luvtak

[luvtak]

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

meee :3

[luvtak]

Unrecognisable makeup Haircut [Dad!Hyunjin x Reader]

masterlist <3 check out my other hyune fic here!

warnings: none rly. tooth rotting fluff!!! i love this man sm ugh

You had a feeling it would turn out this way, but seeing it happen in real time was a whole new experience. 

You were sat on the couch in your living room with your baby in your lap when Hyunjin walked in, bouquet in hand and stars in his eyes as he took in the sight in front of him. Coming back to you; coming back home always felt so comforting. 

Long as his daughter recognised him, that is. 

“Hi. baby. Dadda’s home. Hey…” he said, making his way over to you and giving your temple a chaste kiss as a silent greeting while he talked to the barely 11 month old baby on your lap.

Silence.

She just… stared? 

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t smile.

She sat there in her onesie, holding on to her jiniret plushie for dear life while her lips trembled and brows furrowed, giving her father a look of deep betrayal.

“….Baby?” he tried again.

You tried to hide your laugh with a cough, as he looked at you with those lost puppy eyes. “I told you the buzzcut was going to confuse her.”

He looked heartbroken. “What? I’m her dad. She can’t not recognise me. We’ve spent almost every morning painting together!”

“Hyune.” You giggle. “She can barely recognise herself with a new hat. This is like, a brand new person vibe.”

Your baby sniffled and turned away from him, hiding into your neck to avoid him like he was some overly enthusiastic man trying to sell lemon squeezers.

He let out an offended gasp. “Is she hiding from me?”

You nodded solemnly. “You’re now demoted to scary bald man.”

“I’m not bald!” he protested. Your baby peeked out from her place in your neck, and gave him a glance again. He smiled at her, doing his signature finger wave in hopes of getting her to recognise the cute little gesture.

Her lips wobbled.

She started crying.

Cue thirty minutes later, Operation ‘Make Hyunjin Appa again’ was in full swing.

He had tried every trick in the book, including but not limited to-

Her favourite puppet voice,

Wearing her favourite hoodie, [Apparently the ‘you smell like hoodie. you are hoodie. hoodie=appa’ logic was not very popular]

showing her the paintings they created together.

Nothing.

She refused to be within 5 feet of him without a trusted adult by her side. 

She didn’t even accept the toys he offered to play with. Or the snacks that he offered.

You were this close to putting a hat on him and calling it a day. You could pretend the haircut never happened. 

“She liked me better when i had bangs…” he murmured into your shoulder, voice sounding distraught as he clung to you for his only source of comfort.

“She liked you better when you didn’t look like you just enlisted.” You replied, scrolling on your phone looking for ‘big hats’

“Hey. It’s not that short. C’mon.” he piped back.

You just held up your phone and showed him a single meme that you’d loved. A STAY comparing his hair to kiwi fuzz.

“Okay. Point noted.” he mumbled, resignation clear in his voice.

An hour later, you were rocking your baby to sleep in your lap when you felt a little tap on your arm. 

It was Hyunjin, obviously. With your fluffy blanket wrapped around his head like a shawl.

You blinked. And smiled at him. A confused smile, but a smile nevertheless.

“She always liked this blanket, right?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Are you trying to camouflage your way back into your daughter’s heart, hyunnie?” you asked incredulously.

“I’m simply blending into the atmosphere she trusts. Babies are drawn towards familiarity.” He was so serious.

You were trying your best to not burst into a fit of giggles right there and then.

“She’s gonna see your carpet head and start crying again.”

“She’s going to remember me.” He said, voice oddly confident and determined this time.

He sat still on the couch as if he did it for a living. Quiet, steady breathing. No sudden movements whatsoever. Consistent eye contact, almost like he was trying to activate telepathy with the little bundle of sunshine wearing a giraffe onesie in your arms.

Eventually, she peeked out from your shoulder.

She stared at him.

He wiggled his fingers from under the blanket.

“Hi munchkin.”

No reaction.

He slowly peeked his head out from the blankets again, almost like his world would end if he did it too fast. It would for him, though. 

This was a serious matter. 

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

“….Appa?”

He gasped, “Yes!”

She reached out for him, all tiny arms and sleepy smiles. 

Hyunjin emerged out of the blanket like he was allergic to it. “It’s me, baby! it’s appa!”

She finally giggled and launched herself into his arms.

You groaned, “not during bedtime…”

“I’VE BEEN PROMOTED BACK TO APPA STATUS! SHE FORGAVE ME! MY BABY LOVES ME AGAIN!” He spun her around in his arms, all joyful like he’d just won the most prestigious award there was. But he’d decided he already did that when he chose this life with you. The best decision he’d ever made.

Later that night, she was finally asleep in her crib. You were cuddled into his side on the couch, his hand running through your hair like it was second nature.

“Please don’t ever shave your head again.” You mumbled out into the comfortable silence.

“I wouldn’t dare to.” He kissed your forehead.

“Liar.”

“I mean it this time!” he whined.

Silence.

“You’re going to dye it pink next month, aren’t you?”

“Only with my baby’s approval. And of course our baby girl’s too.” He gave you his signature ‘i’m such a flirt when it comes to you’ grin.

Honestly? You couldn’t care less about what he did to his hair as long as he never changed himself. And you knew he never would. He was yours through and through. 

Buzz and all included.

[luvtak]

BANG CHAN ♡ HOLLOW SPECIAL RELEASE PROGRAM

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

How am I supposed to not want to give him everything in the world when he looks this angelic?

[luvtak]

250618 god's menu @ dominATE world tour in new-york

[luvtak]

☀️

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

get him back! ⊹.✮₊⋆ yji x reader

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you

⊹ genre/tw angst angst angst seriously so much angst i'm sorry, but also fluff!!! a lot of fluff! f2l, fake dating, revenge dating?, hurt/comfort, ex!hyunjin being horrible (I'm sorry), reader wears a skirt at one point and is referred to as ‘my girl’ once, jokes about pregnancy (its not serious i promise) its suggestive at times but no smut, probably a little rushed at times, mostly unedited

⊹ w/c 10, 469

⊹ a/n this has been a long time coming, originally this was a fic for jaemin from nct dream that was like 8000 words long or something and i absolutely hated it so i started back from scratch and changed mostly everything but the main idea. for a long time, i have been fascinated with the process of heartbreak and falling in love again, and in essence that is what this is--I hope you like it, don't forget to like and reblog and tell me all your thoughts!! hopefully it's not terrible lol, mwah!!

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you; Everything from the cups in the cabinet to the paint splatters on the floor. The four walls of your room storing a lifetime of memories of the boy who loved you; nighttime laughter and limbs interlaced. It’s completely foreign to not have him next to you, skin to skin, hearts synced to a song only the two of you know. 

You loved him for three summers, almost from the first time you saw him–sat next to the river, with headphones on and a pen in hand–He was beautiful, a timeless photograph of affection, and you were smitten as soon as he opened his mouth. 

The past 36 months were lovely and joyous, 1095 days spent foolishly glued together, yet when Hyunjin decided to end the relationship three weeks ago, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. He’d been so busy, graduating last year and going on to bigger and brighter things–exhibitions almost every week, assisting an artist  he loved–so many wonderful things that took him away from you. When he was home he was too tired to love you, so it made sense when he ended it. So much sense that it’s kept you awake all the nights following. 

Every night–at roughly when he would’ve come home to you–you find yourself waking up to the loss of his cologne. For a moment, you’re given a momentary bout of bliss, confusion clouding up your mind with questions of where’d he go, rather than if he’s coming back. The answer comes quickly, though, rupturing your heart before the rest of you knew you were awake. 

Your mind is lost in the goodbye, the taste of salt on your lips and your favorite blue sweater wrapped around your arms, the way his eyes were wide with sadness. Did he kiss you then? Was it his tongue that swiped away the tears or your own? Did his hands hold you one last time, make you cry from pleasure before pain? All you seem to remember was him walking away, so fast you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to recall–but it's all you seem to be able to think about. 

He broke your heart on a Tuesday, but did he kiss you then? 

He was sweet with the farewell, telling you he was sorry, that he loved you but it wasn’t enough any more. There was just too much time and distance living between the two of you, but nothing really has to change… we can all still be friends. 

What a sad thought, friends with the boy who held your bleeding heart in his hands. 

Why should you still be friends if love wasn’t enough for him? 

You know you look pathetic, his too big clothes swathing around your limp form, keeping you toasty where your bare legs hit the bathroom floor. His voice flowing from your phone's speaker in happy waves, echoing off the tile right into your ears. It’s almost like he’s next to you, almost like it’s his arms filling out the gray hoodie and wrapping around you.

Shivering, you close your eyes just for a minute, with his last voicemail reverberating through your brain, you feel content for the first time since that sunny day three weeks before. 

“...I love you, sweetheart!” his voice rings, lighting up your heart with all the affection the name used to bring you. He hadn’t called you that in months, trading sweet nothings for sighs and sorry’s. How you long to feel the name pressed against your skin, interlaced with the kind of happiness only he could draw out. A love so undeniably him that anything else couldn’t come close. 

Loving him was sitting in planetariums and comparing each other's portraits to statues, sharing straws and blankets, breath and hands. Loving him was every star fall, trying to catch dragonflies and yelping when they grazed your hands. It was magical and devastating, everything you ever wanted. 

Hyunjin was meant for stars and lullabies, a boy meant for nighttime, but the morning is fast approaching. 

Soon, your roommate will wake up and discover your tearful form, and envelope you in coos and cuddles. He’ll wrap you up in pink comforters and bring you cookies for breakfast, a day spent with rom-coms and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio, but just for a few more minutes you’ll sit with your lovers voice in your head and his scent around you, and it’ll be as close to him as you’ll ever be again.

“Okay!? I love you so much, call me sweetheart, seriously! Call me, call me, call me.” 

“He never even deserved you!”

“Yeah, babe, like you’re so hot and funny and nice! What does he have going for him?” 

“For real! Other than being super handsome and talented, he has nothing.” 

Your friends, drunk and silly, can’t seem to stop trying to comfort you, you want to laugh, and maybe in time you’ll be able to, but here in this fresh grief with his love still palpable, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to be angry. 

Sure, he broke up with you, but it didn’t seem like too bad of a reason… he was busy all the time, and his distance brought anger and disappointment. You were fighting restlessly, forgetting to say I love you before you left for class, kisses became shorter and farther in between, but at the end of the day you did love him; endlessly and reverentially, and no matter what he said or didn’t say, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that that will never change. 

“You guys don’t have to shit talk Hyunjin just because he broke up with me, we were all friends.” Your voice is quieter than you meant it to be, slow from all the wine and covered in the sadness that seemed to follow you. “He was a good boyfriend…” 

“No, babe, a good boyfriend does not break up with you a week before your anniversary after ghosting you for a month.” Minjeong says, her tone soothing even if her words are not. 

“We’re not friends with that douche canoe, okay, we only stomached him because he was your boyfriend, and now that he’s not, I personally never want to see him again.” 

“Chaeryeong! Stop, you've been his friend for literal years.” 

“Nope, I can’t remember!” she sings out, giggling as her wine glass spills out red liquid all over the floor. 

“He’s persona non grata now, girly, if I see him, I’m coming in swinging!” 

Minjeong’s claim, however silly, does have you finally laughing. Deep, belly ache inducing laughs that fill your little apartment with more joy than it’s held in weeks. It’s true that before the official break up, you were infuriated, anger escaping your lips whenever the man was mentioned. But since the finality of that day, all you’ve felt is an insurmountable grief daring to erupt at any moment. 

You loved him, you lost him, and isn’t that just so sad? 

You thought you’d have him forever… daydreamt weddings and forever homes, Late night whispers of baby names and honeymoons. Everything you’ve ever planned, out the window with the first signs of conflict. Sure, maybe it would’ve ended anyway, but would it have killed him to try? How dare he take that future away from you, a happy ending too good to be true. 

A betrayal that cut too deep to be anything but devastating. 

But sitting here now, listening to your friends being mad and protective, you think you can see a future where you are angry again–a day in the coming weeks where everything he said is tinged with red instead of blue. And maybe after that you can be happy, really truly happy, even when the girls' laughter aren’t around to accompany you. 

“Hey, we love you, okay?” Chaeryeong says, breathing heavily through her giggles. “I know it’s hard now, you loved each other so much, but don’t waste anymore of your time locked inside this apartment. You’re way too cute to not let anyone see you.” 

She smiles at you, her hand wrapped around yours as a few tears stray. You don’t know if they’re happy or sad, or maybe a bit of both, all you know is you love her. You love the both of them so much that even through this inescapable loss, you smile back. They’re your favorite people on earth, and if they think you’ll be okay maybe you will be. 

