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[milfhoon]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

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

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

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

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

full wc: 24.3k

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

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

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

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

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you think I meant?” 

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

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

“Why do you need me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

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

“That’s not the original book?” 

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

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

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

“How many movies are there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought you already took it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

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

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

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

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

“That soon?” 

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

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

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

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

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

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

“You’re that confident?” 

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

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

“November 18th.” 

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

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

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

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

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

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

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

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

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BATTERY LOW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

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

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

You done? He mouths. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a car?” 

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

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

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

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

“It has a name?” 

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

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

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

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

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

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

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

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

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

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

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

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

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your phone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not until nine.” 

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

“Soonyoung?” 

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

“How did you know I was here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

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

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have any idea?” 

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

“You are smart.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

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

“Pick an answer.” 

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

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

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it that much?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you get it back?” 

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

“On what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to go?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like I should be asleep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of the bet?” 

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

Coward. 

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

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How long now?” You shout out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

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

169. 

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

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

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

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were supposed to–” 

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

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

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

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

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

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

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

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

He shakes his head. 

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

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

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

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

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

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

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

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

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

“What if he hates me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell no.” 

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

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

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

“I already do.” 

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

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

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

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

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

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we not good?” 

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

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even think about it.” 

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

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

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

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

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[milfhoon]

pairing: soonyoung x female reader

genre: fluff, smut, very little angst

summary: when you met soonyoung, you thought he was probably one of the most annoying people you had ever encountered. the more you found yourself wrapped up in him, that thought didn’t really change. he was still annoying. annoyingly cute, annoyingly charming, and annoyingly exciting. and, before you realized, you were annoyingly in love.

word count: 33.2k (read on browser or desktop. mobile will kill you)

warnings: blowjob, fingering, face fucking, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie, mentions of role-playing.

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[milfhoon]

the importance of being lee chan ;; lch

pairing. lee chan x fem! reader genre. theatre au, college au | fluff, comedy wc. 10k (10.271) warnings. swearing a/n. the fic follows the oscar wilde play "the importance of being earnest" and includes parts of the script. i took those from here! this is not my best work and it feels a bit rushed, but i struggled with this fic a lot so this is the best it's gonna get. i hope you still enjoy nonetheless :)

summary. in your university's adaptation of a famous oscar wilde play, you and lee chan struggle with a fatal part that is bound to ruin everything-- neither of you have mastered the art of a stage kiss.

“Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax,” Soonyoung proposes in a posh tone, one that makes everyone giggle under their breath as they watch from the rows of red seats that create the university theatre. Walking slowly across the whole stage, no stage props yet in sight, since it’s not the premiere day, the oldest student in the whole play gracefully says his lines in one of the last university plays he’ll ever get to act in.

“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous,” Minjeong says, taking the role of Gwendolen, Soonyoung’s in-play love interest. 

“I do mean something else.”

“I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong,” Minjeong shrugs, full of confidence. The role suits her perfectly– there’s no wonder that the charming sophomore got to play the main character in this semester’s play. With her stage presence and the way she holds herself, there’s truly no one else more fit for the role.

“And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell’s temporary absence…”

“I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about,” upon hearing Minejong’s line, the little group of people sitting in the audience snicker, perhaps remembering the times where their own mothers went into their rooms without knocking on the door.

Soonyoung proposes his next lines with fake nervousness, scratching the back of his neck. “Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl… I have ever met since… I met you.”

“Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you,” Minjoeng says, the tone of voice mirroring the matter-of-fact atmosphere she’s trying to portray. Soonyoung, in the role of Jack, stares at her in amazement. “We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love someone of the name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you.”

“You really love me, Gwendolen?” Soonyoung holds a hand at his heart, acting in surprise, emotions running through the character’s body.

“Passionately!”

“Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

“My own Ernest!” Minjeong gasps, getting to the main point of the whole act and the play itself.

“But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Ernest?”

“But your name is Ernest,” Minejong says, stopping in her tracks at the left edge of the stage, looking at Soonyoung with undeniable confidence.

“Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then?”

Minjeong shakes her head in mock disbelief, sighing as she delivers the next line. “Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.”

“Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, I don’t much care about the name of Ernest… I don’t think the name suits me at all,” Soonyoung mumbles, almost identical to the tone he uses when he messes up and tries to cover it up in front of the others.

“It suits you perfectly. It is a divine name. It has a music of its own. It produces vibrations,” Minejong sighs, eyes glimmering even in the singular light you’re allowed to use when you practise the play.

“Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other much nicer names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.”

“Jack?...” Minjeong perks up, looking at Soonyoung. She takes a few seconds to continue, furrowing her brows as she acts lost in thought. “No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations… I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.” 

The way Oscar Wilde managed to predict the very present problem of the J names phenomenon a century before it arised is truly a miracle. No wonder the play feels timeless.

“Gwendolen, I must get christened at once—I mean we must get married at once. There is no time to be lost,” Soonyoung spits with urgency, even throwing his arms up to add more effect. 

“Married, Mr. Worthing?”

“Well… surely. You know that I love you, and you led me to believe, Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me,” Soonyoung says, the tone of voice known to be a well-trained theatre performance. Even if the senior hasn’t practised his lines yet, there’s something about his tone when he says them aloud for the first time that suggests that he was born to be on the stage.

“I adore you. But you haven’t proposed to me yet. Nothing has been said at all about marriage. The subject has not even been touched on.”

“Well… may I propose to you now?” he asks.

“I think it would be an admirable opportunity. And to spare you any possible disappointment, Mr. Worthing, I think it only fair to tell you quite frankly before-hand that I am fully determined to accept you.”

“Gwendolen!”

“Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got to say to me?”

“You know what I have got to say to you.”

“Yes, but you don’t say it.”

“Gwendolen, will you marry me?” Soonyoung finally asks, getting on his knees. 

“Of course I will, darling. How long you have been about it! I am afraid you have had very little experience in how to propose,” Minjeong sighs, shaking her head.

“My own one, I have never loved anyone in the world but you,” Soonyoung dreamily explains, still kneeling on the ground.

“Yes, but men often propose for practice. I know my brother Gerald does. All my girl-friends tell me so. What wonderfully blue eyes you have, Ernest! They are quite, quite, blue. I hope you will always look at me just like that, especially when there are other people present,” Minjeong dramily exclaims, her tone getting more and more exciting.

Shin Ryujin enters the stage, the hunch in her figure not yet endorsed by the costume of an old lady, making her quite funny to look at. 

“Mr. Worthing! Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent posture. It is most indecorous.”

“Mamma!” Minjeong exclaims, almost a little terrified.

“Aaand cut!” the loud voice of none other than Boo Seungkwan, the leader of the theatre club and the self-proclaimed director (although no one had enough courage to nominate somebody else), cuts through the small theatre, making the actors relax in their positions and turn Seungkwan’s way, awaiting his directions.

Sitting back in your little red seat, watching the director march up the scene, murmuring something under his breath to Ryujin, the newbie that just entered the club, you hear your friend Mingyu mutter something into your ear in the dark, making you turn your head to him.

“Huh?” you ask, not hearing his question through your dear director’s exclamations echoing through the space.

“I said this play reminds me of you,” he giggles under his breath, making you furrow your brows. 

Your childhood friend really can be confusing with his remarks sometimes. Not understanding his comment, you lean closer to him, not to break the sacred silence of the theatre, and also not to annoy any of the other actors sitting on various seats scattered all across the theatre, waiting for their turn to practice, and ask him for a clarification.

“What do you mean by that?”

“With the whole Ernest obsession,” he says, his white teeth sparkling under the dim light that is shining down on the stage.

“What?” you snap again, only furrowing your brows further, still not getting his point.

“Don’t you remember your Chan obsession?”

Finally getting what he means, all while cursing the boy for knowing you for so long and for having such a good memory, you roll your eyes with a sigh. “Mingyu-”

“When in middle school you watched that drama and got so obsessed with the main character Chan that when you-”

“Mingyu shut up-” you hurriedly try to stop him, just in case someone’s listening to you in the almost empty theatre. The man doesn’t listen to you, though, and keeps on rambling, the grin on his face only growing deeper as he realises the amount of embarrassment he’s making you feel by remembering memories of yourself.

“That when you met Lee Chan in middle school, you forced yourself to have a crush on him even though you didn’t even know anything about him in the first place?”

“Kim Mingyu I told you to shut the fuck up!” you yell out, not able to bear the ick you’re getting anymore and wanting to get it out of your system and never listen to a word about this incident ever again, because Mingyu is right– you didn’t know the poor boy. You just knew his name, and that surely was not a valid reason to be the object of your conversations during lunch break with your dear best friend now sitting on your side.

The eyes of everyone in the whole room turn to you, heat rising to your cheeks as you see Seungkwan gasp, his mouth already open to scream at you as loud as he can, because, well, the position of the director gives him the permission to do so any time he pleases, as long as you’re in the theatre.

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N!” he yells out, making the rest of the actors laugh out at his outburst, for it’s always fun to see their beloved director frustrated. “This is not your house, we’re trying to act here!”

Battling your laugh, because frankly speaking, the vein that rises on his forehead whenever he screams at someone in frustration is the best sight you could get after a long day of schoolwork, you hold your hand up in apology. “I’m sorry! Go on!”

Burrowing yourself deeper into the seat, kicking your friend in the shin as he just won’t stop laughing under his breath, you try to erase the memory of your silly crush on Lee Chan,

because, well… he’s sitting only a few rows under you, waiting for his turn to practice his next scene with you as his character’s lover.

“So, what exactly is the reason behind all of this?” Mingyu asks, sitting next to you in one of the red booths of the McDonald’s that’s the closest to your university building.

“Team building,” Seungkwan says, counting up all the people on his hands so he can order the exact amount of big cokes, furrowed brows and all, full of concentration.

“So why am I here, then?” Vernon, the tech guy asks. Chwe Vernon is one of the quieter kids in the theatre extracurricular– the one that never acts, but always takes care of all the lights and sound effects– but he’s one of the group nonetheless. His presence isn’t always noticed, but once he opens his mouth and truly says something, the likelihood of everyone losing their mind over how funny his remarks can be is higher than with anyone else in the group.

“I said team building, what’s not clicking?” Seungkwan mutters, obviously already done with the whole setting.

The director disappears with Chan– his right hand, as one would say– to the counter, ordering the never-ending list of Coca Cola and fries, ignoring all the other requests on various burgers and McFlurries, because, well, his memory is not that good and he really can’t be arsed with writing it down, while the whole group remains seated, conversating together about various topics. The girls catch up on the new gossip, and the boys, well… They do as well, because frankly speaking, they’re theatre kids as well. What else would they talk about?

