic table shoved up against the wall had now become your safe haven, for neither of you have moved in half an hour.

it wasn’t until the sudden, sultry saxophone and lazy, astral beat that loomed through the speakers that the two of you had become rigid. now the air was tense, and rather awkward, as red heat threads through your cheeks. you swallow slowly in your throat, your eyes darting to the side to glance at your friend beside you. he seemed to have picked up on the awkward vibes too, his arm reaching up to slowly scratch at the back of his neck. oh god. and if the slow, lovey dovey music wasn’t enough, everyone had now seemed to be finding partners in what seemed to be the beginning of a slow dance.

great. panic spreads throughout your chest and you quickly straighten up your spine, your palms going to nervously flatten out the skirt of your dress. before you can even part your lips and lock your eyes on the boy beside you, his voice quickly fills the air between you. “do you want to dance with me?” his voice is surprisingly amused, a hint of hesitation in his tone but the shy curve on his glossy lips tells you he’s serious. when your eyes meet his own he seems to have lost his sudden, short-lived confidence, for he staggers his gaze and shrugs his shoulders. “i don’t know. just to do it.” he nervously giggles, his hands going to dig into the pockets of his dress pants. “we don’t have to i just—”

“yes.” you blurt out, a smile going to hike at the corners of your lipstick-slicked lips. “dance with me, sunoo.” you quickly go to grab his hand and pull him towards the crowd, where his soft laughter is heard shortly behind you.

the music seems to have grown louder as the two of you soon get in position, your eyes refusing to waver from its place on the floor. you’re hoping the dim, purple light of the basement hides the heat that is settling in the apples of your cheeks. you feel sunoo’s hesitant, warm hands go to place themselves at the curve of your hips, an immediate warm feeling filling up the center of your chest. you let your tongue slide against your drying lips as you settle both of your hands on top of his shoulders, pretending not to show surprise at the heat that emits through his shirt.

his eyes suddenly meet yours, a shaky breath slowly rising in his chest before he hesitantly blows it out through his parted lips, his eyebrows raising and a nervous curve ticking up his lip at your brief, tense eye contact. “what?” he giggles, his eyes observing the uneasy arrangement of your features.

“nothing.” you tease through an embarrassed, wide grin, watching as sunoo’s adam’s apple slowly bobs in his throat as his shy gaze flickers towards your lips. you feel his palms adjust against your waist. “you’re so sweaty.” you tease airily with a scrunch of your nose, patting his shoulders softly as the two of you begin swaying to the slow, melodic love-making music. jeesh, heeseung, what’s the title of the playlist this song is on? okay scratch that, i don’t think i want to know. “are you nervous?”

you watch as a slow, hesitant smile grows at the corner of his lips, his cheeks flushed as strands of his raven hair flutter in front of his eyes. “yeah.” he says through a breathy giggle, his eyes going to scrunch shut. “i hate this.”

oh, sunoo, you think to yourself, as your eyes linger down towards the exposed area of his chest and the lines of his collarbones, where you can see the sheen of sweat against his skin that shines against the lavender lighting. if only you knew how cute i think you’re being right now.

you pull the inside of your cheek between your teeth, chewing it nervously before your thumb goes to graze against the edge of his flared, open collar, your eyes catching movement of his gradually heaving chest. “do you want to just…. grab all of the muffins and wolf them down in my car?” you mumble to him, your eyebrows raising amusingly as you keep your gaze trained on his collar, awaiting his next words.

“yeah,” a giggle sputters through his lips. “yeah i do. will heeseung be mad, though?” you hear him whisper to you, his grip on your waist seeming to feel a tad bit tighter. you shrug your shoulders and flick your eyes to his face, practically tasting the chocolate laced in his breath.

“yolo…?” you quirk, which causes sunoo to throw his head back with a short chuckle. you throw him a quick smile before parting from the boy, your fingers wrapping around his wrist before dragging him through the maze of sweaty teenage bodies.

the two of you finally make it to the dessert table, where you quickly hold up the bottom of your dress to act as a basket for the muffins that sunoo amusingly plucks off of the table. you throw your head back behind you in the midst of your maniacal giggling, where heeseung’s voice is heard approaching you. “go, go, go!” you firmly whisper to sunoo with raised brows, where he quickly turns on his heel as the both of you lower your heads through the crowd and towards the stairs.

“hey!” you hear a voice shout from the dessert table before making your way up the basement steps, pausing abruptly to throw your head back towards the voice. your eyes land on heeseung, who’s cheeks were bulging with what seemed to be another sugary croissant that he was holding in his hand. you quickly acknowledge the paper plate that his free hand holds below it. “where are you guys going?” he asks softly, his eyebrows wilting above his curious eyes as you dreadfully watch more powdered sugar flutter passed the plate and coat the too-small blazer now adorning his figure.

sunoo stops himself from doubling over by quickly silencing the loud snort that rolls through his nostrils. you hear the smack of his palm over his mouth before you part your own lips to reply. “you have sugar on your blazer.” you holler over towards the tall boy, taking the opportunity to rush up the stairs once he’s tilted his head down.

“…fuck.”

“you know what i don’t like about blueberry muffins?” sunoo’s words are barely audible by the amount of chewed up muffin squished between his cheeks, his gaze averted down towards the wrinkled napkin spread out against his thighs. one of which, hasn’t caught any crumbs by the look of his seat. you hum at him through your own thorough chewing, your feet propped up beside the steering wheel and onto the dashboard.

“the, uh,” you watch as the chewing boy leans over towards the middle console to rest his elbow on top of it, his fist closed at his lips. your eyes dart down to his forearms that are now exposed from pushing up his dress shirt sleeves. “the… chewy… stuff.”

“what?” you exclaim amusingly, forcing the big ball of muffin mush in your mouth to swim down your throat. you straighten up in your gray leather seat, moving carefully enough to not disrupt the array of muffins in your lap. you ogle at him confusingly, your eyebrow quirked up in utter amusement. “you mean… the blueberries?”

you watch as sunoo’s eyelids squeeze shut with his embarrassed smile, followed by a quick nod. “yes.” he giggles before swallowing his muffin, a hand reaching up to run his fingers through his messy, black locks. “why don’t they just make… like…” you hear his soft voice mumble before he reaches over towards you, his hand raised up towards your muffin pile as he contemplates which one to pluck. “like… like chocolate chips.. they make blueberry chips. why isn’t that a thing? it’d be so much better.”

“that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.” you mutter towards him with a curve of your lip, your eyes trained in on him as he lets out an abrupt chuckle, leaning back to plop his head down against the middle console.

“stop.” he groans, “stop, it makes sense.”

“sunoo.” you begin thoughtfully, your mind treading to a hesitant place in an attempt to take advantage of your alone time with your friend, who, i should mention, you secretly fancy. you pluck a muffin from your lap and slowly begin to thread off its brown wrapper, your eyes fixated upon its ridges. “why were you so nervous slow dancing with me?”

silence soon swirls through the air as sunoo keeps his head atop the console, a small groan spilling from his lips before he slowly straightens up his spine. “i’m so humiliating.” you hear him whine as you watch him flatten his palms against either of his warm, reddening cheeks. “i’m sorry… i wish i wasn’t so….. so anxious.” he mumbles, his long eyelashes fluttering up to fixate his brown eyes on your nervous features, his gaze flickering between your eyes. you study the downward curve of his lips and the way his eyebrows tighten sorrowfully above his eyes, embarrassment clearly evident in his sharp features.

“it’s okay.” you mumble, looking down to tear off a piece of the muffin you place atop your thigh. “but there’s no reason to be anxious with me.”

“i just wish i went about it better. d-differently.” you hear him mumble almost inaudibly, his back going to press against his passenger door as he hikes his knees up to his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones with fast blinks. you look up to peer at him with furrowed brows, meeting his intense gaze through fallen locks of his hair. you swallow slowly, your heart beginning to thump up in your throat at the sudden tense silence that encompasses you both, his gaze never falling as the two of you refuse to break contact.

you carefully part your lips before softly furrowing your brows at him. “what do you mean—”

a harsh knock on your window suddenly jolts the both of you, panic threading up your spine as you quickly throw your head back at the abrupt noise. color drains from your face at the mere sight of the god-forsaken boy who’s standing just right outside your window, your heart dropping to your stomach. you let an annoyed sigh pass through your lips as you roll your window down.

“hey, kuyeon.” you begin with a mock smile against your cheeks, your eyes falling on the smug little smirk that paints itself across this new boy’s thin lips. “did you… need something?”

the tall, curly haired boy places both of his palms against your car to lean his weight into it, his face now eye level with your own. you watch as this boy’s smirk never falters, only a sharp nod of his head towards the left deems as his reply. you blink at him, quickly registering that he wants to speak with you out of the car, guilt quickly creeping up on you. you swiftly turn towards sunoo, who keeps his back against his door as he messes with the threads in his shirt sleeves, clearly bothered by the situation. “i’m sorry. i’ll be right back.” you whisper desperately to him, before solemnly swinging open your car door and stepping out, feeling the eyes of kuyeon as he now stands in front of you with fists stuffed in his pockets.

god, i wish kuyeon would get over his little crush on me. i’ve made it clear many times i’m not interested, why does he persist? “is there something you want to tell me?” you can’t hide the annoyance in your voice as you lean your back against the side of your car, your arms going to thread across your chest. you wanted nothing but to jump back in your car and drive off into the sunset with sunoo.

“how’s heeseung’s party treating you?” his deep, slow voice creeps it’s way out between his parted lips as his eyes rake down your figure, the material of his dark red leather jacket glinting in the beating sunlight. “you didn’t stop by to say hi to me, hm? kinda bummed. i was right by the stairs too.” you watch him as he makes a couple tsk noises with his tongue, his dark eyebrows settled over his piercing, unsettling gaze. he reaches for a cigarette stuffed in his cargo pocket, settling it between his lips. “like you didn’t want to see me… hurt me a lil,’ y/n.”

you swallow nervously in your throat, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. you avert your gaze down to the asphalt, parting your dry lips in search of something to say, something to shoot this down as quickly as possible. “i just didn’t see you. sorry. but uh…. i was kind of in the middle of a conversation.. just now.. so i’ll just meet you inside, oka—”

“heeseung taught me a new pickup line, y/n.” the boy interrupts, his now lit cigarette wedged between his fingers as smoke curls out from his nostrils. “let me try it on you, i know how much you like them.” he scrunches his button nose at you before flashing you a lopsided smile, taking a few steps closer towards your figure.

an annoyed sigh passes through your lips. maybe if i just let him be entertained for a second he’ll leave me alone. “okay.” you groan teasingly. “make it quick though, kuyeon.” your eyes linger on his small smirk as his tall figure looms over you, one slow arm going to prop up beside your head. you swallow nervously in your throat, trying to avoid eye contact as wafts of his spearmint-laced breath swirl through your nostrils. he quickly flicks his cigarette to the ground.

“you’ve got… muffin crumbs on your dress.” he mumbles inches from your face, anxious heat blooming across your neck. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion of his words, your first reflex to look down towards your chest. just as you do so, his thumb swiftly picks up your chin to turn your head to the side, his lips then pressing up against your cheek in one swift motion.

you blink abruptly, slowly processing what had just happened. a breathy chuckle spills from kuyeon’ lips as he backs away from you to peer at your expression, another half curve etching up his cheeks. “tell me that wasn’t smooth… wasn’t that smooth?” he asks through an amused chuckle, both of his arms going to prop themselves on his hips. “god, i am good.”

heat creeps up your neck as you slowly part your lips, a nervous giggle erupting from them. “uh, wow. um.” you furrow your eyebrows, forcing the vomit that threatens to shoot up your throat down your esophagus. you nod slowly, your hand reaching up to run your fingers through your hair. “yeah. uh— sure. that was um.. something.”

kuyeon chuckles obnoxiously again. “i know right? heeseung, that little flirty devil. did you hear the music he’s been playing? that man has got hoes.”

before you can even reply to his idiocy of a statement, sunoo’s voice from behind you on the other side of the car causes you to avert your attention towards his standing figure. “i’m- i’m gonna go… inside now. need my… my blazer.” he tells you with furrowed brows, his eyes wide and glossy. his cheeks are red and his lips are slightly pouted as he hopelessly looks over at you, his gaze panning from you to kuyeon. you widen your eyes at sunoo desperately before he slowly swallows and turns on his heel, his hands shoved in his pockets as he treads quickly down the length of heeseung’s driveway. oh no… did he see what kuyeon just did?

a lump develops in the pit of your throat as you pathetically watch him grow further. “sunoo! wait—”

“do you wanna like… go out for drinks after this?” you hear kuyeon ask you just a few feet away from you, one more sound of his voice and you’re going to saw your own head off. “or like i don’t know… milkshakes… or—”

“sorry.” you interrupt, turning on your heel to begin down the asphalt. “i’m just not interested.” you tell him as you throw your head back to glance over at him, your pace quickening as you follow sunoo towards heeseung’s front door.

“uh, okay!” you hear kuyeon’s voice bellow from behind you. “i’ll just be out here smoking if you change your mind!”

“sunoo,” your voice is firm and a little wavered as you try to summon him over the loud bustle of the crowded basement, his figure weaving quickly through the crowd. you squint your eyes through the dim purple room struggling to keep your eyes trained on the back of your friend’s head, but it’s hard when your temples are throbbing against your skull. by now, everyone had finally gotten wound up from the loud, pulsing beats of the club-like music that was pouring through heeseung’s speakers. it wasn’t helping your headache much at all.

you’re sure your spiked black platforms had squished a few toes or two in your frantic shoulder-nudging frenzy, wondering how in the world this many people had shown up in such little time. man, maybe heeseung does have hoes. more than you thought, at least. your breath was becoming frantic and sweat was beginning to bead against your furrowed brows, your lip-gloss now drying upon your parted lips. you’re tired and you’re frustrated, a black shadow in your peripheral vision catching your attention up the basement steps.

you turn to study the person swiftly heading up the stairs, your eyes met with the back of a shiny matte blazer. sunoo. your heart begins thumping in your chest as you quickly push back through the teenagers who’s feet you had just stomped all over, your hand going to hastily grab the wooden banister. “sunoo, stop.” you groan loudly as you watch him disappear behind the wall, his loud footsteps slowly silencing as he grows more distant. you let out an irritated sigh as you hop up the carpeted steps, your breathing heavy as you heave through your parted lips.

once you’ve made it up the stairs, you immediately scan your surroundings for his presence. your shoes squeak against the hardwood as you enter heeseung’s living room, the basement music a faint pulse in your ears. no sign of your friend. you quickly move from the vacant living room towards the kitchen, where your heart flips in your chest at the awaited sight of your friend seated right on top of heeseung’s marble kitchen island.

“sunoo.” you breathe in relief, slumping your shoulders as you slowly approach the boy. his eyes were pointed down at the coke can in his hand, his black painted, chipped fingernails struggling to pop the clip open. “sunoo. i’m sorry.” the boy is silent as you stop a few feet in front of him, lacing your arms over your slowly heaving chest. you swallow slowly in your throat as his coke finally fizzes open, the boy immediately lifting the can to his lips and dipping his head back to take a swig.

“it’s fine.” he finally mumbles towards you with a soft swallow of his drink, avoiding your gaze. you chew on your bottom lip as you notice his blazer hiked down to his elbows. “how’d it go?” he asks you quietly as he furrows his eyebrows, his gaze pointed down to the can he now holds against his thigh. he picks at the silver clip for a second before lifting his brows to softly glance up at you.

his cheeks had bloomed crimson. “i don’t like kuyeon like that.” you blurt softly, the corners of your lips turned down into a frown. “in case you were wondering. you seemed to be bothered by his presence.”

“i wasn’t.” sunoo quickly snaps back, his brows furrowed even more as he looks back down towards his can. “i don’t care who you talk to.” his voice was still soft but firm, a frustrated pout jutting at his pink lips.

“then why do you look so upset?” you whisper to him, your eyes frantically searching his reddened, distraught features. you watch as strands of his messy black hair fall into his eyes and curl out behind his ears. “you confuse me sometimes, you know that?”

“i’m not upset.” he snaps again, this time lifting his chin up to meet your gaze. “i’m just tired.” his voice is hushed as he tightens his brows together, his eyes big and glossy as his gaze flickers between your own curious eyes. you wish you could read his mind, because he seems to have something on it that you just can’t pinpoint. you let a small sigh escape past your parted lips at his closed-off behavior, letting your tongue moisten your dry lips before speaking the words that were about to flip off your tongue.

“just tell me what you’re feeling.” you tell him quietly. “you confuse me so much. sometimes i feel like you like me, but then i doubt myself. can you just stop closing up after i do something to hurt you and just tell me the truth? i’m just confused. and - and frustrated.”

sunoo’s eyes are widened as he ogles at your flushed, tired expression, slowly going to place his soda can beside him. he pulls his lip between his teeth to nibble on it softly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with a slow swallow. the kitchen falls silent for just a few seconds, nothing but the whir of the ceiling fan above you and the basement speaker’s vibrating bass is heard between the both of you.

“y/n. come here.” he mumbles softly to you, a shaky hesitant lilt to his velvet-like tone. his legs spread only slightly to make room for your slow, approaching figure, your heart beating up inside your throat. you move closer towards him, keeping your arms laced tight over your chest. you flutter your coated eyelashes nervously up at sunoo, who peers down at you with reddened, round cheeks. you watch as a shy curve prods at the edge of his lip. “you have..” his eyes flicker down from your face to your chest. “muffin crumbs… on your dress.”

an immediate nervous flush rushes to the expanse of your exposed neck, your eyelashes blinking rather rapidly up at his nervous expression. your temples are throbbing and your brain soon oozes to mush, as you hesitantly tilt your head down in reply to sunoo’s comment. you knew what he was doing. you then feel slow fingers softly grab your chin, a shaky breath tumbling from sunoo’s nostrils as he slowly lifts your chin up. he then leans down towards your cheek and turns his head to press his lips right into the apple of it. your heart feels heavy in your chest at the tingling feeling of sunoo’s lips on your skin, the feeling foreign, but adored. you craved it as soon as you felt it, your vision slightly blurred as you crook your head barely an inch to the side, catching the boy’s lips in a sudden kiss.

sunoo freezes for only a moment, surprised by your sudden action. he quickly comes back to his senses and begins softly moving his lips against yours, both of his soft hands going to cup either of your cheeks. your neck starts to ache at the way your chin is tilted up to reach his mouth but you don’t even care, you don’t acknowledge it. your hands go to place themselves against the edge of the counter, on either side of sunoo’s thighs. the kiss is slow and moves slowly, a shy giggle being breathed into your own mouth.

“did you like that?” you hear sunoo whisper against your lips, his mouth feverish and chocolate-laced against your tongue. “i did it better than him, right?” you let a soft chuckle breathe through your nostrils as you separate slowly from his pink lips to flash a small smile, pecking his grinning lips.

“no.” you reply to him, where he scoffs playfully in reply. his thumbs go to slowly hook themselves under your chin for a better hold, his thumbs stroking softly at the lines of your jaw. “but i liked it better. and i like you better.” you can feel his shy smile against your lips as you go to press your own into his again, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“you’re making me flustered.” he whispers against your mouth, in which you giggle softly as a reply. “i- i also like you. that’s… that’s why i did it.”

“sunoo.” you whisper against his mouth before pressing another kiss into his soft lips. you separate your mouths and take a few steps away from him, watching as his lips jut into an immediate pout. you go to reach for his hand and softly tug on his arm. “come dance with me.” you tell him with flushed cheeks, watching as he flashes you another eye-thinning grin. he hops off of the counter and lets you drag him back towards the basement, his palm clammy against your own. “he’s playing decode by paramore. hope you know how to head bang.”

sunoo chuckles bubbly at your comment, following you shortly as the both of you trod down the basement steps. “you owe me a milkshake after this. forcing me to dance to screamo music. what a romantic you are.”

“a… blueberry milkshake?” you tease as the two of you keep your fingers interlocked as you step onto the hardwood floor, the loud, heavy guitar from the speakers blowing out your eardrums.

“… they make blueberry milkshakes?!”

you shrug in response to sunoo’s bewildered statement, stripping his blazer from his arms to throw it over the staircase banister. “dunno. if they do, i’ll ask them to grind them into chips for you.”

“… shut up.”

a/n: WOWWWWW I FEEL LIKE IVE BEEN GONE FOREVER AAAGH THIS FELT SO NICE TO WRITE T-T i hope you guys enjoyed this sunoo fic i’ve been wanting to write something cute for him i love him so much he deserves the world and every ounce of love in the universe i would die for that boy. (no lie.) BUT ANYWAY… I DONT KNOW IF YOUVE NOTICED BUT IVE CHANGED THE PREMISE OF THIS FIC FROM WHAT IT SAID IN MY WIPS BUT I DONT THINK ANYONE REALLY CARES HHH?2??2?3 i just hope it brought you joy and comfort that is all i really want. <\3 thank you so much for reading and more works will be written in the future and i will try to be quicker aaah ;-; thank you for being patient with me. ALSO. my taglists r still open if anyone is interested there’s more info in my about me :3 heheh i hope everyone has an amazing day/night. ^3^ SMOOOOOOCH. <333

perm taglist ! @5xiang @svnoofy @qolaroidlove

sfw taglist ! @wonzone

[jakecafe]

SUCH AMAZING WRITING…. the interactions and expressions written were like sweets being handled to me… everything was so lovely and i am so so in love with this one shot!!/&;&:8:8: going in my recs for sure and i will read this as a bedtime story every night el o el !! <33

chasin' your pretty thoughts

PAIRING — Yang Jungwon x Fem!Reader

synopsis: let's get one thing clear, Jungwon wasn't a superhero. So what if he woke up one day with the ability to read minds? His lifestyle didn't need to go through a drastic change. Needless to say, he went on with his life, carrying the weight of responsibility that came with the whole 'having ESP ordeal'. But it wasn't until his 18th birthday where his life took a new turn once letting his barriers slip and he found himself lost in your thoughts—your thoughts that revolved around him and maybe, just maybe he finds the quiet daydreamer (you) and the inner workings of her mind intriguing.

(alternatively: in which Yang Jungwon can read minds and he finds himself slowly falling in love with Y/N, an avid daydreamer, through her thoughts that strangely enough were full of him).

GENRE — one-shot, highschool AU, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, kind of a character study, a smidge of angst.

WARNING(S) — swearing lol, mentions of death but like from embarrassment

WORD COUNT — 22.9K (that definitely exceeded my expectations 🗿)

ADDITIONAL NOTE(S) — Jungwon is a kind of a geek, MC is on the quiet side this time (really, poor thing is so shy) and gets flustered easily, Jungwon's 'love language' is teasing, brief time-skip at one point.

AUTHOR'S NOTE — well, this took longer than I originally had expected 💀 I know a few of you were really excited for this and I really do apologize for taking so long! Without further ado, here's a long and fluffy fic for all you Wonie lovers out there <3

For as long as Jungwon could remember, superheroic abilities only existed in the comic books he and his older sister would get up to flipping through as soon they grew bored of having to focus on any academic reading required.

It’s a little tradition he and his older sister, Jiwon, had come up with when she, with little Jungwon in tow as he clutched the hem of her sweater, ventured into the deeper and more secluded part of the library. To him, it felt like he was on his own adventure, going against his parents' wishes in favor of trudging into unknown territory, faced with shelves upon shelves of what was predominantly Marvel and D.C comics where time wasn’t particularly kind to what was once the pristine conditions of each issue. 

But Jungwon never paid much mind to the weathered appearance.

As a kid, it only added to the appeal as he eagerly accepted a Spider-Man issue Jiwon handed to him, his eyes wide and full of wonder as he followed suit, sitting across his sister when she had sat against the shelf and opened her copy of an Iron Man issue with gleaming eyes, mirroring his own.

Since that particular encounter, the Yang siblings made it their mission to free their Saturday schedule by doing their chores in a much faster and efficient way. Jungwon, more or less, complained at the additional effort he had to put in (emphasizing his exasperation by pouting, which only puffed up his cheeks and for her to coo at), but Jiwon was patient enough to listen to her little brother’s objections and successfully calmed his growing impatience by the promise of asking their grandmother to give them a slight increase in allowance for ice cream after their weekly trip to the local library.

Jungwon was still in a sour mood even after the bargain. Nonetheless, he still does his chores, albeit his reluctance was ever present in every sweep of the broom, but he still does his part and finished his share of household chores just before their grandmother called the siblings for a well deserved lunch.

Their newfound vigor doesn’t go unnoticed.

In fact, it raised the eyebrows of not only their grandmother, but their parents too. It also raised a slew of silent questions from Mr. and Mrs. Yang as they watched their children go about their set weekend chores. Both Jiwon and Jungwon were both hardworking in their own ways, that’s a known fact and both parents were extremely proud of their children—their absolute pride and joy—so the curiosity quickly faded as they both thought the siblings deserved time for themselves anyway.

They were good children. They deserved to have their fun every once in a while and so Jiwon and Jungwon pretty much made “reading superhero comics until our brains rot” a permanent fixture in their lives. It had gone to the point where they both started looking into buying their own copies to start on each of their respective collections.

Little Jungwon wouldn’t say he was obsessed with having superpowers of his own, but he thought having some sort of ability would probably come in handy if it meant that it would make his life easier.

(He was quite dramatic as a child; very imaginative too).