“I love you guys too, I’m sorry I’m so mopey… Felix keeps trying to get me to smile, but there's just so much I can take before I’m crying again.”

“Hey, hey,” Minjeong whispers, “Don’t apologize, you get to be a little storm cloud.” 

“Personally, I like you stormy–makes it more fun when you snap.” Chaeryeong tells you, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to get you to laugh again. 

Miraculously, it works–laughter seeping out of you and onto the wine soaked tiles. Maybe they’re right, maybe all you need is some time…

Maybe another day of watching The Princess Diaries and eating ice cream for dinner will cure you, maybe falling asleep in Hyunjin’s sweatpants will finally ease the hole he left, maybe all you have to do is leave the house tomorrow. Whatever it is, you promise them you’ll try–and as they cuddle up to you, dropping popcorn in between the couch cushions and cracking up at the same jokes you’ve heard a thousand times, somewhere inside, you feel a little bit more okay. 

Unfortunately, that feeling can only last so long. 

It’s thirty minutes past the witching hour when you see the photo. He’s gorgeous, devastatingly so, heartbreakingly handsome just like you remembered. Clad in denim and decked out with silver, wrapped around a girl you’ve never seen before. 

Your phone light glares through the night, spotlighting your place in the living room. You know you should turn the brightness down, lower it or move from your place in between Chaeryong and Minjeong, less they wake up and threaten to kill you for interrupting their slumber, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. 

His hands rest on her waist, a smile breaking through close to her own, and he looks so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months, unencumbered joy leaking off him through the camera lens. And how it breaks your heart, who cares who that girl is… how could he look so happy when you haven’t even left the house in two weeks?

“Son of a bitch!” you whisper, angry tears trying to escape. How dare he? And how dare Chris for posting it on a story he knew you could see. We can all still be friends, right? What absolute bullshit. 

You find yourself laughing, laughing so hard the tears find themselve trailing down your cheeks. Howling at the unbelievability of it all, here you were defending him still, while he couldn’t wait a month to have his tongue shoved down some other girl's throat. How funny to think you love him, truly love him with every part of you, and he doesn’t respect you enough to keep his escapades a secret while you heal. 

Minjeong shuffles in her sleep, waking up to the sound of your inane outburst, pretty eyes squinted in your phone light. 

“What is it? Nothing is that funny at 3 AM.” 

“Look at this, Min.” you giggle, shoving your phone against her nose. 

“Too close!! Hold on… WHAT THE FUCK!” she yells, jolting up against the cushions and waking the other girl in the process. 

“What! What is it?!” Chaeryeong moans. 

“Hyunjin is a fucker that’s what.” Minjeong says. “An actual despicable little shit.” 

The phone is passed around, each of you staring at the picture with a sense of pure unbridled anger. To think you trusted him, gave him your heart and felt safe that he would respect it even when he gave it back. 

“I just don’t understand,” You say, your voice breaking– confusion wafting through the words and encasing you in a painful blanket of disarray. 

Through your tears you hear Chaeryeong, “Listen, we have to get him back.” She’s saying, Minjeong nodding along sleepily.

Get him back? What does she mean?! How can she already be thinking of revenge when all you want to do is cry yourself to sleep. 

“What do you mean get him back, I don’t understand.” The brokenness in your voice gives your friends pause, and for a moment the only thing you hear is the sound of Anne Hathaway monologuing on the TV. 

The two girls, true friends even with sleep dancing at their fingertips, wrap their arms around you–holding onto you like you’d drift away if they didn’t, who knows maybe you would; You do feel minutes away from being empty, like you're a bottle slowly pouring out its contents. 

Their skin is warm, and their hands carry so much comfort that you collapse against them, listening to their plan like a bedtime story that lulls you to sleep. 

“You want me to do what?!” You cry. 

“We talked about this last night!” 

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered you saying I have to go on a date with Yang Jeongin, Minjeong!” 

“It doesn’t have to be Ayen, any of his friends will do, I just thought that that’s who you were closest to…” She sighs, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. “I mean it could be Changbin for all I care, I just didn’t think he’d go for it.” 

“I don’t want to date ANY of his friends, Minnie!!! Hello!” Your voice sounds shrill even to you, and as much as you're trying to keep it down for fear of the librarian coming over and yelling at you, you don’t have it in you to dampen your frustration. 

Last night was a blur, anger permeating your sleep and clouding your morning. Going through the motions of classes and too many cups of coffee before your friend called you to come deliberate on the fully formed plan they dreamt up. A plan that you don’t remember agreeing to. 

Sure, you remember saying making him jealous might make you feel better and make him feel worse, but nowhere did they say that Jeongin would be involved. You love the boy, as cynical and cold as he could be–he could make you laugh more than anyone else you ever met, and of course he was handsome, but he was one of Hyunjin’s best friends. As much as you’re angry with your ex-boyfriend now, were you really willing to use one of his friends to get back at him? 

“Plus, I don’t think he’ll go for it, I mean Innie likes to mess with the guys every once in a while, but I think hooking up with his best friends ex is too far for him.”

You try to hide the flinch at the word ex, but Minjeong sees right through you–bringing her hands up to rub your shoulders comfortingly, before she tells you: 

“It doesn’t have to be real, silly!” Minjeong laughs, “Hyunjin only has to think it's real, I mean you don’t actually have to hook up with him… Unless you want toooo.” She draws out, singing the last sentence in an annoying voice. 

“Minnie!” you whisper in a faux yell.

“What?! Don’t look at me like I don’t remember the infamous truth or dare of 2024.” 

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Ms. I’d makeout with Jeongin if I had to kiss any of Hyunjin’s friends.” 

“Minnie!”

“Fine, Fine!” She laughs, “just talk to Ayen about it, and we’ll go from there okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I can’t stomach thinking that Hyunjin is out there having fun at your expense and you’re just taking it.” For one moment she looks truly sad, and you’re reminded, not for the first time, that this breakup isn’t just between you and your ex, but all your friends who have to adapt to a life that looks different 

Her eyes are comforting, but her mouth is all smirking revenge, and something about it urges you to listen. It can’t be worse than what Hyunjin’s already done, right? And it’s all pretend anyway, just a game of house where you and Jeongin hold hands at a party and go get slurpees after. None of it has to be real, you shouldn’t feel bad for giving the boy who hurt you a taste of his own medicine, right? 

So with a heart full of guilt and stomach heavy with nerves, you find yourself asking, 

“When does it start?” 

On your way out of the library you found yourself cursing Minjeong and Chaeryeong and all their evil scheming that always finds its way back to you. If only you could have listened to Felix when he told you that those girls were trouble, and that the only friends you needed were him and your childhood dog, Milo. 

When you left her, Minjeong reminded you to talk to Jeongin, told you where she thought he’d be and smiled at you the way she would a puppy. 

God, what am I doing? You ask yourself, begging some invisible entity for help with this god forsaken plan. You like Ayen just fine, but the idea of hurting Hyunjin just because he hurt you fills you with some inescapable dread. And what if Jeongin says no? What if he’s as disgusted by you as you are of yourself? What if he turns around and tells Hyunjin? 

The thoughts circle around you, haloing your form in scalding nerves until you find yourself outside of the diner Jeongin works at. You’d only ever been at night, your hand shivering within Hyunjin’s hold–so many twilights spent sitting crushed in a tiny booth, Hyunjin’s friends hollering around you and your lovers arms holding you to his heart. How different it looks in the day. 

For the first time you find yourself walking through the diner doors alone, feet shuffling onto the sticky vinyl floors and searching for Yang Jeongin’s smile. 

You find it behind the counter, warm and inviting as he asks a little boy what he wants. He looks different when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, freer than when he’s with the boys, shinier when there’s no one else’s light glaring. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile remains, but becomes that tight look of pity you’ve become so used to–a look so out of place on his pretty face, you want it gone right away. 

“Don’t look at me like, Jeongin.” You tell him, words stricter than your voice portrays. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he tells you, “but how are you doing?” 

“Better if I had a cherry coke,” You say and without another word he begins filling up a plastic cup with ice and burgundy liquid. You can’t help but watch his hands as they work, knuckles clutching around the drink tighter than what's needed–the only indication that he could be uncomfortable with you being here. “How are you doing, Ayen?” you ask him. 

“Well, not too bad,” he says, handing you the soda. “It’s not too busy today, and I don’t have any classes until tomorrow afternoon, so the day is just breezing by.” 

“Easy, breezy, beautiful!” You tell him and finally that pretty smile breaks out on his face again as he lets out a loud laugh. He tells you he’ll be right back, smiling the whole way to the rest of his patrons. 

Maybe it’s because you were dating Hyunjin before, and no other boy seemed to live up to the fairy tale you wrote about him, but for the first time you see Jeongin, not as Hyunjin’s friend but as a cute boy you could’ve met at a diner just like this. He’s boyishly handsome and sweet, giggling with the little kids and getting old ladies pie on the house. 

Maybe your friends were onto something when they offered up Jeongin as the sacrificial lamb–sweet, ever happy Jeongin. 

When he returns to you, that slightly sad smile returns to his face before he tells you: 

“I’m sorry about you and Hyunjin… I didn’t know he was gonna do that.” 

“What break up with me, or make out with a girl before the corpse is even cold?” Your voice is stronger than you meant it to be, and you feel bad as soon as you see Jeongin’s body tense–obviously surprised at your animosity. 

“Both, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” he tells you, much to your surprise, “We– we had a fight, and I hadn’t talked to anyone but Changbin and Seungmin…” his voice is thick with tension and his jaw is tight as he tries to tell to you what happened, a sight you’d never seen from him–much more used to the happy-go-lucky Ayen of days past. “I didn’t even know you guys broke up until he posted that picture last night.” 

You’re surprised by this, of course, Jeongin and Hyunjin had always been close, but what's more surprising is how truly angry he looks… As angry as Chaeryeong and Minjeong, if not more. It’s this look that allows you to tell him, 

“I just don’t know what to do, Ayen…” 

“Whatever, I can do to help, I will… I promise.” Jeongin tells you, long fingers making you jump as they settle over your own. It’s this promise that brings you to tell him why you came–rushing out the plan your friends made for you, making sure to tell him over and over how it would just be a favor; just a way to get Hyunjin back for being a treacherous loser. 

It’s through this rant that Jeongin finally smiles again, a devious look you’ve only ever seen settle onto his face during game night, and without preamble his hold on your hand grows stronger until he says, 

“I’ll do it.” 

It’s three weeks later when you finally realize that you’d have to actually go on a date with Jeongin for this to work. In theory, you knew this would happen, knew that you couldn’t let Jeongin sit around thinking about how he agreed to piss off his friend, but putting that plan in practice is scarier than you thought it would be. 

And why? Why does Hyunjin get to ride around town happier than ever, posting that girl on his instagram story every day while you’re sitting at home crying for weeks. 

Yet, the thought of doing anything romantic (even if it was pretend) with someone else, causes frost bitten chills to cover your skin. Even if the someone else was Yang Jeongin; sweet and funny Jeongin who always took your side when the boys started teasing you, who brought you a cherry coke everyday when you had class together freshman year. Jeongin who blushed pretty pink when he heard your answer to Changbin’s truth or dare last year, Jeongin who was your friend as much as Hyunjin’s, who would put that friendship aside to do you a favor. 

You know you should call him, reprieve him from the quicksand thoughts you sure he’s buried in, but you can’t seem to latch that door to self hatred that has been held open since the night Hyunjin broke up with you. 

You can’t seem to find where everything went wrong, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the moment where Hyunjin stopped loving you. 

“You should stop torturing yourself you know,” You hear, and there he is standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Jeongin stands tall and handsome, leaning against the wall in a way that makes you think he has been there for a while. “You went AWOL on me, y’know, I was worried.” He’s smiling, but his words have a layer of debilitating truth that makes you a little sick. You can’t help but feel sorry for making anyone feel as bad as you do. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go after that last conversation we had.” 

“Well, usually when you ask someone on a date… you take them out on a date.” He smiles at you, approaching your bed the way one would approach a wounded animal–slow but sure. 

When he finally lays down next to you you’re struck by his closeness, the feel of his body heat settling over your skin and the way his cheek bones slope over his face. He’s so pretty, it’s not like you never noticed it before, but seeing him up close like this–like he’s completely under your disposal, like you’re a scientist looking at him under a microscope–you can’t help but be a little breathless. 

He’s so beautiful and he’s lying here with you. 

“What did you want to do on our date then?” you ask him, feeling braver the longer he looks at you.