And when the director comes back with his self-assigned secretary Lee Chan, holding two trays full of beverages, the chatter won’t die down even when the poor leader of the theatre team tries to calm everyone down with a loud clap of his hands.

“Will everyone shut up already?” Seungkwan hisses, finally making everyone remain silent for at least a few seconds as they try to battle the laughter trying to battle its way out of their lungs. 

“See, Seungkwan? This whole team building thing wasn’t even necessary, we have good chemistry even without it,” Mingyu teases from his seat next to you, making everyone giggle and hum in agreement, because, well, you’ve known each other for at least a while already. Most of you hang out regularly, divided into few groups or pairs of people, but sometimes, even those encounters overlap and you’re forced to hang out with the whole group as well. It’s not like you’re strangers, after all. 

“Trust me on this,” Seungkwan mutters, “there’s definitely some bond making we have to do, and I’m the director, I know.”

“Here he comes again with the director card,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath, making Minjeong laugh next to him, earning herself a sharp glare from the poor, bullied Seungkwan.

Distributing the drinks in between all the members of the extracurricular, Seungkwan manages to regain his composure and talk with his usual announcer-like voice again, leading the group and having everything under control. “So, the point of this team building is to get to know better the person you’ll have the most interactions with on the stage, so it doesn’t look awkward and out of place. That’s why I want you all to get to pair with the person you’re acting with the most, and then, we’ll proceed with the activity I prepared for today!” 

The almost kindergarten teacher-esque excitement in Seungkwan makes you giggle out loud before you realise the true intention of today’s hang-out. Because, well… as Lee Chan’s lover in the play, you are surely going to spend the most time on stage with him. Something inside of you is telling you that Seungkwan gathered everyone here because of you two, since you and Chan don’t know each other that well, which, admittedly, resulted in your last rehearsal looking awkward and out-of-place. You’re usually very professional, you see– you’ve acted with almost everyone in the room so far, and you never had any trouble with it, since the atmosphere in the theatre and in the rehearsals was always pleasing and welcoming; but with Chan, it’s different. You are all tense and nervous, palms sweaty and memory hazy with the next line. 

Absent-mindedly moving your place so you’re next to Chan, you’re now facing Soonyoung and Minjeong, the couple, and Ning and Ryujin, although not appearing on the stage together as often, being paired up together, since Soonyoung and Minjeong are getting priority as the main cast. Doing mental gymnastics on how to be less awkward around your crush from middle school, your train of thought is suddenly cut off by a whine coming from the middle of the U-shaped booth. 

“Why am I getting paired up with Vernon? He’s not even in the play!” Mingyu says, earning himself a snarky grin from Seungkwan, still standing at the top of the table.

“Because you’re playing the priest, Mingyu. Do better next time and you won’t have to do team building with the tech guy.”

Snickering at the comment, you take a sip from the coke in front of you, your hands anxiously holding the cup to ground yourself. Bumping your knee up and down in nerves, your eyes meet with Mingyu’s, a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows making you roll your eyes as you look over to Seungkwan, who’s now on the mission of explaining the next step.

“Now, you’re going to share at least three fun facts about yourself with the person you paired up with! And make them fun and random, I don’t want to see any boredom in here,” he says, clapping his hands together to set off the start of the game.

“Oh god,” you mutter under your breath, sighing heavily as you put your head into your hands on the table, already hating the whole encounter. You’re bad at this, you’re very, terribly bad at this; for you think there’s nothing fun about you or the miserable state your life is in at the moment, and you don’t find anything interesting enough to tell to someone you so deeply admired in middle school. Yes, you could tell Mingyu that the whole crush thing was fake and you just made it up because his name was identical to the character in the drama, but at the end of the day, you think that the name was only the spark that made your whole obsession with the said boy real. Again, you didn’t know him well– nor do you know him well now, but still; that didn’t stop the past you from liking him in the slightest.

“Got any fun facts you wanna share?” Chan perks up from beside you, making you turn your attention to him. He’s sitting next to you, back resting against the booth, a smile sitting on his lips that makes his eyes crinkle up and make him look boyish and adorable. 

Shrugging, you shake your head. “I’m not good with fun facts. Do you have any?”

“I sure do,” he says, nodding, making you laugh. There’s something about his whole careless aura that makes you feel all giddy inside– the way he always somehow looks like he’s acting, the adrenaline of being on the stage, being the centre of attention, never escaping the boy and leaving him looking as if he was excited to be here. 

“Go ahead,” you say, trying to make yourself relax as much as you can, resting your back against the booth as well, crossing your arms at your chest.

“So,” he starts off, “I am a big fan of Michael Jackson,” he says, looking you dead in the eye. Blinking a few times, you almost awaken your inner Seungkwan (because when you’re around him so much, his characteristics tend to rub off on you. You catch yourself yelling at Mingyu a little too much after you spend some time with the said director, and while you don’t think it’s healthy or fair, you’re not actively trying to stop this behaviour either), with how your consciousness is screaming at your companion that this is not a fun fact at all. 

“And…?” you ask, trying to find the fun behind the, very much boring fact.

“I’m… also really scared of Michael Jackson,” he completes, making you even more confused. Amazed, you furrow your brows, trying to make him explain further.

“You see, he’s cool, and I even wanted to be a singer because of him! But when I look at him, he creeps me the fuck out,” he says, over-exaggarating his every word, making you subtly widen the corners of your mouth into a grin, “I had sleep paralysis once, and all I saw at the foot of my bed was Michael Jackson, laughing with that creepy hee-hee laugh, I swear to god I almost peed my pants!”

Staring at him, completely silent, you suddenly break out into a hysterical laughter, imagining the poor boy laying in his bed, not able to move as his biggest idol and his biggest fear all in one is not letting him sleep or move. “Did that fear start with that incident?”

“No!” he laughs, his face totally serious, only making you laugh more. “That’s what made the whole thing even more terrifying!”

Not being able to stop your laughter, clinging to your stomach as it’s starting to hurt a little from how much you’re laughing, something sparks inside of your mind that only adds fuel to the fire that is your uncontrollable contractions. “You know what’s funny? Wanna know what my favourite animal is?”

“What is it?” he asks, calming down only a little as he asks you with widened eyes, trying to puzzle out why you’re suddenly mentioning this as a fun fact.

“A worm,” you say.

Now is his turn to blink at you in confusion mixed with concern, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s strange as it is, but I imagine there’s a punchline to this.”

“Yeah. Wanna know what my biggest fear is?” you say, sounding almost in agony from how the casual conversation is torturing you with uncontrollable laughter.

“What?”

“Worms.” you say, already feeling tears falling down your cheeks, seeing the boy absolutely lose his mind. Silently biting down on his lower lip, trying to battle the laughter that wants to come out of his chest, he snickers.

“That makes zero sense,” he whispers in despair.

“It does! One worm is adorable, but- but multiple! Multiple worms is fucking terrifying, dude!” you mourn out, stumbling over your words, as you hear Seungkwan cut your conversation off with a raised voice, noting that he doesn’t like the way it’s going right now.

“I see Chan and Y/N-ie successfully managed to complete their mission with telling fun facts, from how much fun they’re having, but for the love of god, the rest of us can’t even hear our thoughts right now-”

“Don’t ruin our conversation, thank you very much-”

“Okay then, we’ll see how your acting progresses after this team-building!” Seungkwan announces, looking you sharply in your eyes, noting that,  after all, this whole meeting was initiated by your poor acting when you were met with the eyes of Lee Chan in one of the confession scenes in the play.

And suddenly, the smile is wiped off your face as you remember the terror you face every time you read the script. 

You’re afraid that no amount of team building will be able to make you feel better about this.

It’s Tuesday, 4:21pm, exactly three weeks before the big premiere. You’ve been rehearsing the play every day, little scrapes and scenes all scattered along the way, being perfected with the help of Seungkwan. Yes, he might be bullied and teased, but his position is still respected. What he says goes, and if your acting isn’t good enough for him, it’s most likely just not good at all. You’ve been rehearsing your scenes with Ning, Soonyoung and Chan the whole month; since this time around, you only got two months to prepare for the premiere– knowing the dialogues by heart by now, remembering them word-by-word, the tone of voice and the way you’re supposed to act them out a muscle memory to you by now; until finally, it’s time to rehearse the parts you didn’t do so well on over and over again, until Seungkwan isn’t satisfied.

“Oh, I merely came back to water the roses. I thought you were with Uncle Jack,” you say, standing on the stage, seeing Chan enter the scene.

“He’s gone to order the dog-cart for me.”

“Oh, is he going to take you for a nice drive?” you ask, tone of voice so oblivious, fitting for the character of Cecily that you’re supposed to act. You pity the poor woman a little, for you feel like if she was born in this century, she wouldn’t survive a day without getting scammed by someone on the street.

“He’s going to send me away.”

“Then have we got to part?” you gasp, frowning.

“I am afraid so. It’s a very painful parting,” Chan proposes, coming close to you. The way he acts is so convincing, looking as natural as ever in his character. Sometimes, you wonder why he’s not in the main cast, but at the same time, you can’t really imagine him in the role of Jack. Algernon suits him much more, with his quick wit and a personality of a cunning fox shining through even when he’s supposed to be somebody else.

“It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almost unbearable,” you say, despair written all over your features. This quote is almost the most memorable to you from the whole play, for it’s, frankly speaking, not only a rare occurance of smart words coming out of Cecily’s mouth, but also words you can relate to and frown upon in real life.

“I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection,” Chan, in the role of Algernon proposes, his voice sweet as honey and his eyes an honest pool of adoration.

Sometimes, it’s hard to piece out acting and reality when you’re around Chan. He always looks so in his element, even when he’s off-stage, that the words uttered out of his mouth make goosebumps appear all over your skin, the confession making you undoubtedly hot in your cheeks. In this moment, no matter how many times you rehearse it over and over again, you always have to remind yourself that it’s just acting. It’s not real.

Although your middle school self would desire for it to be the opposite way.

“I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary,” you say, going over to the table and beginning to write into a small, black-covered diary prepared close to you on stage-left.

“Do you really keep a diary? I’d give anything to look at it. May I?” 

“Oh no,” you put your hand over it, trying to keep the contents a secret, “you see, it is simply a very young girl’s record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don’t stop. I delight in taking down from dictation. I have reached ‘absolute perfection’. You can go on. I am quite ready for more.”

Somewhat taken aback, Chan takes a step back and clears his throat. “Ahem! Ahem!”

“Oh, don’t cough, Ernest! When one is dictating one should speak fluently and not cough. Besides, I don’t know how to spell a cough!” you announce, hearing a snicker from the audience, although, not knowing who it came from, since the single light blinds you enough for you to not see.