He dreamt of having a handful of superpowers, one of them being super-speed as that would definitely aid him in completing his own set of tasks which included homework and household chores. The ability to fly came into mind once he found himself watching a flock of birds flying from his bedroom window while in the middle of doing his homework, but then he thought how teleporting would probably be more convenient.

As often as he would find himself imagining all the possibilities if superpowers existed in this world, Jungwon knew those would have to remain in his dreams where anything was possible.

Well, that was until he turned eleven.

On the morning of Jungwon's eleventh birthday, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

It was a typical cold, February morning and perhaps Jungwon did wake up earlier than usual due to the chilly weather; still, nothing seemed out of place. It could be that he was anticipating another surprise from either Jiwon or his grandmother which made him feel a tad restless—Jiwon held the most birthday surprises—and that could be the reason why he was on edge when he left his bedroom; eyes still heavy with sleep and hair messed up from tossing and turning.

He was right in expecting his older sister to surprise him.

Jungwon had been waiting for Jiwon to strike since last night—it was his last thought too before he dozed off—and yet, she still managed to elicit a scream from the moment he stepped out of the bathroom after freshening up and that ended up in Jungwon pouting the entire time they ate breakfast as Jiwon and their grandmother doted on him. His sulking was short lived however, because he immediately cheered up when a cupcake with a tiny lit up candle was presented to him, his older sister singing a very off-key version of the birthday song while their grandmother laughed heartily, eyes brimmed with overflowing fondness she had for her grandchildren.

And the cool Monday morning was a happy affair after that, the joy following the siblings towards the designated bus-stop to wait for the next one to take them to school. It wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes, so Jiwon thought of entertaining themselves by choosing a color and to see how many vehicles of said chosen color will pass by them until the next bus comes. Since it was Jungwon’s birthday, he got to choose first; he picked silver while Jiwon picked red.

When he noted down his fifth vehicle, that’s when he heard it.

Jungwon’s gonna freak when he finds out I got him the first two volumes of My Hero Academia.

He turned to Jiwon, surprise etched all over his face and touched at the fact she remembered what he wanted,  “you got me the first two volumes of MHA for my birthday?”

She froze, slowly turning to look at Jungwon and mirrored his expression, “how did you know I got you that?”

“I heard you say that you did,” Jungwon said as if it was the most obvious answer because he did, in fact, hear her. It was her voice, there was no mistaking it. After all, he grew up listening to Jiwon’s voice every single day since he became aware of it and it would be literally impossible if she were to claim it was someone else when it was only them at the bus-stop.

“So did you?” Jungwon asked, slightly bouncing in his seat as an excited smile bunched up his cheeks, “did you get me the manga?”

“How…” Jiwon can’t help but roll her eyes at how earnest Jungwon looked, “okay fine. I did get them.” Then she knit her eyebrows together because how on earth did her baby brother figure it out? Sure he was observant for his age (maybe a bit too observant), but Jiwon thought she and their grandmother did a good job on hiding it from him. Not once did she even move this gift from its hiding place either. “But how did you know?”

This time, it was Jungwon who rolled his eyes. If this was his older sister acting, she’s doing a damn good job at acting clueless. Maybe she should become an actress. “I heard you say it, Jiwon, I told you.”

“I literally didn’t say anything!” Was Jiwon’s indignant reply.

“Yes you did! You said ‘Jungwon’s gonna freak when he finds out I got him the first two volumes of My Hero Academia’.” Jungwon even made it a point to try and imitate his sister’s pitch to annoy her even more, but Jiwon was too shocked to even react, only managing a strangled sound coming from her throat. “I heard it loud and clear!”

What the fuck… he said that word for word too!

Jungwon gasped, scandalized at the cussing—scandalized by his twelve year old sister cussing, “Jiwon! You said the F word! Mom, Dad and grandma told us not to say that!”

What the hell! Can he read my mind? There’s no way he can!

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed at Jiwon appearing as if she was on the verge of a mental breakdown, “how can you talk with your mouth not moving?”

Jiwon held her face in both of her hands and sighed heavily. It kind of reminded Jungwon of their mom when she was particularly stressed or frustrated by something from work. Sometimes it was both. “It’s because I wasn’t, you brat.”

Jungwon, if by any chance you do hear my thoughts, we’re going to Lotte World later. They told me it was a surprise. Mom, Dad and Grandma are picking us up after school. They’re getting off early from work.

“We’re going to Lotte World later?! And Mom and Dad are leaving work early?!” Safe to say, Jungwon was absolutely elated by the prospect of their parents getting off early to take them to an amusement park. “Okay but really, how are you talking without moving your mouth? That’s so weird…” His face scrunched up.

Not as weird as you reading my mind, Jungwon-ah.

Jungwon doesn’t even get to rebuke her statement with Jiwon already opening her mouth to say, “Jungwon, don’t freak out, but you can read minds now… I think.” Say ‘Jungwonie’s stupid’ and I’ll buy you ice cream for a week.

“You’re not tricking me this time, noona, even if it’s for ice cream.” 

Worth a shot. Jiwon shrugged. You do know I’m talking to you through my thoughts, right? See? She gestured vaguely to herself, my mouth isn’t moving at all.

And that’s when the realization dawned on him.

Jungwon’s face falls entirely, “I can read minds now?”

Jiwon slowly slid closer until their thighs touched and patted him gently on the back. “Yeah, I guess you can.” Looks like you’ve got yourself a superpower.

He giggled. It is true, but it’s still weird that it is and it surprised him that he’s taking this well. “How can I save the day with mind-reading?”

I dunno, but you’ll figure out!

“Okay you can stop with that now. You already proved to me that I can read minds.” Jungwon wondered if this could work on animals too. “Do you think this is an unconscious thing? Like, can I turn it off ‘cause I don’t really want to hear multiple people’s minds going off in class.”

Jiwon shrugged, “I didn’t gain mind-reading powers when I turned 11. You’ll have to find it out on your own.” Jungwon sighed through his nose. Isn’t he too young to have an ability like this? And he’s certain there aren’t even books out there that would help. There’s a chance that he could be the only one in the world who manifested such an ability right at this very moment.

“We can talk more about this when we get home.” She said, getting on her feet as she dusted off her skirt and Jungwon followed suit when he spotted the bus coming. “For now, maybe you can find out which one of your classmates has a crush on you.”

Jungwon snorted, gently pushing Jiwon by the shoulder. “Whatever.”

In the end, Jungwon found out who exactly had a crush on him. Three people to be exact and as much as he was flattered by the new found knowledge, it was kind of odd hearing them gush about him in their heads while they did their best in keeping their faces as neutral as possible. 

(It was kind of funny though, now that Jungwon had the time to think about it; Funny in a way that their thoughts were so damn loud when their outer appearance was the complete opposite—stoic, shy and reserved. Perhaps having this ability would come in handy when Jungwon had to deal with liars).

A hand waving in front of his face brought him back to the present. 

“Jungwonie, you okay there?”

Jungwon blinked and looked up to see Jiwon regarding him with slight concern. He shook his head and promptly got up from the couch. “Sorry, I was just thinking.” He peered down at his sister who seemed displeased at the vague answer.

“You already do a lot of that these days. Can’t you give your brain a break at least once?”

Christ, when did this guy become taller than me? Their height difference wasn’t even that great, yet Jiwon can’t help but to complain every time she was reminded of her younger brother’s growth spurt. 

She immediately glared at him once spotting the smirk. Don’t even answer that, you brat.

Jungwon complied, shrugging as he picked up his backpack.

It was way too early to be subjected to his sister’s wrath anyway and he’d prefer arriving at school in one piece. “Yeah well, keeping my brain occupied helps with the mind-reading thing so…” He trailed off while adjusting the straps. Even if he pretty much had a solid grasp on controlling his new found ability he gained exactly seven years before, Jungwon thought he still needed to keep it in check. One slip up could overwhelm him and he does not want that to happen ever again.

Jiwon snickered, “is this your way of telling me you’re overthinking?” Jungwon’s bland expression told her it wasn’t, making her grin. “Anyways, here.” She pulled out something wrapped in brown paper from her bag and handed it over to him. “I’d ask you to guess what it is, but I know you already used your freaky mind-reading shit on me.”

It’s volume 32 and 33 of My Hero Academia.

“Grandma would smack you if she heard you cuss.” Jungwon snickered, flipping the wrapped gift in mid interest and completely ignoring her bristling, “and it’s volume 32 and 33 of My Hero Academia.”

Jiwon’s expression quickly morphed into disbelief. “God, I hate it when you do that. It’s really hard to surprise you at this point. Mom and Dad think you’re so hard to please now too.” She whined.

“Sorry,” he said, not at all sounding the least bit apologetic. A small grin pulled at his lips too, earning a scoff of disbelief in response, “I really can’t help it sometimes.”

Jiwon parrots what he said in a mocking manner and Jungwon snorts as he unwrapped the two new volumes to add to his ever growing collection of MHA manga. “You say that every year on your birthday.” She grumbles, “happy birthday, by the way. Ugh you’re 18 now too! You make me feel so old.”

He let out a good-natured laugh, “you’re only two years older than me though?”

“I’m turning 20 this year, Jungwon. I think I can say I feel old now that I’m nearing my twenties.” Jiwon started ushering him out of the living area hurriedly, “now let’s go, birthday boy, I gotta take you to school. Consider me giving you a ride part two of your birthday gift.”

“Wow, lucky me.” Jungwon said drily, letting himself be pushed out of his own home. “Don’t you have classes too?”

After saying their goodbyes to both their grandma and their recent addition, a rescued Bichon they named Maeumi, Jiwon pulled out her car keys from one of her bag’s pockets, “my classes aren’t until later,” Jiwon reassures him. It’s one perk being in college. You can build your own schedule for your own convinience, “so I have plenty of time to fuck around before then.”

Tap tap.

Jungwon blinked once, twice, three times before he huffed at Jiwon’s amusement, “do you always have to do that?”

“Of course,” she tapped the middle of his forehead twice again with her index finger just to prove a point, “who else will remind you to not overuse your superpower?”

If someone asked Jungwon about his peculiar fixation on anything superhero related, he could say in confidence that he wasn’t as obsessed compared to how he was in his younger days.

He wasn’t as obsessed, yes, but did that mean he completely turned his back on the one thing that brought him and his older sister closer? Of course not, and the keywords here are “Jungwon wasn’t as obsessed”; it doesn't entirely mean he wouldn’t pick up a comic book ever again. His fixation dwindled throughout the years of spontaneous growing pains that came with puberty and his obsession had been demoted to a healthy interest, so Jungwon liked to think that he wasn’t the same starry-eyed boy that viewed Spider-Man as a god during his childhood.

His current interest in the manga his sister had gotten him doesn’t count, obviously. Nevermind that he started collecting an appropriate amount of figurines along with the thirty something volumes of the mentioned manga. Afterall, it was completely normal for a teenage boy like him to have some sort of interest other than Taekwondo and while he was thankful that his parents had kind of forced him to partake in the martial art to improve on his socializing, sometimes he needed another outlet to unwind; some sort of hobby to keep him grounded and not succumb to the pressures of being in his junior year of highschool.

A light smack on the back of his head launched Jungwon out of his bubble of concentration, letting out a surprised sound that got caught in his throat in the process. Jungwon hissed and quickly grabbed the nearest thing to use as a bookmark—a ball-point pen—for the meantime, before looking up to glower at the early morning perpetrator, rubbing the same spot he was hit.

“Happy 18th birthday, loser.” Jungwon immediately rolled his eyes when he saw the shit-eating grin spread on Wonyoung’s lips from his visible annoyance of being interrupted. “I see you’ve already started the day with your nerdy book.” Wonyoung unceremoniously plopped onto her desk which was on said birthday boy’s right-hand side.

“Very funny,” came Jungwon’s bland reply as he picked up the ‘nerdy book’ (which was volume 32 of the MHA series, thank you very much) again to continue. “Is that how we treat the birthday boy? And here I expected my best friend to play nice for once.” He paused from his reading to look at the girl expectantly with an arched eyebrow.

She mirrored his claim with an all too sweet smile, “eat shit, Yang.” and she placed a box of chocolate onto Jungwon’s desk. The two broke into peals of laughter as he said his thanks.

“By the way, class representatives are required to attend a StuCo meeting later.” Wonyoung said through her mouthful of chocolate.

Jungwon paused in his chewing, eyebrows knitting together, “what for?”

Wonyoung shrugged and looked elsewhere, “Not really sure either. I’ll wait for you to finish cleaning up the classroom.”

If he says ‘no’, I’m gonna physically drag him out of this damn classroom myself. We planned this birthday dinner for so long. We’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

The corners of Jungwon’s lips twitched and hid the growing smile behind the manga in his hands, swallowing the chocolate. “Alright, if you say so.”

“Great! I mean… great.” And if Wonyoung’s sigh of relief was far too obvious than she intended it to come out, Jungwon doesn’t mention it.

Thank God. Sunoo would have chewed my ear off if his efforts of getting a reservation were for nothing.

Even if he did consider Jang Wonyoung as his best friend, Jungwon never really made it a point to tell her about the whole ‘oh, I can read people’s minds by the way’ thing.

He never found a need nor a reason to let her, or any of his friends, be informed on the matter; and knowing some of them, they’d probably use his ability as some kind of party trick to amuse a new face, or an exploit to earn cheap bet money from an equally cheap thrill of a guessing game. He can already feel the upcoming Riki-induced-headache from the thought of asking an unaware stranger to think of something for Jungwon to guess.

On the other hand, it’s not like Jungwon lived a double life as a superhero.

He was just a boy who had somehow woken up being capable of reading minds. It didn’t really make his life any different; other than the fact that he can hear an array of voices entangling with his own inner subconscious from time to time. Still, his life was pretty normal. He had no desire to dramatize it either and he would prefer to live a structured and stress-free life too. Really, there was no point when he already had full control of his capabilities.

Though, there were a few rare instances where Jungwon’s attention was not all there—a very very rare feat, mind you—which ultimately led him to forgetting that none of his friends were informed of his clairvoyance. Suspicions were thrown his way whenever these slip-ups happen; he already expected it, but Jungwon always made sure to be one-step ahead of everyone and chalked it up to him just having ‘good intuition’.

It was enough from the looks of it, because they didn’t question him further and they knew he spoke the truth and nothing but the truth. He really wasn’t one to joke around. That was more of Riki’s job and Jungwon considered himself as the moral compass of his friend group; the one who would usually pull everyone back before they even get the chance to think of something that would regrettably get them into trouble.

Someone has to be, especially when most of them screamed trouble.

(There was one time where Sunoo made an off-handed comment about him probably having ESP. Jungwon had to apologize profusely when the latter fell victim to his spit-take).

Out of all the things he had learned throughout the experience of having a glorified sixth sense, lying was the one skill he had a little difficulty getting a grasp on.

Can it even be considered as a skill? It comes natural to everyone, doesn’t it? Maybe with the exception of himself, considering Jungwon never felt the need to falsify any detrimental information to save his own ass. He’s as honest as they come, and prior to gaining his ability,  he knew fully well that he was shit at lying. He couldn’t lie even if it was the last remaining solution to save humanity from any outside threat. Consequently, having a new  responsibility to mind, might as well learn the art of deception; anything to keep his secret safe.

Jungwon was subjected to more birthday greetings right after that initial morning run-in with Wonyoung, then he powered his way through an embarrassing moment where their teacher for second period had everyone sing happy birthday to him, all thanks to his best friend announcing that it was indeed Jungwon’s ‘special day’. While he was extremely grateful that his classmates had collectively said their warm greetings (even if most of them were prompted by his friends and teachers), he really wasn’t sure if he’ll be able to survive another barrage of ‘happy birthdays’ once he leaves the classroom for lunch.

And boy was he right in assuming there would be a long line of people that wanted to greet him.

Maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration on his part, but there were still indeed some people he was fairly acquainted with that actively sought Jungwon out just for that, and all he could do was smile and express his gratitude with a soft-spoken ‘thank you’.

In the middle of all that cacophony, he may or may not have let his ‘mind barriers’ open briefly to (accidentally) hear some thoughts. Most of them were, again, internally fawning about how pretty, cute and handsome he was—your typical musings when it comes to admiring someone, really, and it was still strange that he could find out just who exactly harbored a crush on him just by doing so.

Jungwon was still flattered by the compliments though, if the light blush kissing the apples of his cheeks were anything to go by.

* * *

Yang Jungwon… man, even his name is so cute.

The boy in question immediately looks up from his manga in quiet surprise, eyes roaming around the currently silent classroom where most of his classmates were still working on the activity their teacher for the last period assigned to keep them busy; and it’s clear that Jungwon had no problems completing everything in a short amount of time.

And it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who had more time to fool around before the bell rings.

It’s not often that Jungwon lets his control over his own ability slip, but when he does, he comes across a multitude of mindscapes that were unique to its beholder and he’s seen and heard quite the variety of thoughts; the human mind is truly amazing, Jungwon would muse.

No mind is the same. That’s his number one takeaway from reading more minds than he could count; just like how his clairvoyance wasn’t limited to only voices, sometimes when he tries hard enough, Jungwon can see into someone’s mind. More often than not, the times where he does dive into a person’s mindscape, it was more or less accidental. It’s still lost to him on what actually triggers the ‘deep-dive’ aspect of his ability, but he supposed it only happens when he honed every ounce of his focus on an individual. That was always the common denominator.

Back to the situation at hand, Jungwon swore he recognizes that voice. He wasn’t entirely sure if the person he thought of was the same one who just spoke in their mind and so he kept alert; eyes still scanning the classroom’s expanse until the voice from moments prior pierced through his mind again.

It’s been two years. When do I plan on actually talking to him? Is this what I get for being the ‘quiet and reserved’ one in the class? Man, fuck this. Maybe I can tell him happy birthday again? We’re cleaning partners today anyway.

Jungwon suppressed a smile, using a hand to cover the lower half of his mouth as he held back the giggles fighting to escape his lips.

Oh he knew that voice, granted it wasn’t often that it was heard because 1.) you were definitely known to be the quiet and reserved one in the class. It’s basically your brand. 2.) You barely spoke, only speaking when spoken to and as embarrassing as it was to admit, it kind of played into the fact that Jungwon barely paid that much attention to anyone who wasn’t part of his circle and 3.) he hadn’t the chance to take a peek into your mind either; again, please refer to number 2.

His manga laid forgotten on the top of his desk now, in favor of observing his current object of interest who was currently gazing out of the window, cheek resting on the palm of your hand and he can’t help but to think that the sight before him looked it belonged from your typical shoujo anime; with you sitting right beside the window as the afternoon sun shone on your figure. It kind of made you look like you were a main character.

A tiny smirk tugged at the corners of Jungwon’s lips as he thought to mirror your pose.

You were quite something, now that he had some time to further assess you, who took the whole mysterious girl trope and ran with it for the years he’s been aware of your presence. Jungwon thought that you were indeed the stereotypical shy, quiet and reserved girl who no one really paid attention to, but still aware of because the whole image interested anyone who was curious to what made someone like you tick and he was indeed curious.

As quiet as you were now, your mind was a different story and that intrigued him the most.

You were very loud in your head, a stark juxtapose to how you were in real life. Jungwon could probably equate the tumultuous train of thought to some muted category of overthinking, if it weren’t for the fact that your thought process was nowhere near close to that. What he heard did not go on the same spectrum overthinking belonged at all, not when the voice took a dreamy lilt as it echoed in his head.

What if I confessed to him?

Jungwon’s eyebrows raised in interest. So you do have a crush on him. It was already a given; you did mention that his name was cute.

Shaking your head, you let out a dejected sigh through your nose as you turned away from the window to peer at the open notebook resting idly on your desk.

Nah, that’s too soon. Besides, he barely knows who I am.

While that was true, he was relieved at the fact that you respected his boundaries because if that were to happen, Jungwon wouldn’t really know what to do if you did pour your heart out to him.

He watched you turn to look out of the window again, gazing at the sky for a brief moment before you breathed out a heavy sigh, folding both of your arms to rest your head on top of them.

Might as well be single for life. It’s probably my destiny to be alone if it takes me almost three fucking years to grow a pair and talk to Jungwon. Your inner voice this time took a defeated turn as you buried your face deeper into the comfort of your arms. At least let me experience what it would be like to confess to your crush. Sulky. That was one way to describe how you sounded right now.

Then, he felt the all too familiar pull of being brought into someone’s mindscape that he ended up closing his eyes and clenching his jaw from the initial uncomfortable feeling. Even if Jungwon knew it would eventually fade, he still can’t get used to it.

It didn’t stop from there either. Entering someone’s head always affected his senses in a way where Jungwon had concluded that the phantom feeling of ice-cold water washing over his skin, or even a jolt of electricity running through his veins were a few examples of a person’s way of greeting his presence every time he did trudge into the depths of their mind. The difference ranged from person to person and Jungwon had also chalked all of this up to being some type of prognosis that would give him an idea of what he would expect to see once he gets a clear view of the mindscape he’s in.

The two examples given obviously meant that he wasn’t at all welcome to take even just a tiny peek, so he had already expected to go through something similar when it came to you. Sure you held Jungwon on some type of pedestal, but that clearly became a catalyst of your slight aversion to simply talking to him and really, he wouldn’t hold it against you if your mind greeted him in the most unpleasant ways.

With all that to expect, he was, however, proven wrong when he entered your mindscape.

For one, it was not the sharp pain from being electrocuted that extended its welcome. The barriers your mind had set up parted easily and he immediately felt warm all over, as if he was being engulfed by a hug from an old friend who was beyond ecstatic to meet him again. It’s strange, Jungwon thinks, this doesn’t happen often and knowing the two of you hadn’t really spoken much to each other, he alluded that this ‘warmth’ may have something to do with what you’re thinking right now.

And it’s one thing he got right.

Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of the same classroom. This time, it’s like everything before him was bathed in some type of lovely camera filter (something akin to rose-tinted glasses or however the saying goes) that made the whole scene a lot more romantic than what the room looked like on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps there was a reason why it appeared so, when his eyes took in the two individuals standing in the middle of the otherwise empty classroom.

“Jungwon… thank you for coming to meet me here.”

Huh, it’s me and Y/N. Jungwon sits on one of the desks, curious as to what you could possibly be daydreaming about at this moment.

It’s quite strange watching a version of himself smile down at you, “your note did say to meet you here once our classmates left.” and the Jungwon of your mindscape lifted the said note with a quirk of his eyebrow, making the real Jungwon snort from his perch. 

Is this how you saw him? You weren’t too far off, if he was being honest. Though he definitely wasn’t as charming as you made him out to be as he grimaced when Jungwon’s daydream variant graces you with a coy smile; an expression he wasn’t all too estranged to, yet it was a tad disconcerting to witness it etched on his face as a spectator.

I don’t actually smile like that… do I?

“So?” Jungwon prompted with an eyebrow raise and it’s almost laughable how flustered you seem to get as he rested his hip against the desk. To think quiet and stoic L/N Y/N was so easy to embarrass. It was rather adorable, tilting his head as he observes you fumble with your words while under his clone’s stare. “Why are we here? Do you have something to tell me?”

“I do actually,” you mumble and he assumed it was loud enough to hear when Jungwon of your mindscape’s smile stretched wider as he pockets the note you gave him. The action flustered you even more, now avoiding looking into his eyes completely and instead gazed down at your fiddling fingers.

Jungwon rolled his eyes when the other Jungwon’s posture straightened, a light sense of smugness lighting up his features. “Yeah? Let’s hear it then.”

“I like you.”

“Yo, earth to Jungwon?”

Just like that, he was  immediately pulled out from your daydream.

The change in scenery was so abrupt, in fact, that it sent him lurching forward as if a wave of motion sickness had hit him full-force. It was only thanks to his fast reflexes that he managed to steady himself by placing both palms onto his desk to prevent him from hitting the desk first because that would have been difficult to explain, especially if you were dealing with someone like Riki; always so curious, always wanting to be up everyone’s business so he wouldn’t feel left out and Jungwon would rather give up his growing MHA merch and manga collection than to tell the sophomore what he was up to.

Though Riki doesn’t appear to be fazed by Jungwon and the minor glitching he went through. If anything, the sophomore was more interested in what he was staring at and that immediately pulled a shit-eating grin from him, nudging Jungwon playfully as he made a series of sounds that tried to goad him.

He immediately shuts up when the older nudged him back hard enough in the ribs to make it hurt, completely disregarding the kicked-puppy look pulling on the taller boy’s face as Jungwon sends him away so he could help you clean up the almost empty classroom.

Contrary to how you were in your mind, you really did keep up the shy and reserved facade, bowing and smiling politely when you met eyes the moment everyone else, but the two of you, left the classroom for them to attend their respective club meetings. You didn’t talk either and somehow, there had been a silent agreement where you would sweep, Jungwon would wipe the white board clean which left the both of you to arrange down the desks and chairs together.

Then again, this was the usual routine when it came to maintaining the classroom’s cleanliness. There really was no need to exchange a few words since the cleaning system had already been ingrained into anyone who had been a student of the school for a significant amount of time; and since Jungwon had a vague idea of how you are when it came to socializing, he’d rather not force you to talk to him when it was clear that you were still apprehensive of the thought.

Needless to say, tidying up went on without a hitch and the silence that surrounded you both was comforting in a way; it was the type of silence that filled in the spaces in between the two of you that the need to talk wasn’t at all necessary. In all honesty, he was expecting it to be a little awkward; what with you and your bashful nature, though he can tell that you were starting to ease up around him when the restless thoughts and worries that went a mile a minute through your mind were replaced by short light-hearted musings this time around.