When he smiles, it’s like the sun explodes–incandescent and radiant like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He tells you he doesn’t care, first dates are silly anyway, he says, before grabbing your laptop from its place on your desk and telling you to pick a movie. It’s a little nerve wracking to be with him like this, it’s odd because it’s not something inherently romantic, nor any different from something you could’ve done with him before, but the fact that he called it a “date” makes the whole thing more anxiety-inducing than you thought possible. 

This is supposed to be pretend, yet the way his arm presses against yours brings a warmth to your chest that you can’t seem to decipher. Sure, you’re a bit touched starved and the constant vulnerability you’ve felt has lent itself to a mixed bag of feelings, but the strangest thing is, nothing about his heat is confusing. It feels like the surest thing in the world to have him next to you, laughing at the stupid jokes flowing out from your computer and asking if you want to order a pizza.

This is supposed to be pretend, but it feels real–like the realest thing you’ve held in months.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what happened with Hyune?” He finally asks you. The sun has finally eased its way into night and the blue hour has opened up the air for truth telling, you always loved this time of night… Always loved the way the soft prussian hue would fill the room, the way it could coat human skin. It’s this blue honesty that motivates you to answer him, more honest than you’ve been with anyone else, much less yourself. 

“I think It was always gonna end like this… me all alone and him surrounded by friends.” You see him gearing up to protest, so quickly you add, “I know I’m not completely alone,” you tell him, “but I loved him so much, it was all I thought about for three years. And… and he’s out there living his life like I didn’t even matter.

“He broke up with me cause he was busy, like I was just something on the to-do list too insignificant to keep.” You stop to breathe, in and out, before starting again, “I hadn’t talked to him in weeks… in the beginning I called and texted, but I never got a response so I thought I’d just give him space. Felix kept asking me where he was, y’know? Like I would know, I should have known–I wanted to know, but I had no idea. Finally, he showed up out of nowhere telling me he was sorry, how he’d been so busy–I was so stupid, I was just happy he was there at all” 

“You’re not stupid,” Jeongin tells you, but you’re not finished. 

“He–” you whisper, “He told me that he thought we should break up… said it like there was no room for arguing. I said okay… I said okay because I wanted him to shut up about how busy he was–wanted him to stop talking about his great life that I wouldn’t be a part of anymore.” 

“You’re not stupid,” He says again, stronger this time. “Hyunjin’s a fucking idiot, a selfish idiot, okay? You’re not stupid.” He brings you into his arms, holding you close enough that you can hear his heart beating wild in his chest. He smells good, like sunshine and coffee, and part of you wishes this wasn’t pretend. 

You wish you could lay here like this all the time, cuddled close to him, safe in his arms, and sure of the fact that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. 

“We’re gonna make him regret this okay, make him see what he’s missing out on.” He’s whispering to you, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, reassuring himself that what he’s doing is okay, “He’s an idiot, and you’re perfect–do you hear me?” he asks you, tilting your chin up to see him from your place in his hold. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“You know, when I let him in last night I didn’t think he was sleeping over,” Felix tells you, once you come back inside from walking Jeongin out. 

Truthfully, you didn’t think he was going to sleep over either, yet the feeling of his arms around was so deeply comforting you’re glad he didn’t leave. You’d spent all night talking, going over your plan to make Hyunjin jealous, but that wasn’t all you’d talked about. Jeongin told you all sorts of things to make you laugh: secrets and stories, other peoples and his own. 

You spent all night telling each other things you’d never told anyone else, and for once you’d woken up happy. Strangely, it wasn’t awkward disentangling yourself from him–it was almost normal, even sharing the sink to brush your teeth felt like you’d done it a million times over before. 

No, it wasn’t awkward at all–that is until Felix woke up and found you together in your room. 

“Listen, Felix, it’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, so you’re not dating Jeongin to make Hyunjin jealous?” He asks, looking at with with a skeptical glimpse in his eye. 

“Well, I guess it’s exactly what you think,” you pause, “wait, how did you guess that?” 

“You’re not the only one friends with Minejeong and Chaery, sweet pea.” he tells you, stirring honey into two cups of tea. 

You’re not surprised the girls blabbed, especially not to Felix–the boy has too much of an angelic face to lie too–However, they should know better than to expose you to your oldest friend. Felix, has always been your best friend, your soulmate in all definitions, and because of this he is chronically worrying over you and your wellbeing. Hyunjin had been his friend, closest to him only second to you and Chris, and the way Hyune treated you at the end was such a deep betrayal to Felix’s sense of friendship that he is grown even more annoyingly protective in the past weeks. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix” 

“Obviously I do, I take my hands off the wheel for one minute and suddenly you’re in bed with Innie.” 

“I was not IN BED with him, we just slept.” 

“Yeah, okay, just don’t get pregnant. Yeah? I’m not old enough to be the dad that stepped up.” 

“FELIX!” you yell, but all you hear is laughter, deep happy laughter that has been unfamiliar in your usually joyful apartment. You can’t help but feel guilty, even though it isn’t your fault. You wish everything could be normal–wish with every piece of your soul that life would go back to how it was. 

You didn’t need Hyunjin to be in love with you, but you wished that your friends could go back to how they were three months ago, happy and normal and free. 

You love Felix, you love Minjeong and Chaeryeong, and the thought of them being as cut up about this as you, breaks your heart. 

“You know I love you, right?” You tell Felix when he’s done laughing to himself, and the way he looks at you–rolling eyes and all tells you all you need to know. 

“I love you too, sweet pea…” He smiles, “but wear protection.”

The diner is busy and your friends can’t seem to shut up. 

“OH MY GOD!!! He keeps looking at you!” Minjeong cries, happy as a clam in her little white sundress. The weather has finally warmed up and with it sundress season has finally arrived, a fact that Ayen seemed to be especially happy about when he saw you in one of your own.

It’s just pretend, you tell yourself, even though you can’t help but blush when Minjeong whispers, “there he goes again, ohmygoodness!”

“Minnie, it’s not like that it’s just–” 

“It’s just pretend!” Chaery and Minnie sing together, mimicking the phrase you’ve told them over and over again for the past month. 

That first sleepover became dinner and movie every Friday, which became study sessions on Sunday when you began falling behind, and lunch at the diner every Tuesday so he could see you before his schedule got too busy. Yet, you still hadn’t gone out–out, a problem that has wrapped itself around you like an ugly sweater, the whole reason you’re pretending to date is to make Hyunjin jealous, but you haven’t gone anywhere that he’d see you two at. Not too mention, any insta post the two you have been in together isn’t so overtly romantic that one could believe you’re together–In conclusion, the two you are pretending to date for no one but each other, so does that make it not pretend? 

“It is just pretend, and you guys know that.” you tell them a bit meaner than you meant. 

“Okay, okay…” Chaery says, “but you should remind him of that, cause Minnie’s right: he really has looked over here like seven times in the last thirty seconds.” 

“It’s just because you guys are here,” you say, but even you sound unconvinced. “Anyway he’s probably just worried because we’re going to the party tonight, which will take this little plan of yours from 1 to 100” 

“Girly I love you, but him sleeping in your bed every weekend is what took the plan to 100” Minnie sassed. 

You want to admonish her, but she was right, you should never have let each other break this many boundaries. You should’ve had rules, should have watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before together and knew what would come of this fake dating nonsense your friends came up with. But you’ve gotten so used to him, fallen so far into friendship that the idea of him not being around physically hurts you. 

You catch him looking at you again, a soft smile on his lips as he asks someone their order, when your eyes meet he winks at you, silly and sweet just like him. You laugh and smile bigger than your friends have seen you in months, and if you were paying attention you would have seen the two girls share a look so obviously judgmental it would have warranted a slap. 

“Yeah, just pretend my ass.”

The night is just beginning and the party is in full force when you arrive, hand in hand with your “boyfriend,” You’d dolled yourself up for the occasion: tight shirt, miniskirt, and all that jazz, and when Jeongin picked you up he blushed so red you thought you might’ve had a fever. 

The party is already wild as soon as you step foot inside, people chatting and dancing, girls who must’ve just met singing Brittany together as it rings out from the stereo. You find yourself cramped in between bodies, Jeongin’s hand being the only lifeline in the sea of humans–more than once, you feel eyes on the two you, old friends looking on in confusion as you hold the hand of the wrong guy, yet you feel more at ease here with Ayen than you ever did before. 

When you finally arrive in the kitchen, unscathed except for a few wrinkles in your tiny skirt, Jeongin makes you a drink and compliments you again on your outfit. He’s called you pretty five times tonight: Once when he picked you up, two times in the car, right before you walked in, and now he’s saying it again. Each time the words emerge from his lips they sound a little braver, like he’s more sure of himself every time you say thank you. 

He looks absolutely divine tonight himself–when he took his jacket off in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing hotter at the sight of his arms in the tight white tee he picked for the occasion.  More annoyingly he seemed to know and relish in your admiration, he seems more confident tonight, cocky in a way that wouldn’t be so  attractive if it wasn’t him. 

When he hands you the drink, hands tight on the plastic cup just like the first time, his empty hand immediately goes to your waist. His touch, familiar and pleasant, eases you into the corner–forcing you to be close to him in ways you’ve only been in private. A part of you feels insecure, like he’s only doing this to show off the people around you, but one look into his smiling eyes tells you he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you again–that’s six, “So so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky I am, even if this is all pretend… I’m so so lucky to be here with you.” It stings a little, the truth of this being pretend, but you can’t help but agree, you really are so so lucky to have each other. 

His hand moves away from your waist, moving up, up, up, until it reaches your clavicle–fingers fanning out to touch your collarbones, his ring finger gently brushing over the skin. He’s not so much as looking at you as looking into you, almost like he’s trying to see into your ribcage and decide if he can fit in there too. His intensity is burning, chipping away at your composure not unlike pick into stone. His hands are so soft, fluttering against you in curiosity, like he can’t believe he gets to touch you–feel you under his force and mold you into him. Your eyes are fluttering shut, influenced by the alcohol and his hands and the way he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Too comfortable for a kitchen counter, especially not your own, his movements are even more dangerous when he is reminded the two of you are not alone. 

“Innie!” You hear a voice familiar and grating in your current predicament, Jeongin’s hands stop their curious journey, but he does not move away from you–if anything he draws you closer, protecting you from whomever would dare rip you away from peace. 

Changbin is shining as always, happy and handsome, like he has always been, but seeing him here is not a welcome surprise. You’re still upset you never heard from him after the breakup, sure he was Hyunjin’s friend first, and he doesn’t truly owe you any loyalty, yet it still hurts after three years of friendship to be dropped by 50% of your friends.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he notices it’s you and not some random girl here with the younger boy. “It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you–both of you.” You can see him observing your position–you, encompassed by Jeongin, huddling close into his chest… Ayen rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's clear what the closeness means, and Changbin who has claimed to know exactly what's going on with Jeongin at any given time, feels a little hurt that he didn’t know this. 

“So are you guys like, together?” he questions, “Does Hyunie Know?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Hyung” Jeongin answers, “and yeah, we’ve been together for a little while now,” 

“A little while…” Changbin whispers to himself, and you almost feel bad for the mental gymnastics he must be putting himself through to explain the timeline of your so-called relationship.  “And you’re happy? I mean you look happy, so you must be right?” he asks. 

“Yes, we’re happy” you say, before even thinking about it. And it’s true–you are happy. Happier than you’ve been in months, here at this party with Ayen. His hands are warm on your skin and his smile is alive, and you’ve never been happier than here in this moment, sharing your body heat in a random kitchen. 

“Very Happy,” Jeongin agrees, looking down at you with a big smile, and your heart bursts at his agreement. “Well, hyung if you excuse us, my girl wanted to dance.” Did you? You ask yourself, but you see his urging look and decide to go with it. You do want to dance–you would do anything to stay this close to him, even if that means going back to the cramped sea of people in the living room.

It’s hot, and you can feel him everywhere—hands on your waist, brushing against your tummy, running through your hair. You’re breathless at his touch, breathing him in as your bodies move together in time to the song. You feel so alive, sticky with sweat; skin on fire where the two of you meet. 

The music is deafening, miscellaneous pop songs mashed up together to get everyone dancing. It’s devious and devilish, a dionysian madness that has infected you down to your bones. You wonder if he’ll take you upstairs, ravish you bloody and leave you wanting more more more. The way he’s looking at you–looming and predatory like a God searching for a devotee–sears your skin, scorches a brand onto the small of your back where his belt buckle digs into you. 

It’s all pretend, but it doesn’t have to be, not when he’s looking at you like that.

Your friends got here an hour ago, sharing shots with you and trying not to give each other “I told you so” looks when they saw Jeongin’s hand sit lower and lower on your hips than they would deem platonic. You can remember Felix laughing at you when the third shot went all over your top instead of down your throat, and the way Minjeong triple-dogged dared you to pound down some Apple Crown even though she knows it always makes you sick. You can remember how happy they all looked, Chaeryeong’s hips swaying as she danced with you and Lix, laughing deep into her belly. 