“Cecily, ever since I first looked upon your wonderful and incomparable beauty, I have dared to love you wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly…” Chan says with undoubted poeticness behind the script, tone of voice big, flying across the space.

“I don’t think that you should tell me that you love me wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?” you say, still in the role of Cecily, enough to ruin the moment. 

“Cecily!”

“Good!” Seungkwan yells from under the stage, cutting you off. “Now, we’ll skip all the way to the end of the scene, since this looks neat. Starting from….” he mutters, flipping the script in his hands over, trying to find the exact moment he wants to see, “from ‘but was our engagement ever broken off?’!”

Getting to the position on the stage, a few steps to the right, kneeling. You clear your throat before you hear Chan repeat the same replica again, getting ready for the scene you fear so much.

“Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can see the entry if you like,” you say, showing the boy the diary. He looks at it with sparkling eyes, almost making you adore him twice as much as you ever did, before you propose with even more melodramaticness that’s so suited to the role of Cecily, “‘To-day I broke off my engagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so. The weather still continues charming.’”

“But why on earth did you break it off? What had I done? I had done nothing at all. Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was so charming,” Chan asks, concerned. 

“It would hardly have been a really serious engagement if it hadn’t been broken off at least once. But I forgave you before the week was out,” you say, matter-of-factly.

Chan comes closer to you, your heart speeding up in your chest with the knowledge of the next scene.  “What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.”

“You dear, romantic boy,” you say, seeing Chan get even closer to you.

See, no matter the amount of team building, trust, or deepening your friendship with the boy, the image of kissing him on stage scares you. And no, it’s not only because of the blunt incest of the original play that you all chose to ignore for the comedy of it all, it’s also mainly because Lee Chan still makes you nervous all around, and with the idea of everyone watching you kiss the boy you dreamt of in middle school– even though it’s just a fake, theatre kiss– scares you deeply. 

Leaning in a calculated way, so your head is shown towards the stage a little more, your lips not really seen to the crowd, you act out the kiss. The awkwardness of it all chases you down, making droplets of sweat appear on the top of your forehead, when Chan refuses to have eye contact with you, making the whole encounter more bearable, but also more nerve-wracking as well. And when you’re finally glad it’s over, leaning away from the one and only kiss in the whole play, satisfied with the outcome, all of the sudden, you hear an agitating, grating voice pierce through your eardrums.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this was absolutely terrible. I felt the awkwardness in my bones! You call yourselves professionals?” Seungkwan hisses, making you instantly roll your eyes– the natural response, really– as he enters the stage. “The kiss was so visibly fake and unnatural that it made me cringe from the depths of my bones!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do!” Chan yells out, visibly offended as he stands up from his place.

“Learn how to act it more realistically! You can’t just act like this after the good performance you just did!” Seungkwan mutters, throwing his arms in the air.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, not being able to bite through the uncomfort and awkwardness it makes you feel, you shrug with despair. 

“Get off my stage. Mingyu! You’re next! And you two,” he says as you stumble down the stairs on the edge of the stage, “have some homework to do.”

Glaring at the director, you only resolve to a sigh. “Ay ay, captain!”

Sitting at the floor in one of the rooms at the back of the theatre– the room that gets used for costumes, leaving you in the mess of various fabric and scrapped ideas– looking at the face of your best friend sitting in front of you on the spare armchair, you realise that this probably wasn’t the best idea.

Lee Chan is sitting next to you, picking at the skin of his cuticles, and you suddenly feel like two children that got scolded and sent to the principal’s office for breaking the rules and running through the hallway. The embarrassment and nervousness in you only makes you sweat– which, in fault, makes you even more nervous and hesitant– when a cough is sent your way by Kim Mingyu, a sign to finally do or say anything that would make the whole situation way less weird.

“Okay, so…” you mutter out, “shall we start?” 

Chan’s eyes shoot up towards you, licking his lips as he nods and furrows his brows. “I mean, sure…”

Not moving an inch, staying in your position, the room suddenly goes still and you feel like someone just stopped the video that is currently premiering your life in a live stream right in front of your eyes. It’s like your brain shut off for a second, too overwhelmed with emotion that it lagged mid-movement, when Mingyu kicks your outstretched leg and yelps out in frustration. 

“Come on! Do anything, I don’t have the whole day,” he huffs out, rolling his eyes at you two.

“I don’t know how to start!” you yell out, finally speaking the truth now, followed by a nervous laughter that is imitated by the boy sitting next to you, as if to make the whole situation less awkward.

“You two called me here to watch you fake kiss, so do that! I didn’t sign up to sit around in silence, I have better things to do,” Mingyu scowls, making you kick his leg.

“Yeah? Like what?” you bite back, watching him with stern eyes. 

“I… I could-”

“Exactly,” you promptly say, pouting out your lower lip as you crack your knuckles and turn your body towards Chan, “now, back to what we’re here for…”

“Do you want to start it with the replica or do we just… go straight to it?” Chan asks, making you shrug.

“I think we can just go for it,” you suggest, “we know the whole script by heart by now, it’s the kiss part that’s making us struggle.”

“Okay, so,” Chan moves a little further back, glancing behind him so he doesn’t move too far back and collide with the stationary that’s situated in the corner of the room, “we’re… in this kind of position… aren’t we?” 

Nodding, you feel your heart speeding up with the incoming motion, noticing Chan already leaning towards you. You don’t have much time to prepare yourself for the next step, so when it happens, you naturally move away a little as he leans in, and Mingyu yells out in frustration.

“What was that supposed to be? I thought you were supposed to act like you’re kissing, why’d you move away?!”

“Shut up,” you grunt, feeling heat rising in your cheeks, “I just got surprised.”

“Okay, again!” Mingyu yells out, taking advantage of the position of a director that usually falls on Seungkwan. 

Breathing in and out heavily, you move to your original position, letting Chan lead the scene, as he would in the original script anyway. Standing still, the boy leans forward to you, until your faces are only a few centimetres away from each other, your eyes wide open and staring into his. Biting down on your lower lip, trying to surpass the nervous laughter, you already hear Mingyu’s orders from behind.

“Maybe come a little closer to each other? You seem to be too far away from the back.”

Doing as you’re told, your faces inch towards each other a little more, so much your noses almost touch, you stay still in your position. 

“Can you lean your head to the side a bit? So it looks more natural! You look like statues right now,” Mingyu chirps, letting you two to move your heads to the side at the same time, making you snicker at the automatic response.

Moving away so you can try again, you get closer to each other and you let Chan lean a little to the right, inching closer. Your noses brush against each other, making droplets of sweat appear all over your lower back, your palms now a bottomless pool of liquid from how nerve-wrecking the whole situation is. Something in the back of your head is screaming at you to either cross the distance between you two or to move away completely, yet, you can’t do either, stuck in the situation that is admittedly, making you a little light-headed.

You wonder if you’d feel this way with anyone else. Thinking of sitting around like this with Soonyoung, your lips almost touching, you almost giggle; you don’t think it would be awkward to have a kissing scene with the skilled senior. The same goes for Mingyu– the awkwardness is just not there, the only thing left is a playful aura that leaves you feeling comfortable and safe. 

But with Lee Chan in the position of your love interest, you feel yourself getting weak in your knees and hesitant in all your actions. This is not a replica you can repeat all over and over again alone in your room until you get it right. This is a kissing scene you have to rehearse with the person; an intimate, although fake, situation that leaves you breathless just by seeing him in front of you from so up-close, leaving you to count his eyelashes and roam your eyes all over his face, studying him to the last detail.

You don’t dare to give a name to these feelings. You’d feel like you’re in middle school again.

“Okay, good! I like this one,” Mingyu says, “now, try it again, from the top!”

Letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding in, leaning away from the male, you try to relax your shoulders and make yourself less tense. Awaiting his next move, you see him wipe his hands on his pants, a gesture that makes you relax the tiniest bit, since it means he’s just as nervous as you are about the whole encounter. Watching him take a big breath in and out, he slowly inches towards you again, his face growing closer and closer.

Getting lost in his eyes, the situation almost feels too real. He looks so gentle, so pretty, and as your orbs wander down to his lips– although a little chapped– he seems too inviting to let go. Giving in, you close your eyes, a natural reflex before a kiss, awaiting his lips on yours.

“Yo, why did you close your eyes!” Chan yells out in surprise, laughing at your face. 

Too embarrassed to say anything, you just put your hands into your hair, ready to tug at it in frustration as you swing your body back and let yourself lay on the ground of the costume room, grunting.

“You know what? I can’t do this. I don’t care if Seungkwan chases me down a street with a chainsaw because the whole thing looked too awkward to his critical eyes, I am just not doing this anymore!”

Letting your best friend monitor your fake kiss with the boy you used to have a crush on (while unknowingly feeling just the same around him as when you were just twelve) truly wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Everyone, to your places! I don’t want anyone still on the toilet while they’re supposed to be on stage! Ready, set, action!” Seungkwan announces in panic. It’s the last day before the premiere happens– which means it’s time for a costume rehearsal. You’re going to do the whole play, with all stage decorations, lighting and costumes, in the same exact order as the script; just like you would on the actual premiere, just this time, there is no audience.

You only had two months to prepare this time, but you don’t doubt that everyone’s ready. Soonyoung, the main lead, is a professional, after all. Minjeong is a born talent, Chan is a natural– cunning and charming; Ryujin and Ning have enough experience for the roles they were given, Mingyu, although a little messy at times, is perfect for his role of the priest, and you… you are almost 99.9% sure you’ve got down everything except from the cursed kiss scene.

Couldn’t Seungkwan just scratch it from the original script? Wouldn’t it be better if there was no kiss at all? Is it really necessary?

No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you and Chan met up in the back rooms with Mingyu, trying to make the kiss look natural; no matter how many times you and Chan hanged out together in the McDonald’s right after, getting food and getting closer, there is still something that’s keeping you from doing it perfectly.

You almost stumble over your words after, or you don’t lean in too close– afraid of falling hard for the boy if you did– or you simply just freeze in your spot, looking stern and awkward. Your only luck is that Seungkwan hasn’t wanted to rehearse the scene since the last time, so he still hasn’t seen the devastating state your acting is in every time you try this specific part out.

You’re 100% sure you’d be kicked out of the play if he saw it. You don’t really know who else he’d cast, since the theatre extracurricular is not the most popular one, but you’re sure he’d find a way. He might as well do that, you know– you’ll save yourself the torture.

Standing in the back, hidden behind the red curtain, Mingyu approaches you and watches the scene. Soonyoung and Minjeong are currently playing their roles of Jack and Gwendolen, the main characters, as they meet for the first time. They look natural, making you notice that this is exactly how you imagined it when you read the script, their acting hitting all the right points you wanted to experience when seeing the play come to life. 