Although you never really made any attempt, your thoughts were more than enough for Jungwon to get to know you a little bit. You were awkward, shy and timid for the most part, but man did you have a very colorful imagination and he had a really hard time trying to tone down the cheesing. The amount of times that he had to hide his giggles with fake coughs was getting so ridiculous that you started to look at him weird, worry dancing in your eyes to which Jungwon promptly waved off in lieu of a verbal confirmation to let you know that he was okay.

As strange as it was to hear you fawning over him in your head, Jungwon thought it was a tad endearing. He sensed nothing but genuine admiration too and he wondered how he had never picked up on your pining during the three year he’s been with you, always in the same class. In addition to that, he was rather impressed that you kept your feelings from him for this long.

Moments later, Jungwon scanned the classroom one last time to check if you both had missed anything in particular before calling your attention. That caused you to straighten up from fixing your belongings, slowly turning to look over your shoulder with your eyebrows slightly raised in silent question.

A tiny grin found its home on Jungwon’s lips, “great work today, Y/N.”

Your lips part in a silent ‘oh’ as you slowly nod in response, returning the gesture with a bashful curl of your lips as you tuck a hair behind your ear. “Yeah, you too, Jungwon.” He notes that you were soft-spoken too; voice reminding him what clouds would probably feel like: soft and airy and so unlike the brazen version of your inner subconscious. It was pleasing to the ears, really, quite different from the myriad of voices he heard on the daily and pleased he was by your reply, turning to fix his own belongings, satisfied with the brief interaction.

Just before Jungwon could take the first step out of the classroom, he felt a light tug on his blazer, “Jungwon?”

He didn’t waste any time to twist his torso, enough so that he could face you. “Yes? What is it?”

“Um, happy birthday—here, hold out your hand,” you inquire softly, “please.” You added it as an afterthought when you thought you sounded too demanding and Jungwon was quick to oblige, mostly to quell your nerves. Then something wrapped in pastel blue was placed on his outstretched palm and as Jungwon peered at you closely, the state you were in right now reminded him of what you looked like confessing in your daydream: fiddling fingers, head bowed slightly to avoid eye-contact.

In spite of your apparent hesitance, Jungwon doesn’t bother to suppress his smile at the thoughtfulness, gently closing his fingers around the book-sized gift as he flipped it once, then twice to get a feel of what it may be. “You got me a gift? You shouldn’t have.”

You wanted a hole to swallow you whole. Great going, Y/N! What if he thinks you’re some weirdo?

It took a lot for him to not burst into laughter right then and there. You really do worry a lot.

You’ve never felt this nervous in your life. Ever, and that’s saying something because while it was quite normal for you to feel uneasy when it came to socializing with someone you weren’t particularly familiar with, this was by far the most anxious you’ve ever been; in front of the boy you’ve harbored feelings for, no less and you just hoped that you won’t end up embarrassing yourself.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

In the next second that followed after hearing your name fall from his lips, you threw caution to the wind and chanced to peer at him through your lashes, only for your lips to part slightly in awe at the peculiar sight.

The sweetest of smiles graced Yang Jungwon’s equally sweet looking face while gazing down at your gift. That alone was enough to send your heart soaring at how devastatingly adorable he looked right at this very moment and the warm rays of the late afternoon sun only added to the breathtaking view of Jungwon.

He is so pretty.

For a short moment, it's as though you’ve forgotten to zip your mouth shut. Really, you thought the comment somehow bypassed the barrier that was there to keep yourself from spilling anything that would cost you your dignity because you found yourself gazing at Jungwon head-on and some traitorous voice in your mind said, he’s smiling because of you, you know? And while that could be the truth, you still felt like the face you were making right at this very second gave away your feelings that were supposed to be locked up.

But Jungwon didn’t say anything that alluded to him figuring you out. On the contrary, he appeared elated by the surprise, even if he hadn’t even opened it yet and that was enough to alleviate your anxiety as you beamed at him and responded with a soft, “you’re welcome.”

* * *

Dinner with his friends was quite the loud affair.

Regardless of the ruckus caused by mostly his friends, Jungwon still enjoyed the surprise. He was grateful that they made time to celebrate his birthday even if they had their own responsibilities that needed attending to. His friends obviously had fun throughout the entire time they huddled the two joined tables, shouting over each other as Sunoo took charge with grilling the meat.

“You can sit down and relax,” the senior started as he flipped the last of the thinly sliced pork belly sizzling on the grill. “We’d rather not have the birthday boy char our precious meat.”

And the scream that left Sunoo after Jungwon pinched his side was one of the highlights of the night; probably many of the quaint barbecue place’s patrons considering Sunoo’s screams were known to be loud, almost ear-piercing too.

As much as Jungwon wanted to enjoy the little ‘surprise’ party, his mind can’t help but wonder off towards his earlier interaction with you. True that it wasn’t really all that special as you were more bashful than the image of you painted in his head, but the way you looked and spoke to him left such an impression that it was the only thing that was occupying him throughout dinner; that, and the neatly wrapped gift from you that sat idly in the confines of his schoolbag.

Jungwon didn’t waste any moment as he stepped into his bedroom (making sure Maeumi got in safely with him too). His bag ended up being flung onto his desk chair right after he had fished the pastel blue wrapped gift from its depths and made a bee-line towards his bed to which he had unceremoniously jumped on, Maeumi quickly following in his foot-steps.

Why he was being gentle with unwrapping it, he didn’t really know, but he continued to be as careful as he could by peeling the tape, letting out a small cry of success when no visible harm was done to the wrapper and hurriedly slipped it from the hard material of the gift.

He didn’t even try to mask his surprise and elation at what he was currently holding. An artbook he desperately wanted for as long as it has been available to purchase for the public stared right back at him and he wasted no time unwrapping the plastic protecting before opening it.

What he saw in a white envelope with his name on it and seeing you did put a lot of effort into gifting him something when you clearly didn’t need to, he owes it to you to read through the letter before he could even think of flipping through the artbook, no matter how excited he was.

Jungwon,

First of all, happy birthday! I hope you had a nice time celebrating since turning 18 is quite the big deal for most people. You might be wondering, ‘why did L/N Y/N give me an artbook of all things’? I could go the poetic way and say that it reminded me of you, because it did, and while that does hold some truth, I’d rather be honest than put up a front. I accidentally ordered two copies of the artbook and really had no idea what to do with it. My friends aren’t into MHA as much as I am, so giving it to one of them was already scratched off the list before the thought came into mind.

But then I remembered seeing you read some volumes of the manga in class and during lunch a few times before and thought that maybe you were also a fan of the series, so I decided to give you the second copy since I assumed you’d probably like it. If not, well, still, keep it. It’s a gift after all, and even if you may not like it, the fact that you still kept it is enough for me!

— Y/N ♡

Oh he’s definitely keeping it, he already knew where he’s placing it too. How can he not when other than the manga Jiwon had given him earlier in the day, this artbook from the manga author himself was high on his wishlist? Jungwon wasn’t sure if he should be calling this a miracle even if his racing heart told him that it should be. This was the same artbook he had been eyeing for months, but luck wasn’t really on his side since every time he tried to scour the internet for the nth time to check if there was at least one online store, he was only left to be disappointed when big, bold and red letters that said ‘SOLD OUT’ mocked his every failed attempt on getting his hands on one.

To think you of all people had another copy. This was like fate at work and Jungwon doesn’t know what to think of that. First, he had heard you calling out his name from the depths of your mind, he got to swim in too and now you’ve given him the artbook he wanted? 

He doesn't know what the world will have in store for him next, but what he does know is that he should thank you as soon as he gets the chance to.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. He spent all night coming up with what he should say, taking your bashful nature into consideration too because he was not going to risk possibly intimidating you if he somehow came off strong from expressing his gratitude.

And Jungwon thought he did well on that, if the bright smile was anything to go by as you said “you’re welcome” for the second time with the same softness laced in your voice.

A week after Jungwon had taken it upon himself to—what he would like to call it—investigate, he had come to a final conclusion.

You, L/N Y/N, liked to daydream. A lot; and that was no exaggeration on his part. It’s simply what he observed from the week-long investigation. It’s not like there was anyone who’d disagree, not when Jungwon was the only one who could see—could hear what the average human couldn’t.

More often than not, getting lost in the depths of your mind was definitely one of your favorite past times when you couldn’t find anything else to invest your utmost attention to (one could even consider it a hobby from how often you get lost in your own musings) and through that, Jungwon might have been entertained by the slew of scenarios you were able to visualize. 

It’s like your mind recorded everything that resonated with the idea of romance—the idea of what romance was to you. While some are more cliché than others—then again, aren't rom-coms built on them too?—there were times where you picked one of the many clichés from a metaphorical box to pick apart whatever media you’d taken inspiration from and put it back together again, but it wouldn’t be quite the same. Either there would be a new piece present, or there were one… two… maybe even four pieces missing; other than the technicalities, you still recreated those clichés to brandish something new every time he’d willingly took the plunge to explore in the deep corners of your pretty little head.

Other than yourself, he, Yang Jungwon, was a recurring character in your daydreams and that was more than enough to tell him that most of your thoughts did revolve around him.

It was also obvious that you were quite the imaginative one; still as loud as the first time he got to take a peek into your mind and it reflected how colorful it was too. Everything in your mind was just so vivid that there was a point in time where Jungwon wondered if you had any creative outlet that would do all your vivacious daydreaming some justice.

There must be something, right? You might be some version of an open book to Jungwon, an open dream journal perhaps, but your thoughts alone could only do so much and so in order to find out more about you, he’s going to have to get you to talk to him… like actually talk to him; living and breathing Yang Jungwon and not the Yang Jungwon you’ve curated in your head.

He hadn’t a clue just why he was so dead-set on getting to know you better. One would think that finding out that someone had a version of you living in their mind rent-free would certainly be an ick. Jungwon knew he should be feeling some type of reluctance, now that he was aware of how much you possibly adored him, yet he still was rather curious, intrigued even.

Just how could you think so highly of him when the longest conversation you had was when you gave him a gift?

“Dude, what's with the whole thing staring at Y/N?”

Jungwon almost jumped out of his skin from Riki’s sudden appearance, “I’m not staring. I’m observing.” He clarified and then paused, eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the sophomore, “what are you doing here?”

Fighting against the urge to smack the smug grin from Riki’s face was no easy feat, mainly because the opportunity was right there. Though to Riki’s unknown relief, Jungwon remained lucid enough to not act on his bordering on violent urges as he really wasn’t in the mood to set a bad example for anyone else who had already viewed him as ‘the one who could do nothing wrong’.

Jungwon’s frown deepened, while Riki’s grin widened in tandem, “it looks like you are staring at her to me.” Riki teased, playfully poking the dimple that appeared when the object of his teasing pursed his lips, no doubt annoyed. “Does Jungwonie have a crush? The quiet ones are your type, eh?” The younger one poked his cheek again, “eh?”

“I don’t.” He ignored Riki crying out in pain when he had pinched his side in retaliation. “Don’t be stupid—and even if I do, how is that any of your business?”

“Okay wow, someone’s being touching today. How mean.” The younger pouted, then immediately ducked to dodge Jungwon’s attempted smack.

He sighed, “just… tell me what you’re doing here.”

“It’s lunchtime, airhead. You were taking too long.”

Jungwon peered at his watch, “it’s only been 5 minutes since the bell rang.”

“Too long for me.” Riki whined. “Are you coming or not? I’m hungry.”

The older of the two rolled his eyes, chair emitting a screech from pushing it back, “alright, let’s go.”

* * *

You must be dreaming, you were sure of it.

“Erm… hi?” you trailed off, swallowing your mouthful as you looked up at the looming presence that stood on the other side of your desk, a tad startled by the appearance as you gently put your pair of chopsticks down.

The classroom was devoid of its usual crowd, which was expected anyway since your classmates and friends preferred having lunch in the school cafeteria where they were free to be as loud as they wanted. It was always a rather rambunctious affair and there were times where you just needed a break from it all—some time for yourself while you enjoyed a hearty meal before subjecting your brain to absorb the information that you won’t probably even remember once the semester came to its end.

Somehow, the universe was set to listen to the niggling thought in the back of your mind about wanting some time for yourself that earlier this morning, your mother had insisted on bringing the packed lunch she had generously prepared for you, and who were you to say no? It wasn’t often she’d go out of her way to cook two separate meals in one sitting. She was a busy woman herself and if the world was trying to tell you something, might as well listen to whatever vague sign it presented, especially when you had an inkling that it was going to benefit you, one way or another.

And what joy that the universe was also capable of taking your true heart’s desire into account alongside it, gracing you with Yang Jungwon’s presence, holding up what seemed to be a sandwich pack and a carton of apple juice.

Oh my god… it’s Jungwon. What is he doing here? Do I look okay? What if I have something in my teeth—

Simply put, the traitorous thing called your brain immediately came up with every worst case scenario that could screw all of this up. Be that as it may, it didn’t shake off the hope that some kind of positive, outside force chose to be on your side for once in your meager life. Should you hail it as Lady Luck somehow taking pity on your God-knows-how-long pining? 

Whatever or whoever decided that entangling your destined path with Jungwon’s was a stellar idea, they could have at least given you a warning.

Gratitude was always granted to those who only had pure intentions with their services, but you weren’t too sure if this whole predicament fell onto the same scale of benevolence. Not when Jungwon left you feeling a multitude of things on the daily and most notable of them all was how one eyeful from him—from those gleaming, cat-like eyes—could instantly render you a flustered and painfully shy mess. It’s like some kind of deity was messing with you.

And frankly, you were feeling less and less grateful the longer you had to sit there, feeling as if you were about to explode from how hot to the touch your face was.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Then, you were lulled back to reality; eyes blinking a few times as you dared to actually look at his face this time, only for it to appear to you that Jungwon seemed rather pleased when he finally had gotten your attention, letting out a light chuckle at your timidness.

He’s not making fun of me, is he? 

“Don’t worry, I’m here with only good intentions.” And the reassuring smile he gave you immediately got you thinking that your assumption might have been a teeny-tiny bit off; a common theme that was always present, now that you thought about it (you really had to work on that). Besides, you knew that he wasn't that kind of person. Then again, it was kind of his fault that all rationalization just straight up left your brain.

He’s still smiling, not minding that you didn’t answer right away, “I just wanted to know if I could eat lunch with you?”

You froze.

What.

Jungwon, again, didn’t even pause for you to give him an answer. If anything, he was amused by the lack of reply and instead went on to place his lunch down on the available space your desk had—you made some space in haste once you realized what he was trying to do—and took it upon himself to grab and pull the chair in front until the backrest touched the edge of your desk.

“So…” Jungwon trailed off as he rested his chin on his arms resting on top of the backrest, tilting his head. It really took everything in you to not melt into goo. For one thing, this is the closest you have been to him that it was certain you were invading his personal space (not that he looked like he minded from what you can tell) so it completely caught you off-guard when his foot nudged yours under the table—and he looked so cute that it kind of made your heart ache a little bit.

“What’s for lunch?”

The hold you had on hope was almost bruising, to say the least, probably having it in a chokehold too as you prayed that you did not look like a fucking idiot, gawking at the abruptness of it all. Well, it was an assumption that you might’ve been so, because Jungwon’s smile widened a fraction as you hesitantly picked up your chopsticks to tell him exactly what your mother had packed, using the utensil to point at them too.

“It looks really good.” He said and you could see his nostrils flare slightly, taking in the sight of your lunch before giving you a brief glance. Your breath hitched and immediately looked elsewhere. 

Unbeknownst to you, he smirked, watching your subtle panic.

“Thank you. My mother cooked it.” Why would you talk about Mom? Get a grip, Y/N!

Jungwon giggled at your apparent regret from word-vomiting, “oh relax, Y/N. It’s just me.”

“It’s just me,” he says. Yeah, that’s exactly the problem why I’m going insane. 

“Let’s just eat, yeah?” Jungwon suggested, fingers curling around the plastic-wrapped sandwich. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll become less shy after.” He teased with an arched eyebrow.

Your face was burning at this point, fumbling to get a proper grip on your chopsticks. I’m actually going to die.

With another smile that was lethal to your poor heart—you fear that you actually might die—Jungwon added, “let’s eat well,” before he took a bite, taking that as your own cue to eat.

This all gave you a sense of deja vu.

Much like the time where you were both assigned to clean the classroom together, the silence wasn’t as awkward, though you can’t help but feel so when he was literally only a table away. A table, smack-dab in between you both, acting as some type of barrier. In complete contrast to yourself, it seemed that the close proximity wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he was completely at ease scrolling through his phone as he chewed; and every once in a while, you’d feel his foot nudge yours, but you knew that was more of his subconscious acting upon it.

Still, the small action caused butterflies to flutter about in your belly, struggling to keep a straight face that you resorted to peering down at your lunch as you tried your hardest to fight off the smile that threatened to break through your facade.

It was absolutely absurd really.

The thought of an action that small was enough to have you going haywire was admittedly laughable, now that you had time to process just how ridiculous you were being. If a simple nudge to the foot had you acting like this, who knows how great of an effect it might have on you if fate was kind enough to merge yours and Jungwon’s path that you ended up having your fingers intertwined as you walked side-by-side.

Hearing a chuckle after having that train of thought caused you to stiffen.

You didn’t say that out loud, did you?

“I can feel your eyes on me, Y/N.” Jungwon didn’t even look up from his phone when he spoke, holding a half-eaten sandwich in his other hand. “What’s worrying you this time, hm?” 

You didn’t even realize you were staring right at him until your vision refocused, only for your eyes to widen at the smug grin that tugged on the corners of his lips.

“I wasn’t worrying!” You denied with frantic waves of your hands as if it’d hypnotize him into thinking that, no, you were not staring at him as you imagined how soft his hands could be. “I was just… wondering why you’re eating lunch with me,” you winced at how rude that might have come off, “no offense.”

But Jungwon doesn’t seem to take your sudden defensiveness to heart, if anything, he seemed curious and answered you with his own question of, “why are you alone eating lunch in our classroom?”

You blinked, letting the tips of your chopsticks push slightly against your lower lip, “I wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“Oh…” he trailed off, now appearing sheepish as he placed his sandwich on top of its plastic wrap. Jungwon did kind of barge into your space with all of this, so he never really thought about the possibility of you wanting to be alone. Of course you’d need some time for yourself every so often, now he felt guilty for pushing this whole thing onto you.

“Do you want me to leave then?” He asked gently, picking up his carton of juice to drink.

You shook your head as an answer, and then added, “I didn’t say that. it's just…” How do I say this without sounding pathetic? “I don’t know… and don’t take this the wrong way but, it’s kind of strange that you suddenly want to eat lunch with me.” Your voice took on a quieter tone, unsure as you sighed and placed your chopsticks down.

It was all of a sudden, wasn’t it? Abrupt as it was, you’d be lying if you went on and said that you weren’t the least bit elated by the surprising turn of events. Having a simple conversation would have sufficed, yet you really had no room to complain—not when you’re having lunch with your crush, of all people.

It took you almost three years to simply talk to him, so you’d obviously take this as a chance to do so.

“I mean, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Tilting your head, you eyes him with a questioning gaze, “we are? Since when?”

Jungwon shrugged, “you gave me a gift, something that I really wanted when you didn’t have to and I think that’s enough for me to consider you as something more than an acquaintance.” You weren’t sure, but you felt he meant something else by that statement. But that could have just been your delusional side talking. Not really the first time it happened. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can back off a bit.”

“No, it’s okay really. You just took me by surprise and I—um—I like how things are now I just—please be patient with me? I think it’s quite telling that I’m not good with the whole socializing thing, sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, it’s alright.” Jungwon reassured you. “I mean, I already knew what to expect since you are on the shy side and I think I came off stronger than expected.”

“A little, yeah.” you giggled, “if it makes you feel better, my friends did the same, so I guess ‘coming off strong’ was needed when you’re dealing with someone like me.”

“I don’t really mind. You’re not the first shy person I’ve met.” He explains, a smile curling around the straw in his mouth, ”then again, they weren’t as interesting as you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He settled on giving you an enigmatic smile as an initial answer, cat-like eyes gleaming underneath the warmth of the afternoon sun as if he knew something you didn’t. Whatever it was, you just hoped it wasn’t something as embarrassing as your crush on him.

“You eat pretty slow, did you know?” Good on him for diverting the topic because what he said prior almost had your heart burst out from your chest and the fact that there was some kind of looming mischief behind those kind looking eyes was a bit too much to handle today. “We only have 20 minutes left before the bell rings, Y/N.”

Was saying my name really necessary? Does he want me to go crazy?

Jungwon masked his snort with a cough.

You arched an eyebrow, pausing mid way from picking up a rolled egg omelet, “is this your way of saying you want a bite?” Now it was you he didn’t let him answer as you swiftly pulled out another pair of chopsticks.

He gave you a dubious look when you handed them over, “why do you have an extra pair of chopsticks?” Despite the questioning, he still took them from you.

“It’s not what you think,” you started before he could even think of possibly teasing you from being extra prepared. “My friends have a bad habit of picking my food with their bare hands,” you shuddered, “so I made it a point to bring an extra pair.”

“Ah. Remind me not to do that next time then.”

“There’s—there’s a next time?”

“Only if you want to.”

You let yourself chuckle at the persistence, “okay. So are you going to help me finish all of this before the bell rings or not?”

(If there was one thing that you’ve learned from talking to Yang Jungwon, he’s a mischievous little shit and you meant that in the most affectionate way possible. He loved to tease and you’d suspected it to be his love-language upon seeing that he’s also like that when it came to his friends).

In all honesty, it surprised Jungwon that friendship with you was relatively easy.

It didn’t mean you’ve suddenly gotten over your natural timidness from befriending him, but in the sense that you made it easy for him to get to know you better which in turn made the progress of your friendship significantly faster then he initially predicted. Jungwon supposed that your shared love for the MHA franchise was the starting catalyst of the fast-growing bond between the two of you, but other than the mutual fixation on the anime slash manga, you did have a handful of similar traits.

It’s beyond him why it took you both such a long time to meet on the same plane too. Not that he was blaming you or your apprehensiveness for halting what could have blossomed all those years ago; Jungwon would and could never, and he was also partially to be blamed for the delay as well, because if it wasn’t for him honing his focus on that voice that called out to him during that fated, quiet afternoon, he would have never felt so curious to the point of wanting to get to know you better.

Since the day Jungwon took initiative to join you for lunch in the classroom, it became a regular thing that by the fifth time it happened, you two had joined heads (prompted by Jungwon) to come up with a viable schedule so you both could have days where you could eat with your friends too.

(“You do know that we can all eat together at the cafeteria.” You pointed out as you watched Jungwon knit his eyebrows as he stared down at his phone. He huffed, the air causing his fringe to fly up briefly as he gave you a quick glance. “Why are we brainstorming a lunch schedule?”

The boy focused on his phone again, “have you ever thought that maybe I want to be alone with you too?” You also learned that Jungwon was as straight-forward as they come; sugarcoating wasn’t part of his vocabulary and he always said what was on his mind to avoid any misunderstandings. 

“How does every Tuesday and Thursday sound?” Judging by the tone, he really was set on continuing the now dubbed tradition of sharing each of your packed lunch between you both.

The only thing you could do at the moment was pinch the bridge of your nose in hopes of toning down the warmth that had started to creep up your neck, while Jungwon had gone on and set a reminder for those two particular days. “Yeah… yeah okay. Tuesdays and Thursdays work just fine.”

“Perfect.”

You would have put up a fight, argued that the whole set-up wasn’t at all necessary and that you were content with having to ‘share’ his time with your respective friend groups. But when Jungwon had set his mind onto something, most of the time, it was difficult to talk him out of it, not when he’s as stubborn as a boulder that was impossible to move and you can tell how dead-set he was on it becoming a thing between you two.

Nevertheless, your inner subconscious was squealing in delight at the prospect of having him to yourself for an hour, twice a week at most and you liked to believe that perhaps your newfound friend felt something similar from witnessing his adamance on the matter.

Well, there’s no harm in hoping).

Other than the set lunch plans, Jungwon had also made it a point to seek you out whenever school activities and/or assignments required to complete them. It was already an automatic response this time around that anyone who had the mind to test out their luck and ask Jungwon promptly gave up once realizing the new development between you and their dependable class representative. 

Wonyoung had even expressed her wonder as she shot Jungwon a look when he loomed behind you in the middle of pulling out what you needed for the activity. She was only given a shrug as an answer as he leaned low enough for you to tell him your suggestions, and Wonyoung’s eyebrows raised significantly when catching the soft smile that brightened Jungwon’s face while listening to you ramble.

While you do have a handful of friends yourself that you can ask to be partners with, you can’t help but to feel like you’re burdening them, being an unwanted liability no matter how many times they reassure you that no, you weren’t a burden, that it wasn’t a crime to ask help when you needed it. When it came to Jungwon, however, the worries were always so quick to fade away, leaving no traces as if they hadn’t materialized in the first place. He was known for quickly adapting into situations where one would normally stumble at the very first attempt of getting ahold of themselves, and you were no exception to Jungwon’s inborn skill.

To you and from what you had observed throughout the weeks you had the pleasure of being a part of his orbit, it’s like Jungwon just knew what to say whenever you were on the verge of succumbing to your anxiety; always knew what you needed to hear during those days where you weren’t really feeling like yourself and there was no doubt that you thought it was quite amazing, like he was attuned to how your inner workings functioned.