You can remember all of this, but you can’t seem to remember getting here… Can’t seem to find the moment where Jeongin’s touches went from casual to burning. 

The alcohol found its way into your system quickly, warming your tummy and your heart—intoxicating you with the notion that maybe all of this could be real in the morning, as Jeongin’s hands tighten on your waist. You feel his head dipping, lips sliding over your neck, his tongue lighting fires along your skin. He feels the rumble of your moan, feels the way you draw into him and sigh—your hands, delicate and lovely clutching at his jacket. 

“Let me take you home,” he’s saying, begging, pleading. He wants to be alone with you, wants to play pretend somewhere private, somewhere where it doesn’t have to be a game. 

You find yourself nodding, turning around in his hold so you can look at him, still so devastating through the hysteria. His eyes meet yours, so lovely in the dark room, and slowly his hands reach up to push the hair out of your face. 

“So beautiful.” He says, matter of fact. 

His hands linger, settling on your jaw, before slowly, achingly so, bringing your lips to his. He doesn’t kiss you at first, just brings you close enough so he’s breathing your air—almost like he’s giving you CPR, breathing life into a dying body—until finally he is kissing you, and taking all that life back.

The feel of him, the taste of him–is too much to bear. His hands are still clutching at you, holding onto your face and your neck, fingers leaving indents on the most vulnerable parts of you. 

He’s everywhere, he’s everything, he’s come alive. 

He tastes like the apple crown he took with you, sweet and sour–a taste you’ve only ever associated with sickness, yet when it’s dripping from Jeongin’s Tongue all it causes is euphoria. 

“Let’s go home,” He’s saying again, pushing the words against your lips, and you find yourself nodding again–kissing his jaw as he pulls away. 

“We,” you begin, a little breathless, “We have to go tell Felix, or he’ll break down my door to make sure I’m still alive.” 

The way Jeongin looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room, shakes you down to your core. He’s grinning, wide and mercilessly, but his eyes hold that same mischief they carried the day he agreed to do this with you. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He asks you, before taking your hand and pulling you through the sea once again.

You finally find your friend in the backyard, fairy lights glinting off his cheekbones. Felix is always handsome–impish and charming–but there’s something about his face now that sets the visage apart. Rather than the joyous expression you left him with, he looks angry… Angrier than you’ve ever seen him, (except for the time you misplaced your friendship necklace in fourth grade), he’s not yelling or bursting with volatility, but there’s something about his form that reminds you of a grenade. He’s so still, his body tense and eyes steely. 

The haze of your previous euphoria clouds your mind enough to make you wonder what’s going on–the picture being so out of place, your intoxicated mind can’t seem to make sense of it. Jeongin’s hand squeezes your hand tighter, and suddenly the painting comes together–there he is, standing in front of Felix, saving all of the volatility for himself. 

Hyunjin is beautiful, even now, standing tall and angry like an archangel. You knew you’d see him here, had planned on it even, but seeing him like this is so daunting. He’s beautiful and terrible, and as you watch him yell at your best friend–who is only ever good–you can’t seem to conjure up that love you always felt for him. 

You can feel Jeongin holding you back, his gentle hands holding onto your intertwined fingers tighter than normal, and when you look up at him his face urges you stay with him,--to leave with him like you planned, but even he can’t stop the current from bringing you towards the Conflict. 

With one last look at Jeongin, you find yourself walking away from him and towards the boy who broke your heart.

When you approach the boys you can finally hear their voices, angry and insistent. They’re being drowned out by hushed refrains of “c’mon guys!” that you think must be coming from Chris and Minho from their place behind the two boys. Hyunjin’s voice cuts through, “Can’t you just fuck off? God!” he’s groaning, and suddenly you’re rushing forward.

“What the hell is going on?” You cry, alerting the boys to your presence. The noise stops almost immediately as they look at you, shocked that you would be a witness to this outburst, as if it was something private you just stumbled into and not in the middle of a party. There are people scattered along the patio, some you know and some you don’t, but they’re all looking at you–waiting for something good to happen. 

Yet, The only person you’re looking at is Hyunjin–he’s shaking with anger, but his eyes are so sad. It’s an unwelcome sight, no matter how angry you are with him, to see him so clearly devastated. He looks different up close, all the signs of anger from far away slip into sadness the closer you get to him. 

When you turn to look at Felix, you can see that he’s crying–oh your emotional boys, they could never feel anything by half. “So?!” you ask again, “What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just go,” Felix tells you, not unkindly. 

“What? Now, she can’t talk to me?” Hyunjin throws at him, before looking at you and smiling–It’s so out of place on his angry face, a smile so heavenly it used to bring you to peace. Now, all you feel is disappointment. 

“Nothings wrong, sweetheart,” he tells you, the old nickname making you flinch. “Me and Felix are just talking, you can go back with your boyfriend.” The smile is still on his face, yet the words are venomous. 

The reference to Jeongin, snaps you out of reality. Of course, you knew what you were doing by coming here with him… Knew that this was the whole point, to get him back! But being here, seeing the hurt you knowingly caused, doesn’t make you feel good–just sad. 

“Can you just fuck off already?” Felix asks, his words coated in a thunderous anger. “Leave her alone, it’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing,” 

“More like who she’s doing,” Hyunjin says, still smiling at you like this all one big joke, but you know him–you know everything about his heart, the sound of its beat, the amount of time it pounds against his chest when he’s upset about something. It hurts you that he’s acting like this, pretending what you’re doing means nothing to him, even when it so obviously does. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” You hear from behind you, Jeongin’s hands catching yours into his hold and subtly rubbing at your knuckles. You thought he left, hoped he wouldn’t, but thought he did… How grateful you are that he’s still here, next to you and holding your hand like nothing is different than it was twenty minutes ago. 

“Oh, I’m Pathetic?!” Hyunjin cries, staring at where your and Jeongin hands meet. “I’m Pathetic?” he asks again, “You’re the one whose fucking my girlfriend, and I’m pathetic?” He laughs out, an ugly mean thing that brings tears to your eyes. 

All the boys start to yell at him now, telling him to fuck off, that that was too far… But you can’t seem to find your voice. Can’t seem to be able to conjure up any sentence that would accurately portray how you feel–how angry you are, how deeply cut you are that Hyunjin would be doing this.

 How could he do this to you again? How could he suck out all the air in the room every time you see him. 

The noise is rushing back up, people trying to get both Felix and Hyunjin to calm down, and all the while Jeongin is shaking his head and rubbing the stress out of your palms. 

You feel nothing but sadness… 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You whisper, just loud enough for the group to hear you. 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, Hyunjin… I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” You tell him, you can hear him say your name–see him begin to protest, but before he can start, you say again  “I’m not your girlfriend, and you have no right to yell at anyone, not when  you’re the one who fucked everything up.” 

You see him take a deep breath, try to steady himself before he says, 

“C’mon, Sweetheart, don’t do this right now…”

“Me don’t do this?!” You cry, “Are you even listening to yourself?!” Your tears are falling freely now, catching onto your lips. The salty taste is ruining the sweetness of Jeongin, obstructing all the life he gave. “I can’t believe you, seriously–you should go,” 

Hyunjin says your name again, pleading for you to listen to him, but you don’t want to… you can’t, all that is doing is causing you deep aches inside your soul where all your forgotten love resides. 

“Leave her alone, Hyunjin.” Jeongin speaks up, his hold on you becoming more protective as the moment goes on–standing taller and taller as if to hide you from your ex’s view. “Just go home, nothing’s gonna be fixed while you’re like this.” 

Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue again, but one look at his friends makes him stand down, before he walks away–Minho leading him back into the house with an apologetic look at you and a nod to Jeongin. When Chris passes you, he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and that's what does it–that's what brings you to full on sobs, the thought of Chris being even a little disappointed in you. 

“Come on, let's just go home…” Felix tells you, tear tracks still shining on his pretty face. 

“I don’t want to be with you right now,” You tell him. You can hear him try to complain, try to tell you that he was defending you, but you don’t want to hear it. Everytime you look at him, all you see is Hyunjin standing there and looking at you like you were nothing. You just can’t seem to get past the frustration that Felix couldn’t just walk away, even if Hyunjin was being an asshole. 

“Listen, I love you, okay? I don’t know what happened, and honestly I don’t care, I’ll talk to you in the morning, I promise… but I can’t do it anymore.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at your best friend. Lovely Felix, who only ever wants you to be happy. He’s so sad, soul crushed and bleeding, but he understands. Understands in that way he always does, so without anything more than a nod he walks away, pressing his hand to your shoulder as he passes. 

The world is quiet for a moment, dark and honest like you like it, here alone with Jeongin again. All the prior heat is gone, all of intensity leaving the air as soon as everyones gone, and all that remains is Jeongin’s hand in yours and his dark eyes looking down at you. 

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” He whispers, and before you can resist, he’s pulling you through the night.

The diner is achingly familiar in the midnight hour, walking through the doors holding a different boy's hand than all those times before. The warm air is a comfort after trekking through the cold, abandoning the car for a night time walk through the city. 

Jeongin’s hand never left yours, holding you like a wounded bird. You can’t seem to wonder what he must think of you, sullen and sad–what if he doesn’t want you anymore? Now that your heart is shining on your face. 

He leads you into the restaurant, smiling at his coworkers behind the counter and ordering two cherry cokes. When you go to sit down, he sits on the same side of the booth as you, corralling you into his arms once again. You’re all cried out, can’t seem find it in yourself to let anymore of the pesky tears escape, but when he brings you into him–so close you can hear his heart beating, just as wild as the first time you listened to its song–you can’t help but feel like you need to cry again. 

You’re quiet for a long time, listening to each other's breath and sipping on your sugary drink. Your head isn’t cloudy anymore, your heart is no longer so sad… It’s nice, sitting here with him; having a front row seat to his life passing before you. He’s a little awkward, fidgeting with his soda straw and tapping his foot. He’s waiting for you to say something, giving you space and time to break the silence yourself. 

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know” You tell him, your voice scratchy from crying. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to scare you,” Jeongin responds, his arm moving its way up your sleeve and into your hair. “It was so loud before, I wanted to give you some quiet.” 

You can’t help but swoon, can’t help but love the boy in front of you–how sweet he is, how thoughtful. For weeks now, you’ve sat here with him like this–sharing space and time, loving him as a friend before anything else–perfect and pretend. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Innie… I’m stronger than I look.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says, with such honesty that it takes your breath away. 

Jeongin thinks you’re radiant. Has thought so, since the very first time he saw you–snuggled into his friend and laughing at some stupid joke. He’s cared for you longer than you know, longer than he should have… but seeing you here now, holding onto him like he’s the only thing you have… It breaks his heart in two. He wants you to be okay, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe until the storm passes. 

Jeongin doesn’t know when this became real, if it was real on the dancefloor, when he was kissing you and his world stopped. Was it real when you were being yelled at? Or has it been real since that moment in your room? The moment when he saw your heart open up for the first time. He doesn’t know, and honestly he can’t find it in himself to care–Who gives a fuck when it started? It’s real now. 

He is worried about you, that much is true… How could he not, with your makeup ruined and your lip still trembling. You’re still so beautiful, but there's something so very innocent in the way you’re looking at him, like all you want is for him to keep you safe. 

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time now, honey” He tells you, the pet name sweet on his tongue and warm in your ears. “It’s why I hadn’t talked to Hyunjn even before you guys broke up–” He stops to take a deep breath, to look out into the night before he starts again, “You’ve always been so alive, and in the end… every time I saw you with him… you just looked so sad.” 

You try to remember, try to think about the last time you saw him at a get together before you and Hyunjin broke up, but you can’t. Those memories hidden behind months of trying to act like nothing was wrong, like Hyunjin still loved you–like you were happier than ever. 

“I don’t remember seeing you,” You say, “I’m sorry.” 

“I was always seeing you, even before I was supposed to.” 

Oh your darling boy, sweet like candy and so so honest. It strikes you that everything you’ve done all night has gone past pretend, that this boy in front of you might as well truly be your boyfriend. When you think this, all the dread lifts away–seeping out of your bones and washing away as his eyes smile down at you. 

He knows, you think, he knows exactly what you’re thinking–it’s never been pretend, hasn’t been since the minute he stood in your doorway and held you while you slept. 

“You’re everything.” he whispers, and his smile is a thousand suns.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Minjeong yells.

The morning after the party has been a whole thing. Waking up in your bed with Jeongin smiling down at you, cuddled together in your party clothes, peaceful until Minjeong and Chaeryeong burst in to interrogate you about what happened. 

