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jeongheart · 1 year ago

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pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

"What’s wrong?" you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.

"Sowon?" you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

"Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—" He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel," you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?" you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

"Sure. Sure," he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

"Thank you," you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Someone's knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are small lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#IM IN SHAMBLES #'you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love' 😭😭😭#everything was perfect and cute and heart wrenching and and #im crying so Hard #i love this i love this #the tension and the moment they kiss ????? chef's kiss five star michelin #oh to fall in love like this 😔#absolutely beautiful #bri reads

8K notes · View notes

jeongheart · 2 years ago

Text

this is... not fair at all if I might say.

I get it, having that many notes may make people engage with the fic easily because "wow so many people read this one" but... I'd very much prefer reblogs and comments over likes.

I don't reply to everyone simply because it's not something I'm good at and I have my daily life to deal with but I see everything, always, and I don't consider likes as an interaction at all.

just a reminder for the people that haven't been around enaugh time to understand, that tumblr works through reblogs and tags. this is not instagram or tiktok, blogs work differently than simple social media accounts, this is a different space that is MEANT to be different, so let's not treat it like every other platform and keep it separate and unique!

if you're worried about ruining your aesthetic just create another blog! you can have as many as you want! it's simple, really. be nice to us content creators, we put our time and passion in what we do and most times we do it for free, for you to enjoy... ♡

when you really like something and want to support whoever made it, reblog! comment! add tags! send asks!

115 notes · View notes

jeongheart · 2 years ago

Text

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the teachers trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You with your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how could you not. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd hone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was studying singing at a nearby school and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to singing school, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

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Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

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If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

#aaaa you are so sweet 🥺#im so so so happy you liked it :(#thank you so much for reading and leaving your thoughts it means the world #bri talks

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