Curiosity had you bringing it up during your one of many ‘Jungwon and Y/N only’ lunch sessions. You didn’t mean to pry, but as much as you were amazed by his possible sixth sense when it came to you, it was a tad odd that Jungwon just knew.

He settled on answering with a tentative, “good intuition, I guess?” as he picked a piece of chicken from your lunch box, popping it straight into his awaiting mouth. “Well, that and you’ve always been easy to read to me.” Which wasn’t really that far from the actual truth, considering he can read you—that he can read your mind, to be more specific and he’s beyond relieved that you immediately bought his explanation, asking no further questions as you used your chopsticks to pick up a rice ball from his lunch box with a pleased hum.

“Am I really?” You asked through your mouthful, “guess what I’m feeling right now then.”

Wow, his grandmother’s cooking is really good.

And without missing a second to show-off whenever he could, he quickly answered, “you really like my grandmother’s cooking. You always do that little dance when eating something good.” He grinned coyly at your momentary awe, “also, don’t talk when your mouth’s full.”

Face twisting at being scolded for the habit you’ve been trying to fix, you clicked your tongue, “fine. Maybe I am that easy to read.” You grumbled, snatching your carton of mango juice. “Or you can just read minds.”

It took a lot for Jungwon not to falter at the spot-on claim as he masked the millisecond surprise (thankfully without you noticing) with a scoff, “don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Then he reached over to flick your nose, causing you to yelp and kick at his foot in revenge with a soft string of curses.

On the topic of his clairvoyance that now extended to you, your daydreaming hasn’t been as frequent as it was back when your interactions with one another leaned on the more tentative side of things, nor has he been hearing much from your mind either that it kind of worried him. 

He wasn’t starting to lose his ability, was he?

The answer was no; his ability was 100% intact. His assumption was quickly proven false once he tried testing it on Wonyoung with the knowledge that she tended to overthink at times, being someone who was overly worried about her future and all and hearing the barrage of frustrations was enough as confirmation.

Listening to you internally ramble on and on about him in your pretty little head was what started this whole friendship after all and Jungwon considered it to be a normal thing he dealt with on a daily basis that the sudden decrease of your frequent internal monologuing was jarring, to say the least. It was a feat he had grown used to overtime and now that he was so used to your brain going miles a minute, he might as well condition himself again with the longer bouts of silence this time around.

After some more deliberate thinking, Jungwon had come up with the conclusion that the absence of your restless thoughts was the result of your ever growing bond. It made sense considering the two of you were friends, close friends from the amount of time you had started spending together that Jungwon had to reassure Sunoo, his senior, that he wasn’t replacing him or any of his friends for that matter. 

It’s possible that the need for conjuring scenarios between you and him had waned over the duration of your budding friendship, now that simply striking up conversation with Jungwon was easier for you now. You were still a little timid, sure, but you were gradually getting out of your shell; now being able to hold eye-contact with him for more than five seconds and he was proud of the development, to say the least.

He was pulled back from his own thoughts when he felt a tapping sensation on the middle of his forehead.

“Won?” Jungwon’s eyes refocused to find you standing in front of his desk, the hand that you used to tap his skin retracting to hold onto the strap of your backpack, concern written all over your face. “You okay?”

Oh, were classes already over for the day?

“Yeah…” Jungwon trails off, “yeah I’m okay. Was just thinking, sorry.” He promptly pushed out of his chair to gather his belongings once he realized it was only him and you in the classroom.

“Well, that can’t be good.” He found you grinning slyly, once his head snapped to give you a withering look, the very same one he‘s given Riki plenty of times. You get a pass this time. It wasn’t often that your playful side came out to—well… play. “What were you thinking about?” It came out as an innocent enough sounding question, though Jungwon knew better and he liked the challenge.

He kissed his teeth. Two can play at that game.

Jungwon hiked up his backpack on one shoulder, stood at his full height and smirked, “You.”

You blinked once, twice, three times before you burst into laughter, “haha, very funny, Yang.” Very funny. I might actually faint right now. You tried to sound dismissive, waving him off as your laughs diminished to nervous bouts of giggles, yet Jungwon still managed to catch how your voice wavered upon turning your back to him. “C’mon you promised me ice cream and I’m getting that free ice cream.” With that, you shuffled out of the room, leaving him behind.

Jungwon barked out a short laugh as he jogged to catch up, “what? You don’t think about me sometimes?”

“No.” You denied.

“Bet you're thinking about me right now.” He teased on further, matching your steps.

You immediately quickened your pace, not wanting him to see just how flustered you’re becoming because of his incessant teasing. “No I’m not. My head is empty. Nothing is in there.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungwon didn’t relent, however, and his hand swiftly shot out to grab onto one of your backpack’s straps, pulling on it to slow you down. “You must’ve at least thought about me once.”

Seeing that struggling against the newly branded nuisance (affectionate) to your life was obviously futile in regards to his physical advantage over yours, you let out the heaviest sighs and allowed him to walk with you side-by-side.

An irritated huff flew past your lips once the two of you stepped out of school property, “trust me, Jungwon, if some version of you that lived inside my head, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

He tugged onto the strap again, “I’ll hold onto you on that.”

He doubted that you'd tell him of your daydreaming habit, not when you yourself felt embarrassed by the absurd amount of times you had pictured yourself with him in a romantic setting in your mindscape. There was no need to anyway, since Jungwon was already aware of your peculiar hobby.

Problem is, how could he tell you he knew that some version of him did live in your head without you freaking out?

***

Jiwon was looking at him weirdly and Jungwon didn’t know why.

Judging by the numerous faces his older sister had made during the past hour of them both studying in the living room, he’d assumed that Jiwon was trying her damndest to figure him out, even if she looked like she’d been dragged to and from hell, one of the effects of experiencing a busy week of college.

Having enough of his sister’s eyes burning holes into him, Jungwon sighed and placed his pen down to comb his fingers through his hair. “Can I help you?”

“You seem happier recently.”

Now it was his turn to look at her weirdly for the equally weird conversation starter “...am I not allowed to be happy..?”

“Okay one,” Jiwon held up her index finger to emphasize, “I never said that. Two, it’s a girl isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement as Jiwon gave him a wide-eyed look, daring him to deny her assumptions.

“How did you even get that from just looking at my face?”

“Maybe I’m an empath and I forgot to tell you?”

Jungwon squinted, “are you?”

“Of course not.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” No, he doesn’t. She was his sister and it was impossible to hate his literal partner in crime. “But I am your older sister. I just know shit and I know you.” she clarified. “So, you and… girl.”

“For all you know, it could be a boy,” one look from Jiwon had Jungwon stop from whatever smart-assery he was about to spew out. “But yes… girl.”

Satisfied, Jiwon lets out a pleased hum at the thought that she didn’t have to resort to extreme measures (e.g: selling all of Jungwon’s hard earned figurines and manga. She’s promptly met with a hard glare coming from the boy himself. Crap, she forgot he could read minds).

However, Jiwon didn't let it bother her too much and spoke, “tell me about her.” 

Jungwon did so without further question.

She learned your name, listened with rapt attention when told of how the first meeting went and ended up having half of her torso resting on top of the coffee table, assignments long forgotten as she, once again, listened attentively to every word that flew past Jungwon’s lips. This time, he was rambling on about what had transpired before the two of you took a detour to get the free ice cream he promised you.

It’s until he went on a tangent about how adorable you looked when you were having a dilemma on which flavor of ice cream should you get; eyebrows knit together paired with the slight pout pulling on your lips were the few tell-tales that you were taking this very seriously. In the end, Jungwon couldn’t help but laugh when you settled for plain old vanilla and chocolate, grumbling at how the complex sounding flavors did nothing but overwhelm you.

“Sounds like you have a crush.” Jiwon concluded once she was sure her brother was done with his babbling. “I gotta admit, I thought you were emotionally repressed or something ‘cause this is the first time I’ve heard you talking about someone so fondly.” and she was just as fond of the idea, “it’s kinda gross.” Very fond.

The last string of words didn’t get a chance to register in Jungwon’s brain when ‘you have a crush’ started running around up there in circles; took a while for him to respond too, after he using up all his sweet time opening and closing his mouth repeatedly from the initial shock Jiwon had given him with her ‘hypothesis’.

“A crush—I don’t think… me? I have a crush on her?”

Jiwon arched an eyebrow. Wow, he looks absolutely pathetic.

Jungwon felt a vein pulse on his temple, “shut it.”

She squinted, “don’t you?”

“I… don’t know? I mean, I know for sure that Y/N has a crush on me.” Why the fuck was he blushing? He already knew that. “But me? Having a crush on her? That’s…” He ended up trailing off in uncertainty, not really knowing what to add and not really knowing how to rebut whatever Jiwon was throwing at him.

“My brother in christ, have you heard yourself, Jungwon? You’re telling me, I sat here for more than an hour, listening to you going on a tangent and spilling every obscure detail you remember of Y/N’s, only for you to tell me you don’t like the girl?”

“Yeah..?” 

Jiwon hurled an eraser and it hit him right in the middle of his forehead.

“Ow?!”

“You’re an idiot actually.” The hand that threw the eraser was now back at her side. “You like her, Jungwon. Usually you would actively avoid getting close to anyone you knew that liked you so you wouldn’t give them any false hope. Yet somehow, Y/N, the daydreamer, is an exception to that?”

“But Y/N’s different. She’s my friend.”

“She only became your friend because your nosey ass decided to take a deep dive into her brain, which, let me remind you, is full of fake scenarios of you and her! You don’t find that a little strange?”

“What? She has an active imagination! And it’s entertaining hearing her ramble in her head!”

“Again, are you hearing yourself?”

Okay so maybe, he did find you cute.

He’s allowed to find his friend adorable without having any other reason except that he just finds your smile cute, especially when it was him behind it. It’s not that big of a deal, was it? So what if he thought you looked extra endearing whenever the two of you were engaged in a passionate discussion of who your favorite characters were in the My Hero Academia franchise? Watching you gradually get worked up everytime he rebuts your explanations has a little something fluttering about in his chest too.

Who knew that shy and quiet you had so much to say?

Not only that, but Jungwon liked to spend his free time with you. The weekly library visits with his sister have been replaced with weekly cafe visits with you, now that Jiwon has her own life and friends, so that definitely gave him more time to hang out with you in a non-school setting. To him, it was always a treat to see you waiting for him at the meeting point, watching a smile light up your face as you waved in greeting before Jungwon makes his way over to you with a matching smile of his own. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake—Jungwon!”

“Huh?” He quickly recovers from his stupor, “what?”

“’What’, he says. You were smiling like some lovesick fool. You like Y/N.” He didn't even get a say as Jiwon continued to prove her point of his alleged ‘crush’ on you. “I know you Jungwon, and I know for a fact that you have a hard time connecting with some people, but with Y/N, It was different, right?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Yeah, it was different, and not only that, but you were willing to be friends with someone who already had feelings for you. Weren’t you the one who told me that pursuing someone who already likes you wasn’t as fun? Not to mention it made you feel awkward befriending them, yet Y/N somehow gets a pass.” Jungwon didn’t really know what to say to that and so Jiwon, smug as she was, continued on with her spiel, much to his chagrin. “I think that’s enough evidence that you don’t only intend on being a close friend of hers.”

“I don’t have any other intentions besides being her friend.” He grumbled.

“So you’re leading her on then? You said it yourself she really likes you, yet here you are.” She makes a vague gesture. Then Jiwon’s face quickly twisted into anger, “I swear to god, Yang Jungwon, even if I don’t know Y/N all that much, I am willing to disown you if that was the case.”

“No! I’m not leading her on! How could you think that, Jiwon?” It kinda stung that his own sister would wrongfully accuse him of such a possibility… Then again, he could now see why she had come to that conclusion. 

However, Jungwon never intended on leading Y/N on. That never crossed his mind at all. He really did want to get to know you better. “I like having her around! I like her—huh…” he blinks, furrowing his eyebrows, “I like her.” 

“Took you exactly 20 minutes to realize it, wow.” Jiwon mused as she peered down at her watch,  “How come it’s always me, making you realize shit. First the mind-reading thing and now you liking someone.”

Is that why Jungwon always looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays? The days where lunch was spent with only you in the comfort of their classroom? He’s got to admit, spending lunch with you and and only you always left him feeling at ease, always soothed by your soft and airy voice as you tell him the tidbits of your day-to-day life and some anecdotes that you would recall as you pick your food; and more often than not, he found himself gravitating to you more and more.

And the more he thought about all of the times you spent together, the more it made sense. Jungwon never really understood it at first, but as he recalled the constant persistence of his own inner subconscious seeking you out was more than enough for him to accept that what you felt for him wasn't completely one-sided.

There was something there, stirring in the depths of his chest the more his mind lingered on you and how much you adored him, even if you tried your very best to hide what you really felt.

Other than Jiwon, ever the perceptive one, his friends too were quick to pick up on the new development. In hindsight, the budding friendship wasn’t meant to be kept a secret anyway, nor did he think it was that big of a deal to retell every single detail of what has been brewing between Jungwon and yourself. Furthermore, it’s not like the two of you were hiding it from everyone; they were free to gawk at the unexpected pair and he didn’t need to spell it out for them. His friends each had a pair of perfectly functioning eyeballs, didn’t they?

That doesn’t stop them from pestering Jungwon for more details, however, and as displeased as he was with the idea of having to rehash everything he had told his sister, he had let Wonyoung, Riki and Sunoo drag him to the StuCo office for the long awaited discussion.

“So…” Wonyoung took her time to pop her bubblegum before continuing, “you like them quiet.” Much like Jiwon’s approach to starting the conversation from before, that too came out as a statement.

“That’s what I said!” Was Riki’s helpful input.

Jungown gave him a pointed look, “again, why are you here? Don’t you have a club meeting?”

“This looked more important so I skipped it.”

“I’m not even surprised,” huffed Sunoo, “so, Y/N. When did that happen?”

“Around… 3 months ago? A week after my birthday?”

Sunoo’s eyebrows raised in awe, “a week after turning 18… interesting.”

Riki nodded in a solemn fashion, “cuffing before senior year starts. Understandable.”

“Shut up, Riki.”

“I think he meant how and why,” Wonyoung corrects, ignoring whatever that side conversation was about. “But yeah, how in the world did that happen?”

“Remember when you guys took me out to dinner for my birthday?” The ‘guys’ who were present all voiced their confirmations, all leaning closer in unison. “Well, before that, Y/N and I were assigned to clean the classroom that day. Then she gave me a gift which I really liked.”

“Oh! Was it that artbook on your desk?” Riki asked, shaking in his seat with glee. “I heard it was hard to get a copy.”

He nodded, “yeah, that one,” it was definitely one of the best gifts he’d ever received, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it a routine tk flip through the thing at any given opportunity to admire the artwork. “And I don’t know, I thought she was pretty interesting… always getting lost in that pretty”— he completely ignored the varying levels of surprise each of his friends showcased as he went on —”little head of hers—I was curious.”

Can’t really say I was literally inside of her pretty little head, now can I?

Riki then got this thoughtful look on his face as he pinched his chin, “they did say curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back and I’m pretty satisfied with where we are right now.” Jungwon then gave him a look, “what was with that analogy anyway?”

The youngest shrugged, “wanted to sound smart.” He told him before shoving a handful of M&M’s into his mouth. He gets a withering look in return. “Also, what do you mean by ‘being satisfied’? You don’t plan on asking her out or something?”

He pursed his lips, contemplating Riki’s question, “I… haven’t really thought about it yet.” After all, it was only recently that Jungwon had his eyes pried open to the fact that he may harbor not-so-platonic feelings for you. He didn’t feel rushed to ask you out right off the bat either. He knew how skittish you could get and the least he could do was to sort of ease you into it; maybe subtly show you that your pining wasn’t exactly unrequited, preferably with small, calculated gestures that would get his point across.

Jungwon wasn’t all too sure. He really hadn’t thought that far and he obviously wasn’t expecting anything romantic to culminate from his attempt at friendship. To think all of this stemmed from his own curiosity.

“You like her enough to consider that though, don’t you?” Wonyoung questioned further.

“I guess so—“ He was cut off by a series of knocks on one of the doors before it slid open.

“Ooh~ speak of the angel, and she shall appear.” Came Riki’s hushed teasing the moment you had poked your head through the small opening you created.

Sunoo beside him snorted as Wonyoung lightly smacked him on the back of his head.

Eyes wide, you looked around before your gaze settled on the very boy you were looking for, “Jungwon, hey.” A mix of a bright and sweet smile curled on your lips when he lifted an awkward hand in greeting, which was a little strange since he always took the opportunity to grind your gears a little bit with his teasing.

Now that you strayed your gaze away from the guy who always left your heart in shambles (in a good way, of course), your lips formed into a small “o” shape at the sight of Jungwon’s friends who all appeared expectant of something.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, you gave all of them a wobbly smile and shrunk slightly underneath their curious stares. “Hello. I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

“Oh, not at all!” Sunoo waved off, “were you waiting on Jungwon?”

You nodded in response, fidgeting with your fingers, “yes. Well, he was actually waiting for me since I had a club meeting, but I got a text that if he wasn’t outside waiting, I should come here. Obviously he wasn't outside waiting for me so I—” Your eyes widened slightly before you tensed, “sorry for rambling.”

Wonyoung flashed a good-natured smile, “you weren’t. We didn’t know Jungwon had plans after class, so we kinda dragged him here for a… discussion—don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to steal Jungwonie from his girl. We’ll ask you next time—ow!” 

“Thank you, Riki.” Jungwon gritted out, hand returning to his side. “Very considerate of you.” It was a struggle getting all of that out, trying not to sound like he wanted a black hole to materialize right then and there to escape the situation. “Would you mind waiting for me outside? I won’t be long.”

You gave a little shake of your head and he could tell that you were trying your very best to not let Riki’s unwarranted comment get to you, “I don’t mind. We’re still going to that cafe I told you about, right?”

Jungwon cracked a smile, “of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be with you in a bit, okay?”

You know how in romance-centric movies where a character would have their own moment of piecing everything together until everything made sense to them? 

Yeah, Jungwon was experiencing that right now.

You smiled at him plenty of times before. Hell, he was one of the reasons why it graced your features on a frequent basis, so it wasn’t too far-fetched for Jungwon to believe that most of them were caused by him alone. He’s seen you smile, grin and laugh countless times, but the way you were smiling at him right at this moment caused his heart to stutter until he felt it thudding against his chest, as if it was about to burst out any second.

Sweet. Jungwon always labeled your smiles sweet and to anyone else, it probably wasn’t all that special. Yet looking at you right at this very moment, the way you were poised at the door, how your eyes glittered under the warm afternoon rays of the sun—Jungwon wanted to be the first to bare witness to this and if possible, he wanted to be the sole reason why this particular smile of yours existed.

He swallowed thickly when you let out the softest of laughs that twinkled like windchimes in his ears, before regaining your usual bashful mien, the wide grin that stretched your lips shrunk to a more demure curl, “okay. Take your time.” Then you pulled yourself out of the room, gently sliding the door closed.

One by one, minus Jungwon, all craned their necks to gaze at the shell-shocked boy with matching knowing looks as he fumbled with his backpack.

“Well,” Sunoo started with an all-too smug expression as his foxy eyes squinted slightly by his grin, “you’re fucked.”

It takes Jungwon exactly five seconds to recover from what you’ve put him through before he spoke, voice calm and leveled, “not really,” he started as he looped each of his arms through the straps of his backpack. “An inside source told me this isn’t at all one-sided. I think I’ll be fine.”

With a wry grin, he said his goodbyes and headed straight for the door, ignoring the three pairs of eyes that burned with curiosity trailing after him.

With superpowers came a few set-backs that would ensure no one would think of ever overusing them to the point it’ll become detrimental to one’s body.

At least that’s what Jungwon knew of as he’s seen that exact concept many times from one fictional character who broke his bones often from overusing the strength he was gifted.

When it came to his own clairvoyance though, he wasn’t too sure if he had any setbacks that would rival Deku’s broken bones. It was a passive ability, which meant he didn’t find the need to focus all that much to guarantee its effect, but instead, he had to concentrate hard enough to suppress it, to not let the array of entangling of voices distract him. 

“Jungwon..?”

Jungwon didn’t even take a second to look up, not when it was you calling out to him; though he quickly realized it was a bad idea when a brief pulse of nausea went through him from the abrupt action. He didn’t even get to mask his wince as he did so and the concern plastered on your face was already warranted as he tried his best to flash you a smile, a tiny grin that he hoped was enough to placate whatever was starting to brew in that head of yours.

Still, your obvious worry for him failed to subside, noting how your eyes appeared to look rounder, having some semblance to a pair of puppy eyes paired with  how you chewed on your lower lip, one of your nervous tics, at the pitiful sight of him. “You don’t look too good.”

And it was true. Even Jungwon knew himself that he didn’t exude his usual gait that radiated confidence, nor did he look his best (paler than normal complexion; dark bags underneath his eyes) and he had to stifle a chuckle when you winced at your own words. “Are you okay?”

His grin dimmed, just a tad that it wouldn’t worry you too much, “yeah, ‘just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Though, it was obvious that you didn’t believe him—not one bit, when a pout pulled at your lips. It seems he wasn’t the only one who was good at reading people. You have gotten good at it over time. “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.”

Lies, lies, lies.

Jungwon wasn’t okay, he felt like absolute shit. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold out until class was dismissed. Lying was the last thing he’d want to resort to doing, but if it meant that it’ll stop you from worrying, then so be it.

The moment he had woken up earlier this morning, he was greeted by a niggling feeling at the back of his head. It was the reason why he got out of bed a little later than usual and he got matching looks of confusion from both Jiwon and their grandmother. Jungwon shrugged and came up with the excuse of sleeping later than he intended from the homework he was assigned to do. It wasn’t painful, wasn’t as painful or annoying as a headache or a dreaded migrain, but in a sense that there was this… pressure pushing at his temples and the dip where the lower part of his head and his neck connected.

By the looks of it, their grandmother believed his reason, not without scolding him and ended it with a reminder that sleeping late will do him more harm than good.

On the other hand, Jiwon saw right through him. The very same cat-like eyes that mirrored his own narrowed into slits and that action was enough to put the message across that his sister didn’t buy his bullshit.

In the end, Jiwon didn’t push him further for answers, but he did get a handful of pointed stares during breakfast when their grandmother wasn’t looking. That usually meant his sister would be waiting for him to talk to her about whatever that was about and if her patience wore thin, she'd just force it out of him—you know, the usual.

Taking a pill to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling seemed to be a viable option. A bottle of aspirin that sat idly on the bathroom counter prompted the idea and he wasted no time in downing one with generous amounts of water to wash it all down right after he had finished getting ready for school. Aspirin doesn’t take too long to kick in anyways, just twenty to thirty minutes and by the time he reaches school, It’ll probably be gone by then.

Oh how wrong he was.

The pressure digging into his head was still there an hour later as Jungwon stepped foot on school property and he was a little relieved that it wasn’t bad enough for him to consider turning on his heel to march straight back home, so he walked on, deciding to focus on something else entirely because all the pressure could just be in his head. It’s possible that it could be the residue of stress left behind from powering his way through his final exams and that was enough for him to stop thinking about it.

And it was definitely not because Jungwon has spotted you sitting on one of the benches. Could you be waiting for him? Maybe; you did beam at his approaching figure and immediately got onto your feet when he got closer, hiking up your bag higher as you said your greetings.

At least you and your chattering proved to be a good distraction, good enough that the dilemma he was facing was momentarily forgotten as you both weaved your way through the crowd to get to your classroom. 

“Alright, just… let me know if you need me.” You then gave him a pointed look, though the way he sees it, the face you were making honestly reminded him of a small puppy trying to be intimidating; like the one time his Maeumi stared him down for more treats. Devastatingly adorable.

Jungwon huffed in amusement at the thought, “yeah yeah, I’ll let you know if I’m dying.” 

You only grimaced at the bordering morbid answer before you skulked off to your seat.

See, he would have been happy to tell anyone that he wasn’t dying, wasn’t on the verge of keeling over, but holy shit. He felt like he was going to pass out if the voices resonating in his head didn’t quiet down right at this moment.

Fuck, he should have brought a few tablets of aspirin if he knew this whole thing—whatever it was—was going to get progressively worse as the day went on, or, you know, go home; but Jungwon was quite the stubborn one and he was well aware that that feat could be his downfall one day. He just wasn’t expecting that day to be today.

It took a lot to get where he was now; being able to grasp full control on his mind reading abilities to the point where he can only hear voices only when he wants to. As he’s said before, it was a passive ability and while it was, Jungwon still would like to have his own terms when it came to it and for some reason, his brain, or more specifically the ability his brain had decided to go against him and his wishes.

In retrospect, this is probably not the first time where he felt like his head was going to split open. 

Come to think of it, the earliest memory of something similar happening was when he was a week into being clairvoyant; same school setting, same pressure he felt that morning before it exploded into a head-splitting headache that he started crying during his English class because of how bad the pain was, how impossibly loud it was in his head.

It was apparent that the teacher in charge didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what it meant when little Jungwon had complained through the onslaught of his tears that it was too loud. They were entirely lost and made the ultimate decision to send him home, calling his grandmother to come pick him up from the clinic where Jungwon spent an hour whimpering and clutching his head as salty tears kept leaking out from his eyes.