You’re not sure how they got in, even less sure if you want to ask, but they're here now: cuddled up next to you and shoving Ayen out of bed with instructions to make you all coffee. 

“Minnie, I already told you–Hyune was a dick face and made me and Felix cry.” You tell her. 

“That fucking guy, I can’t believe you guys cried… I would’ve just slapped him.” She says, much to the chagrin of you and Chaeryeong. 

“You would not have slapped him, Min.” Chaery says, rolling her eyes as Minjeong insists she would have. 

You find yourself giggling to yourself, laughing at how horrible everything was, and how funny it is now. Last night was horrific, but sitting here with your girls you really see how ridiculous the whole thing was–Hyunjin called you his girlfriend! How silly is that? 

“What are you laughing about, sweet pea?” Felix asks–he’s standing in your doorway, smiling but sullen. Anxiously waiting for an invitation into the room, holding some of the coffee’s Jeongin must’ve made. It hurts you to think about him sitting up all night and waiting for you to forgive him, as if you could ever stay mad at him. 

“Oh nothing, just how ridiculous we all are,” you laugh. “Why are you still standing over there, come on!”  Felix’s smile is incandescent, brighter than you remember it being, and he quickly bounds over to you and the girls. Giggling about how much he missed you even though its only truthfully been a couple hours. 

When Jeongin finally comes back, coffee in his hand and carrying around that 1000 watt smile, you can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world; here in your bed, with all the people you love most in the world… nothing pretend about it. 

The morning is alive and sweet with friendship–Felix and the girls teasing you about Jeongin, and laughing as your face heats up.You can feel him smiling at you, you can feel the heat of his stare soaking into your skin like the sunrise. It’s a tether to reality, the proof that you didn’t make anything up… You’re everything, he said, and what a lovely thing that is–to be so intrinsic to him and his life that that's the only way he can describe you. 

He’s your everything too. 

You find yourself smiling at the thought, closing your eyes in bliss, you can almost hear your heart beating–louder and louder as reality sets in. It’s all real: him, you, this. You can almost see the future, prophetic daydreams passing over your eyelids of what is to come–more of this, of course, but also more–more, more, more. You can see him, laughing in the sun, kissing you under the stars, singing your favorite songs. It will be perfect, lovely and real, and everything. 

When your eyes open, you see Chaeryeong smiling at you–looking at you like she can see every thought buried inside your heart. She loves you, you know that, but seeing her know you can feel it too. How you love her too, even with her silly jokes and mischievous plans. Her eyes flit to where Jeongin’s hand holds yours raising her eyebrows in that familiar way, and she tells you,

“Just pretend my ass,”

LUVTAK © 2025

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

PLEASE LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN!!!!!!!! i feel like i am going crazy i feel like his beauty isnt meant for mortal eyes IT WOUNDS MEEEEEEE💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[luvtak]

get him back! ⊹.✮₊⋆ yji x reader

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you

⊹ genre/tw angst angst angst seriously so much angst i'm sorry, but also fluff!!! a lot of fluff! f2l, fake dating, revenge dating?, hurt/comfort, ex!hyunjin being horrible (I'm sorry), reader wears a skirt at one point and is referred to as ‘my girl’ once, jokes about pregnancy (its not serious i promise) its suggestive at times but no smut, probably a little rushed at times, mostly unedited

⊹ w/c 10, 469

⊹ a/n this has been a long time coming, originally this was a fic for jaemin from nct dream that was like 8000 words long or something and i absolutely hated it so i started back from scratch and changed mostly everything but the main idea. for a long time, i have been fascinated with the process of heartbreak and falling in love again, and in essence that is what this is--I hope you like it, don't forget to like and reblog and tell me all your thoughts!! hopefully it's not terrible lol, mwah!!

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you; Everything from the cups in the cabinet to the paint splatters on the floor. The four walls of your room storing a lifetime of memories of the boy who loved you; nighttime laughter and limbs interlaced. It’s completely foreign to not have him next to you, skin to skin, hearts synced to a song only the two of you know. 

You loved him for three summers, almost from the first time you saw him–sat next to the river, with headphones on and a pen in hand–He was beautiful, a timeless photograph of affection, and you were smitten as soon as he opened his mouth. 

The past 36 months were lovely and joyous, 1095 days spent foolishly glued together, yet when Hyunjin decided to end the relationship three weeks ago, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. He’d been so busy, graduating last year and going on to bigger and brighter things–exhibitions almost every week, assisting an artist  he loved–so many wonderful things that took him away from you. When he was home he was too tired to love you, so it made sense when he ended it. So much sense that it’s kept you awake all the nights following. 

Every night–at roughly when he would’ve come home to you–you find yourself waking up to the loss of his cologne. For a moment, you’re given a momentary bout of bliss, confusion clouding up your mind with questions of where’d he go, rather than if he’s coming back. The answer comes quickly, though, rupturing your heart before the rest of you knew you were awake. 

Your mind is lost in the goodbye, the taste of salt on your lips and your favorite blue sweater wrapped around your arms, the way his eyes were wide with sadness. Did he kiss you then? Was it his tongue that swiped away the tears or your own? Did his hands hold you one last time, make you cry from pleasure before pain? All you seem to remember was him walking away, so fast you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to recall–but it's all you seem to be able to think about. 

He broke your heart on a Tuesday, but did he kiss you then? 

He was sweet with the farewell, telling you he was sorry, that he loved you but it wasn’t enough any more. There was just too much time and distance living between the two of you, but nothing really has to change… we can all still be friends. 

What a sad thought, friends with the boy who held your bleeding heart in his hands. 

Why should you still be friends if love wasn’t enough for him? 

You know you look pathetic, his too big clothes swathing around your limp form, keeping you toasty where your bare legs hit the bathroom floor. His voice flowing from your phone's speaker in happy waves, echoing off the tile right into your ears. It’s almost like he’s next to you, almost like it’s his arms filling out the gray hoodie and wrapping around you.

Shivering, you close your eyes just for a minute, with his last voicemail reverberating through your brain, you feel content for the first time since that sunny day three weeks before. 

“...I love you, sweetheart!” his voice rings, lighting up your heart with all the affection the name used to bring you. He hadn’t called you that in months, trading sweet nothings for sighs and sorry’s. How you long to feel the name pressed against your skin, interlaced with the kind of happiness only he could draw out. A love so undeniably him that anything else couldn’t come close. 

Loving him was sitting in planetariums and comparing each other's portraits to statues, sharing straws and blankets, breath and hands. Loving him was every star fall, trying to catch dragonflies and yelping when they grazed your hands. It was magical and devastating, everything you ever wanted. 

Hyunjin was meant for stars and lullabies, a boy meant for nighttime, but the morning is fast approaching. 

Soon, your roommate will wake up and discover your tearful form, and envelope you in coos and cuddles. He’ll wrap you up in pink comforters and bring you cookies for breakfast, a day spent with rom-coms and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio, but just for a few more minutes you’ll sit with your lovers voice in your head and his scent around you, and it’ll be as close to him as you’ll ever be again.

“Okay!? I love you so much, call me sweetheart, seriously! Call me, call me, call me.” 

“He never even deserved you!”

“Yeah, babe, like you’re so hot and funny and nice! What does he have going for him?” 

“For real! Other than being super handsome and talented, he has nothing.” 

Your friends, drunk and silly, can’t seem to stop trying to comfort you, you want to laugh, and maybe in time you’ll be able to, but here in this fresh grief with his love still palpable, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to be angry. 

Sure, he broke up with you, but it didn’t seem like too bad of a reason… he was busy all the time, and his distance brought anger and disappointment. You were fighting restlessly, forgetting to say I love you before you left for class, kisses became shorter and farther in between, but at the end of the day you did love him; endlessly and reverentially, and no matter what he said or didn’t say, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that that will never change. 

“You guys don’t have to shit talk Hyunjin just because he broke up with me, we were all friends.” Your voice is quieter than you meant it to be, slow from all the wine and covered in the sadness that seemed to follow you. “He was a good boyfriend…” 

“No, babe, a good boyfriend does not break up with you a week before your anniversary after ghosting you for a month.” Minjeong says, her tone soothing even if her words are not. 

“We’re not friends with that douche canoe, okay, we only stomached him because he was your boyfriend, and now that he’s not, I personally never want to see him again.” 

“Chaeryeong! Stop, you've been his friend for literal years.” 

“Nope, I can’t remember!” she sings out, giggling as her wine glass spills out red liquid all over the floor. 

“He’s persona non grata now, girly, if I see him, I’m coming in swinging!” 

Minjeong’s claim, however silly, does have you finally laughing. Deep, belly ache inducing laughs that fill your little apartment with more joy than it’s held in weeks. It’s true that before the official break up, you were infuriated, anger escaping your lips whenever the man was mentioned. But since the finality of that day, all you’ve felt is an insurmountable grief daring to erupt at any moment. 

You loved him, you lost him, and isn’t that just so sad? 

You thought you’d have him forever… daydreamt weddings and forever homes, Late night whispers of baby names and honeymoons. Everything you’ve ever planned, out the window with the first signs of conflict. Sure, maybe it would’ve ended anyway, but would it have killed him to try? How dare he take that future away from you, a happy ending too good to be true. 

A betrayal that cut too deep to be anything but devastating. 

But sitting here now, listening to your friends being mad and protective, you think you can see a future where you are angry again–a day in the coming weeks where everything he said is tinged with red instead of blue. And maybe after that you can be happy, really truly happy, even when the girls' laughter aren’t around to accompany you. 

“Hey, we love you, okay?” Chaeryeong says, breathing heavily through her giggles. “I know it’s hard now, you loved each other so much, but don’t waste anymore of your time locked inside this apartment. You’re way too cute to not let anyone see you.” 

She smiles at you, her hand wrapped around yours as a few tears stray. You don’t know if they’re happy or sad, or maybe a bit of both, all you know is you love her. You love the both of them so much that even through this inescapable loss, you smile back. They’re your favorite people on earth, and if they think you’ll be okay maybe you will be. 

“I love you guys too, I’m sorry I’m so mopey… Felix keeps trying to get me to smile, but there's just so much I can take before I’m crying again.”

“Hey, hey,” Minjeong whispers, “Don’t apologize, you get to be a little storm cloud.” 

“Personally, I like you stormy–makes it more fun when you snap.” Chaeryeong tells you, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to get you to laugh again. 

Miraculously, it works–laughter seeping out of you and onto the wine soaked tiles. Maybe they’re right, maybe all you need is some time…

Maybe another day of watching The Princess Diaries and eating ice cream for dinner will cure you, maybe falling asleep in Hyunjin’s sweatpants will finally ease the hole he left, maybe all you have to do is leave the house tomorrow. Whatever it is, you promise them you’ll try–and as they cuddle up to you, dropping popcorn in between the couch cushions and cracking up at the same jokes you’ve heard a thousand times, somewhere inside, you feel a little bit more okay. 

Unfortunately, that feeling can only last so long. 

It’s thirty minutes past the witching hour when you see the photo. He’s gorgeous, devastatingly so, heartbreakingly handsome just like you remembered. Clad in denim and decked out with silver, wrapped around a girl you’ve never seen before. 

Your phone light glares through the night, spotlighting your place in the living room. You know you should turn the brightness down, lower it or move from your place in between Chaeryong and Minjeong, less they wake up and threaten to kill you for interrupting their slumber, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. 

His hands rest on her waist, a smile breaking through close to her own, and he looks so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months, unencumbered joy leaking off him through the camera lens. And how it breaks your heart, who cares who that girl is… how could he look so happy when you haven’t even left the house in two weeks?

“Son of a bitch!” you whisper, angry tears trying to escape. How dare he? And how dare Chris for posting it on a story he knew you could see. We can all still be friends, right? What absolute bullshit. 

You find yourself laughing, laughing so hard the tears find themselve trailing down your cheeks. Howling at the unbelievability of it all, here you were defending him still, while he couldn’t wait a month to have his tongue shoved down some other girl's throat. How funny to think you love him, truly love him with every part of you, and he doesn’t respect you enough to keep his escapades a secret while you heal. 

Minjeong shuffles in her sleep, waking up to the sound of your inane outburst, pretty eyes squinted in your phone light. 

“What is it? Nothing is that funny at 3 AM.” 

“Look at this, Min.” you giggle, shoving your phone against her nose. 

“Too close!! Hold on… WHAT THE FUCK!” she yells, jolting up against the cushions and waking the other girl in the process. 

“What! What is it?!” Chaeryeong moans. 

“Hyunjin is a fucker that’s what.” Minjeong says. “An actual despicable little shit.” 