“You know, Y/N, in my whole life, I’ve never seen you swoon over a man this much,” Mingyu whispers into your ear, making you furrow your brows at him in confusion.

“What? I’m not into Soonyoung,” you mumble, quiet enough to not be heard by Seungkwan in the audience, or anyone else waiting in the back for their time to shine in the last rehearsal.

“I don’t know if you’re really that dumb or if it’s all just acting,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, his offensive remarks not even making you bat an eye anymore, since gentle bullying is one of your main ways of showing affection to each other.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good actor…” you snicker, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you, smirking.

“Yeah,” he nods, “but you’re doing pretty badly in The importance of being Lee Chan, your latest play,” he teases you. Now is your time to roll your eyes at him and act innocent, maybe even a bit oblivious to his remark. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper silently, a matter-of-fact tone in your voice, not meeting eyes with your best friend.

Clicking his tongue, Mingyu only shakes his head at you. “Even the blind can see how you’re head over heels for him again,” he notes, “are you going to ask him out this time around?”

“No, Mingyu,” you huff, “I’m not.”

“Why? You can finally come full circle and fulfil your Chan obsession from middle school-”

“Seriously, Mingyu,” you start, voice full of irony, “I need you to shut the fuck up.”

Snickering at your reply– presumably because he’s right about his assumptions– Mingyu doesn’t speak any further about the topic. You would be stupid to think that he wouldn’t notice. You’ve known each other for so long now that it would be pretty much impossible for him to not notice– he knows you like the palm of his hand. It’s only comfortable to act stupid and like you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

It’s your turn in no time, after Soonyoung and Minjeong are done with their replicas with no issue, with a few appearances of Ryujin and Ning in the side roles. When it’s your time to shine, everything goes smoothly.

You act your scenes as Cecily with no problem. The replicas are engraved into your brain, the gestures and expressions rehearsed to the point of no coming back, your interactions with Chan on stage looking natural and smooth. It’s easier to concentrate on the script when he’s not so close to you, but even with the growing proximity of your bodies, you manage to keep your cool.

All up until the kiss scene arises, of course.

As soon as you hear the words: “What a perfect angel you are, Cecily,” uttered out of Lee Chan’s perfectly-shaped lips, your heart speeds up and you’re suddenly weak in your knees again, feeling like a hopeless teenager. 

Maybe you should just quit right here and now. 

But it’s too late to pull out of your role now, a day before the premiere. So, instead, you continue with the script, just like rehearsed. “You dear, romantic boy,” you say, already noticing Chan getting closer to you as he crouches on the ground next to you.

It’s time for the kiss; his figure leans into you, his head only a little to the right, noses almost touching as your breath hitches in your throat. The kiss is supposed to be short and sweet, and after a few seconds, it’s your turn to pull away and continue on, fully immersed in your role of Cecily. Pulling your fingers through his hair, just like you were told to do in the script, you smile at him as you stand up and speak to him again.

“I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?” you ask.

“Yes, darling,” Chan– Algernon replies, nodding, “with a little help from others.”

Relaxing your shoulders, glad the torture is finally over and the kiss scene is behind you, you’re surprised to be able to continue with no loud comments from the director himself, cursing you for acting so strangely and unrealistically. It almost hits you with a wave of uncontrollable euphoria, thinking you finally did it; but when you glance into the audience and meet eyes with Boo Seungkwan, his expression looks like he was just forced to drink a full jar of pickle juice.

You don’t need him to scream at you in agony again. You know you did badly even without his comments.

Doing your makeup in the back room, illuminated by the ugly yellow lights stacked around the mirror of the stationary, much like in Hollywood movies, your heart is beating loudly against your ribcage. Smearing lip gloss over your lips, you catch notice of Ning sitting next to you on one of the small folding chairs, visibly hyperventilating.

“So many people came!” she yelps out. “I saw a glimpse when I was passing to the back rooms and I think the whole theatre is full! This has never happened before!”

“I’m pretty sure Soonyoung told all his other mates to come, since it’s his last play,” Mingyu mumbles from the sofa situated in the very middle of the room, already in his costume and ready for the premiere.

“That means Choi Seungcheol is here?” Ryujin gasps, turning around on the little stool in front of the second stationary, drawing wrinkles onto her face. 

“Most likely,” Mingyu nods, “I saw Yoon Jeonghan in the back row, he’s probably somewhere there with him.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Ryujin cries, throwing the little makeup brush onto the table. “Choi Seungcheol is here and I have to look like a fucking grandma!”

Snickering from beside her, Minjeong adds more blush to her cheeks– courtesy of the main role– earning herself a nudge to her ribs from her frowning friend. “You’re only laughing ‘cause you’re hot as fuck! Imagine how I feel!”

Rolling your eyes at the girls, you screw the applicator of the lip gloss back on, done with your makeup. Your blush is a little more dramatic than usual, but it’s important to over-exaggerate both your makeup and your expressions when you’re on stage, so they’re seen even by the audience sitting in the very back row. Standing up from the folding chair, you take your designated place next to Mingyu on the dusty, old sofa and fold your arms on your chest, careful not to crease your costume– a light orange dress with ruffled sleeves that goes up to your knees; a modest look for the dearest Cecily.

The door opens, and in walks the other main star of the whole evening. Lee Chan bashfully closes the door behind him as he feels the eyes of everyone on him– presumably because of the mess that’s going on at the top of his head.

“Why does your hair look like Shin ramen?” Ning asks, grinning to herself as the boy slungs himself across the dressing room, sighing.

“Look, I was told to sleep with hair curlers in, because, quoting, ‘Algernon is supposed to have luscious, curly hair’, but then I took them out and now I look like an idiot,” he mutters, scowling as he passes by his own reflection in one of the mirrors, making the whole room burst out in laughter.

“Come here, you dummy,” you snicker, watching as he walks over to you. Holding out your hand, you notice him leaning down so you can do something about it as you run your fingers through the tight curls, making them more loose and presentable in front of the audience.

As soon as you’re done and Chan is happy with the way he looks in the mirror, he looks at you as if you were a magician, mouth agape in surprise. 

“You have to brush them out a little, you know,” you explain, making the boy’s eyes light up like lightbulbs as he nods in understatement.

“Oh so that’s how it works!” he gasps.

Looking at the boy in front of you, you almost squeak out in adoration. He looks extra adorable with his hair in loose waves, and the simple outfit– a tan, linen button-down tucked into simple black pants makes his figure look insanely attractive. His lips are a little glossy and there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes– presumably from the adrenaline from the incoming play. There’s just something about him that makes your heart and soul scream his name.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone else. That’s the importance of Lee Chan in your life, I guess.

“Everyone!” Seungkwan claps his hands together as he enters the dressing room, followed by Soonyoung already dressed in his costume, stage-ready. “We’re starting in 5 minutes! 5 minutes, I repeat. Hope you’re all ready, get to your places!” 

His voice resonates through the small space, his body already turning around to escape the room, before he quite literally turns on his heel and looks at everyone again. “Break a leg, everyone! I know you’ll do great. Don’t be nervous and have fun!” This is one of the rare times when Seungkwan���s caring and enthusiastic side comes out– you think he’s just sappy because the end of an era is coming to an end. You almost pout and run to hug him, when he snaps into his usual state and turns around to look at everyone once again, for the last time. “But don’t you dare anyone fuck it up. I’ll kill you if you do.”

The whole room goes into a frantic furry. Even the calmest ones get more and more nervous, the adrenaline finally kicking in everyone’s blood system. Pacing around, gathering the last props, checking themselves out in the mirror for the last time, the dressing room empties itself out as the lights go out on the stage, signalling the beginning of the play. Standing around backstage, hidden by the curtains, a couple of nervous bodies swing from side to side in a nervous manner, awaiting their moment to step on the stage and act.

Glancing out of the curtain, you notice the theatre full– just like Ning mentioned. It’s a surprise, because usually, there’s a few rows empty, and some places in between the seats are vacant. You guess Soonyoung really bribed his friends and classmates to come. Something about the full audience makes you desire to do well. 

It’s like you have to prove yourself in front of everyone. All attention will be on you, over a hundred hungry eyes watching your every move on the stage. You can’t fuck it up– you’d be too embarrassed to go on with your life if you did.

Suddenly, there’s a light shining down in the middle of the stage, Chan and Renjun– the boy they casted to play Lane at the last minute– walk out and begin the first act.

Only a few moments pass before Soonyoung enters in his role of Jack, as the two of them converse and start the main plot line. Watching the scene unfold in front of your eyes, as if you haven’t read the script a thousand times before and haven’t seen the rehearsals for two months straight, you enjoy every second of one of the most famous plays by Oscar Wilde in your extracurricular’s take.

The scenes unfold right in front of your very eyes, the characters on the stage switch around, letting you enter and act out your own replicas, accompanied by Ning in the role of Miss Prism. You can’t say you feel as if you were one with your character, but you definitely had fun with acting it. It’s not every day you get such a peculiar vocabulary and such a dainty character to play, after all.

Escaping the stage for a moment, feeling out of breath, you find yourself standing backstage with Chan by your side, the mortal scene coming to you both. Looking over at him, seeing the curve of his nose and the edge of his jaw, noticing the way his hair falls into his face and the gentle hint of a smile playing with his lips, your mind operates on autopilot as you are reminded with Seungkwan’s warning in the dressing room– you must not fuck this up.

“Chan?” 

“Hm?” 

“Kiss me for real this time,” you say, seeing the boy snap his head towards you, confusion written all over his face.

“What?”

“In the next scene. Kiss me for real,” you mumble, listening to the last replica uttered out of Soonyoung’s mouth, making you and Chan hurriedly enter the stage, not leaving him any time to ask you any further questions about your sudden request.

Maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you just wanted to look good on stage, maybe you just really wanted to do well. Or maybe…. Maybe you just selfishly wanted a reason to kiss him for real this time. The endless temptation and tension you felt when your faces were so close was slowly driving you insane, and this was your last opportunity to do something about it before you and Chan lose contact again after the premiere. 

You wanted to kiss him at least once.

The second act is long before the actual kiss happens, and you’re able to kick it out of your mind for the time being. Flowing through the replicas with ease and some good old-fashioned theatrical dramaticness, you enjoy yourself before the moment finally comes again. 

This time, you’ll make it believable. Boo Seungkwan can count on that.

“What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.”

The cue was told. It makes your heart speed up again, much like every single time, the nerves pooling in the palms of your hands.

“You dear, romantic boy,” you reply. Chan gets closer to you, leaning in. You can see him hesitate, you almost hear your own words resonating through his head over and over again, so loud that everyone in the whole room can hear, before he looks at your lips for a mere second, copying his previous act.