He was in pain, yes, but present Jungwon knew he could handle it without bursting into tears this time around. Now if he could just sneak out of the classroom to rest on one of the school clinic’s beds… maybe it could help. It won’t be too hard to attempt his escape considering there was a week left until the semester ended, meaning the teacher’s wouldn’t mind too much as there wasn’t much to do anyways. He could text either his sister or grandmother of his situation too if it didn’t get any better.

Just as he was about to haul himself off his seat to do just that, however, a sharp pain pierced through his skull that had him clutching his head.

Unbeknownst to him, you’d kept watch the entire time. As much as he reassured you that he was fine, that nothing was going on, you didn’t believe him. To you, it was obvious that there was something wrong. It was palpable through his body language and no offense to Jungwon, but he didn’t look his best today. So soon as he curled into himself with a grimace, you quickly got off of your seat and rushed towards him.

“Christ, Jungwon,” you hissed, ignoring the few looks you were getting from your outburst as you tried to assess the situation. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“S’loud… really fucking loud.” he gritted out, hands sliding down to cup his ears. “Stop. make it stop… please.” Your eyes widened at that.

Loud? I don’t know how to tell him this but… No one has been talking that loud.

Whatever, you didn’t dare question his odd choice of words to describe why he looked like he was about to pass out as you scrambled to remove the headphones sitting around your neck to slide them over his ears. Might as well counteract whatever was bothering him with some music. You could only hope that your taste in music was decent enough to calm him down.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Well, it was more to yourself since he can’t really hear you, but when you went and boldly took his hand into yours, Jungwon was quick to pick up on your intention and you both left the classroom with you once again brushing off the multiple, curious stares you’ve gotten from your classmates.

The clinic was the best place you could think of. It was usually quiet anyways and it seemed that Jungwon was pleased by the choice as he dropped heavily onto the bed with a heavy sigh. At least your headphones were enough to drown out the mass of voices. The ache head dulled down to the same pressure as before as he took his time simply drowning in the sweet melody that sang into his ears.

On the other hand, you sat on the bed opposite to him, keeping a watchful eye to gauge him for any discomfort he might feel. This went on for a while, both of you sitting in absolute silence with you waiting for Jungwon to gather his bearings until it was he himself who removed the headphones.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, I guess.” He sighed through his nose, smiling wryly as he lightly patted the pair of headphones that hung around his neck. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, but…” you ended up trailing, not knowing how to bring up your own curiosity about what he meant about… something being too loud for him to have this type of reaction. You had working ears and from what you heard in the classroom, no one was being too loud. There was a teacher present and your classmates knew how to respect them by keeping their voices on a decent decibel that wouldn’t be grating to the ears.

“Actually, nevermind. I’m just glad you’re okay, even if you did scare me a little.” You joked, laughing softly.

Besides, it’s none of my business anyway. Makes me curious though. What was that about?”

“No, I’m sensing a question there, Y/N, what is it?”

“Um, you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. I just found it a little…” weird?

“Weird?” Jungwon voiced out for you, snickering when surprise twisted your face. “I’ll answer anything you ask me.”

You can trust him on that. He might as well be honest now. Back then, letting someone know of his ability was the last thing on his mind. Jungwon thought it was for the best since he never really deemed it an important subject anyways. To him, it was like an extra something to live with and he learnt how to do so just fine with just his sister knowing.

However, if he wanted to pursue something beyond friendship with you, he was ready to lay himself bare and tell you all about the hidden ability he had. You trusted him, that was already a given and Jungwon knew he could trust you too, especially when it came to his mind reading tendencies. Also, he thought it was unfair that he has been aware of your crush on him without you knowing; might as well come clean now too. He just hoped you wouldn’t resent him because he was expecting for you to drown in your own embarrassment again.

Jungwon could only wish that you’d let him pull you out of there because there was nothing to be embarrassed about, he can assure you on that.

“When you said that it was too loud… what exactly did you mean by that?” Ah yes, the million dollar question. Though to be fair, he had thought of a bunch of other questions you could have asked that belonged on the same spectrum, but this one made a lot more sense when taking the current situation into consideration. “Because none of our classmates were being loud.”

Jungwon winced slightly. Yeah, he knew that and he couldn’t really fault you for thinking it was strange that he claimed that it was too loud.

“If I tell you, will you promise to let me explain first?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Here we go. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “I can read minds, Y/N, and you can imagine how loud it was in my head, hearing all of our classmates' thoughts at once.”

“W—What? You… read minds… what?” Jungwon nodded solemnly at your broken sentence. “That’s impossible.”

He snickered, eyes now opened as he gave you a lop-sided smile, “it isn’t Y/N, I’m literally an example that it can be possible. I’m not sure if there are others like me though.”

“Prove it then. Prove that you can read minds.”

If you can, does that mean you know that I have feelings for you? That I like you and that you probably knew all this time?

“Yeah, I know that you like me Y/N, I’ve known since my 18th birthday.” Of course, Jungwon couldn’t resist teasing you just a little bit, “I also know that you daydream a lot and that I’m always present in them. And you say that you never thought about me.” He clicked his tongue.

Your face blanched. I crave death.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. If anything, I’m very flattered that you think so highly of me.” As reassuring Jungwon tried to sound, you can’t help but feel so. You thought you were doing a good job keeping what you felt for him buried, only to find out that he knew all this time? Gosh, all of that really had you considering moving to some remote location and changing your name while at it too.

“Please do not move and change your name. You’re gonna break my heart if you do that.”

At this point, you avoided all eye contact in favor of looking somewhere else to placate the growing need to burst into tears. It still didn’t stop you from saying something back. “Don’t. I’m very embarrassed right now and if you tease me one more time, I might actually cry.”

Jungwon couldn’t help but to laugh at the sight of you burying your face into the palms of your hands. It was cute, you were cute and maybe he did like teasing you just to see how flustered you can get. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing you, only if you look at me.”

With your face still hiding in your hand, you let out an exaggerated groan, “I don’t want to.”

“Pity, and here I thought you’d never say no to your crush.”

“Were you always this insufferable? I thought you felt like shit, why are you still teasing me when I specifically told you to quit it?” Well, at least that made you look at him, disregarding the fact that your whole demeanor screamed ‘someone please get me out of here’ or was it ‘I’m going to murder you’? Either way, you still looked absolutely adorable even if he could see murder in your eyes. Cute.

“You’re cute when you're mad, what can I say?”

You gave him a blank stare, “you’re insane.”

“Must be a side effect when you’re given mind reading powers.” Jungwon grinned, eyes twinkling in amusement when you made a weird noise. He guessed you were still reeling from the fact that he was psychic. “If it helps, I think your daydreams were pretty creative. Do you write fan-fiction during your free time?” He posed it as an innocent question, but you knew better to look right past the facade.

Sometimes you refused to believe this is who you were absolutely enamored with. He’s lucky you were willing to accept the little flaws he had; one of them being an absolute menace when he felt like it.

“I’m leaving. I asked Wonyoung to call your sister, by the way. She’s going to pick you up and take you home.” You explained as you got onto your feet.

“Wait what? You’re leaving me? Here?”

“Actually, you’re leaving me.” You corrected, “how are you feeling right now?”

He still felt some pressure pressing onto his head, so not good. “Like shit still, though this is not the first time I’ve felt like this, so I’ll be okay.” Jungwon grumbled as he massaged his temple, then peered up at you questioningly, “you do know we still need to talk, right?”

“I know. I don’t always run from things, you know?” Though the urge was still there, definitely, yet something in you told you to at least hear him out, and it’s not like Jungwon had rejected your feelings, nor did he appear like he was put off by them too. He did tell you that he was aware of it before you even started talking. “Look, I can drop by your place after class if you want.”

Jungwon’s grin was sharp and you apologized in your head for the person you will become once he opens his mouth. “Oh? What’s this? L/N Y/N taking initiative for once? You must really like me.”

You marched up to him to swat at his arm, huffing in satisfaction when he yelped on contact. Deserved. “Don’t push your luck, Yang. I can un-crush you if I want to.”

There’s another teasing smile curling at Jungwon’s lips as he soothed the spot of impact, “something tells me you won’t.”

“Stop reading my mind!” you whined, “that’s like… an invasion of privacy!” Your eyes then trailed over to your headphones still resting around his neck, “you can give those back to me later. Those can be connected by bluetooth so you’re free to use them if you want.”

Sweet. The sound quality was amazing. Jungwon briefly wondered if he’ll get more privileges if ‘the talk’ will go smoothly later. “So I’ll be seeing you at my place then? Promise?”

“Only if you promise to tell me everything about you being psychic.”

* * *

Jungwon was startled awake by a knock on his bedroom door.

With a groan, he sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he lets out a big yawn, “come in!”

It’s Jiwon. She poked head through the big enough gap of the door with a smug smile, “your girlfriend’s here.” She sang, snickering at the rising blush on his cheeks. “She’s in the living room playing with Maeumi. Turns out, she also couldn’t resist the fluffy thing. Right after introductions, she immediately dropped to her knees to play with him.”

Jungwon promptly smiled, completely forgetting how tired he felt at the thought of you getting along with his companion, “did she now? What time is it?”

“Quarter past 5. She just got here 5 minutes ago. Do you want me to send her in?”

“Yeah. We have some… things to talk about.”

That immediately caught her attention as she arched an eyebrow, grinning, “oh? What kind of things?”

He rolled his eyes. “None of your business. Now can you please tell her to come in?”

In retrospect, you really were ready to accept the fact that your crush on Jungwon would never be reciprocated, otherwise you wouldn’t have started imploding on yourself the moment his older sister led you to the boy’s bedroom as you held Maeumi to your chest. Who knows, maybe the little furry thing would help in keeping things less… tense.

Jungwon’s room was cleaner than you’d expected. Sure, there was some clutter here and there but it wasn’t too overbearing; call it an organized mess if you will and besides, it’s not like your room was in an immaculate state so you didn’t linger on the details for too long. Instead, you trained your eyes onto the sole reason why you willingly forgone a late afternoon nap.

The only bed in the room was pushed up against one corner and there he was, lying flat on his back, head resting on a pillow with his forearm covering his eyes.

You snickered as quietly as you could, adjusting Maeumi in your hold while you lifted up your free hand to knock, “knock knock.” you sang as you pushed the door wider open so you could crouch. “I brought a peace offering.” and that piece offering immediately jumps from your hold in favor of barking at his owner, demanding to be picked up.

There’s a small grin playing at his lips before he lifted his forearm from his face, “my own dog?” His gaze momentarily strayed away from you to give his dog some well-deserved attention, hand reaching out to pat the fluffy thing on his head. “Can’t say I’m not pleased. You may enter.” His eyes returned to you kicking the door closed with an eye roll, taking careful steps as you shrugged off your backpack.

“No, it’s okay, you can lay down if you want.” You waved him off when he was about to sit up, “I figured you’d still feel out of it.” The backpack now laid to rest against the foot of Jungwon’s bed which left you to plop with little to no grace present on the plush rug.

You weren’t wrong. He still felt groggy as shit even if he has been awake for more than twenty minutes now and you don’t seem to mind, yet he still tried to sit up a little bit, grabbing another pillow to pile it up on top of the one he was already using.

“So…” you started, placing an arm on his bed for you to rest your chin on; your free hand monopolized by Maeumi, willingly, running your fingers through his soft fur as he laid onto his stomach by your knees with a content huff. “Tell me everything.” 

“Does that include how I found out you like me?”

You burrowed the lower part of your face deeper into the crook of your arm, eyes trailing off to the side. “... yeah that too.” He resisted the urge to pat your head.

And that he did, not leaving any detail out. Jungwon told you everything you needed (read: wanted) to know; from waking up on his eleventh birthday and finding out that he can read minds, how learning to control it wasn’t as easy as he made it out to be seven years later since he became clairvoyant and of course, as per request (well, on his insistence, really) how on one fated afternoon did he find out that the token “quiet one” has been crushing on him all this time.

“And you continued being friends with me even if you knew that my intentions weren’t really platonic,” you reiterated, eyebrows furrowing at the thought, “why?”

A hum fell from his lips, “why not?”

You let out a sigh, letting your cheek meet the smooth and soft surface of his bed, “I don’t know, wasn’t it weird for you to find out that I do… like you?”

“I’ll be honest, it did catch me off-guard, but I didn’t feel… weird about it, if that makes sense.” He admitted, eyeing you for a moment before shifting his head so that he was staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. “It did make me curious though, made me curious about you since we never really talked that much, yet here you are, harboring the biggest and fattest crush on me.” 

His eyes were on you now and for the first time since you’ve had the pleasure of being acquainted with Jungwon, you didn’t shy away from his gaze and instead, met him head on, not minding the steadily spreading warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as you processed the later half of his response.

The thing is, he wasn’t exactly wrong with the whole crush thing. You were very much used to the knee-jerk reaction of your face heating up whenever the guy said anything of similar caliber that involved getting a rise out of you and more often than not, he came out victorious at every attempt. Unfortunately for you, that also included this moment right now.

“You know, if you’re gonna poke fun at the fact that I like you, I might as well leave.” you muttered, pressing your face flat against his bed for a second to relish the softness of it. A few seconds later, you settled on resting your chin onto your arm again, giving Jungwon a withering look.

He made a noise of somesort. A sound of protest maybe? Point is, he didn’t look too thrilled at the idea of you leaving. “I don’t want you to though, and you’re really cute when you’re sulky. I can’t help it.”

“Charming.” came your dry reply as you sighed, grunting when you got onto your feet. “But flattery isn’t enough to make me stay, Jungwon, especially when all I’m hearing is someone who isn’t taking all of this seriously.” There was no heat behind your words, but you did try to sound sharper than your usual soft and airy lilt to get a reaction out of him, standing up for an added dramatic flair.

Needless to say, it worked, if him scrambling to sit up with the unmistakable look of panic plastered across his face was enough of a reaction, you’d say you were pretty pleased that you had some sort of leverage against him… for once.

“Wait, don’t! I just—“ Jungwon cut himself off with a groan while his head fell forward, the hand that he wasn’t using to support himself raising to cradle his forehead. “This wasn’t the way I was supposed to ask you out.”

Your jaw promptly falls open at his admission.

What.

“What?” You repeated in spite of the fact that Jungwon could probably hear you say the exact same thing in your head.

He gave you a sheepish smile in response and shrugged, “well, I did plan on telling you about my quote-unquote superpower,” he cracked his own version of a bashful grin, petting the space he made for you on the bed, then as quick as it came, it melted into a smile; much like the same demure smile you had on as a default. “But obviously it didn’t go according to plan, as you’ve seen earlier.”

“That doesn’t happen too often, right? Whatever that was.”

Jungwon shook his head, taking his time to watch you settle onto the space while he settled on resting his back against the pillows, “no, it doesn’t. It did happen often when I was younger though, so I thought that was just because I didn’t have much control over it.”

“You did mention that, yes.” you hummed, shifting to lift one of your legs up to feel more comfortable perched on top of the soft surface. “Or else it would’ve been so inconvenient if you had to go through that daily.”

“Yep and I wouldn’t want to wish that upon anyone.” He cringed at the thought. It really was one of the most unpleasant sensations he had ever felt throughout his whole life and there was some hope in him that he wouldn’t have to go through that anymore if possible. But enough of that, you weren’t here to talk about the downsides of his ability, you were here to talk; talk about whatever this is between the two of you, now that the feeling was mutual.

“I figured. As much of a nuisance you are, I guess you still have some compassion in you.”

“Oh? Was that why you were going all moony-eyed at me whenever I wasn’t looking?”

“That’s one of my reasons, sure, and I’m gonna keep it at that.” 

“Good thing I can read minds then,” he teased before letting out a light-hearted sigh, “and I am being serious about this. I do want to try all of this with you. Believe me or not, I thought it was rather cute that whenever you weren’t entirely focusing on academics, I was always the first thing—well, person you’d think of.”

The fire you had earlier from Jungwon’s banter gradually fizzled until you were back to your timid disposition as you realized the gravity of the situation; sitting that close to him and in the comfort of his bedroom too. The boy himself doesn’t seem to be perturbed by the fact that there wasn’t as much space between you both now as he continued eyeing you with an emotion you couldn’t quite figure out, swimming in the depths of his dark eyes.

“And you still thought it wasn’t weird at all? Now that you’ve basically seen everything that goes on”— you made a show of tapping your temple —”up here?”

“Well, if I did find it weird, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to befriend you, now would I? C’mon, I've seen everything and I’m still with you, aren’t I?”

“Still… if you do plan on rejecting me, I’d totally understand.”

“Y/N, I like you. Probably just as much as you like me.” Jungwon chuckled upon hearing your breath hitch right when he reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “And not to sound dramatic, but I’d lose it if somehow some rando replaced that version of me prancing around in that pretty little head of yours like he owned the place.”

As hot as your face felt from all of that, you can’t help but laugh brokenly at the description because it was kind of true. “Wow, you really have a way with words, huh? You can’t expect me not to go insane after saying all that.”

“Not as insane as me growing attached to the little scenarios of us you thought of.” It’s beyond you how Jungwon could admit all of that as if he was just talking about something ordinary, like the weather for example. Though you supposed that was one of his charms, how he wasn't really afraid to speak his mind, always ready to face whatever consequence that waited for him. “I think my favorite one was of us having a picnic in the middle of a flower field. You looked really pretty in that white sundress.”

“Yeah, you are definitely insane, taking interest in me ‘cause of my chronic daydreaming.”

“Maybe, but you still like me, right?” he spoke quieter this time, leaning in close that your foreheads pressed against each other’s, “tell me you like me.”

It was more of a soft spoken demand than a request as you took in the tone he used; firm, yes, but it still held the same type of softness he uses with you in the syllables and who were you to deny him of a request? Now that it was clear to you that this wasn’t at all one-sided, that it wasn’t unrequited like you had made yourself believe in the uncertainties that plagued your mind when the nights became too quiet.

A verbal confirmation wasn’t at all necessary. Jungwon was already made aware of the feelings you harbored for him. Still, you humored him, but not in the way either of you were expecting.

He was closer than you needed him to be, so that made things easier for you, reaching out with one hand to cup his cheek, you angled your head and kissed him.

It was a simple press of the lips. Nothing too special considering your inexperience on the matter, but pressing your plump lips against his slightly chapped pair seemed to do it just fine for him; it was enough to have Jungwon unravel in your gentle grip, having to anchor himself to reality by cupping the back of your neck as he breathed out a pleased sigh at the sensation of your lips melding together.

You weren’t faring better on your end either. Quiet as you were while having Jungwon this close to you, relishing in the fact that you could possibly be the first one who has ever gotten so close to him like this.

“I like you,” is the first string of words you breathed out when both of you parted from each other, eyes closed as you took in deep breaths to calm yourself down. “I really like you, Jungwon.”

All of this felt so surreal. You never saw yourself as the type to kiss on the first date, nor were you the type to kiss before a date could even be planned, but kissing Jungwon before you could even talk about this being official felt so right—felt so natural and you really hoped he thought the same too. Though something told you he might. Going through what he had confessed earlier, he did kind of imply that your daydreams kind of pushed him to where you both are now.

The laugh Jungwon let out was airy, out of breath, but most of all, fond as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek before his lips replaced it, “I know.” He whispered, warm air grazing his skin before actually pressing a kiss there.

You snorted, letting him do as he pleased, “of course you do, Professor X.”

“If I can remember correctly,” he pulled away as he said this, “he has telepathy. I can only read minds, not talk through them.” He corrected, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “And I like you too, Y/N. Even if you daydream too much about me.”

God, he was too much for your poor, weak heart, yet you don’t even try to stop him as he went on to press feather-light kisses across your face. You might as well die right here and right now from how fast your heart was racing. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, aren’t you?”

“Can’t say I won’t, dreamer.” 

“You’re terrible, actually.” You don’t mean it and Jungwon knew that simply because you didn’t push him away even your annoyance was evident. He was far from being so too. He wasn’t really capable of being an actual asshole even if he tried. “The worst.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He grinned and you really couldn’t deny it either, so you kissed your teeth in lieu of an actual response, making him chuckle as he tilted your chin with a finger, “kiss me again?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” you murmured, stealing a quick glance at his lips before your eyes flickered to meet his half-lidded gaze.

“Ah. It seems that things are going well between you two.”

Both you and Jungwon pull away from each other to look over your shoulder to see the eldest Yang sibling poised against the doorframe with the door wide open, arms crossed with a huge, triumphant grin pulling at her lips. In contrast to you who felt like spiraling in embarrassment from being caught, Jungwon looked rather annoyed at the interruption, glaring over your shoulder as Jiwon went on ahead and lifted Maeumi up in her arms, still looking far too amused at the scene before her.

“Just what do you want now, Jiwon?”

“Now now, there’s no need to be catty, Jungwonie.” He huffed when hearing you giggle, “grandma was asking if Y/N would like to stay for dinner. We can take her home later.”

“I don’t know… I don’t want to impose.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve done a lot more than impose, kissing my baby brother and all.” At least you now know where he had gotten his playful side. The sharp cat-like gaze that matched with her grin almost mirrored Jungwon’s that it was an almost uncanny resemblance. “Speaking of, he looks like he doesn’t want to let you go just yet.” Jiwon chuckled, “I’ll leave you both to it then. Just let me know if you want to, okay?”

“Bye, Jiwon.” Jungwon promptly answered and Jiwon cackled, leaving the both of you alone.

After a beat of silence, you eyed Jungwon with uncertainty, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

“I’d love for you to stay for dinner, yeah.” He pressed a tender kiss to the space in between your furrowed eyebrows, effectively smoothening it down. “You always overthink.”

“Good thing you’re there to remind me not to, huh?”

“Well, you can definitely rely on me to quiet down the ugly thoughts in your head,” He said with so much conviction that you wanted to believe him. “And leave all the pretty ones in there for me to look at. I always thought we’d be a pretty couple, you know?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “you’re absolutely ridiculous, but I’ll hold you onto that.”

You wanted to put your faith into him, really, and looking at how determined he was, there was no doubt that Jungwon would fulfill the role just fine; and so you did, pulling him in for another heartfelt press of your lips.

A/N: Congratulations! You’ve reached the end of this absurdly long one-shot! I’m telling you, I wasn’t expecting it to reach this long oopsies! But still, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it even if there were times it frustrated me to no end (most of the times it was just me not being able to put some of my thoughts into words properly as I wanted 🗿) if you see any mistakes no you don't <3

FIC TAGLIST: @bigtoewinwin @kyutiepeachy @heeyunkist @todorokiskitten @burningsunsun @bxby-bloom @verifiedsunghoonsimp @aizzon @lil-iva @sodafy @jaemsluvr @nar-nia @pansies-garden @yamagxccciii @strwberrydinosaur @existnesia @renaishun @softpia @jiawji @sjakewrld @solxrssun @wandathescarletbitch @thisisnotjacinta @ayayiiie @itadaramaterasu @leeis @lovelymura @heatrache @vantxx95 @danyxthirstae01 @viisator @shysakuno @bearbeom @snghoonluvr @heelover5 @kuleo26 @tobiosbbyghorl @yogurteume @rcveribin @yjwnoot

@nininico @jaemcaffe @bababameme @scarletsakamura @generouspizzadonut CAN'T TAG: @ms-yuu @luciddrexm

[jakecafe]

i have so many ideas running thru my head but i just havent been able to write them out !/&,&:&:&&:&: graduation week is chokinf me

[jakecafe]

i was waiting for a jungwon fic like this :( the amt of interactions between reader and wonnie that were enough to make you tingle and the expressions of the characters were so well written… agghausi so good </3

http://do-u-luv-me? ➢ yang jungwon.

SYNOPSIS ♡⃛ in which you didn’t expect your secret admirer from your bubblegum kpop blog ( predominately made for hit girl group ‘girlDoll’ ) to be one of your obnoxious classmates: soccer playing slacker yang jungwon.