The phone is passed around, each of you staring at the picture with a sense of pure unbridled anger. To think you trusted him, gave him your heart and felt safe that he would respect it even when he gave it back. 

“I just don’t understand,” You say, your voice breaking– confusion wafting through the words and encasing you in a painful blanket of disarray. 

Through your tears you hear Chaeryeong, “Listen, we have to get him back.” She’s saying, Minjeong nodding along sleepily.

Get him back? What does she mean?! How can she already be thinking of revenge when all you want to do is cry yourself to sleep. 

“What do you mean get him back, I don’t understand.” The brokenness in your voice gives your friends pause, and for a moment the only thing you hear is the sound of Anne Hathaway monologuing on the TV. 

The two girls, true friends even with sleep dancing at their fingertips, wrap their arms around you–holding onto you like you’d drift away if they didn’t, who knows maybe you would; You do feel minutes away from being empty, like you're a bottle slowly pouring out its contents. 

Their skin is warm, and their hands carry so much comfort that you collapse against them, listening to their plan like a bedtime story that lulls you to sleep. 

“You want me to do what?!” You cry. 

“We talked about this last night!” 

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered you saying I have to go on a date with Yang Jeongin, Minjeong!” 

“It doesn’t have to be Ayen, any of his friends will do, I just thought that that’s who you were closest to…” She sighs, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. “I mean it could be Changbin for all I care, I just didn’t think he’d go for it.” 

“I don’t want to date ANY of his friends, Minnie!!! Hello!” Your voice sounds shrill even to you, and as much as you're trying to keep it down for fear of the librarian coming over and yelling at you, you don’t have it in you to dampen your frustration. 

Last night was a blur, anger permeating your sleep and clouding your morning. Going through the motions of classes and too many cups of coffee before your friend called you to come deliberate on the fully formed plan they dreamt up. A plan that you don’t remember agreeing to. 

Sure, you remember saying making him jealous might make you feel better and make him feel worse, but nowhere did they say that Jeongin would be involved. You love the boy, as cynical and cold as he could be–he could make you laugh more than anyone else you ever met, and of course he was handsome, but he was one of Hyunjin’s best friends. As much as you’re angry with your ex-boyfriend now, were you really willing to use one of his friends to get back at him? 

“Plus, I don’t think he’ll go for it, I mean Innie likes to mess with the guys every once in a while, but I think hooking up with his best friends ex is too far for him.”

You try to hide the flinch at the word ex, but Minjeong sees right through you–bringing her hands up to rub your shoulders comfortingly, before she tells you: 

“It doesn’t have to be real, silly!” Minjeong laughs, “Hyunjin only has to think it's real, I mean you don’t actually have to hook up with him… Unless you want toooo.” She draws out, singing the last sentence in an annoying voice. 

“Minnie!” you whisper in a faux yell.

“What?! Don’t look at me like I don’t remember the infamous truth or dare of 2024.” 

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Ms. I’d makeout with Jeongin if I had to kiss any of Hyunjin’s friends.” 

“Minnie!”

“Fine, Fine!” She laughs, “just talk to Ayen about it, and we’ll go from there okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I can’t stomach thinking that Hyunjin is out there having fun at your expense and you’re just taking it.” For one moment she looks truly sad, and you’re reminded, not for the first time, that this breakup isn’t just between you and your ex, but all your friends who have to adapt to a life that looks different 

Her eyes are comforting, but her mouth is all smirking revenge, and something about it urges you to listen. It can’t be worse than what Hyunjin’s already done, right? And it’s all pretend anyway, just a game of house where you and Jeongin hold hands at a party and go get slurpees after. None of it has to be real, you shouldn’t feel bad for giving the boy who hurt you a taste of his own medicine, right? 

So with a heart full of guilt and stomach heavy with nerves, you find yourself asking, 

“When does it start?” 

On your way out of the library you found yourself cursing Minjeong and Chaeryeong and all their evil scheming that always finds its way back to you. If only you could have listened to Felix when he told you that those girls were trouble, and that the only friends you needed were him and your childhood dog, Milo. 

When you left her, Minjeong reminded you to talk to Jeongin, told you where she thought he’d be and smiled at you the way she would a puppy. 

God, what am I doing? You ask yourself, begging some invisible entity for help with this god forsaken plan. You like Ayen just fine, but the idea of hurting Hyunjin just because he hurt you fills you with some inescapable dread. And what if Jeongin says no? What if he’s as disgusted by you as you are of yourself? What if he turns around and tells Hyunjin? 

The thoughts circle around you, haloing your form in scalding nerves until you find yourself outside of the diner Jeongin works at. You’d only ever been at night, your hand shivering within Hyunjin’s hold–so many twilights spent sitting crushed in a tiny booth, Hyunjin’s friends hollering around you and your lovers arms holding you to his heart. How different it looks in the day. 

For the first time you find yourself walking through the diner doors alone, feet shuffling onto the sticky vinyl floors and searching for Yang Jeongin’s smile. 

You find it behind the counter, warm and inviting as he asks a little boy what he wants. He looks different when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, freer than when he’s with the boys, shinier when there’s no one else’s light glaring. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile remains, but becomes that tight look of pity you’ve become so used to–a look so out of place on his pretty face, you want it gone right away. 

“Don’t look at me like, Jeongin.” You tell him, words stricter than your voice portrays. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he tells you, “but how are you doing?” 

“Better if I had a cherry coke,” You say and without another word he begins filling up a plastic cup with ice and burgundy liquid. You can’t help but watch his hands as they work, knuckles clutching around the drink tighter than what's needed–the only indication that he could be uncomfortable with you being here. “How are you doing, Ayen?” you ask him. 

“Well, not too bad,” he says, handing you the soda. “It’s not too busy today, and I don’t have any classes until tomorrow afternoon, so the day is just breezing by.” 

“Easy, breezy, beautiful!” You tell him and finally that pretty smile breaks out on his face again as he lets out a loud laugh. He tells you he’ll be right back, smiling the whole way to the rest of his patrons. 

Maybe it’s because you were dating Hyunjin before, and no other boy seemed to live up to the fairy tale you wrote about him, but for the first time you see Jeongin, not as Hyunjin’s friend but as a cute boy you could’ve met at a diner just like this. He’s boyishly handsome and sweet, giggling with the little kids and getting old ladies pie on the house. 

Maybe your friends were onto something when they offered up Jeongin as the sacrificial lamb–sweet, ever happy Jeongin. 

When he returns to you, that slightly sad smile returns to his face before he tells you: 

“I’m sorry about you and Hyunjin… I didn’t know he was gonna do that.” 

“What break up with me, or make out with a girl before the corpse is even cold?” Your voice is stronger than you meant it to be, and you feel bad as soon as you see Jeongin’s body tense–obviously surprised at your animosity. 

“Both, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” he tells you, much to your surprise, “We– we had a fight, and I hadn’t talked to anyone but Changbin and Seungmin…” his voice is thick with tension and his jaw is tight as he tries to tell to you what happened, a sight you’d never seen from him–much more used to the happy-go-lucky Ayen of days past. “I didn’t even know you guys broke up until he posted that picture last night.” 

You’re surprised by this, of course, Jeongin and Hyunjin had always been close, but what's more surprising is how truly angry he looks… As angry as Chaeryeong and Minjeong, if not more. It’s this look that allows you to tell him, 

“I just don’t know what to do, Ayen…” 

“Whatever, I can do to help, I will… I promise.” Jeongin tells you, long fingers making you jump as they settle over your own. It’s this promise that brings you to tell him why you came–rushing out the plan your friends made for you, making sure to tell him over and over how it would just be a favor; just a way to get Hyunjin back for being a treacherous loser. 

It’s through this rant that Jeongin finally smiles again, a devious look you’ve only ever seen settle onto his face during game night, and without preamble his hold on your hand grows stronger until he says, 

“I’ll do it.” 

It’s three weeks later when you finally realize that you’d have to actually go on a date with Jeongin for this to work. In theory, you knew this would happen, knew that you couldn’t let Jeongin sit around thinking about how he agreed to piss off his friend, but putting that plan in practice is scarier than you thought it would be. 

And why? Why does Hyunjin get to ride around town happier than ever, posting that girl on his instagram story every day while you’re sitting at home crying for weeks. 

Yet, the thought of doing anything romantic (even if it was pretend) with someone else, causes frost bitten chills to cover your skin. Even if the someone else was Yang Jeongin; sweet and funny Jeongin who always took your side when the boys started teasing you, who brought you a cherry coke everyday when you had class together freshman year. Jeongin who blushed pretty pink when he heard your answer to Changbin’s truth or dare last year, Jeongin who was your friend as much as Hyunjin’s, who would put that friendship aside to do you a favor. 

You know you should call him, reprieve him from the quicksand thoughts you sure he’s buried in, but you can’t seem to latch that door to self hatred that has been held open since the night Hyunjin broke up with you. 

You can’t seem to find where everything went wrong, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the moment where Hyunjin stopped loving you. 

“You should stop torturing yourself you know,” You hear, and there he is standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Jeongin stands tall and handsome, leaning against the wall in a way that makes you think he has been there for a while. “You went AWOL on me, y’know, I was worried.” He’s smiling, but his words have a layer of debilitating truth that makes you a little sick. You can’t help but feel sorry for making anyone feel as bad as you do. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go after that last conversation we had.” 

“Well, usually when you ask someone on a date… you take them out on a date.” He smiles at you, approaching your bed the way one would approach a wounded animal–slow but sure. 

When he finally lays down next to you you’re struck by his closeness, the feel of his body heat settling over your skin and the way his cheek bones slope over his face. He’s so pretty, it’s not like you never noticed it before, but seeing him up close like this–like he’s completely under your disposal, like you’re a scientist looking at him under a microscope–you can’t help but be a little breathless. 

He’s so beautiful and he’s lying here with you. 

“What did you want to do on our date then?” you ask him, feeling braver the longer he looks at you.

When he smiles, it’s like the sun explodes–incandescent and radiant like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He tells you he doesn’t care, first dates are silly anyway, he says, before grabbing your laptop from its place on your desk and telling you to pick a movie. It’s a little nerve wracking to be with him like this, it’s odd because it’s not something inherently romantic, nor any different from something you could’ve done with him before, but the fact that he called it a “date” makes the whole thing more anxiety-inducing than you thought possible. 

This is supposed to be pretend, yet the way his arm presses against yours brings a warmth to your chest that you can’t seem to decipher. Sure, you’re a bit touched starved and the constant vulnerability you’ve felt has lent itself to a mixed bag of feelings, but the strangest thing is, nothing about his heat is confusing. It feels like the surest thing in the world to have him next to you, laughing at the stupid jokes flowing out from your computer and asking if you want to order a pizza.

This is supposed to be pretend, but it feels real–like the realest thing you’ve held in months.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what happened with Hyune?” He finally asks you. The sun has finally eased its way into night and the blue hour has opened up the air for truth telling, you always loved this time of night… Always loved the way the soft prussian hue would fill the room, the way it could coat human skin. It’s this blue honesty that motivates you to answer him, more honest than you’ve been with anyone else, much less yourself. 

“I think It was always gonna end like this… me all alone and him surrounded by friends.” You see him gearing up to protest, so quickly you add, “I know I’m not completely alone,” you tell him, “but I loved him so much, it was all I thought about for three years. And… and he’s out there living his life like I didn’t even matter.

“He broke up with me cause he was busy, like I was just something on the to-do list too insignificant to keep.” You stop to breathe, in and out, before starting again, “I hadn’t talked to him in weeks… in the beginning I called and texted, but I never got a response so I thought I’d just give him space. Felix kept asking me where he was, y’know? Like I would know, I should have known–I wanted to know, but I had no idea. Finally, he showed up out of nowhere telling me he was sorry, how he’d been so busy–I was so stupid, I was just happy he was there at all” 

“You’re not stupid,” Jeongin tells you, but you’re not finished. 

“He–” you whisper, “He told me that he thought we should break up… said it like there was no room for arguing. I said okay… I said okay because I wanted him to shut up about how busy he was–wanted him to stop talking about his great life that I wouldn’t be a part of anymore.” 

“You’re not stupid,” He says again, stronger this time. “Hyunjin’s a fucking idiot, a selfish idiot, okay? You’re not stupid.” He brings you into his arms, holding you close enough that you can hear his heart beating wild in his chest. He smells good, like sunshine and coffee, and part of you wishes this wasn’t pretend. 

You wish you could lay here like this all the time, cuddled close to him, safe in his arms, and sure of the fact that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. 