Just as you two rehearsed, his head leans a bit to the right, his palm holds the apple of your cheek, his nose nudges yours, before he takes the next step and solidifies the realisticness of the scene with a real kiss, pressing his lips against yours, your lipgloss mixing with the lipbalm you saw him put on in the dressing room before you left.

The kiss is short, just like the script said it should be, but it’s long enough for you to take in every single detail. The way his lips moved against yours with gentleness, almost a tender-like moment making you forget about your surroundings for a minute. You closed your eyes again this time; yet, he didn’t make fun of you like he did when Mingyu was around. He tasted of minty toothpaste and the green tea candy you keep in a bowl in the dressing room. Your knees go weak again– but now, it happened rightfully.

When he pulls away and his hand slowly regresses from your cheek, you find it in you to push through the scene, running your fingers through his hair much like you did a few minutes ago in the back.

“I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?” you ask.

“Yes, darling,” he replies, an undeniable hue of pink reaching the tips of his ears in a noticable, yet subtle blush, “with a little help from others.”

The rest of the play comes by like a flash, the script written in a way where there is no time for you to get bored while watching the actors do their job. Before you notice it, the very last part of the whole play happens, and you’re all standing on the stage, presenting the ending of your Oscar Wilde adaptation.

“Lætitia!” Mingyu yells out, embracing Ning- Miss Prism in a hug.

“Frederick! At last!” she enthusiastically replies, beaming in the reflectors.

“Cecily!” Now is Chan’s turn to embrace you, his arms around you holding you closer than before, his grip stronger than in the last rehearsal. You feel the ending of the play right in front of you, happy to be over with everything so you can take off your makeup and run with everyone to McDonald’s to celebrate.

“Gwendolen! At last!” Soonyoung cheers, embracing Minjeong in the perfect role of Gwendolen.

“My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality,” Ryujin talks to Soonyoung- Jack, as the whole play comes full circle and finishes off with the name of the play.

“On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I’ve now realised for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.”

And as the curtain falls and the audience starts cheering, it’s your time to run out, beaming in the brightest light of the reflectors that blind you, bowing until there’s no one else clapping in the whole theatre. Turning to all sides, noticing Chan and Minjeong both clasping your hands with theirs as you bow, the adrenaline doesn’t seem to wear off. The grin on your face is starting to hurt a little when Soonyoung’s friends cheer the loudest in the whole theatre, making you shake your head in disbelief at the precious friendship they have.

Running backstage after the ruckus is over, someone gets a hold of your hand again, making you turn around to see Lee Chan basking in full glory, smiling at you with a nervous smile.

“This is for you,” he says, offering you a bouquet of flowers, “I’m not really sure who it was for, but someone threw it on the stage so I… stole it…” he mumbles, nervously scratching the back of his neck, making you grin.

“Thank you,” you say, smelling the tall mix of magnolia flowers, admiring the vibrancy of the colours complementing in the bouquet. 

“And I was thinking if you… if you wanted to go out with me?” he suggests. 

His proposition almost makes you choke on your own spit, heat rising to your cheeks again, a nervous smile mirroring your lips as you mutter out an almost incoherent response. “We’re… we’re going to McDonald’s now with everyone, so.. I don’t…”

“I meant like… after. Some other day,” he explains, making you mentally facepalm at the way you replied, embarrassing yourself in the process. 

“Oh,” you nod, “well… Yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”

“Okay, sweet!” he grins, giving you a quick side-hug with one arm, before he runs further backstage, presumably to get his makeup off and change so the whole group can go to a make-shift afterparty at the nearest McDonald’s. 

Standing there, still, shocked by the way things turned out, you meet eyes with Mingyu that suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at you as he passes you by, seemingly to say that he saw the kiss from where he was standing and that you two will talk about it as soon as you’re able to. Smiling to yourself, feeling a little pathetic from how giddy you are on the inside, you wonder if the boy himself realises the importance of Lee Chan in your life.

You won’t admit it to him just yet, but you did just give him your first kiss, after all. 

The play and before the scene she tells him kiss me for real this time and he hesitates and she does it and he invites her out after

[milfhoon]

MINGYU ❀ MISSION SUCCESS

✿ Summary: Kissing your very tall boyfriend might be a difficult mission but not necessarily impossible. ✿ fluff!! ✿ 0.5k words ✿ reposted from my old blog because this was undoubtedly my best svt fic

You had a mission for today. A very big and important mission that you wanted to complete by all means before your date with Mingyu would come to an end. Even though this mission seemed close to impossible for you, and the risk of failing and embarrassing yourself was so big that you almost wanted to give up before even trying, you swore to yourself that you would do it.

Why had you taken on a mission so difficult? That’s because your friend and your mind had kindly reminded you how even though you and your boyfriend shared many kisses by now, all of those kisses were initiated by Mingyu and never by you. You hadn’t even realized it but now that it was brought to your attention, you felt like you had to change that.

Therefore, you assigned this mission to yourself, in which you would kiss him before the end of the date, and you were ready to do it. There was just one little problem.

He is just too tall for you to reach.

Walking through the park hand in hand while listening to him ramble about his latest experiences and stories about the members, you realized how naïve and foolish you were. How could you possibly initiate a kiss when you had no hope of reaching his face?!

The most logical answer to this question was either that you needed him to sit down or you needed to ask him to lean down. Well, asking him was definitely not an option because he would tease you for the rest of your life and unfortunately, he didn’t look like he wanted to stop and sit down anytime soon.

“Hey!” You heard Mingyu call out to you in a louder than usual voice, snapping you back to reality.

“W-what?”

“You’ve been staring at my face for a while, is there something on it or am I just that handsome?” he asked with a grin that told you exactly how much he enjoyed the attention, no matter the reason.

“Oh...” you mentally face-palmed yourself for being so careless, endangering the success of your very important mission as well as embarrassing yourself. Then, as a bolt of lightning, an idea struck you. “Yeah, there is, just... come here a little,” you reached up towards his face as he leaned down in confusion.

When he was close enough, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his, sneaking your arms around his neck to keep him in place. You felt him grin against your lips, returning your kiss more than happily.

“You know, if you wanted to kiss me so much, all you had to do was ask,” he said after pulling away. Because of course, he wasn’t stupid and he could immediately put two and two together, figuring out your suspicious behavior during today’s date.

“Sure, but that wouldn’t have been very fun, now would it?” you smiled innocently, taking his hand again and continuing your walk in the park.

Mission: success.

[milfhoon]

vernon the type of best friend to know your phone number better than his, all 5 of your rotating starbucks orders, what playlist you like to listen to when you drive, what food you’re craving before you even think about a midnight snack.

and yet when you talk about the first date you’re going on friday night, he has no idea what to say. he hasn’t even comprehended the prospect of you spending all your time with someone else. it was always just supposed to be the two of you, but he doesn’t know how to say that either.

[milfhoon]

scored! : l.c

word count | 12.4k (SORRY idk why i do this to myself either)

pairing | lee chan (svt) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, food mentions (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour, university au, enemies-to-lovers au

notes | uh i don’t really know how game season works bc it’s not really a thing in unis here (?) so ;-; please forgive me for any (inevitable) inaccuracies hghhghe also this is my first time making a moving banner so shhh just ignore how bad it is gwhsha

summary: lee chan should really stop winning so many games for your university, because as the resident writer for the sports column of the student newsletter, you’re starting to get really sick of having to cross paths with him all the time.

a/n: happy birthday to my boyfriend (/j) chan who’s also a loser (affectionate ig) bc he never pays rent for living in my head 🙄💗 also just thought everyone should see this clip that kinda inspired this whole fic okay bye—

WEEK NINE.

You love writing for your university’s student newsletter, you really do; you just hate the person you have to write about.

“Stupid Lee Chan and his stupid wins,” you grumble, stomping across the football field with your notebook grasped tightly in your hold. Seungkwan kindly got you one with a hard cover for the new school year, because he will never forget that particular afternoon last year when you stormed into Wonwoo’s office and slammed down a crumpled sheet of recycled paper onto his hardwood desk, with LEE CHAN’S STUPID INTERVIEW #4 messily scrawled across the top of the page.

Something about the look on your face that day told Seungkwan you didn’t particularly care if Chan saw the title, written in all caps with a black marker. Hell, you probably wanted him to see.

Thus entered the hard-cover notebook so no other innocent sheet of paper would have to meet its unfortunate demise at the hands of your never-ending feud with the star player.

“Well,” Mingyu begins, easily catching up to you thanks to his long legs, “they don’t call him the ace of the team for no reason, you gotta admit that those goals he scored at the game were pretty awesome. Redstone U stood no chance.”

You hate everything about the soccer field; the dirt that gets trapped between the grooves of your soles, the occasional rogue ball that comes whipping at your head at light speed, the jock who’s currently waiting for you at the bleachers…

“Yeah, he’s a good player, I guess. But I think he let all the attention get to his head.” You lift your free hand to shield your face from the late afternoon sun, beads of sweat already forming along your hairline. Damn you for always forgetting to apply sunscreen before heading to the field, Minghao will have your head when he finds out. “Every time he poses for you while you take his photos, I just want to throw up.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mingyu singsongs, “people don’t throw themselves at him for no reason either. Plus, I think that blonde hair he has going on right now suits him really well.”

Your lips purse together as you swallow down a bitter remark about how you absolutely do not find Lee Chan attractive, especially not with the new hair colour he got done over the summer. Who cares that a compliment from Kim Mingyu, most-eligible-bachelor-on-campus extraordinaire, means you’re undeniably hot with a capital ‘H’ and the trademark symbol? Certainly not you.

Keep reading

[milfhoon]

it’s all fun and games

summary: reader thinks it’s fun to troll her buddy, mingyu, for being all big and strong. and it is! except at some point it turns out maybe she’s not just teasing and they’re both into it (and each other)

pairing: mingyu x female reader 

word count: ~8.6k (dear god, they keep getting longer and whyyyyy???)

genre: smut, kinda fluffy at times, humor, friends to lovers

contains: adult content (18+), unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f. receiving), manual stimulation (m. and f. receiving), size kink, strength kink, dirty talk and coarse language, jealousy, possessiveness, teasing/trolling, petnames

shoutout to @hotgirlmingyu for looking this over for me when i was having a bit of an asdgasdhgjafs, does this suck??? moment.

Mingyu was a big guy. 

He just was, in the sense that most people looked and would be considered small in comparison to him. He was tall and broad-shouldered with biceps that broadcasted his strength and pecs that, unless he was wearing an actual coat or any sort of puffy, ill-fitting top were impossible to miss. You hadn’t seen his abs, but you would guess that his torso was as fit as the rest of him. 