[ word count : 16k ]

PAIRING ♡⃛ yang jungwon x reader

GENRE ♡⃛ fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers

WARNINGS ♡⃛ traces of bullying, light swearing

a/n: hii :>> i’m back again but with a nice, soft piece this time to cleanse your pallet hehe ♡ ( it’s so long im sorry T-T ) id love some feedback if you enjoy this fic, i adore hearing your thoughts :-) all interactions are deeply appreciated but reblogs are highly encouraged! :> thank you for your support and happy reading. :> ♡

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▹ 7:34am | forgirlDoll: GUYSSSS!! guys..?.?? did anyone else see the girldoll tour announcement T-T thinking about going to the seoul one but the tickets are gonna be so expensive LOL.

httpmoonyi → forgirlDoll: I WISH THEYD COME HERE. I WANT TO SEE MY LOVE MOONYI!!!!!!. :(

kokoluvr → forgirlDoll: STOPP I SAW THAT?? and ikrrr the utter audacity to price those tickets so high when god knows i’m broke 😌 love that for me

forgirlDoll → kokoluvr: i know :(( i’m so sad i wanna be able to see ireun up close. ALL of them up close. but it’s ok i shall stream the tour illegally somewhere :D don’t tell anyone tho

kokoluvr → forgirlDoll: YEESS same imagine looking at koko irl 🤤 literally so depressed rn . remember u said next time they go on tour me n u were going tho 😏 huh huh…??? 😏

kisses4ireun → forgirlDoll: let’s go together. just you and me.. i’ll buy your ticket ^_^

your heart skips a beat at the sight of kisses4ireun’s comment on your post.

forgirlDoll → kisses4ireun: wait really :( i’d love to go with you juyang but it’s gonna cost so much T-T

kisses4ireun → forgirlDoll: i don’t care i just wanna see my favorite girl group with my favorite girl :(

forgirlDoll → kisses4ireun: JUYANGGGG 😭

you slam your laptop closed shut on top of your striped pajama-clad thighs, your palms flying up to your heating cheeks to cover the expanse of your face. your heart was pounding loudly against the cage of your chest like it always did when chatting with kisses4ireun, better known as juyang.

ever since you made the girlDoll fanpage back in june of last year, juyang has never left your mind. about a week in to making your blog, you got the notification of user kisses4ireun following you. he’d like all of your posts and comment on all of your stuff, and soon, it blossomed into a brilliant cyber relationship. he had private messaged you first about a month in, furthering your friendship even more and bonding over your love for girlDoll. it was nice, you thought, but the more you talked with him the more you tumbled down the hole of infatuation. that idea was growing rather scary to you, considering you’ve never seen each other’s faces.

but somehow, you didn’t really mind.

just the thought of you and juyang finally meeting each other at one of girlDoll’s concerts did nothing but slightly drive that fear away. you didn’t wanna get your hopes up too much though, because securing those tickets were indeed not set in stone.

you let a soft sigh pass through your parted lips, dry and cracked from slumber, the heat from the sun gleaming through your bedroom window tingling at the hairs against your exposed arms. you lift your laptop open one last time to non-shamefully check for another notification from your web crush, your heart flipping in your chest as you read his latest reply.

kisses4ireun → forgirlDoll: i just know you’d be the prettiest girl there. 😊 next to ireun of course

you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that his comment made your insides instantly turn to mush. you tried to ignore the increasing speed of your concerning heart rate, pursing your lips into a line as you drag your cursor over to his reply to press the heart button. you knew you were running out of time to get ready for school, and with the sound of loud, rhythmic pounding against your tin metal roof, you knew it wasn’t gonna be a very pleasant — nor dry — tuesday morning.

so with an unenthusiastic sigh rolling out with a pitiful breath, you swing your tired legs over the side of your bed, the bottoms of your bare feet making contact with the hardwood of your bedroom floor. you lazily make your way over towards your closet, where you throw on the nearest rain-protective hoodie you could find. once you’ve adorned yourself in the appropriate outerwear, you make your way out of your front door with the slick strap of your heavy backpack over your shoulder. with the hard clunk of your black boots against the brick of your porch steps, you lift the hood of your sweatshirt up over your hair and squint your eyes up at the darkening sky.

your ears are suddenly met with the boisterous noises surrounding you and your figure amidst the outside world. with one step against your sidewalk, your curious eyes travel around the proximity of your own neighbourhood; loud engines of eager vehicles just trying to get to work on time. the loud, adolescent voices heard from your designated bus stop just around the corner. the cold, wet droplets of rain that seep through the soft material of your hoodie and melt into your hair. you let an unpleasant grunt escape your lips as you make your way down the lonesome sidewalk, hugging your arms to your chest for warmth.

the one thing that runs fluently through the files of your brain as you mentally curse at the swirling gray clouds above you, was the dreaded fear of seeing… him. everything else about your neighborhood you absolutely adored. the friendly neighbors, the variety of flowers that lined the sidewalks, the refreshing sounds of chirping birds on tree limbs and the jingling chains of a leash around a pacing dog’s neck. everything you’ve grown to love about living here. the one thing that held you back from fully embracing just the most wonderful place to live in your city of seoul, was the equivalent to dog poop on the bottom of your shoe. yang jungwon.

oh, did he get on your last nerve. not only did you have to deal with him at your hellhole of a school, but you also were blessed with his unnerving presence basically in what was supposed to be the comfort of your own home. that’s right, just two blocks away from you sat the taunting institution that reigned a habitat to your worst nightmare. you can’t even stand to look in its direction without that flea of a boy invading the privacy of your mind. his atrocity of a home wasn’t much of a jewel to look at, either. the bright blue shutters against the muddy brown tones of the exterior. shivers.

so like any sane person would do with eyeballs and a sensible knowledge of a tasteful color pallet, you avert your eyes from jungwon’s residency of death as you turn the last corner on your block. a deep inhale rises at your chest as your crowded bus stop approaches your line of sight, tightening your firm grip around your backpack straps.

and like a predator on the prowl, your eyes bounce through the clutter of students circling the end of the sidewalk in sight of he-who-shall-not-be-named. luckily, the results of your student scan deems affirmative. not a hair of his annoying head in sight. as if a weight had been lifted from the curves of your shoulders, you quicken your pace to join the crowd of students in their phone centric bus waiting.

the light breeze of october wind nips at the soft skin of your cheeks and nose, scrunching said nose up as if that’d produce any sort of heat inside its cartilage. you decide to plant your feet at the very outskirts of the student circle, comforted by your lone person. you thread your arms across your chest and peer out at the surrounding houses that trickle down the curves of the road, admiring the lazy wave of orange splotched trees that hide homes behind their spindly figures. your brain had drifted up somewhere in the clouds when a quick tap on your shoulder awakes you from your dreamy sight-seeing.

you quickly throw your head back at the source of the sudden taps, your curious eyes meeting the ones belonging to your friend, yeoul. aka, user kokoluvr from your blog. “hey, y/n.” she greets you, a pink lipped smile curving up the side of her thin lips. you admire the wind-nipped pink of her cheeks and nose, watching as strands of her black hair drift in front of her squinted eyes. your own eyes dart down to the faded blue color that outline her lips, which were tightened around the end of a blue lollipop. you watch as she lifts a hand up to grip the end of the candy’s white stick, slipping it out of her mouth to continue her words. “i come with amazing, wonderful news.”

“yeah?” you question, raising your thin eyebrows up into your forehead. “i’d love to hear it.” you let a half curve spread to your own pink lips as you study yeoul’s small, rounded features, watching her slip her blue lollipop back into the cavern of her mouth.

“so, this morning, after we chatted on your blog,” she begins, placing a hand to settle on her hip. “i went ahead and looked at ticket prices. people are saying they might lower them this year because of covid. isn’t that just freaking amazing?” she quickly goes to grab both of your shoulders, shaking them softly as she raises her thick eyebrows inches from your face. “you still wanna go with me, right?”

a pang of guilt shoots up your spine at the sincerity of her question, flashes of juyang’s comments displaying inside your brain. “ah,” you chuckle nervously, placing your own hands on top of yeoul’s broad shoulders. “uh… i don’t know… i need to see what the prices are actually. when the dates are finally released, you know?” god, you’d rather see your all time favorite group with a random boy you met on the internet then with your own childhood best friend? who you’ve actually seen in the flesh plenty of times? it was honestly a joke how much you’d disregard the latter.

you watch as yeoul’s expression falls. “oh, yeah, i know.” she mumbles softly, her eyebrows threading together. she slowly lets her hands fall back to her sides, lifting an arm up to run her fingers slowly through the fringe of her hair. “i just thought,” she shrugs, “you’d go with me anyway. even if the tickets are pricey. it’s like, a one time opportunity, you know…..?”

you suddenly begin to zone out from yeoul’s distant words once she had stepped a few inches to the side, your eyes catching something you wish you never noticed. behind her, on the far side of the sidewalk, to your dismay, sat yang jungwon on the bus stop bench. you couldn’t help but tense your body and keep your eyes locked on his figure in horror, observing the boy. he was leaned over with his elbows propped on his knees, a black leather jacket hiding a soft beige sweatshirt, the hood of it feathering over his soft black curls. his phone was secured between his hands and a white earbud cord traveled from the end of it and up into his ears.

you swallow thickly in your throat. “y/n?” you hear yeoul question, muffled by the approaching roar of the bus engine behind you. “did you hear what i said?” your eyes flick back over to yeoul’s displeased expression, a pout to her glossy lips as she eyes you sorrowfully. “you’d rather go with your little internet boy toy, right?” a soft heat flames to your cheeks.

“what? no, that’s…” you force a short chuckle to burst pass your lips. “that’s….” you’re interrupted by a loud, exaggerated sigh that blows right into your face.

“save it,” yeoul mumbles unenthusiastically, beginning to edge past you to make her way towards the bus that had just arrived at the sidewalk. “let’s just get on the bus.”

“yeoul….” you continue anxiously, as you file in behind her to head up the bus steps. “no, i mean— i said i’d go with, you right?” you chuckle nervously, as you thread your way down the aisles of seats. you follow your dark haired friend into a seat located in the back left of the bus, setting your backpack into your lap with an exasperated sigh.

“yeah, but,” yeoul grunts, leaning her side into you to reach into her back pocket, grabbing out her tangled ball of ear buds. “i can see the look on your face. you’ve changed your mind.” she lets a mock pout jut out at her lips, her long eyelashes batting down as she trains her eyes on the ball of cords, trying to untangle them carefully with her slender fingers. “all for internet boy. y/n, what if he’s a catfish?” she raises her eyebrows over at you briefly, before plugging the end of her earbuds into the bottom of her phone that she had placed on her lap. you roll your eyes at her comment, glancing over at her to examine the bulge of her lollipop pressing against her cheek. “what if you two meet at the concert and he’s a 90 year old white man with an asian fetish?”

you scoff annoyingly at your friend’s words, nudging her softly in the arm with your elbow. you hear soft air tumble from her nostrils in the form of a quiet giggle, nudging you right back into your own bicep. “he’s not a catfish….” you mumble with heat flooding to the tips of your ears, eyes looking out across the bus aisle. your eyes subconsciously roam around the vicinity of the vehicle and around at all the variety of peeking heads, an anxious pang to your stomach as you dreadfully search for that dark haired boy.

the words that yeoul had begun feeding into your ear merged with the ringing in your ear canal, eyes locking right with jungwon’s. his body had been turned to you, just a few seats in front of your eye view, a squeamish smirk to his pink lips that etched dimples into the apples of his cheeks. your heart immediately pounds against your ribcage in horror, wondering just what was going through that unpredictable boy’s mind. “y/n,” you hear yeoul begin, her body leaning forward to rummage into the front pocket of her black backpack that she had sat into her lap. “do you want this red lollipop? i won it during a kahoot game in history class yesterday, but i honestly hate cherry flavor….”

“sure.” you absentmindedly mumble, tensing with the inability to look away from jungwon. you widen your eyes quickly at him, before he swivels back forward into his seat. dread quickly fills to the brim of your stomach, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. did yang jungwon really just miss an opportunity to verbally irritate you? you’re confused, that’s for sure, feeling yeoul’s fingers around your wrist as she places the lolipop into the palm of your hand.

“here.” she mumbles, sighing as she glances up at your distracted expression. “don’t thank me or anything.”

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

you thought god had finally been on your side when you experienced absolutely zero interruptions from yang jungwon your whole entire bus ride. it was a pleasant surprise to you at least, a sudden jitter to your step as you made your way down the black, metal steps of the bright yellow vehicle. maybe, just maybe, you think, as you spin the stick of the red lollipop now nestled between your lips. maybe today is the day yang jungwon finally stops messing with me.

but that thought soon crumbles itself up and is thrown miserably into the trashcan of your failed positive thinking approach. i mean, how dare you want good for yourself? you should’ve known yang jungwon would never let that happen. as soon as you stepped foot through the double doors of your school, your dear friend yeoul now parting ways for her own class needs, you feel a heavy arm harshly fall across your shoulders.

shit. “good morning.” jungwon’s soft, teasing voice mumbles right at your ear, his strawberry flavored bubblegum wafting it’s scent right into your nostrils. you mentally grimace, clenching your jaw before only letting out a small, exhausted sigh in reply to his faulty greeting. “what, you’re not gonna say it back?”

“no.” you simply reply, letting the boy shake your shoulder with little force. you hear an airy giggle emit from his rounded nostrils as dimples tick into his cheeks, his free hand going to stuff itself into the pocket of his black leather jacket.

“i’m going to guess your morning was not good. do you want to talk about it?” and for half a second you almost believed the mock sincerity in his innocent, soft tone, one that disguised his true, devious intentions with your emotions.

“no.”

the two of you quickly file passed brushing shoulders of the crowded corridor, your grip on your backpack straps going clammy as your fingers tighten around the material. a teasing scoff tumbles from between jungwon’s pink lips as he threads his dark eyebrows together. “aw. well, i got something that will make you talk to me.”

you don’t reply to him, awaiting his next words with anticipation eating away at your stomach lining. you hear a slow, dreadful inhale rise at jungwon’s chest, before he exhales rather dramatically. “your good friend might’ve told me you’re a…..” he leans in closer to your ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “.. a girldollie.”

the gears of your brain suddenly shift to a squeaky halt, your chest feeling like it could bust open any second and send your heart flying out all onto the floor, in all its bloody, pulsing glory. “who….” you force out between your lips, your whole entire body flaming with shameful heat. “who…. told you that?” jungwon only softly shrugs, a bubblegum bubble slowly inflating from between his puckered lips.

his gum bubble pops with a soft click and you can feel the sweat beginning to bead along your brow, his arm growing warm and heavy around your shoulders. “hey, it’s okay.” he begins in a low tone, you feeling a lump growing in the pit of your throat. “if it’s true, i won’t judge you. i mean, we all have our terribly flawed, embarrassing interests. it’s totally normal.” god, you want to jump on this walking punchbag and beat the utter crap out of him.

“jungwon, i’m not in the mood. i’m gonna be late to class if you don’t get away from me.” you begin with furrowed eyebrows, your lips dipped into a frustrated frown. you were beginning to feel tears blur at your waterline, and the annoying rubbing thing this boy was doing to your shoulder was only pushing you over the edge.

“i’m sorry if i hit a nerve.” you hear him say through an amused curve to his lips, his gaze veering down towards you and fixating on the red lollipop between your cheeks. “i’ll leave you alone. thank you for the goodbye gift though, y/n.”

your brain swells with confusion, your eyebrows tense above your eyes as you part your lips. “what are you—”

jungwon then swiftly slips your lollipop from out of your mouth, and transfers it between his own lips. you can do nothing but watch the boy in shock, the color draining from your face. “mm, cherry…” he mutters, swishing the red candy ball between his cheeks. you pout as you watch him begin to slide away from you, his hands digging back into his pockets as he strides forward along the hall. you watch him throw his head back at you with an amused tilt of his lips, his eyebrows perched high above his sharp eyes. “don’t be so shy about your love for girldoll.” he calls over to you through a dimpled smirk, your lollipop wedged between his cheeks. he cups his hands around his mouth in a mock attempt to amplify his voice. “it’s kinda cute.. maybe.. a little! not really!”

you mentally curse out his stupid cute face and his stupid cute nose scrunch and his stupid cute tongue that pokes out between his perfect teeth. you were well aware he was teasing you, but how can one look so cute while doing it?

with your class just up the last flight of stairs at the end of the hall, it took everything in you not to turn around and walk right back out of the school. you were embarrassed, oh so embarrassed, absolutely positively humiliated. you cross your arms over your chest down the emptying hallway, forcing back your tears as you slowly stomp your way up the stone steps. unfortunately, you don’t think the miserable treatment from yang jungwon was ever going to end, especially not with this kind of pathetic information that he could use against you anytime and anywhere and absolutely obliviate you. oh, yeoul is gonna get it big time.

all throughout class, as you bobbed your foot impatiently against the blue tiled floor, your balled fist clenched up against your temple, you could only focus on the utter rage you felt with your friend. yeoul was the only person who’s ever known about your love for the bubbly pop trio, considering she was a big fan of theirs too. just how on earth did that ever come up between her and jungwon? your temples were starting to pulse with frustration, all the unanswered questions floating inside your mind like freshly blown bubbles, ones that would never pop. so once that lunch bell finally rang against the core of your eardrums, you flew out of your seat faster than anyone could say ‘i hate yang jungwon.’

entering through those cafeteria doors, heavy breaths heaving from your chest from just how fast you ran straight there, you immediately head towards you and yeoul’s usual round table in the left corner of the cafeteria, right next to the big window. you ignored the slight growl of your stomach and link your arms over your chest, your brows furrowed tight above your eyes. you can feel the stares that are pointed directly at your raging figure, highly aware of how much you look like a bratty toddler right now stomping through the cafeteria.

just a few more feet and you’ve spotted your prey, her long dark hair pulled up into a stupid high ponytail that accentuates her snake-like features. just a little bit closer and you watch her edge her plastic spork into her mouth, almost spotting the slithering hiss off her forked tongue. “yeoul.” you finally breathe, plopping right beside her onto the empty, blue metal stool.

her spork had halted its route at her ajar lips, her eyebrows perching high above her eyes as she snaps her gaze over towards your displeased expression. she darts her eyes quickly to the side, and you can hear the conversation the rest of your friends were having slowly fade to a whisper at your disgruntled appearance. “… yes? are you okay, y/n?”

“why did you tell yang jungwon i liked girldoll?” you whine in a whisper to her, grabbing her by her broad shoulders. “do you know what you’ve done to me, yeoul? why? why?” you groan as you lean over to let your head fall right against her chest, your eyelids squeezing shut. you feel an awkward pat to the back of your head. “why…. oh, why…my life is ruined….”

“y/n,” yeoul chuckles softly, tapping her fingers against the back of your head. “i’m sorry. it wasn’t on purpose. ms. rhee put on a playlist during our geometry quiz yesterday and heart eyes luv came on. and…. i might have accidentally mumbled a, ‘oh, me and y/n love this song,’ and he…. heard me.” you let another strangled groan string from your lips against the material of yeoul’s brown sweater, hearing another giggle breathe from her nostrils. “i’m sorry. i understand if you’re mad at me.”

“no it’s just,” you sigh sorrowfully, slowly straightening your spine back up. you run your fingers through your hair and fixate your gaze onto yeoul’s salad in a daze, your cheeks puffing with air as you nibble on your bottom lip in thought. “he’s never gonna let this go. like, ever. i might as well just walk to the end of the bus lot today and let all of the busses run me over one by one. until i’m just a sheet of mush flattened into the asphalt.”

“that’s rather…. graphic. don’t do that.” yeoul shakes her head disapprovingly at your words, setting her spork down against her salad bowl. she turns her torso to completely face you, letting her hand rest on your shoulder as she ticks her chin down at you. “listen. if jungwon bullies you about it to the point you want to become human cement, then just tell me. i’ll knock the lights out of him.” she shakes your shoulder softly for effect, causing a brief smile to curve at your lips. “remember in middle school i was on the girl’s wrestling team? yeah. and guess who wasn’t. yang mother-effing jungwon.”

you chuckle lazily at her comment, the growl of your stomach only making your terribly soiled mood even worse. “fine. i’ll let you knock the lights out of him, i guess. but if you get suspended… i’ll act like i don’t know you.”

“that’s fair.” yeoul sighs, letting her arm fall back onto her lap. she twists her torso back towards her salad and picks up her spork, stabbing a few pieces of lettuce out of her bowl. “anyway, y/n, go get some food. your stomach sounds like an injured animal.”

“fine,” you grumble, slowly slipping off your stool and rising to your feet. “but if they’re only serving nasty salad, you owe me ten bucks for making me eat a nasty salad.”

yeoul rolls her eyes playfully at your comment. “i would never do such an awful, terrible, inhumane thing to you.”

“shut up.”

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the bus ride home was absolutely miserable. you had beat yeoul to the window seat, fortunately, and rested your forehead against the glass to gaze out the window rather dramatically. with earbuds in your ears, — shared with yeoul, of course — sugary lipz by girldoll blowing out your eardrums, your will to live slowly decreases to about a 2 percent. you could practically feel jungwon’s piercing stare in your direction, even though the seat in front of you should’ve shielded you safely from his devil laser retnas. you could have just been paranoid, but it’s better to be safe than sorry in times like these, right? especially when your well rounded reputation was on the line all because of your manic obsession with glitzy mid-20 year old teeny boppers.

once you part with yeoul at your bus stop, quickly making sure you head far enough down the sidewalk to miss an unwanted conversation with yang jungwon, you finally can let yourself relax. comforted by nothing else other than the sound of wind rippling through soft orange leaves and the soft clunks of your black boots against the concrete. you can finally exhale. now, as you mentally move on to the next part of your day, you’re ashamed to admit that thinking about texting juyang had lifted your mood a copious amount. is that pathetic? you still weren’t even sure.

so you settle into your usual striped pajamas and your giant black t-shirt that you’re not necessarily sure has been washed recently, ( it smells a little…. salt-ish? did you recently work out or exert yourself to the point of sweating? you don’t think you have… weird.. ) and you settle your back comfortably against your wooden bed frame. you let a satisfied sigh roll out between your lips as you lean over towards your bedside table to click your lamp off, straightening back up to lift the lid of your laptop that you’ve placed on top of your lap. the immediate brightness of the screen causes you to scrunch your face up, opening up a tab to login into your blog.

it’s times like these that you admire the most; relaxing in the comfort of your bed, maybe perhaps a glass of apple juice on your beside, nothing but you and your computer. you can aimlessly post and rant about all things girldoll without any interruptions. it was nice, an escape from your reality, the one that so unfortunately has yang jungwon included in it. you’re just happy your online reality has absolutely no trace of that godforsaken boy. ah, paradise.

your heart pangs inside your chest once you’ve scrolled through your notifications, eyes catching glimpses of their content. replies to your post about moonyi’s scandalous outfit choice for their recent promo, people tagging you in videos of ireun cute compilations. the notif you’re most love struck for though, is that number one flashing from your inbox icon. your heart flutters as you drag your cursor eagerly over towards it.

────────────────────────── ⍈ 3:22pm • kisses4ireun: hey 😊──────────────────────────

just the one word was enough to make your bones turn to goo.

────────────────────────── forgirlDoll: hey :) wow you texted right when i came on. r u watching me :o

kisses4ireun: haha idk maybe i am.. check outside ur window >:)

forgirlDoll: noo i don’t wanna get up pls don’t kill me lol T-T also juyang i had a terrible day today :((

kisses4ireun: oh noooo. why what happened?

forgirlDoll: well there’s this really annoying boy at school who’s been messing with me for years and im just so over it it’s gotten to the point i don’t even wanna go to school anymore. it’s someone i also used to really have a giant crush on but that was before they started messing with me T-T idk what happened i’m just so. ughhh

kisses4ireun: oh i’m so sorry :( is he bullying you badly?

forgirlDoll: well it’s not even bullying it’s like playful teasing i guess :/ but it’s still harsh!!

kisses4ireun: ohhh. maybe this boy has a crush on you. sometimes that’s how they show it. you don’t still like him right? (the correct answer is no….)

forgirlDoll: lol idk he’s got a funny way of showing it then 🤷‍♀️ also.. ughhhh i mean idk. maybe if he wasn’t so mean to me T-T i like you more tho juyang ;)

(kisses4ireun hearted this message ❤️ )

kisses4ireun: good that’s what i wanted to hear ^_^ 😆 don’t leave me for mean boy i can treat you so much better

(you hearted this message ❤️)

kisses4ireun: oh also tickets go on sale tomorrow!! i’m gonna visit the site and i might order them if you still want to go with me… 👀

forgirlDoll: aghh i need to think about it T-T but i’ll tell you tomorrow!! i’m gonna do my homework and we can talk later. bye juyang :( <3

kisses4ireun: okay 😊 talk to you later and don’t let that crush on mean boy come back before i even see you 😢

(you hearted this message ❤️) ──────────────────────────

you let your eyes linger on your exchanged messages for just a minute longer, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. you could feel the heat that was blooming up your cheeks and neck, your heart still erratic against the comfort of your ribcage. the amount of serotonin that was flooding through your body over a simple three minute text convo was almost laughable, but right now, you didn’t care. you were absolutely smitten for this boy, you can finally admit to yourself. there really was no hiding it. why did he make you feel this way so much? why is one simple greeting enough to give you a power surge of adrenaline that could leave you running a marathon for a week? you didn’t know exactly why, but one reason, you hated to admit to yourself, was sticking out to you in the back corners of your brain.

maybe, just maybe, it was because he reminded you of the old yang jungwon. he reminded you of how he used to treat you before he switched like a light. he reminded you of why you fell in love with jungwon all over again, feeling deja vu from every heart flutter, every heat flash, every painful cheek smile. the more you reminisced on how lovely yang jungwon had once been to you, the sadder you became. why did he turn so hateful? and maybe the reason you did keep in touch with juyang, was because you missed that yang jungwon so much. as much as you hate to admit, you knew it was true. as you scroll up through your conversation, you read over one particular message over and over in your brain. maybe he has a crush on you. sometimes that’s how they show it.

there really was no other reason as to why he started teasing you out of the blue. did jungwon have a crush on you? you could barely believe it the more you thought about it, and the subtle shake of your head and the furrow of your brows only led you to conclude that that just couldn’t be the case. it was utterly impossible. how could he ever be into someone who listen to girlDoll? someone who has karaoke battles to children’s songs at lunch? someone who trades pokémon cards with the ninth graders on the bus? no, it could never happen, not in any reality, not in any dimension, not on any earth. that was the sad part, yang jungwon will never ever have a crush on you. that fact affected you more than it even should.

and as you open up your math notebook and grab your pencil, the guilt from your conjuring thought slowly creeps up your spine. well if reality jungwon will never like me, then i might as well take a chance with internet jungwon. besides, the more i imagine jungwon on the other side, the more butterflies i have. sure, it’s hurtful to juyang who really does care about me, but up until we meet up, he is jungwon. and i’m more happy with that then i should be.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

well, fuck. you wish yeoul, who was standing all the way on the other side of the bus stop chatting it up with some girl she found out also listens to girldoll, would come and save you from the malevolent clutches of jungwon who stands just a few inches away from you. god, you wish you knew who had tapped on your shoulder before you turned around.