“We’re gonna make him regret this okay, make him see what he’s missing out on.” He’s whispering to you, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, reassuring himself that what he’s doing is okay, “He’s an idiot, and you’re perfect–do you hear me?” he asks you, tilting your chin up to see him from your place in his hold. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“You know, when I let him in last night I didn’t think he was sleeping over,” Felix tells you, once you come back inside from walking Jeongin out. 

Truthfully, you didn’t think he was going to sleep over either, yet the feeling of his arms around was so deeply comforting you’re glad he didn’t leave. You’d spent all night talking, going over your plan to make Hyunjin jealous, but that wasn’t all you’d talked about. Jeongin told you all sorts of things to make you laugh: secrets and stories, other peoples and his own. 

You spent all night telling each other things you’d never told anyone else, and for once you’d woken up happy. Strangely, it wasn’t awkward disentangling yourself from him–it was almost normal, even sharing the sink to brush your teeth felt like you’d done it a million times over before. 

No, it wasn’t awkward at all–that is until Felix woke up and found you together in your room. 

“Listen, Felix, it’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, so you’re not dating Jeongin to make Hyunjin jealous?” He asks, looking at with with a skeptical glimpse in his eye. 

“Well, I guess it’s exactly what you think,” you pause, “wait, how did you guess that?” 

“You’re not the only one friends with Minejeong and Chaery, sweet pea.” he tells you, stirring honey into two cups of tea. 

You’re not surprised the girls blabbed, especially not to Felix–the boy has too much of an angelic face to lie too–However, they should know better than to expose you to your oldest friend. Felix, has always been your best friend, your soulmate in all definitions, and because of this he is chronically worrying over you and your wellbeing. Hyunjin had been his friend, closest to him only second to you and Chris, and the way Hyune treated you at the end was such a deep betrayal to Felix’s sense of friendship that he is grown even more annoyingly protective in the past weeks. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix” 

“Obviously I do, I take my hands off the wheel for one minute and suddenly you’re in bed with Innie.” 

“I was not IN BED with him, we just slept.” 

“Yeah, okay, just don’t get pregnant. Yeah? I’m not old enough to be the dad that stepped up.” 

“FELIX!” you yell, but all you hear is laughter, deep happy laughter that has been unfamiliar in your usually joyful apartment. You can’t help but feel guilty, even though it isn’t your fault. You wish everything could be normal–wish with every piece of your soul that life would go back to how it was. 

You didn’t need Hyunjin to be in love with you, but you wished that your friends could go back to how they were three months ago, happy and normal and free. 

You love Felix, you love Minjeong and Chaeryeong, and the thought of them being as cut up about this as you, breaks your heart. 

“You know I love you, right?” You tell Felix when he’s done laughing to himself, and the way he looks at you–rolling eyes and all tells you all you need to know. 

“I love you too, sweet pea…” He smiles, “but wear protection.”

The diner is busy and your friends can’t seem to shut up. 

“OH MY GOD!!! He keeps looking at you!” Minjeong cries, happy as a clam in her little white sundress. The weather has finally warmed up and with it sundress season has finally arrived, a fact that Ayen seemed to be especially happy about when he saw you in one of your own.

It’s just pretend, you tell yourself, even though you can’t help but blush when Minjeong whispers, “there he goes again, ohmygoodness!”

“Minnie, it’s not like that it’s just–” 

“It’s just pretend!” Chaery and Minnie sing together, mimicking the phrase you’ve told them over and over again for the past month. 

That first sleepover became dinner and movie every Friday, which became study sessions on Sunday when you began falling behind, and lunch at the diner every Tuesday so he could see you before his schedule got too busy. Yet, you still hadn’t gone out–out, a problem that has wrapped itself around you like an ugly sweater, the whole reason you’re pretending to date is to make Hyunjin jealous, but you haven’t gone anywhere that he’d see you two at. Not too mention, any insta post the two you have been in together isn’t so overtly romantic that one could believe you’re together–In conclusion, the two you are pretending to date for no one but each other, so does that make it not pretend? 

“It is just pretend, and you guys know that.” you tell them a bit meaner than you meant. 

“Okay, okay…” Chaery says, “but you should remind him of that, cause Minnie’s right: he really has looked over here like seven times in the last thirty seconds.” 

“It’s just because you guys are here,” you say, but even you sound unconvinced. “Anyway he’s probably just worried because we’re going to the party tonight, which will take this little plan of yours from 1 to 100” 

“Girly I love you, but him sleeping in your bed every weekend is what took the plan to 100” Minnie sassed. 

You want to admonish her, but she was right, you should never have let each other break this many boundaries. You should’ve had rules, should have watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before together and knew what would come of this fake dating nonsense your friends came up with. But you’ve gotten so used to him, fallen so far into friendship that the idea of him not being around physically hurts you. 

You catch him looking at you again, a soft smile on his lips as he asks someone their order, when your eyes meet he winks at you, silly and sweet just like him. You laugh and smile bigger than your friends have seen you in months, and if you were paying attention you would have seen the two girls share a look so obviously judgmental it would have warranted a slap. 

“Yeah, just pretend my ass.”

The night is just beginning and the party is in full force when you arrive, hand in hand with your “boyfriend,” You’d dolled yourself up for the occasion: tight shirt, miniskirt, and all that jazz, and when Jeongin picked you up he blushed so red you thought you might’ve had a fever. 

The party is already wild as soon as you step foot inside, people chatting and dancing, girls who must’ve just met singing Brittany together as it rings out from the stereo. You find yourself cramped in between bodies, Jeongin’s hand being the only lifeline in the sea of humans–more than once, you feel eyes on the two you, old friends looking on in confusion as you hold the hand of the wrong guy, yet you feel more at ease here with Ayen than you ever did before. 

When you finally arrive in the kitchen, unscathed except for a few wrinkles in your tiny skirt, Jeongin makes you a drink and compliments you again on your outfit. He’s called you pretty five times tonight: Once when he picked you up, two times in the car, right before you walked in, and now he’s saying it again. Each time the words emerge from his lips they sound a little braver, like he’s more sure of himself every time you say thank you. 

He looks absolutely divine tonight himself–when he took his jacket off in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing hotter at the sight of his arms in the tight white tee he picked for the occasion.  More annoyingly he seemed to know and relish in your admiration, he seems more confident tonight, cocky in a way that wouldn’t be so  attractive if it wasn’t him. 

When he hands you the drink, hands tight on the plastic cup just like the first time, his empty hand immediately goes to your waist. His touch, familiar and pleasant, eases you into the corner–forcing you to be close to him in ways you’ve only been in private. A part of you feels insecure, like he’s only doing this to show off the people around you, but one look into his smiling eyes tells you he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you again–that’s six, “So so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky I am, even if this is all pretend… I’m so so lucky to be here with you.” It stings a little, the truth of this being pretend, but you can’t help but agree, you really are so so lucky to have each other. 

His hand moves away from your waist, moving up, up, up, until it reaches your clavicle–fingers fanning out to touch your collarbones, his ring finger gently brushing over the skin. He’s not so much as looking at you as looking into you, almost like he’s trying to see into your ribcage and decide if he can fit in there too. His intensity is burning, chipping away at your composure not unlike pick into stone. His hands are so soft, fluttering against you in curiosity, like he can’t believe he gets to touch you–feel you under his force and mold you into him. Your eyes are fluttering shut, influenced by the alcohol and his hands and the way he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Too comfortable for a kitchen counter, especially not your own, his movements are even more dangerous when he is reminded the two of you are not alone. 

“Innie!” You hear a voice familiar and grating in your current predicament, Jeongin’s hands stop their curious journey, but he does not move away from you–if anything he draws you closer, protecting you from whomever would dare rip you away from peace. 

Changbin is shining as always, happy and handsome, like he has always been, but seeing him here is not a welcome surprise. You’re still upset you never heard from him after the breakup, sure he was Hyunjin’s friend first, and he doesn’t truly owe you any loyalty, yet it still hurts after three years of friendship to be dropped by 50% of your friends.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he notices it’s you and not some random girl here with the younger boy. “It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you–both of you.” You can see him observing your position–you, encompassed by Jeongin, huddling close into his chest… Ayen rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's clear what the closeness means, and Changbin who has claimed to know exactly what's going on with Jeongin at any given time, feels a little hurt that he didn’t know this. 

“So are you guys like, together?” he questions, “Does Hyunie Know?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Hyung” Jeongin answers, “and yeah, we’ve been together for a little while now,” 

“A little while…” Changbin whispers to himself, and you almost feel bad for the mental gymnastics he must be putting himself through to explain the timeline of your so-called relationship.  “And you’re happy? I mean you look happy, so you must be right?” he asks. 

“Yes, we’re happy” you say, before even thinking about it. And it’s true–you are happy. Happier than you’ve been in months, here at this party with Ayen. His hands are warm on your skin and his smile is alive, and you’ve never been happier than here in this moment, sharing your body heat in a random kitchen. 

“Very Happy,” Jeongin agrees, looking down at you with a big smile, and your heart bursts at his agreement. “Well, hyung if you excuse us, my girl wanted to dance.” Did you? You ask yourself, but you see his urging look and decide to go with it. You do want to dance–you would do anything to stay this close to him, even if that means going back to the cramped sea of people in the living room.

It’s hot, and you can feel him everywhere—hands on your waist, brushing against your tummy, running through your hair. You’re breathless at his touch, breathing him in as your bodies move together in time to the song. You feel so alive, sticky with sweat; skin on fire where the two of you meet. 

The music is deafening, miscellaneous pop songs mashed up together to get everyone dancing. It’s devious and devilish, a dionysian madness that has infected you down to your bones. You wonder if he’ll take you upstairs, ravish you bloody and leave you wanting more more more. The way he’s looking at you–looming and predatory like a God searching for a devotee–sears your skin, scorches a brand onto the small of your back where his belt buckle digs into you. 

It’s all pretend, but it doesn’t have to be, not when he’s looking at you like that.

Your friends got here an hour ago, sharing shots with you and trying not to give each other “I told you so” looks when they saw Jeongin’s hand sit lower and lower on your hips than they would deem platonic. You can remember Felix laughing at you when the third shot went all over your top instead of down your throat, and the way Minjeong triple-dogged dared you to pound down some Apple Crown even though she knows it always makes you sick. You can remember how happy they all looked, Chaeryeong’s hips swaying as she danced with you and Lix, laughing deep into her belly. 

You can remember all of this, but you can’t seem to remember getting here… Can’t seem to find the moment where Jeongin’s touches went from casual to burning. 

The alcohol found its way into your system quickly, warming your tummy and your heart—intoxicating you with the notion that maybe all of this could be real in the morning, as Jeongin’s hands tighten on your waist. You feel his head dipping, lips sliding over your neck, his tongue lighting fires along your skin. He feels the rumble of your moan, feels the way you draw into him and sigh—your hands, delicate and lovely clutching at his jacket. 

“Let me take you home,” he’s saying, begging, pleading. He wants to be alone with you, wants to play pretend somewhere private, somewhere where it doesn’t have to be a game. 

You find yourself nodding, turning around in his hold so you can look at him, still so devastating through the hysteria. His eyes meet yours, so lovely in the dark room, and slowly his hands reach up to push the hair out of your face. 

“So beautiful.” He says, matter of fact. 

His hands linger, settling on your jaw, before slowly, achingly so, bringing your lips to his. He doesn’t kiss you at first, just brings you close enough so he’s breathing your air—almost like he’s giving you CPR, breathing life into a dying body—until finally he is kissing you, and taking all that life back.

The feel of him, the taste of him–is too much to bear. His hands are still clutching at you, holding onto your face and your neck, fingers leaving indents on the most vulnerable parts of you. 

He’s everywhere, he’s everything, he’s come alive. 

He tastes like the apple crown he took with you, sweet and sour–a taste you’ve only ever associated with sickness, yet when it’s dripping from Jeongin’s Tongue all it causes is euphoria. 

“Let’s go home,” He’s saying again, pushing the words against your lips, and you find yourself nodding again–kissing his jaw as he pulls away. 

“We,” you begin, a little breathless, “We have to go tell Felix, or he’ll break down my door to make sure I’m still alive.” 

The way Jeongin looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room, shakes you down to your core. He’s grinning, wide and mercilessly, but his eyes hold that same mischief they carried the day he agreed to do this with you. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He asks you, before taking your hand and pulling you through the sea once again.

You finally find your friend in the backyard, fairy lights glinting off his cheekbones. Felix is always handsome–impish and charming–but there’s something about his face now that sets the visage apart. Rather than the joyous expression you left him with, he looks angry… Angrier than you’ve ever seen him, (except for the time you misplaced your friendship necklace in fourth grade), he’s not yelling or bursting with volatility, but there’s something about his form that reminds you of a grenade. He’s so still, his body tense and eyes steely. 