All of which was to say that it wasn’t news that he was either large or strong. For the most part, though, it had become a sort of…background noise. Like, the sky was blue, fire was hot,  water was wet, and Mingyu was big. When you’d first met, sure, it had maybe made you a little weak-kneed because you felt honest-to-God tiny and delicate next to him. And okay, yeah, he was also obviously a very good-looking man. You had eyes. 

You and he had slipped into a friendship, though, and so the crush (in your own thoughts, you could admit it) sort of faded away in favor of an easy back and forth, playful friendship. Which was probably why you felt so comfortable teasing him after it happened. 

It, in this case, being you catching him flexing and essentially puffing out his chest – preening, really – for the barista at the coffee shop where you were meant to be meeting him. You stayed back for several moments, just watching him show off and grin at the reaction of the poor barista who was visibly flustered, shaking your head and trying not to laugh at his antics. Eventually, though, you a) wanted coffee and b) couldn’t resist the urge to give him a hard time. 

Smiling widely, you walked up behind Mingyu, sliding your arm through his and letting your hand wrap around his bicep, cooing up at him. “You’re so strong, baby.” You ignored the choked noise he made in favor of turning your attention to the barista and lowering your voice as if to commiserate. “Is he giving you a hard time? I’m so sorry. He’s hot and he knows it.”

The barista laughed and assured you that he wasn’t and that it was okay, smiling shyly at you as she gently slid the two drinks across the counter toward you and Mingyu. 

You thanked her and passed Mingyu his before grabbing your own, then finding yourself being dragged away by the arm still – oops! – linked through his. Carefully holding the coffee in your other hand because you did not want to wear it, you pursed your lips and pulled your arm from his as soon as the two of you were outside and there was the space to separate. 

“Gyu, geeze,” you half-grumbled, half-laughed.

“Don’t ‘Gyu, geeze,’ me,” came his response as he moved to stand in front of you and looked down at you, his expression somewhere between amused and confused. “What was that?”

Lips pressed to the lid of your coffee, you hummed as you took a sip and gave him your most innocent, wide-eyed, fluttering lashes look. “Hmm?”

He scoffed, but the twitch of his lips belied his good humor. “Oh, are we doing that now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, baby,” he crooned, grinning when your response was to start coughing, glaring up at him, and smacking your own chest. “You okay there?”

You held your hand up in the universal shush symbol until you were able to recover from the whole being-provoked-into-inhaling-your-coffee thing. Once you had control over yourself again, you were able to speak. “Maybe wait until I’m not in the middle of swallowing next time?”

Mingyu smirked. 

It took you a moment but then you rolled your eyes and bit back a smile. “I seriously can’t take you anywhere. Rein it in,” you said, giving his chest a soft push and gesturing behind him with your chin, reminding him that you were meant to be walking. “It’s too early for innuendo and we’re going to be late.”

----------------

A couple of days later, you ran into Mingyu at the gym. 

You must have missed each other when you initially came in and headed straight for the group HIIT class, but the sound of your name being called across the room as you exited the smaller group room into the main area was unmistakable. Your head turned toward the voice and your lips curved into a smile when you recognized him, seeing a matching smile on his face and Seungcheol standing next to him, hand raised in greeting. 

Of course you moved to join them at the weight bench and, as you and Seungcheol settled into a conversation, Mingyu went right back into lifting. Every so often, his grunts would tear your attention away from Seungcheol and you’d find yourself glancing over at him. 

Clearly he had been there a while, given the way his body was basically glistening with sweat, his hair wet and sticking to his temples. Despite yourself, your gaze caught on and watched a drop of sweat sliding down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. Which really just brought to your attention to the fact that the shirt was sleeveless, your eyes focusing on the flex and release of his muscles as he pressed the weights over his head. 

Jesus, he was distracting. 

Seungcheol cleared his throat and you turned back to him, forcing a neutral expression onto your face. “Don’t even say it.”

His lips quirked at the corners and he raised both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyes say so much that the words aren’t even necessary.” 

“I can’t control my eyes. You should be able to empathize with that, shouldn’t you?” There was just enough emphasis in his words and just enough knowing in his gaze to make you shift from foot to foot. 

“I –”

“What are you guys even talking about?” Mingyu asked, placing the bar on the rests and turning on the bench to face you and Seungcheol, his brows pulled together. 

“She was just –” 

“We were just talking about how big your arms are,” you cut Seungcheol off, moving to stand in front of Mingyu and widening your eyes exaggeratedly. When in doubt, apparently your new MO was to go for over-the-top and excessive – so much so that there was no way he or anyone else could take it seriously. You purposefully let your gaze sweep over the length of his biceps and forearms, then drifted to his chest. “And your pecs. God, Gyu.” 

Seungcheol snorted – he actually snorted – behind you. 

Mingyu, though, looked back and forth between you and Seungcheol, like he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or to be suspicious. “T-Thanks. I, uh, I work hard,” he said, running a hand through his hair, and he might actually have been blushing. 

Which was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen, honestly.

You grinned and reached forward to squeeze his shoulder. “I can tell, baby,” you cooed down at him. “I bet you could even bench press me.” You continued the tease, then let go and stepped back. If you felt butterflies in your belly at the sight of Mingyu’s mouth dropping open and the heat that flashed in his eyes in response or the brief mental image you got of him doing exactly that… you would take that with you to the grave. 

Giving yourself a mental shake, you glanced over at Seungcheol then back at Mingyu. “Well! I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you two around, okay?”

“Wait –” Mingyu started, rising from the bench and taking a step toward you. 

Seungcheol just looked amused and you fucking knew he was going to call you later with questions. “See you.”

“Bye!” You called out, already walking toward the exit. You had to get out of there before you thought too long or hard about why Mingyu’s response to the teasing affected you the way it did.

----------------

The expected phone call with Seungcheol went something like this:

“So, you’ve got a thing for Mingyu, huh?”

“I absolutely do not have a - a thing for Mingyu.” 

Seungcheol chuckled and you could practically hear his smirk across the line. “You wanna try that again, maybe without the stuttering? I might actually believe you then.”

You flushed and gritted your teeth, grateful he couldn’t see the pink in your cheeks. “I do not have a thing for Mingyu. I have a thing for fucking with Mingyu.”

“Eye-fucking him, maybe,” Seungcheol countered, voice filled with mirth, absolutely at your expense. 

“Okay, first of all, I am a woman who is attracted to men and I have eyes. If you were the one in the sleeveless top, sweating and grunting in exertion, lifting God only knows how many pounds, I would’ve been looking at you, too,” you argued, definitely not defensive. Nope. 

Not at all. 

“You’ve seen me doing exactly that many, many times, and I don’t recall you ever looking at me like you wanted to –”

“Stop! Right there,” you protested in a rush. “Mingyu and I are friends.”

His sigh was loud and his tone was clearly exasperated when he replied. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Fine. Glad we sorted that out.”

----------------

The next time you saw Mingyu was at a picnic for your whole friend group. You knew he was already there when you pulled into the parking lot, so you texted him for help bringing the drinks and food you’d brought from your car to the spot everyone had set up at. 

You were leaning into your open trunk, switching things from bag to bag in order to consolidate and make for the fewest trips, when he came up behind you and grabbed your hips, leaning over you and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

Nearly jumping – and you would have if his body wasn’t basically covering yours and his hands weren’t holding your body in place – you let out a startled gasp, heart hammering in your chest before you realized it was him. “What –”

“Easy there,” you heard him say softly into your ear before the hands on your hips squeezed gently, “It’s just me.”  Mingyu then released you and drew back, coming to rest on the bumper of your car, looking wholly pleased with himself. 

“Mingyu, I swear to God – Just for that, you get to carry the heavy stuff!” You gave yourself several moments for your heart to stop racing and for the blood to stop rushing through your head, body still trying to work its way past the initial startle. Deliberately not allowing yourself to think about anything else – namely, the way your body had reacted to that squeeze of your hips with him pressed up behind you. 

That was just biology, anyway. 

Or something like that. 

Mingyu laughed and his smile widened. “Worth it.” 

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him, trying not to let your lips twich and betray your own enjoyment. His good humor was contagious, but there was a point to be made here!

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” As he stood back up, he held his hands out. “Load me up.”

Your smile was wicked when you hefted the cooler full of beverages into his arms, then plopped several bags down on top of it. “That’s not too much for you, is it?” you asked as sweetly as could be. “Not too heavy?” You grabbed the one remaining bag, that one carrying bags of chips and clearly the lightest of the bunch, and pulled the trunk closed. 

He shook his head and lifted the cooler higher, not looking like he was exerting himself too much, but you did feel a little bad. 

“Are you sure? Because I was just messing with you and I really can –”

“No,” he said with another shake of his head and turning away when you reached out to grab for one or more of the bags. “I’ve got it, I promise. You brought it here, the least I can do is carry it.”

And he really did. 

When you got to the area where everyone else was and Mingyu placed the cooler on the ground, you came up behind him, rested your palm against his shoulder blade, and couldn’t help yourself. You said, “Thank you, baby. I don’t know how I would’ve carried all of that without you. You’re just so much stronger than me,” then dropped the bag of chips onto the picnic table and walked over to greet the others, leaving him to stare after you and not looking back to see the mix of emotions play across his face.

----------------

After that, it just became a habit for you to point out how big he was, how strong whenever the opportunity presented itself, sometimes on purpose and sometimes just because – now that you had started actively noticing again, you noticed. 

Like the time a couple of the guys and you, including Mingyu, had got caught in the rain after lunch at a restaurant near your place. Since your apartment was closer and nobody had any pressing plans, you decided to just run there and hide out until the rain let up. You changed into a set of dry clothes and handed the guys dry shirts – you couldn’t do much about their pants, but you definitely had some oversized shirts lying around. In your defense, it wasn’t as though you intentionally gave him a shirt that his torso stretched so much that it was a miracle it didn’t tear. It was just the biggest shirt you had and, breasts or not, they were no match for his broad shoulders. 

“Oh,” you’d said a little breathlessly as you watched him try to squeeze into it and fought to pull it down to cover his upper body. “I, uh, fuck. You’re big.” The damned shirt left his belly bared and lord have mercy, but you couldn’t look away from his abs. They really were as fit as the rest of him. 

You watched as a shiver seemed to run through him and heard his breathing pick up pace, which was enough to shake you out of your stupor and into action. “Shit, you’re still cold, right? Hold on. I think I ended up with one of my ex’s hoodies after the break-up!” 

You’d managed to grab said hoodie from your closet and toss it at him before escaping into the living room where the rest of the guys were watching some action movie. 

A mischievous voice in the back of your head was the reason for the lion’s share of the instances, though. 

Including the time you decided you wanted to rearrange your living room on a random Saturday morning. The two of you were standing in your living room and you purposefully bit at your lower lip, giving him your best doe eyes and asked him so nicely, “Gyu? Can you help me move my couch? It’s just so heavy and it’s way too big for me to move, but I know how strong you are and I just – can you?”