“hi, y/n.” he greets you softly as he stuffs his hands into the top pockets of his brown cargo jeans. you watch his wide dimpled grin spread across his round cheeks, his thick eyebrows perching amusingly up behind locks of his black fringe. “are you mad at me?”

you immediately wilt the curves of your lips into a frown, your eyebrows threading frustratingly above your eyes. “for what? do you not have any friends to talk to?”

“pointing out your girldoll addiction.” he says softly, leaning his weight on his left leg. you watch as his tongue slips out between his pink lips briefly, his eyes flickering around the features of your stoic face. “your friend told me you were angry with me. you look…. super mega pissed off.”

you inhale sharply through your nose, stuffing your fists into the pockets of your hoodie. it’s too early in the morning for this. “it doesn’t even matter if i am or not, jungwon.”

“they must mean like, a lot to you. seeing how upset you are that i found out.” you watch his stupid defined chin as he ticks it up at you, running a slow hand through his hair before peering down at you through his half lidded eyes. “almost like you didn’t want me to know. like you care about what i think.”

“i’m going to throw the heaviest book i have in my backpack right at your stupid face.”

you watch as he clicks his tongue with a mock realization, the slowing curve of his lip pushing a dimple into his cheek. “i think i know what it is..” he rasps low in his throat, slipping his hand out of his pocket to point his finger lazily in your direction. you’d be lying if you said your heart rate didn’t sky rocket. “you think we’re friends.”

your cheeks heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. you tsk your tongue slightly against the roof of your mouth, raising your eyebrows curiously at his smug expression. “absolutely not.”

“then why do you look so nervous? huh? did i hit the target spot on?” he scrunches his nose at you and you watch his adam’s apple dip into his throat with a hushed, deep chuckle. you sigh dramatically as you reach into your hoodie pocket to pull out your earbuds, clicking the end of them into your phone. “no. wait, unless…” he leans over to rest his hands on top of his knees in thought, the furrow of his dark brows tightening as he tongues the inside of his cheek. “… you have a crush on me.” he whispers as he peers up at you through his thick eyelashes, another obnoxious smirk curving up the side of his lip.

“i’m not talking to you anymore.” you grumble at him before throwing his cocky face a sharp glance, pushing your earbuds into the soft holes of your ears. you can hear the soft voice of jungwon’s words as he straightens his spine back up.

“that’s so flattering, y/n.” you hear him say to you, as he threads his arms over his chest. “but i think i’m gonna have to pass on that one. i don’t really get along with girls who listen to girlDoll.” at this point, you turn up your volume to the maximum amount, trying not to show the fact that girldoll’s lovely heart was bursting out your eardrums. “gonna remember this talk, y/n.” you hear him whisper up to your ear before silence soon follows after, you letting a long exhale roll past your lips.

soon, the bus had approached at your sidewalk, and you file on after the rest of your bustling classmates. it wasn’t until you heard someone calling your name that you turn around halfway up the bus steps. you peel an earbud out of your ear, throwing your head back at yeoul behind you. “um…. your backpack is unzipped.” she tells you with an amused tilt to her lips, turning her head to point at the spot on the sidewalk you and jungwon were just at. you follow her finger over to where you see all of your notebooks and pencils clattered to the ground. you tried not to show the utter rage that crawled up the length of your spine as you shamefully head back down the steps. that little prick.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

kokoluvr: did you SEE koko’s BRIGHT GREEN HAIR IN THE TEASER!!’nnn???’nv GOD HELP MEEEEEE 🧎‍♀️ ──────────────────────────

your thumbs tap rapidly against the screen of your phone as you dart your eyes up at the empty hallway in front of you, making sure not to bump into anyone on your way to computer class just right around the corner.

────────────────────────── forgirlDoll: STOPPP HELP I DID SHE LOOKS SO GOOD SHES LIKE THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN PULL OFF GREEN HAIRR!??? IM SO DEAD SERIOUS WHY DOES SHE WANT TO KILL ME

kokoluvr: i’m on the floor . on my knees . i beg miss koko of girldoll please give me just . one☝️minuscule chance. 🙏 🧎‍♀️ ──────────────────────────

the bottoms of your sneakers squeak against the slick tile of the floor as you sharply make the turn around the corner, eyes glancing up in a panic as you see your computer teacher up ahead standing in the doorway of your designated class. is he staring me down? you look down to type as much as you can before you’re forced to place your phone in the dreaded phone bin, the one mr. chang was holding so tauntingly between his hands.

that brooding man is coming closer in your line of sight, his dagger like stare piercing through your dirty soul. you try slowing your pace down the hall but it’s no use when he’s already eyeing you, that scowl of a frown against his thin, miserable lips. so with a saddened sigh, you decide to just delete your upcoming message in the chat box and click your phone off, a pout jutting at your lips. once you’ve finally made it to mr. chang’s intimidating figure, you depressingly go to place your phone into the plastic bin with the other student’s. he watches your hand with furrowed eyebrows as you slip it from the box. “thank you.” he croaks, as you throw your phone one last sad look as it sits helplessly in the black hole of mistreated devices.

just as you’ve stepped a foot inside, you swear you see your phone light up with a notification. panic suddenly spreads through your stomach as you make out the tiny little words of the gray banner. does that say kisses4ireun? shit. you widen your eyes as mr. chang emerges into the classroom, the knob of of the door firm in his left hand as he drags the door shut behind him. you watch him adjust the phone bin held to his hip as you part your desperate lips to speak. “wait, mr. chang—”

“nope. go have a seat.” he tells you blankly, walking past you briskly towards his wooden desk in the corner. you slouch your shoulders as you make your way to your assigned computer desk, pulling the plastic chair out dramatically and slowly to plop yourself right into it.

you don’t even look over the top of your computer at mr. chang, who had approached the middle of the spacious classroom to begin talking about the lesson. sure, you are pouting, but he’s left you no choice. the suspense of juyang’s notification is driving you absolutely insane, especially when you know you’re gonna have to wait an hour and thirty minutes to see it. you’re not that patient.

so, once he’s explained the long, painful, webquest you must delve right into, your mind thinks of an amazingly malicious plan. with mr. chang leaned over to converse with one of the students in the far upper corner of the classroom, you decide to open up a new tab. sure, this was risky, especially when your search history had the upmost ability to be viewed by all school faculty. but you didn’t really care, i mean, how often do they check that stuff anyway?

your careful, stealthy fingertips then begin pressing into the thick, black keys of the keyboard, looking up the website your blog is on. you make sure to flick your gaze up at the teacher every so often to make sure he doesn’t approach you and your secretive blog viewing as you log right into your girldoll account. you take a quick glance at the students sitting on either side of you, sighing in relief when you noticed they’re submerged in the contents of their soul sucking webquest. what losers, amirite?

once you’ve successfully logged in, you immediately drag your cursor over to notifications. you slip your bottom lip nervously between your teeth as you glance over at the teacher, who seems to have drifted dangerously closer to you, observing the screen of a nearby student. you swallow thickly in your throat, your heart throbbing in your ears as you skim through your notifications for that one, beloved user. right then, you spot it. kisses4ireun just followed girldollgifs. view their profile now!

your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach in utter disappointment. your pores just secreted a gallon of stress sweat for a notification that wasn’t even a notification? you let a disappointed exhale breathe from your nostrils, edging your cursor up to the red X at the end of the tab. right as you’ve hovered that tiny white arrow over the X, you feel a hard tap on your shoulder. fuck. “ahem.”

as if you didn’t just get caught, you quickly switch your tab back to the school’s website. “y/n,” you hear mr. chang’s deep voice above you. you let your eyelids flutter closed as you mentally curse out yourself. “please meet me outside.”

so there you sit, the bottom of your denim jeans collecting floor dust as you scoot your bum up against the brick wall outside of your classroom. you’re staring at the math packet between your fingers, a loud groan slipping from between your gritted teeth. you scoot your knees up to your chest and let the back of your head lean against the wall. “i’m so stupid,” you mumble to yourself, tossing your math packet onto the floor beside you. you place your palms over your warming face. “girldollgifs? really? you can’t just look that shit up on google?”

the loud shrill of the bell then echoes out against the walls of the hallway, signaling a transition to the next class. you let yourself sit there for a few more lingering seconds, regretting every decision you ever made in your life. you watch as students begin to crowd the length of the corridor, and soon, you finally decide to straighten up to your feet. you grab your backpack from against the door and sling it’s strap over your shoulder, a shaky sigh exhaling from the chamber of your lungs. what an embarrassing moment of weakness. will never let a boy get to me like that again……. not in the middle of class anyway. him and his stupid follow notifs can wait.

“oh…” you hear a familiar voice behind you, causing you to whip right around towards the sound. your expression sours once you’re met with yang jungwon heading in your direction, a couple of his rugged friends following his tail. “someone got in trouble…” he sing-songs with raised brows, his friends chuckling shortly behind him. you narrow your eyes at him as you watch him enter your previous computer class, resisting the urge to throw your palm out to whack him right in the face. god, you should’ve done it.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

“so… did the people beside you not see you?” you hear yeoul ask firmly into your ear, her voice crackly on the other side of the phone. you let a groan escape your parted lips, letting your back fall with a thud against your mattress.

“they probably did once mr. chang came over there.” you grumble behind the palm you’ve lifted over your face. you tap your index finger against the cell phone held up to your ear. “it was so embarrassing. everyone probably saw my girldoll blog i forgot to exit out of.” you hear a snort from yeoul on the other side of the line, lifting your hand away for your face to watch yourself pick at your cuticle. “but, anyway….”

“it’s okay, y/n. everyone including mr. chang will probably forget by tomorrow.” you let a loud sigh roll from out of your lips as you lift yourself back up into your previous slouched position.

“yeah,” you mumble, your eyes trained on your laptop screen situated in the comfort your lap. your gaze lingers on the home page of your blog a minute longer before you slowly furrow your eyebrows, eyes darting down to the inbox icon. two new messages?

“wait, yeoul,” you begin, your teeth going to anxiously bite at the soft skin of your lower lip. you drag your cursor over towards the mail icon before clicking it. “i’m gonna put you on speaker phone.”

“okay,” the girl replies as you lift the phone away from your ear, setting it to balance on top of your thigh. “i’ll put you on speaker phone, too. gotta stream my girls’ new music video for the nth time.” you simply block out yeoul’s last comment as you now rear your focus in on your computer, your eyes drifting across the screen to read your new messages. your heart rate skyrockets seeing they’re sent from kisses4ireun.

────────────────────────── ⍈ 4:03pm • kisses4ireun: remember i said you’d be the prettiest girl at the concert?

kisses4ireun: i was right 😌──────────────────────────

your eyebrows furrow slowly with heavy confusion. “damn….” you hear yeoul’s faint voice emit from the phone on your thigh. you can barely make out the rhythmic pop beat in the background. “moonyi is really serving with those vocals.”

“hm…” you hum, trying to wrap your brain around juyang’s comment. what does he mean by this? after a few minutes of idly staring at his messages, you decide to type up a hesitant reply.

────────────────────────── forgirlDoll: juyang 😭 that’s really sweet but you haven’t even seen what i look like yet T-T

kisses4ireun: haha you’re right 😅😅 i can just sense it bc your personality is so pretty :-)

forgirlDoll: stopp 😭 you’re too much

──────────────────────────

ah, okay, you think. that makes sense. “duuuude,” yeoul drags out, snapping you out of your juyang lovestruck state. “i didn’t even notice it before, but i think that’s bts jungkook as one of the dancing icecream guys.”

“yeoul, what?” you chuckle softly through a soft curve of your lips, feeling heat in the apples of your cheeks. “what are you on about?”

“i’m serious. go to minute 2:14. tell me that’s not jungkook behind ireun.”

“no,” you mumble teasingly, watching as another message from juyang pops up on your screen. “i believe you. i trust you and your… semi-bad eyesight.”

“my eye sight is not even bad y/n, i wear contacts 85% of the time. so.”

────────────────────────── kisses4ireun: hey tickets went on sale today. if you still want to go with me tell me rn before i buy them and make you go anyway >:) ──────────────────────────

crap. how am i gonna tell yeoul? “okay… i just went back to rewatch and it might not be jungkook. looking more like exo’s kyungsoo.”

“yeoul,” you chuckle again, nervously looking down at your lap as you pick at your cuticles in hesitant thought. “they don’t even look alike.”

“hey. with the makeup they’ve put on him in this video, i’d beg to differ. don’t argue with me, i wear contacts.”

“yeoul,” you begin hesitantly, threading your eyebrows together softly. “how mad would you be if i went to the concert with juyang instead of you?” you squeeze your eyelids shut to brace for impact, readying yourself mentally for her screaming mantra. a few seconds of silence crackle from the receiver, your heart pounding loudly against your chest.

“hmm…” you hear your friend hum. “you know what… that’s okay. i met this girl at the bus stop who likes girldoll too, i’ll just ask her to go with me. but if juyang is an old creepy man who kidnaps you, i’m going to laugh and act like i didn’t see it.”

you let a relieving exhale deflate from your lungs. “okay, okay. i can understand that.” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as a minuscule amount of serotonin flows through your body, imagining finally seeing juyang face to face. “i honestly thought you’d be mad.”

“well, i was going to be, but it’s okay. i kind of want him to be a catfish so you get a taste of your own medicine.”

you snort. “okay, that’s totally fair.”

────────────────────────── forgirlDoll: i’ll go to the concert with you juyang 😆😆

kisses4ireun: wait really??

forgirlDoll: yesss :>

kisses4ireun: that makes me so happy ^_^ can’t wait to see your pretty face

──────────────────────────

as soon as you read over juyang’s latest message, the guilt slowly creeps up on you. there’s heat budding up in your cheeks and your neck, your heart feeling as if it’s detached from all of its vessels and floating on its own inside your ribcage. yeoul starts talking to you about the unfair line distribution of koko in the music video, but all you can focus on is just how inconsiderate you’ve been towards juyang. you’ve been so focused on imagining him as a dead part of yang jungwon, when in reality, he’s a real actual person. he is far from yang jungwon.

what if when he’s finally revealed to me at the concert, i lose all feelings? what if it’s because i wanted him to be jungwon all along? if he’s anyone else other than him, will i even be satisfied? the answer to the last question on your mind makes an anxious feeling bloom in the pit of your stomach. maybe i’ll just wait and see what i feel.

“… y/n? are you there?” yeoul’s soft voice snaps you out of your daze, blinking to yourself as you fold your knees up against your chest.

“uh, yeah, sorry.” you softly chuckle, messing with the fabric of your striped pajamas. “what did you say again?”

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

you’d rather jump off the nearest cliff then continue sitting through this soul-sucking lunch period. ever since homeroom at 7am sharp this morning, you’ve been suffering verbal harassment from your ever loving peers. “hey, y/n,” this one boy had come up to your desk after roll call, a boy you’ve never talked to before in your life. “who’s your girldoll bias?” you threw him a devilish glare, watching as he’d share a couple snickers with his obnoxious friends. and then, on your way to the cafeteria, another girl you’ll probably never see again, stops you in the hallway with a hand to your shoulder.

“hey!” she exclaimed, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “aren’t you’re the nerd who likes that weird pop group who sings about making love to icecream?” you only blinked at her in reply, your lips pursing into a line as you felt heat flame up in your cheeks. she only threw you a quick giggle before walking off, leaving you stomping gloomily through the double doors of the lunch room. that little blabbermouth, you thought, steam basically shooting from your ears as you headed down the lunch line. he’ll be the reason for my villain arc.

now, you sit beside yeoul at your usual lunch table, your head in your hands as she tells off this tall boy from the soccer team. “….maybe if you actually translated the lyrics!” she spits, standing up from her stool to place her hands on her hips. you mentally groan, feeling heat from your face against the skin of your palms. when is this over? “you’d actually see it’s more than just dancing icecream and glittery bodysuits!” you hear the soccer boy standing behind you let out a snort, before muttering a quiet okay..? the squeak of his tennis shoes against the tile floor telling you he’s walked away from yeoul’s extravagant scene.

“god,” you hear yeoul sigh as she sits back down in her seat, adjusting the bottom of her tight top. you slowly lift your head up shamefully, noticing all the pointed eyes and hushed whispers from people scattered across the cafeteria. “i can’t handle all these uneducated morons.”

“it’s okay, yeoul.” a girl named aesha whispers from across you at your table, her face looking rather red and uncomfortable. “just ignore them. we already have enough attention on us.” soon, your little table group had eased their way back into their casual conversation, no more girlDoll confrontation brought up upon you. it was nice, for a few minutes, as you wedge your sushi roll between your chopsticks peacefully.

it wasn’t until yeoul’s loud hiss towards a certain boy approaching your table made you realize all your settled peace had quickly dissipated. “don’t you even dare step any closer, yang jungwon.” her voice is loud in your ear and you wince, not even daring to look up yourself. what the hell does he want? “you’ve started enough shit already.”

“i’m not here to make fun of you,” you hear jungwon exclaim softly, a small sigh following his small words. “i just wanted to give this to y/n.” your eyebrows furrow slightly as you watch a red lollipop topple right onto the table beside your sushi tray. you decide to look up at jungwon confusingly, taken aback by the redness of his round cheeks. at your curious gaze, you watch the tips of his ears hiding behind curls of his black hair turn red, his doe eyes widening at your expression. “i just felt bad. about the other day.” he tells you, adjusting his grip against his single backpack strap. “you don’t have to take it,” he shrugs, “if you don’t want it i’ll gladly have it back.”

“she doesn’t want anything from you.” yeoul begins beside you, a disgruntled frown upon her glossy lips. you go to place your hand on her arm, watching as she snaps her head over to you.

“no it’s okay,” you tell your friend, a nervous curve to the edge of your lips. you flick your gaze back up to jungwon’s nervous expression, watching as he nibbles on the skin of his bottom lip. “thanks.” you mumble, and he flashes you an awkward smile.

“don’t thank me. also, this doesn’t mean i like you. i know you like me, but this is just me being nice. girldoll sucks.” he raises his eyebrows at you amusingly, and you roll your eyes in reply.

yeoul scoffs. “she doesn’t like you. now, beat it.”

just as he begins walking back to his own table across the lunch room, he throws his head back at you, a shy curve to his lips and a dimple etched in his cheek. and just as he turns his head back around, did he just….. wink at you? and just why did your heart flutter at it? your heart jumps inside your chest and you blink dumbfounded, your eyes going to train on the red lollipop laying nicely against the table. he… winked at me? and not just a smug, obnoxious wink, a genuine, nice wink? what dimension did i just wake up into?

“i wouldn’t eat it if i were you.” yeoul tells you blankly, threading her arms over her chest as she watches you unwrap the plastic from around the candy. “he probably like, licked the wrapper.” you ignore yeoul’s sulky declaration, laying the crumbled plastic onto the table before sticking the red candy between your lips.

“that’s okay.” you mumble, swishing the lollipop between your teeth to settle against your cheek. “its the first time he’s been nice to me in years. i’ll take what i can get.”

“you’re odd, y/n.”

you simply shrug at yeoul’s words, happily sucking on the cherry flavored orb against your tongue.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

your red lollipop was still sitting happily in the nook of your cheek as you sat daydreaming in your computer class, your cheek in your palm as you replayed jungwon’s pretty wink over and over in your head. mr. chang was going on about something related to astrology, your eyes locked on his broad figure but your mind remained up in the clouds.

and as if you simply manifested his entrance into your reality, you watch as that cursed black haired boy swings open the door to your classroom. mr. chang throws his head back at his disturbance with confusion laced in his firm expression. “jungwon…. can i help you? you’re interrupting my lesson.” you watch mr. chang cross his arms over his chest before flicking your heart-eyed gaze over to jungwon’s frozen stance at the doorway.

“uh,” you watch jungwon chuckle nervously, his hand going to slide into the pocket of his low waisted denim jeans. “i have to make up a test in here, unfortunately. sorry for interrupting.” he flashes the teacher an anxious lopsided smile, strands of his black hair fluttering against his thick eyelashes. you can’t help but roam your gaze down his lanky, slouched figure, admiring his black charmed necklace and the silver studs pierced lowly into his earlobes. you admired the rosace ness of his cheeks and the way he slides his palm nervously over the back of his neck as he awaits mr. chang’s reply.

“alright. make sure to put your phone in the bin.” mr. chang huffs, lifting his hand to direct jungwon to the computer desk on the far right of him at the front of the classroom. “mrs. yori has no respect for other teachers, i guess.” you hear your teacher mumble with a shake of his head, before slapping his hands together firmly. “okay, class. anyway.. as i was saying…”

you can’t help but keep your eyes trained on jungwon as you watch him place his phone into the bin on top of mr. chang’s desk, before your eyes follow him on his way to his seat. you’re being pathetic, you think to yourself, as you catch yourself smiling at the endearing holes jungwon had tore into his black sweater sleeves to slide his thumbs through. what is wrong with you? you blink shamefully as you tear your eyes away from the boy, straightening your spine in your chair. “okay, y/n.” you whisper to yourself, slapping your own cheek softly. “don’t let this boy get to you just because he did one nice thing for you. and it wasn’t even that nice…”

in the corner of your eye you catch the boy sitting beside you eyeing you weirdly, which makes heat flame up into your cheeks. “what?” you mumble, before you slide cowardly down the back of your chair. dude. you’re crazy. get it together.

once the bell finally rings, after your hopeless, distracted mind absorbed absolutely nothing from mr. chang’s lengthy lesson, you make sure to be the first one to jump out of your seat. you just had to beat yang jungwon out of here before any sort of interaction sends your brain to goo.

you make your way passed your hurrying classmates as you clutch your backpack straps, eyeing the phone bin that mr. chang was holding by the doorway. once that plastic bin is finally displayed in front of you, you blink down at the collection of black phones. your eyes frantically scan around its contents in recognition of your own device, but you just can’t seem to spot it. you’re blocking the doorway, frustrated grunts and groans emitting from students just trying to get passed you. “can you move?”

in a panic, you grab what you’re 99% sure is your phone, by the tiny crack in the back of its clear case. you push your way out of the classroom, a heavy sigh exhaling from between your lips. okay, you think to yourself. now down the stairs to second period.

heavy breaths tumble from between your lips as you quickly run down the stone steps of your corridor, brushing passed stubborn shoulders and squeaking over frantic feet. it wasn’t until you heard your name being called across the hallway that you immediately squeak to a halt. there’s students bumping into you as you throw your head back down the length of the hall, spotting a boy making eye contact with you as he holds a phone in the air. with confusion bubbling up inside your system, you make your way back down the corridor and towards him.

“hanjee?” you mumble questioningly as you soon approach him, watching as he outstretches his arm out towards you, offering you the black phone in his hand.

“i accidentally grabbed your phone by accident.” he tells you with a short chuckle bubbling passed his plush lips. “sorry, they all look the same.” your heart rate escalates as you hesitantly go to grab your phone, noticing it also has a crack in its clear case.

“oh,” you mumble with furrowed brows, turning the device in your hand to click the lock screen on. yeah, most definitely your phone. you then begin to dig into your pocket to fetch the phone you thought was yours. “this means i have yours, right?”

“oh, no,” the tall boy tells you with a shake of his head, his thick eyebrows threading together above his eyes. you pause your hands’ movements in your pocket as you study him. “my buddy has mine. see you tomorrow, y/n?” he tells you with a quick smile, punching your shoulder and turning on his heel before you can even get a word out.

crap. you groan in your throat. this means i have someone else’s phone. you continue your slow pace back down the direction you were initially headed, ignoring the emptying hallway. you pull out the phone that’s not yours, turning it over to view the screen. immediately, the lock screen flashes at you, heat quickly bubbling to your cheeks at the image. great, you mumble to yourself, observing the picture of jungwon and who you assume is his friend, sunoo. of course i have jungwon’s phone. you let an unsatisfied frown perch at your lips as you continue down the hallway, a notification that pops up on jungwon’s phone grabbing your attention.

you stop your tracks in the middle of the hallway as you dreadfully read the notif.

────────────────────────── 32s httpmoonyi:

YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE JUYANG HE DOESNT EVEN LOOK LIKE JUNGKOOK. THAT IS MOST DEF CHA EUNWOO BEHIND IREUN?? ARE YOU BLIND?? 🙄──────────────────────────

wait a minute…. what did it say?

maybe you need to read that again. juyang??

you’re not making any sense…. juyang???

you blink, feeling the color drain from your appalled face. you don’t think you read that right, your eyes scanning the message over and over and over. this can’t be jungwon’s phone, maybe it’s… sunoo’s. yeah, maybe it’s his. you could most definitely believe that instead. it wasn’t until another message popped onto the screen that you wanted to most definitely be ran over by 45,000 buses.

────────────────────────── 14s heeseung (soccer):

hey jungwon just reminding you to bring my cleats to practice tonight!!!! i cant wear niki’s again they’re too small for me don’t make me go through that. half my foot is still bruised

──────────────────────────

no. no…. no. it can’t be. maybe you’re dreaming. you squeeze your eyes shut in the middle of the empty hallway and go to pinch your arm harshly, wincing at the very real pain. okay, okay, maybe it’s real. you don’t know whether to be relieved, or absolutely enraged. because how does he have the right to even make fun of you at all? for something he’s obviously into as well? you simply want to chuck his phone at the wall and watch it break into a million minuscule pieces.

you can feel tears blur at your waterline, as you sulkily make your way towards your classroom. you know you’re late but you simply don’t care, the internet love of your life you’ve known for a year now, the sweetest boy on the planet, is your human embodiment of a parasite, yang jungwon. how did this even come to be? you have so many questions and angry words pounding at your temples, but you sniff your tears back and continue walking, your fingers buzzing with rage. oh, just wait, yang jungwon. you clench your jaw to stop the sudden tremble of your lip. just you wait….