The haze of your previous euphoria clouds your mind enough to make you wonder what’s going on–the picture being so out of place, your intoxicated mind can’t seem to make sense of it. Jeongin’s hand squeezes your hand tighter, and suddenly the painting comes together–there he is, standing in front of Felix, saving all of the volatility for himself. 

Hyunjin is beautiful, even now, standing tall and angry like an archangel. You knew you’d see him here, had planned on it even, but seeing him like this is so daunting. He’s beautiful and terrible, and as you watch him yell at your best friend–who is only ever good–you can’t seem to conjure up that love you always felt for him. 

You can feel Jeongin holding you back, his gentle hands holding onto your intertwined fingers tighter than normal, and when you look up at him his face urges you stay with him,--to leave with him like you planned, but even he can’t stop the current from bringing you towards the Conflict. 

With one last look at Jeongin, you find yourself walking away from him and towards the boy who broke your heart.

When you approach the boys you can finally hear their voices, angry and insistent. They’re being drowned out by hushed refrains of “c’mon guys!” that you think must be coming from Chris and Minho from their place behind the two boys. Hyunjin’s voice cuts through, “Can’t you just fuck off? God!” he’s groaning, and suddenly you’re rushing forward.

“What the hell is going on?” You cry, alerting the boys to your presence. The noise stops almost immediately as they look at you, shocked that you would be a witness to this outburst, as if it was something private you just stumbled into and not in the middle of a party. There are people scattered along the patio, some you know and some you don’t, but they’re all looking at you–waiting for something good to happen. 

Yet, The only person you’re looking at is Hyunjin–he’s shaking with anger, but his eyes are so sad. It’s an unwelcome sight, no matter how angry you are with him, to see him so clearly devastated. He looks different up close, all the signs of anger from far away slip into sadness the closer you get to him. 

When you turn to look at Felix, you can see that he’s crying–oh your emotional boys, they could never feel anything by half. “So?!” you ask again, “What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just go,” Felix tells you, not unkindly. 

“What? Now, she can’t talk to me?” Hyunjin throws at him, before looking at you and smiling–It’s so out of place on his angry face, a smile so heavenly it used to bring you to peace. Now, all you feel is disappointment. 

“Nothings wrong, sweetheart,” he tells you, the old nickname making you flinch. “Me and Felix are just talking, you can go back with your boyfriend.” The smile is still on his face, yet the words are venomous. 

The reference to Jeongin, snaps you out of reality. Of course, you knew what you were doing by coming here with him… Knew that this was the whole point, to get him back! But being here, seeing the hurt you knowingly caused, doesn’t make you feel good–just sad. 

“Can you just fuck off already?” Felix asks, his words coated in a thunderous anger. “Leave her alone, it’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing,” 

“More like who she’s doing,” Hyunjin says, still smiling at you like this all one big joke, but you know him–you know everything about his heart, the sound of its beat, the amount of time it pounds against his chest when he’s upset about something. It hurts you that he’s acting like this, pretending what you’re doing means nothing to him, even when it so obviously does. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” You hear from behind you, Jeongin’s hands catching yours into his hold and subtly rubbing at your knuckles. You thought he left, hoped he wouldn’t, but thought he did… How grateful you are that he’s still here, next to you and holding your hand like nothing is different than it was twenty minutes ago. 

“Oh, I’m Pathetic?!” Hyunjin cries, staring at where your and Jeongin hands meet. “I’m Pathetic?” he asks again, “You’re the one whose fucking my girlfriend, and I’m pathetic?” He laughs out, an ugly mean thing that brings tears to your eyes. 

All the boys start to yell at him now, telling him to fuck off, that that was too far… But you can’t seem to find your voice. Can’t seem to be able to conjure up any sentence that would accurately portray how you feel–how angry you are, how deeply cut you are that Hyunjin would be doing this.

 How could he do this to you again? How could he suck out all the air in the room every time you see him. 

The noise is rushing back up, people trying to get both Felix and Hyunjin to calm down, and all the while Jeongin is shaking his head and rubbing the stress out of your palms. 

You feel nothing but sadness… 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You whisper, just loud enough for the group to hear you. 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, Hyunjin… I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” You tell him, you can hear him say your name–see him begin to protest, but before he can start, you say again  “I’m not your girlfriend, and you have no right to yell at anyone, not when  you’re the one who fucked everything up.” 

You see him take a deep breath, try to steady himself before he says, 

“C’mon, Sweetheart, don’t do this right now…”

“Me don’t do this?!” You cry, “Are you even listening to yourself?!” Your tears are falling freely now, catching onto your lips. The salty taste is ruining the sweetness of Jeongin, obstructing all the life he gave. “I can’t believe you, seriously–you should go,” 

Hyunjin says your name again, pleading for you to listen to him, but you don’t want to… you can’t, all that is doing is causing you deep aches inside your soul where all your forgotten love resides. 

“Leave her alone, Hyunjin.” Jeongin speaks up, his hold on you becoming more protective as the moment goes on–standing taller and taller as if to hide you from your ex’s view. “Just go home, nothing’s gonna be fixed while you’re like this.” 

Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue again, but one look at his friends makes him stand down, before he walks away–Minho leading him back into the house with an apologetic look at you and a nod to Jeongin. When Chris passes you, he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and that's what does it–that's what brings you to full on sobs, the thought of Chris being even a little disappointed in you. 

“Come on, let's just go home…” Felix tells you, tear tracks still shining on his pretty face. 

“I don’t want to be with you right now,” You tell him. You can hear him try to complain, try to tell you that he was defending you, but you don’t want to hear it. Everytime you look at him, all you see is Hyunjin standing there and looking at you like you were nothing. You just can’t seem to get past the frustration that Felix couldn’t just walk away, even if Hyunjin was being an asshole. 

“Listen, I love you, okay? I don’t know what happened, and honestly I don’t care, I’ll talk to you in the morning, I promise… but I can’t do it anymore.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at your best friend. Lovely Felix, who only ever wants you to be happy. He’s so sad, soul crushed and bleeding, but he understands. Understands in that way he always does, so without anything more than a nod he walks away, pressing his hand to your shoulder as he passes. 

The world is quiet for a moment, dark and honest like you like it, here alone with Jeongin again. All the prior heat is gone, all of intensity leaving the air as soon as everyones gone, and all that remains is Jeongin’s hand in yours and his dark eyes looking down at you. 

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” He whispers, and before you can resist, he’s pulling you through the night.

The diner is achingly familiar in the midnight hour, walking through the doors holding a different boy's hand than all those times before. The warm air is a comfort after trekking through the cold, abandoning the car for a night time walk through the city. 

Jeongin’s hand never left yours, holding you like a wounded bird. You can’t seem to wonder what he must think of you, sullen and sad–what if he doesn’t want you anymore? Now that your heart is shining on your face. 

He leads you into the restaurant, smiling at his coworkers behind the counter and ordering two cherry cokes. When you go to sit down, he sits on the same side of the booth as you, corralling you into his arms once again. You’re all cried out, can’t seem find it in yourself to let anymore of the pesky tears escape, but when he brings you into him–so close you can hear his heart beating, just as wild as the first time you listened to its song–you can’t help but feel like you need to cry again. 

You’re quiet for a long time, listening to each other's breath and sipping on your sugary drink. Your head isn’t cloudy anymore, your heart is no longer so sad… It’s nice, sitting here with him; having a front row seat to his life passing before you. He’s a little awkward, fidgeting with his soda straw and tapping his foot. He’s waiting for you to say something, giving you space and time to break the silence yourself. 

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know” You tell him, your voice scratchy from crying. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to scare you,” Jeongin responds, his arm moving its way up your sleeve and into your hair. “It was so loud before, I wanted to give you some quiet.” 

You can’t help but swoon, can’t help but love the boy in front of you–how sweet he is, how thoughtful. For weeks now, you’ve sat here with him like this–sharing space and time, loving him as a friend before anything else–perfect and pretend. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Innie… I’m stronger than I look.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says, with such honesty that it takes your breath away. 

Jeongin thinks you’re radiant. Has thought so, since the very first time he saw you–snuggled into his friend and laughing at some stupid joke. He’s cared for you longer than you know, longer than he should have… but seeing you here now, holding onto him like he’s the only thing you have… It breaks his heart in two. He wants you to be okay, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe until the storm passes. 

Jeongin doesn’t know when this became real, if it was real on the dancefloor, when he was kissing you and his world stopped. Was it real when you were being yelled at? Or has it been real since that moment in your room? The moment when he saw your heart open up for the first time. He doesn’t know, and honestly he can’t find it in himself to care–Who gives a fuck when it started? It’s real now. 

He is worried about you, that much is true… How could he not, with your makeup ruined and your lip still trembling. You’re still so beautiful, but there's something so very innocent in the way you’re looking at him, like all you want is for him to keep you safe. 

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time now, honey” He tells you, the pet name sweet on his tongue and warm in your ears. “It’s why I hadn’t talked to Hyunjn even before you guys broke up–” He stops to take a deep breath, to look out into the night before he starts again, “You’ve always been so alive, and in the end… every time I saw you with him… you just looked so sad.” 

You try to remember, try to think about the last time you saw him at a get together before you and Hyunjin broke up, but you can’t. Those memories hidden behind months of trying to act like nothing was wrong, like Hyunjin still loved you–like you were happier than ever. 

“I don’t remember seeing you,” You say, “I’m sorry.” 

“I was always seeing you, even before I was supposed to.” 

Oh your darling boy, sweet like candy and so so honest. It strikes you that everything you’ve done all night has gone past pretend, that this boy in front of you might as well truly be your boyfriend. When you think this, all the dread lifts away–seeping out of your bones and washing away as his eyes smile down at you. 

He knows, you think, he knows exactly what you’re thinking–it’s never been pretend, hasn’t been since the minute he stood in your doorway and held you while you slept. 

“You’re everything.” he whispers, and his smile is a thousand suns.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Minjeong yells.

The morning after the party has been a whole thing. Waking up in your bed with Jeongin smiling down at you, cuddled together in your party clothes, peaceful until Minjeong and Chaeryeong burst in to interrogate you about what happened. 

You’re not sure how they got in, even less sure if you want to ask, but they're here now: cuddled up next to you and shoving Ayen out of bed with instructions to make you all coffee. 

“Minnie, I already told you–Hyune was a dick face and made me and Felix cry.” You tell her. 

“That fucking guy, I can’t believe you guys cried… I would’ve just slapped him.” She says, much to the chagrin of you and Chaeryeong. 

“You would not have slapped him, Min.” Chaery says, rolling her eyes as Minjeong insists she would have. 

You find yourself giggling to yourself, laughing at how horrible everything was, and how funny it is now. Last night was horrific, but sitting here with your girls you really see how ridiculous the whole thing was–Hyunjin called you his girlfriend! How silly is that? 

“What are you laughing about, sweet pea?” Felix asks–he’s standing in your doorway, smiling but sullen. Anxiously waiting for an invitation into the room, holding some of the coffee’s Jeongin must’ve made. It hurts you to think about him sitting up all night and waiting for you to forgive him, as if you could ever stay mad at him. 

“Oh nothing, just how ridiculous we all are,” you laugh. “Why are you still standing over there, come on!”  Felix’s smile is incandescent, brighter than you remember it being, and he quickly bounds over to you and the girls. Giggling about how much he missed you even though its only truthfully been a couple hours. 

When Jeongin finally comes back, coffee in his hand and carrying around that 1000 watt smile, you can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world; here in your bed, with all the people you love most in the world… nothing pretend about it. 

The morning is alive and sweet with friendship–Felix and the girls teasing you about Jeongin, and laughing as your face heats up.You can feel him smiling at you, you can feel the heat of his stare soaking into your skin like the sunrise. It’s a tether to reality, the proof that you didn’t make anything up… You’re everything, he said, and what a lovely thing that is–to be so intrinsic to him and his life that that's the only way he can describe you. 

He’s your everything too. 

You find yourself smiling at the thought, closing your eyes in bliss, you can almost hear your heart beating–louder and louder as reality sets in. It’s all real: him, you, this. You can almost see the future, prophetic daydreams passing over your eyelids of what is to come–more of this, of course, but also more–more, more, more. You can see him, laughing in the sun, kissing you under the stars, singing your favorite songs. It will be perfect, lovely and real, and everything. 

When your eyes open, you see Chaeryeong smiling at you–looking at you like she can see every thought buried inside your heart. She loves you, you know that, but seeing her know you can feel it too. How you love her too, even with her silly jokes and mischievous plans. Her eyes flit to where Jeongin’s hand holds yours raising her eyebrows in that familiar way, and she tells you,

“Just pretend my ass,”

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