He had squeezed his eyes shut and you watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he appeared to take a very deep breath before opening his eyes and smiling kindly over at you. “Sure! Where do you want it?”

Oof. There was a question your brain chose to interpret in the absolutely wrong way. Were you teasing him with this or were you torturing yourself? Probably both, but fuck if you could stop. 

“Uh, over – over there, please.”

“There?” he asked, gesturing, and you nodded. He took a step toward the couch, looking back at you over his shoulder and you could have sworn his gaze flickered down to your lips. “Okay, baby. If that’s where you want it, that’s where you’ll get it.”

You really hoped he didn't see – or hear – your reaction to the endearment or the ease with which he moved the heavy couch across the floor. The way your breath hitched in your throat or the way you chewed at your lower lip, traitorous body clenching around nothing. And you couldn’t exactly complain because a) you’d started it, b) you actually really didn’t want him to stop. 

Which was absolutely something you needed to unpack later. 

Time to brazen it out again, apparently. You walked up to Mingyu and hugged him from the back as he settled the couch into its new location. “Thank you,” you said breezily, forced though the nonchalance may be. “You’re my own, personal Superman.”

The doorbell signaled the arrival of your other friends, pulling your attention (and arms) from Mingyu as you went to answer the door. 

Some small part of you was aware you may be playing with fire, but the larger part of you almost wanted to get burned. 

Not that you would, of course. Because you two really were just friends.

You were. 

And so it continued. 

You needed something from a tall shelf? You asked him to get it for you and gushed over him when he handed it to you. 

You were playing a game of soccer in the park and he kicked the ball completely normally hard? You laid the praise on thick for the power in his legs. 

It didn’t matter how innocuous whatever the action was or the looks everyone else gave the both of you. You, for the clearly over-the-top emphasis on Mingyu’s size and strength. Mingyu for the way he would either blush or lean into it, asking if you needed anything else – anything at all – kicking the ball harder the next time, grabbing more bags on his next trip, adding more weight to his sets. 

You just kept poking and he kept rolling with it, the two of you falling into a new sort of routine.

The most recent instance of which being when your heel broke as Mingyu was walking you home. He’d met you for a quick coffee and snack on your way home from work. You certainly didn’t plan for the heel on your shoe to break six blocks from your apartment, or for Mingyu to sweep you up in his arms, one tucked beneath your knees and the other resting against your back. 

In all honesty, the universe should get some credit for that one. 

His name came out on a shriek as you found yourself airborne, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling on your ass. “Mingyu!” You looked at him then down at the ground. If he dropped you from this height, it would definitely hurt. Tightening your hold around his broad shoulders, you lifted your gaze from the cement passing beneath you to his gaze.

“So this is what the world looks like from up here,” you said with a puff of laughter, a smile curving your lips as you watched him try to bite back his own smile. “I can walk, though, you know? It’s not the first time I’ve done the broken-heel hobble.” 

“I know you can, but you’re not going to.” He shook his head as you opened your mouth to protest. “You don’t have to. I’m here. Let me help you, yeah?”

You sucked your lower lip into your mouth, the action unconscious, but the playfulness in your voice was not. “You just wanna show off.”

His grin was instant and more than a little mischievous. “What am I showing off?”

Pfft. Now he was just fishing for compliments. But it was part of your game so you were, er, game. 

You loosened your death grip around his shoulders just enough that you could brush a hand across the width of his back and give one of said shoulders a squeeze. “These. The strength in them. How it doesn’t even phase you to pick me up and bridal carry me half a mile because you’re my big, strong hero.”

Mingyu��s hold on you tightened and his focus definitely dropped to your lips before he quickly turned his head forward to watch where he was going. “So you’re saying I have a hero complex?”

“Hah,” you playfully scoffed. “That and you have a strength kink so you just love it when people notice.”

Mingyu stopped in his tracks, turning his head and giving you an incredulous look. “I have a strength kink? Sweetheart,” he crooned, “I think maybe you need to look in the mirror before you start casting stones.” He called you ‘sweetheart’ and he fucking crooned, at which you felt the pink spreading across your cheeks and a wave of heat rush through you. 

You cleared your throat. “Maybe I do,” you said, injecting the words with as much casualness as you could. “And maybe I don’t. Maybe I just like the way you react when I point it out.”

The fingers curled around your knee squeezed, and you felt his very real strength in a different way. When his eyes darkened right then and there, your mouth went dry. 

“You’re late,” came a wry voice from somewhere behind you, breaking the impromptu staring contest you and Mingyu had entered into. When you looked over your shoulder and saw Seungcheol standing at the main door to your building, your eyes widened. 

“Cheol! I’m so sorry. My shoe broke on the way back and it took us a little longer,” you explained, smiling sheepishly. “Forgive me?”

“I can see that,” he replied, voice full of humor as he looked from you to Mingyu, “and of course I’ll forgive you. I’ve got her from here, man. You can head out.”

“No.”

“What?” you and Seungcheol asked in unison. Seungcheol had a brow arched at your other friend and you were looking at Mingyu like he’d grown another head. 

Mingyu didn’t look away from the other man when he elaborated. “I’ve carried her this far; I can carry her the rest of the way. Can you get the door?” he asked Seungcheol.

Seungcheol gave a shrug and did just that, catching your eye as Mingyu carried you past him through the doorway, the gleam in his eyes giving away his curiosity and ongoing amusement. He definitely wasn’t going to let you off the hook on this one.

When you got to your apartment, Seungcheol entered first and made his way directly to the couch in the living room, leaving you and Mingyu in the entryway. You tapped Mingyu’s shoulder and tried to extract yourself from his hold. “Okay, Hercules,” you teased. “You can put me down now. The damsel has safely made it all the way home.”

Not letting you down immediately, he instead shifted you in his arms so that you were sliding down the front of his body, toes just brushing the floor beneath you but not lowering you fully to your feet. You looked up at him curiously, trying to stretch your legs enough so you could actually stand, but were unsuccessful. “Mingyu?” 

He had a hand on your hip and the other arm was wrapped around the middle of your back, holding you pressed against him, when his gaze found yours, expression unreadable. “Why’s Cheol here?”

What?

“We’re studying. Well, he is. He has a paper and I promised him I would help with editing it,” you answered, surprising yourself with how soft and almost breathless your voice was. But God, it was one thing to see him in those tank tops and sleeveless tops or shirts that fit just right, and it was something else entirely to feel every one of those muscles against the entire length of your body. While he just held you there, not appearing to be exerting himself much if at all. Despite yourself, your arms slid back around his shoulders and you found yourself clutching at the back collar of his shirt. 

Mingyu’s lips curved into a smile and his expression shifted into something you could read: pleased. “Is that all?” 

“‘Is that all?’ Um, of course it is? What else would it be, you weirdo?” His question was enough to shake you out of your – very brief, thank you – moment of distraction caused by his ridiculous upper body and how damned tall he was that he could hold you there, still towering over you while your feet didn’t reach the floor. “Seriously, I’m home and I can stand. Let me down so I can go help Cheol and we can maybe finish in time for me to get some sleep tonight.”

“If you have to ask, then I’m not worried.” You felt your feet touch the ground and Mingyu’s hold release so that you were bearing your own weight again. If anything, he looked even more pleased with himself as he slid his arms from around you, but didn’t move away. 

Worried? You were going to ask him what that was supposed to mean but Seungcheol chose that moment to shout from the other room, “Are you two done flirting yet?”

You were going to kill him. 

“We’re not flirting, you brat!” You shouted back, pinching the bridge of your nose, hoping it was dark enough in the entryway that Mingyu somehow miraculously didn’t see the blush that crept over your face. Which was also really annoying because why the fuck were you even blushing? 

Mingyu grinned at you then leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Aren’t we?” he asked, earning a wide-eyed look from you, before turning to leave. 

He left and you stood there for several moments trying to process those two words. Were you flirting? 

As expected, Seungcheol had his laptop open when you walked into the living room, but he wasn’t looking at it. Instead, he was smirking knowingly over at you, and you had to fight the urge to squirm under that gaze. 

Deciding that discretion really was the better part of valor and, maybe if you ignored him, he would let it go, you grabbed his computer and pulled it into your lap, eyes scanning the document. You lasted for all of thirty seconds before you broke. 

“Okay, what?” you asked, finally turning your head to look at him and finding him staring at you. 

“Are we not talking about that territorial display downstairs?”

“Terri– What territorial display?”

He laughed. “Please tell me you’re not that oblivious and are just faking it because you’re trying to get me to shut up.”

Given that you were still trying to process whether or not you and Mingyu had been flirting, you were so not ready to consider whether he had been acting territorial and definitely not to talk about it with someone else, not even Seungcheol. Maybe especially Seungcheol, given the two men were close. 

“Why ask a question when you already know the answer? Just go get me some water, please. And maybe some ibuprofen. I can feel the migraine coming on.”

----------------

Two days later, you had been able to do enough self-reflection to admit that okay, yes. You might have been flirting with Mingyu and maybe you sort of weren’t quite as over that crush as you previously believed. Or maybe you had been, but if that were true at some point, it probably wasn’t anymore. Some part of you got a thrill out of calling Mingyu, “baby,” and putting your hands on him. 

On the way he had blushed sometimes at first but how, more and more recently, he would touch you back and call you, “baby.” How he didn’t even hesitate to just pick you up and carry you across town for anyone to see. 

And fine, all right, it was possible that you’d woken up this morning from a dream about him whispering the endearment into your ear while he thrust himself into you, while your nails raked down his back and you panted his name, begging him not to stop. 

Fine. 

That didn’t mean you had to act on it, though, because This, too, shall pass and all that. You could flirt with your friend without it meaning anything.

As soon as you walked into the house party and your eyes spotted Mingyu laughing down at something some random woman you’d never seen before was saying, and the way she swatted at his bicep, though, you knew you were well and truly fucked. Neither of them were doing anything even remotely wrong and yet the hurt, the anger, the goddamn jealousy you felt burned through you and were mortifying. You were not going to claw some innocent woman’s eyes out for being rightfully attracted to Mingyu, who was your friend.

Just your friend.

Forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from the two unsuspecting victims of your eye daggers, you made a beeline for the kitchen and thus the alcohol. Wholly focused on not focusing on Mingyu, you missed the way his gaze followed you, brows drawn together.

Nor did you see his sharp eyes catch sight of Seungcheol entering after you, or the way those eyes narrowed in response. 

Instead, you grabbed a beer from the fridge and struggled to twist the cap off when your friend found you. Seungcheol rested his back against the counter next to you and watched you fight to twist the top off of a not a twist-off bottle, lips twitching. “Rough day, cupcake?”