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

kisses4ireun: hey sorry i took so long to respond

kisses4ireun: i’m on my laptop because i lost my phone T_T

──────────────────────────

you stare at your bright laptop screen with tears blurring your vision, stuffing your face back into the pillow you’re holding tightly to your chest. “y/n….” yeoul cooes on the phone beside you on your mattress, forced to listen to your choked sobs. “it’s gonna be okay.”

“no, it’s not.” you sob through mascara mixed tears, lifting your head up to swipe at your mascara coated pillow. “it’s not okay. how does he have the audacity to make me look like a fool in front of our whole grade? he’s told everyone, yeoul.” you sniff harshly to suck back the snot slowly dripping out of your nose. “he’s such a fucking jerk.”

“all you have to do is do the same thing back. tell his whole soccer team. i mean, you do have his phone. it’s not hard to expose him.”

“no, i cant do that,” you whisper, tongue sliding against your bottom lip to collect your conjured spit. you swipe at your stained pillow some more, your puffy eyes going back to gaze at juyang— jungwon’s open messages. “i’m not that kind of person.”

“are you just saying that because he gave you a lollipop?”

“no,” you whine, your eyebrows furrowing above your reddened eyes. “i just… a part of me still cares about him. and i’ve always wanted him to be nice to me again.”

“so… why aren’t you jumping for joy that he’s juyang? he’s been nice to you this whole time. flirting with you, even. obviously, he’s interested.”

“that doesn’t matter, yeoul!” you exclaim with raised eyebrows, your hand going to smack the fabric of your pillow. “he doesn’t know he’s texting with me..” you whisper through a quivering lip, your palms going up to cover your face as you groan into your hands. “he’s just a… a coward. a jerk. an effing dickhead.”

“yeah! yeah, you tell em’!”

“… that i maybe perhaps am still attracted to.”

yeoul let’s out a groan at this, causing you to nervously chuckle behind the comfort of your hands.

“aaand we’re back at square one.”

you then let out a longing sigh, peeking through the cracks of your fingers to stare at your laptop screen once again, buzzing thoughts clouding your scattered mind. “the concert… what about the concert….”

“well…” yeoul sighs, the phone crackling at the close proximity of her loud sigh. “you gotta cancel on him now. give that boy a taste of his own medicine. make him look dumb. show up to school tomorrow, shove his phone in his face, and expose that mofo. in front of everyone. and then…. me and you go to the concert together. the end.”

you begin to chew on your bottom lip in thought, feeling the cold sensation of your running snot approach your upper lip. “i don’t know…” you whisper, your eyes fixating into a daze onto your computer screen. you go to wipe your snot with the back of your hand, hearing yeoul scoff on the line.

“y/n…. you have to give him his phone back eventually. you need to expose him. i know you care about him, but… if he cared about you he’d treat you with respect. so it shouldn’t really matter whether or not you still have feelings for him, he still deserves a harsh, reputation-ruining confrontation. am i wrong….?”

──────────────────────────

kisses4ireun: helloooo….? :(

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

“okay, class.” mrs. yori sighs, holding a clipboard up against her chest. she stands in front of the vast soccer field, where agile teenage boys finish up their practice for their upcoming game. you hug your beige sweater closer to your chest, the dainty fingers of the chilly, october breeze prickling at the skin of your arms. “today’s assignment obviously will include observations of nature.”

your squinted eyes drift from mrs. yori’s petite figure and over to the soccer field behind her, peering at the running players through the strands of dark hair that the breeze pushes in front of your eyes. your eyes can’t help but fall upon player 16, aka, jungwon, a sour feeling spreading inside your belly as you remember yesterday’s mentally catastrophic events.

“you’ll be split up into pairs,” mrs. yori declares, peering down at the paper clipped to her clipboard. “and each one of you will identify three examples of blah, blah, blah….” her monotone instructions get lost somewhere in its route to your cochlea, your gaze and focus aligned on the running figure of the dark haired boy a good distance from you. you watch as he sprints towards the soccer ball rolling to him, before throwing it a harsh kick, sending it flying through the air and over towards the goal.

woah, you think, your eyebrows subconsciously lifting into your forehead. of course he’s good at soccer. “y/n?” yeoul suddenly nudges you in the shoulder, a confused look taking upon her concentrated features. you blink yourself out of your shameful staring, noticing your classmates had dispersed among the clearing around you.

“sorry.” you reply softly, furrowing your eyebrows in self frustration. “let’s get to the assignment.” yeoul let’s a small sigh roll between her glossed lips, a bejeweled hand going to run through her hair as she fixates her gaze down on the paper in her grip.

“okay.” she begins, your eyes on the clench of her jaw as she chews on her grape flavored bubblegum. “so… i say we try over at the bleachers first.” she tells you softly, before turning on her heel against the gravel. you have absolutely no idea what the assignment is, but then again, do you ever? you decide to just keep your lips sealed as you follow aimlessly behind her, thinking maybe she’ll end up doing the assignment herself. it’ll give you more time to ogle at jungwon, anyway. aren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

you’ve now approached the high stature of the metal soccer field bleachers, the bottoms of your tennis shoes crunching the gravel below you. you watch as yeoul crouches down on her hands and knees, peering under the bleachers. you’re super confused, your eyelashes batting against your cheekbones as you thoroughly observe her actions. the more you look at her, the more confused you are, watching as she brushes her palms against the graveled dirt. you blink. what is she doing? “i think…. we’ve got a good spot here…”

your attention is then tugged away from yeoul’s odd searching once you hear the blow of a loud whistle, veering your head towards the soccer field to watch the players disperse, heading over to their water bottles and towels on the outskirts of the field. your heart begins racing once your gaze lands on a very red, and very sweaty yang jungwon, his hands perched on his hips and his chest heaving rapidly. you watch him start walking towards you, and you panic. you dart your eyes down towards the seats of the bleachers and notice the water bottle and towel sitting upon the bottom row. shit.

he’s walking closer to you now, and you’re not sure if he’s noticed you. should you hide behind the bleachers? no, he might see you, and that’d be weird. “oh, y/n.” you hear yeoul sigh, noticing she’s crawled further under the bleachers. “just go ahead and talk to him. i won’t be mad.” you glance over at your friend who throws her head back to give you a look, your heart rate erratic inside your chest.

you slip your lip between your teeth, looking back over at jungwon who is now, rather standing closely by you. your heart jumps at the sudden proximity, his gaze lingering on your frozen figure with an amused curve digging up his red, sweaty cheek. “hi, y/n.” he breathes, reaching down to grab his water bottle sitting on the edge of the bleacher. you swallow dryly in your throat, feeling that dreaded heat bloom to your cheeks. you simply part your dry lips as you awkwardly watch him tilt his head back, lifting his water bottle to his lips before letting its contents slip down his throat.

“um,” you nervously stutter, trying not to ogle at the damp, black hair that he shakes out of his eyes. he’s now raising his eyebrows at you in curiosity, swishing water between his cheeks as he twists the plastic cap back onto his bottle. “jungwon… i need to talk to you.”

you watch his eyebrows tighten together, swallowing the last contents of the water between his cheeks before leaning over to place his bottle back onto the bleacher. “you need to talk to me?” he asks in a hesitant tone, tugging the middle of his damp green soccer shirt to stop it sticking to his chest. “about what exactly?”

you feel like you’re going to faint. “well.” you mutter shakily, slowly reaching down into the pocket of your denim jeans. “i have… your phone.” you slip his phone out of your pocket and slowly extend your hand out to him, watching as a now nervous expression distorts at his features, his eyes narrowing at your unnerved face.

“why do you have my phone?” he asks lowly, slowly going to fetch it from your clammy hands. “are you stalking me?”

“no,” you reply firmly, sticking your fists nervously into your pockets. “i.. accidentally grabbed it when computer class ended. also.. i… there’s — there’s something else i need to say.”

“go ahead, y/n.” he softly chuckles, burying his phone into the pocket of his black athletic shorts. “i’m all ears. loosen up, don’t be so nervous.” his eyebrows raise again under his damp locks, his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his words only make your neck flame even more, and you don’t think you can maintain eye contact as you mutter your next words.

“jungwon..” you inhale a shaky breath, throwing your head back at your surroundings to confirm your teacher is nowhere in sight.

“mhmm..?”

“i know about your girlDoll account.” you let a heavy exhale droop at your shoulders, your eyelids going to clamp shut. “i know that you’re user kisses4ireun.”

for a good few, solid seconds, all you can hear is yeoul’s distant, malicious giggle, and the chirping birds perched high above you. your eyes remain shut, your fists balled into your pockets. the air is tense, thick enough to be sliced with a knife. you pop one eye open at jungwon’s lingering silence, his face now a pale, rosy color as he stares at you intensely, his jaw clenching periodically. “how?” he barely mumbles above a whisper, both of his fists going to frustratedly slide into the pockets of his shorts.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “well, i saw a notification pop up on your phone from a girlDoll blog user calling you juyang.” your chest swells with your next, hesitant declaration. “also, i’m the forgirlDoll account you’ve been talking to.” oh no. you’re bracing yourself for impact, your heart feeling like it could shoot right out of your chest at the speed it’s beating. the air is silent again, making you want to disappear into thin air.

you hear a long, loud inhale rise at jungwon’s chest, before the sound of his shoes crunching along gravel tingle at your ears. is he coming closer? “y/n.” he whispers, his voice now inches in front of you. you pop one eye open and see he’s leaned his side into the side of the bleachers, his chin tilted up at you and his eyebrows furrowed, a slight curve edging up his lip. “i already know who you are.”

your eyes pop open, staring at him in utter disbelief. what did he just say? “what… you knew?”

“he knew?” you ignore yeoul’s sudden chirp somewhere behind you.

“y/n,” he groans amusingly, his palm going to rest on his forehead before sliding it down his flushed face. “you literally left your blog up on the computer in tech class. did you forget it was under your school account, too?”

heat takes over your entire body. “you… were on my computer?” god, you want to shrivel yourself up into a ball and get swallowed by the void. of course. of course.

“unfortunately, i was.” he croaks lowly, watching as you smack both of your palms to your face. “also, why… why would you search up your blog on the school computer? are you that stupid?” you groan behind the heat radiating from your palms, hearing yeoul snort behind you.

“yes. yes she is.”

“i just.” you whine frustratingly, throwing your hands off of your heated, embarrassed face. “i was— i had just gotten a notification from you when i walked in, and i couldn’t check my phone and i was— i was just eager. okay?”

you hear a small giggle breathe from jungwon’s nose, glancing up at his smug, amused expression as he tilts the side of his head to rest it against the bleacher, his half lidded eyes observing you. “god, you’re obsessed with just every version of me, huh?”

“don’t even.” you blurt, your heart rate sky rocketing into the clouds. “i just…” you lick your lips briefly, your eyebrows threading together. “so… you still talked to me even after you knew it was me. why?”

you watch jungwon’s eyes narrow in on you, his tongue slowly gliding along the top of his bottom lip. “hmm.” he hums, his arm reaching up to scratch slowly at the nape of his neck. “let’s play a game. it’s called let’s see how oblivious y/n can be. go.”

your face drains of all color. “what does that— what does that mean?” yeoul let’s out a firmly whispered, what?! in disbelief of jungwon’s words, feeling her fist punch softly into your back.

“it means he likes you, dumb fuck.”

“but i don’t understand,” you whine in frustration, your arms going to thread over your chest. “you’re so mean to me, like all the time. a jerk, i should say. a really really really mean terribly rude jerk. who hurts my feelings.”

“y/n.” jungwon groans again, lifting his head up from the bleachers to throw his gaze back at the soccer field, watching as his players start heading off the field. “i’ll explain everything to you. if you let me.”

“okay, let’s hear it, then.”

“not right now, though.” he chuckles nervously, throwing his hands up in the air dismissively. “i have to go back inside. just come over to my house tomorrow so i can make it up to you. and we can talk. okay?” he raises his eyebrows at you curiously as he begins backing up away from the bleachers, his cleats scraping against the gravel.

you pout, anxious adrenaline rushing through your system. “why would i ever agree to that?” you tease, furrowing your eyebrows at the amused smirk slowly curving up his lip.

“because, y/n,” he rasps lowly, slipping a hand into his pocket as he continues walking backwards. “you’ve still got a crush on mean boy, don’t you?” your face immediately flares up with heat as you purse your lips into a line, watching a dimpled grin spread along his cheeks. he then quickly turns on his heel, jogging down the remaining length of the soccer field.

you stare, at him, dumbfounded, hearts practically shooting out of your retnas. are you mad? are you absolutely smitten? you’re possibly both, your gaze still trained on jungwon’s distant figure as you feel yeoul throw a harsh arm over your shoulder. “well, y/n.” she breathes into your ear, wafts of her grape gum floating into your nostrils. “that wasn’t the confrontation i expected, nor wanted to watch, but hey, you did it.” she then harshly pats you hard on the back, making you wince. “i’m proud of you. i don’t necessarily approve of… this, but. if you’re happy, i’m happy. also, i completed the paper. if you’re curious.”

“i don’t care, yeoul.” you slur, your mind tainted with images of jungwon and his sweaty, stupid face. “eff that stupid paper.”

“exactly. eff the school system, eff this class. eff it all, i say.” your eyes are still fogged over as you gaze at the emptying soccer field, leaning your side dreamily into the bleachers. “c’mon, y/n.” you hear yeoul’s distant voice behind you. “we have a paper to turn in.”

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

you would’ve never thought, in a million years, you’d be standing on yang jungwon’s doorstep, knocking on his ugly brown door. you would’ve never thought you’d be seeing his ugly blue shutters in the flesh, this close to your naked eye. it feels weird, you must admit, as you shuffle awkwardly while standing on his doormat, awaiting an answer beyond the door after anxiously knocking.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the absolute urge to puke, imagining chunks of your pizza leftovers splattering all over the potted plants on jungwon’s porch. honestly, his house might look better that way, you think, as you nervously pick at your cuticles.

you know you should be livid with him for the way he’s been mistreating you all these years, but your avid care for the black haired boy told you otherwise. you didn’t know what it was about him that kept you hanging on. maybe it was the way he poked thumb holes into his sleeves, or the way he widens his eyes super big and doey when he’s nervous. maybe it’s the fact he had been running a blog for a cutesy bubblegum kpop group, that kept that little ounce of hope alive. maybe, you realize, as you stand there to pick up all the pieces of yang jungwon, that the lovely boy from two years ago is still in there somewhere. you’ve managed to collect a few pieces of him, you just have to finish putting them all together.

you feel your pulse quicken once a subtle click signals the turn of the doorknob, a sharp, uneasy inhale rising at your shaky lungs. your body instantly flushes with a heat flash at just the mere sight of him, a large white t-shirt low on his collarbones accompanied by a pair of black sweats. the light pink of his cheeks show through the nonchalant persona he’s trying to convey, as he leans his side into the doorway with an arm propped up against it. “oh, look who it is.” he breathes airily through a pretty, dimpled grin, observing your figure. “hi, pretty girl.”

you internally jump off the nearest cliff. “hello.” you meekly reply, stuffing your hands nervously into the pockets of your black jacket. “can i hurry and come in, it’s cold out here.” you let a soft chuckle roll through your lips as he backs up slightly to pull the door further open.

“yeah, i’m sorry.” he says with pink cheeks, nervously going to scratch the nape of his neck. you enter quickly into the warm comfortability of his home, immediately stripping off your jacket to hang it over your arm. “alright, y/n,” he begins, his socks sliding against the hardwood floor as he heads towards the stairs. “follow me.”

“are we…. going to your room?” an immediate anxious feeling settles in the middle of your chest, watching as the boy hops up a few of his carpeted steps. you go to place your palm on top of the banister, watching as he turns around to peer down at you.

“yeah, but.. it’s because i want to show you something. and, i mean, where else are we going to talk? i promise, i have good intentions, y/n.” he chuckles, nodding his head to motion you up the stairs. “c’mon.”

you finally settle on the edge of jungwon’s bed, eyes roaming around the vicinity of his cluttered room. “uh,” he nervously chuckles, going to leave the door a crack as he walks inside. “ignore.. ignore the mess.” your eyes observe the piles of clothes and anime figurines scattered across his carpet, a small curve edging up the corner of your lips. “i was gonna.. um…” he begins softly, his nervous eyes scanning his unkept room. he stands in the middle of it, facing you, his hand going to scratch anxiously at his opposite elbow. “i was gonna make my room look pretty for you, but—”

“it’s okay.” you softly tell him, flashing the boy a small smile. “i like that it’s messy.” you watch as a small chuckle breathes through his nose as he bends down to fetch the t-shirt caught under his foot, throwing it on top of his black dresser.

“alright.” he huffs, straightening back up to approach you. he goes to sit down beside you, propping himself up on his elbows. a few seconds of tense silence settle around the two of you, before you part your hesitant lips to speak.

“so… jungwon, i just want to know one thing.” you mumble, your eyes going to dart down at your hands as you mess with the threads of your sleeve.

“yeah? i’ll tell you anything.” he mumbles, and you can smell the scent of fresh laundry wafting from his clothes.

you swallow slowly. “why… why are you so mean to me? did i ever do anything to upset you?” you barely whisper, feeling heat run to the tips of your ears. more silence follows after your question, hearing the soft breathing of jungwon beside you.

“you never did anything, y/n,” jungwon whispers. “i… i found myself getting feelings for you, which, has never happened to me, ever. and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i also thought you’d never want me, so i guess i just started… teasing you. which—” he exhales longingly, letting his back fall flat against the mattress. “which was just stupid and immature of me. i’m so sorry.”

you hum, continuing to pick the thread in your sleeve. “was this before or after you started crushing on my girlDoll blog?” you throw your head back to flash him a teasing smile, awaiting his reaction. he groans, his cheeks glowing red as he throws his arm across his face.

“look….” he begins, swallowing in his throat. “i’m just relieved it’s been you. i always just kind of imagined it was you, anyway.” he chuckles nervously. “is that embarrassing?”

“not at all,” you tell him, lifting your eyebrows high above your eyes. “actually…. i imagined juyang as you, too. it was like, the only way i could feel butterflies.” silence ticks seconds after your statement, causing anxiety to burst throughout your chest.

“you’re joking.”

“i’m not!” you chuckle, throwing your head back to peer down at him again. he had leaned up to prop himself back on his elbows, his eyebrows perched high above his widened eyes as he stared at you. “i really did.”

“so i’ve been right this whole time.” he mumbles through a half smirk as he scrunches his nose at you, causing your heart to leap out of your chest. you feel him nudge your side with his knee. “you do actually like me.”

“maybe…” you whisper, your eyes going back to study on your hands. you can feel his piercing eyes shooting lasers through your skull, hesitant to even share eye contact.

“look at me and say it.” he mumbles through an endearing, bashful smile. “i want to see your lips form the words.”

“no.” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“please?” he whines, “i don’t wanna have to make you.”

you playfully scoff, throwing your head back to eye him again. “how are you going to—”

your muscles immediately tense up once you feel jungwon’s hands latch to your sides as he begins tickling you. you immediately go to grab at his wrists, trying to pry yourself out of his firm clutches while bursts of breathy laughter conjures up your throat. he lets go once your back finally hits the mattress, lying right beside him. “stop.” you breathe out, your chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths.

jungwon then turns on his side to face you, propping himself up on his elbow. “say it.” he whispers again, his eyes observing the features of your winded face. “repeat what you just said.”

you let a dramatic sigh roll out of your mouth, turning your head to the side to raise your eyebrows at jungwon’s amused expression. “i like you.” you tell him softly, an embarrassed curve rising up the side of your lip. “even though you’ve made my life hell.”

“i don’t think i believe you.” he whispers, furrowing his dark, black eyebrows down at you. he watches you as you sit up to mock his pose, propping yourself up on your own elbows.

“why not?”

“maybe if you kiss me i’ll believe it.” he tells you, as you watch the apples of his slightly freckled cheeks glow bright red. a shy, half smile raises at the corner of his pink lips, your eyes immediately averting to the dimple that presses into the soft, round skin of his cheek. he raises his eyebrows at your silence. “please?”

you can practically feel your heart beat rip at the tissue in your ears, feeling like your body might dissolve into dust on top of jungwon’s mattress. you swallow the nervous lump that had conjured inside your throat as you slowly lift your palms up to cup his round cheeks, inching your face forward closer to his own. your lips are practically brushing against each other’s, feeling his chin tilt up to edge them even closer. you lean your head back away from his lips for a split second, watching the furrow of his eyebrows. “you’re nervous.” you whisper against his mouth. “i can hear your heartbeat.”

“i am nervous.” he whispers shakily against your mouth, his hands going up to grip either of your wrists. “shut up. why are you calling me out?” he smiles against your mouth and you can practically feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, a soft giggle spilling from your nose as you finally connect your lips to his own.

it catches you by surprise once he lifts his lips from yours, only to pepper your mouth in soft, small kisses. you can hear the soft tuffs of his breathy, nervous giggles as he continues pressing his lips into yours, feeling his smile edge along your lips. you let your own nervous breaths tumble from your nostrils once he trails his lips from yours over to your cheek, where he places deeper kisses into the apple of it. “you’re so pretty, y/n.” you immediately feel heat tingle up your neck, letting jungwon settle his soft palm onto the other side of your jaw, his head cocking to the side to continue pressing his lips down the soft curve of your jawline. “so unbelievably pretty.”

“stop…” you whisper, feeling him inhale shakily as he peppers more kisses against the expanse of your cheek, his palm sliding down your neck. he exhales softly through his nose, which causes goosebumps to spread across your skin.

“i wish i could go back in time and tell you every. single. time i’ve thought that.” he slides his palm further down your neck to cup your jaw, his thumb going to hook under your chin to tilt your head up. “it would’ve been so much your head would’ve exploded.” you let out a nervous giggle, your hand going to softly wrap your fingers around jungwon’s wrist. “so maybe it’s a good thing i made fun of you.”

“jungwon..” you groan, sliding your hand up his warm arm. you let your eyelids flutter shut as he continues peppering pecks against your cheek. “i.. i don’t even know what to say to that.”

“good.”

“but…this reminds me,” you whisper through a painful cheek smile, getting deja vu from your chatting with juyang. jungwon hums against your cheek. “this reminds me of heart eyes luv by girlDoll.” you let a quick chuckle brush passed your lips, feeling jungwon smile against your skin. “you know, the lines about cheek kissing.”

“oh, wait.” jungwon then suddenly gasps, immediately backing away from your face. “y/n. you just reminded me.” he exclaims softly, settling both of his palms on your shoulders, his eyebrows raised as he looks you right in the eyes. “this is what i was going to show you.”

you watch him as he jumps right off of his bed, hurrying across his carpet and towards his black dresser against the other side of the wall. you watch as he leans over to rummage through its top drawer, your jaw dropping once he turns around holding up a vinyl record in his hand. “i have the sugar bomb album. on vinyl.” he raises his eyebrows at you, a smug smirk crawling up his lip as he nods slowly at your bewildered expression.

“what?” you exclaim, your lips still fallen ajar in shock. “how? that album came out like, a week ago? how?” you watch as the boy nonchalantly shrugs, walking over to the record player on his nightstand — the one you hadn’t noticed when you walked in — to settle the vinyl on top of it.

“i’m just cool like that.” you narrow your eyes at him as you tongue the inside of your cheek, giving him a slow, disapproving shake of your head.

“i’m telling your soccer team.” you announce, watching as he fiddles with his record player some more. he shrugs again, hearing a short crackle before the opening track icecream magic begins spewing from the rotating disc.

“that’s okay. i am a changed man.” he declares, plopping himself back onto the bed. he settles himself in front of you, leaning back on his elbows as he gazes at you with softened eyes. “you’re still going to the concert with me, right?” he whispers to you, nudging your shoe with his own sock-clad foot.

“yeah.” you whisper back, mentally trained in onto the soft, melodic vocals of the kpop trio. you watch jungwon flash you another dimpled smile, his tongue going to slide over his bottom lip.

“okay, good,” he whispers again, throwing you the subtlest wink. “because i planned to make-out during this song.”

your body immediately flushes with warmth, your eyebrows furrowing nervously up into your forehead. “you’re joking.”

you watch jungwon shrug, a curve hiking up the side of his lip. you watch as he goes to scratch his upper arm, his knuckles drifting up his sleeve. “i guess you’ll just have to see at the concert, huh?”

a/n: helloooo everyone T-T i have risen from the dead. aaah i hope you guys liked this little unexpected fic :> ive been wanting to write something nice for jungwon for a while now and i’m so glad i finally got to! this took about like a WEEK??? but phew i really hope you guys didn’t hate it too much T-T i will be posting more sfw works in the future, so please anticipate it!! if you’d like to be added to my perm taglist, please let me know, it is open! if any of you are interested in being added to a separate nsfw taglist or sfw taglist, please let me know that as well!! :> thank you sooo much for reading :>> smooches you all hard in the face. ♡ >:)

perm taglist ! @5xiang @svnoofy

[jakecafe]

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