“You,” you said in a voice that was half frustrated whine and half accusatory. 

“What about me?”

“You did this!” You grunted, pouting at the bottle in your hand and trying even harder to twist the damned lid off, glaring at the bottle when it didn’t budge. “I was totally fine – happy, even – living in, I don’t know, denial? Ignorant bliss?”

Seungcheol’s gaze drifted behind you, toward the entrance to the kitchen, and he looked like he was going to speak, but you cut him off. “But no, you just had to bring up me having a thing for Mingyu and flirting and ‘territorial displays’ and oh my God, Cheol! I have a thing for Mingyu. I so have a thing for Mingyu. And he’s out there – I mean, of course he’s out there flirting with a woman, okay, because we’re just friends, but fuck my fucking life.” 

Taking in a deep breath because, after that ramble, you needed it, you finally turned your attention away from the still-unopened beer and back to him. You took in the arched eyebrow and the quirk of his lips, and the way his focus was still behind you and over your head. 

“What are you even looking a–” you started, turning your head to figure out what was so captivating, and nearly dropped the bottle in your hand when you saw Mingyu standing not three feet away. “Oh hell.”

“I’ll take that as my cue.” Seungcheol gave your shoulder a pat as he walked by you, sharing a look with Mingyu that you couldn’t see – only the nod Mingyu gave before returning his full focus to you. 

Once Seungcheol was gone, you gave Mingyu your best impression of a definitely-not-embarrassed smile and forced out a cheery, “Hi!”

“Hi,” he said back, closing the distance between you two, hand reaching out to grab your hip gently to stop you when you started to take a step backwards. 

“How – uh, how much of that did you hear, exactly?” 

Mingyu’s lips curled into a smile and the hand on your hip squeezed, his thumb then brushing against your hip bone and causing you a shiver to make its way down your traitorous spine. “I walked up somewhere around ‘territorial displays.’ Which is kind of ironic, actually, because I was on my way in here to put on another one. Still might.” 

You groaned. “Oh God. You heard it all then.” The rest of his words registered and you let out a soft, confused laugh. “Wait, what? For whom, exactly?” You looked around the kitchen, mostly empty at the moment, save the two of you and a couple kissing in the opposite corner, clearly wrapped up in themselves. 

“You mean when I walked in or now?” Mingyu drew you closer to him, his other hand coming up to brush your hair back, his voice a quiet rumble. “I know you guys are friends, too, but every time I turn around, you and Cheol are together.” 

As he entered your space, your hands moved to rest against his chest and you swallowed hard. At the strength beneath your touch – not teasing now – and his closeness. The way he blocked everything from your view except him because he was so goddamn big. 

Which was how this whole thing started.

“I’ve been trying to tell myself that he’s not the one you can’t seem to stop touching,” Mingyu admitted, gaze dropping down to watch your hands, unconsciously stroking over his chest, sliding down his torso and causing his abdominal muscles to flex beneath your touch. Then he looked back up at you. “The one you keep calling, ‘baby.’”

Christ, you could feel the burn in your cheeks and you weren’t sure how much of that was from embarrassment at being called out or how much it was a result of feeling him flex under your fingertips and look down at you with a burning intensity in his eyes. You bit back a gasp when he dropped his head toward yours and you felt his breath against your face. 

“He’s not. I only do that with you, Gyu. You know that, don’t you?” 

He hummed, the hand at your face shifting to cradle the back of your head and tilt it further back. He leaned in closer and let his lips hover over yours. “I do now,” he spoke softly, closing the distance between your lips and brushing his against yours. “And I wasn’t flirting with her, just so that’s clear. Only wanna flirt with you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath then, your hands clutching at his hips. Unable to stop yourself, you rose up on your toes and pressed your lips into his in a soft kiss. 

Mingyu’s fingers tightened in your hair and he deepened that kiss, his tongue sweeping out to taste your lips, teeth capturing and gently nipping at your lower lip, tearing a soft whimper from you, which pulled a groan from him and had both of his hands slipping down to your waist, sliding down and around to cup your ass, dragging your hips into his. 

Lifting your arms up, you wound them around his shoulders and pressed closer, a thrill shooting through you, centering in your core, at the drop in pitch of his voice when his hands moved from your ass to the back of your thighs and he lifted you up his body, your legs automatically encircling his waist. “You want that? Want to be the only one I flirt with?”

You nodded, letting your forehead rest against his and trying your best to focus on answering him rather than rubbing yourself against him like a damned cat. “Mhm. Unless you want me to go flirt with someone else? I guess I could see what Cheol’s up to….” You wouldn’t, but the urge to push Mingyu’s buttons clearly hadn’t gone away.

His voice was a growl when he spoke and he brought a hand up to fist in your hair, grip tight enough for you to really feel the pull. Which you did. In a straight line from his hold to your cunt, which clenched in response, liquid desire starting to pool. “Not gonna fucking happen, baby.”

Your thighs squeezed his sides at that, and you let out an embarrassingly needy sound. God, why was it so hot to rile him up and hear him say shit like that? “No? Why – Why’s that, baby?”

The smile he gave you then was cocky, his dark eyes smoldering, knowing. “Guess you want that territorial display, huh? I’ve got you, sweetheart, and I’ll put on a little show just for you,” he promised. 

Did you want that?

Mingyu carried you out of the kitchen, just like that – legs and arms wrapped around him, very clearly staking his claim in front of anyone and everyone who happened to notice him walking you to his bedroom and shutting the door behind the two of you. Your gaze flickered behind him along the way, catching sight of the amusement on some friends’ faces, surprise on others’, and – you narrowed your eyes as you watched Hoshi pass cash to Jeonghan. You were totally going to kick both of their asses later.

You found yourself pressed up against the door as Mingyu closed it behind you, his big, broad form flush to you and holding you there. His hips giving a thrust into you and the friction where you’d needed it pulling a whimper from between your lips. You cursed, squirming against him, legs around him dragging him even closer, moaning his name at the hard length he rolled against your clothed cunt. “S-Shit, you’re big everywhere.” 

He let out a breathy laugh then and your insides went a bit melty at the slight flush you saw spread across his cheeks. “I could make a Red Riding Hood comment here, but I’m trying really hard not to.”

“...the better to fuck me with?” 

Mingyu’s eyes squeezed shut and his hips bucked into you before he turned you from the door and carried you over to his desk, dropping you down onto it and stepping back between your legs. His hands landed on your knees, slowly sliding up your thighs. “You gonna let me?” he asked, his voice thick with need, as he reached the apex of your thighs and he slipped a hand between them, fingers pressing along the seam of your jeans, mouth dropping open at the heat and the moisture he felt there. 

“God,” you gasped, jerking into his touch, your own hands coming to rest on his biceps and squeeze. “If you don’t, I’m gonna need the room, I –” you moaned when his fingers managed to roll the thick fabric against your clit, when his breath hitched and he groaned your name. 

“If I don’t fuck you, you’re gonna fuck yourself on my bed?”

Your nails dug into the backs of his biceps and you felt another wave of arousal drip out of you, soaking the denim beneath his fingertips. You nodded. “Make it nice and messy, too. So you can’t lie down there without thinking about me with my f-fingers inside myself. Without wishing it had been you inside me instead.”

The hand not between your thighs grabbed the nape of your neck, tilting your head back, and Mingyu stared down at you with naked hunger. “Who says I don’t already think about that when I’m lying there, hm?”

“You – fuck, please.” You let your head fall further back, but your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, pushing it up, palms pressed against the bare skin of his abdomen. Fingers tracing the lines of muscle there, following them up his torso. 

Mingyu drew back to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it behind him before he was back in your space, helping you get your own shirt off before returning to your space and covering your lips with his, his tongue sweeping between your lips and tangling with yours. Captured your little gasps and whimpers into his mouth as he unfastened your jeans and dragged them down over your ass, turning his attention to placing kisses and licks against your neck, voice a low rumble when you lifted your hips for him. “Mm, such a good girl for me. So helpful.”

You braced your weight with your hands, pressed flat to the desk on either side of your hips, nodding. “I can be a really good girl.” As if to demonstrate your point, you gladly kicked the denim away once it reached your ankles. “Especially if I’m properly motiva–” you broke off with a yelp when Mingyu fell to his knees in front of you and pulled your hips forward, lifted your knees onto his shoulders, and started nipping and kissing his way up your inner thigh. 

“What was that?” he crooned, lips curved into a smirk that said he knew exactly what he was doing to you and loved the effect he had on you already. 

“Properly motivated! I do well with – with that, Gyu…” 

His fingers pressed into the seat of your panties, groaning at how wet they were. He hooked those same fingers beneath the fabric of your panties, drawing it to the side and baring you to his gaze. “So fucking pretty, baby. Already so needy for me, I probably don’t even need to use my tongue on you, do I?”

He really didn’t, but fuck, you wanted him to. Your whine and the way you bucked your hips were all the response he needed, and he gave a soft chuckle, breath warm against your cunt and nearly a caress in and of itself. 

You lifted your hips for him again as he drew your panties down and off, and at the first swipe of his tongue along your slit, your elbows nearly buckled. When he flicked it against your clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked, the sharp stab of pleasure was so acute that you had to drop back down onto your forearms. Just the fucking sight of him with his head between your thighs – his contented hums that sent vibrations through through your sensitive bud, that had you dripping with need. He slipped two fingers into you and started pumping them, curling them, searching, searching until – 

“Mm, there it is,” he moaned, focusing the thrusts of his fingers there, nipping at your swollen folds, sucking them into his mouth, then his tongue was circling and swirling around your clit again and it wasn’t long until you were falling apart, falling back onto the desk and shaking, waves of release rolling over and through you.

Mingyu worked you through the orgasm, gentle kisses and kitten licks against your inner thigh, slowing the movement of his fingers until your hand covered his, pulling it from you and lacing your fingers together. 

You managed to lift your head enough to meet his gaze, letting yourself be pulled upright and into his arms. You let out a happy hum and dropped your forehead onto his shoulder before the temptation of his skin was too much, and you started to press kisses there. Traced a line with your lips up his neck, pausing just beneath his jaw to catch the skin between your teeth, sucking at the sensitive skin and earning a gasp from Mingyu. 

He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into them, smiling down at you when your legs immediately wrapped around his waist. It was instinctual, as was the way your arms moved to hold him and the way you couldn’t. stop. covering his neck with marks. Completely enraptured with the way they looked on him. 

Mingyu carried you to his bed and laid you down on the soft surface, covering your body with his and settling between your thighs. “I’m going to get so much shit for those, you realize?” 

“Oh? My bad. Should I apologize?”

“Fuck, no. It’s worth it,” he said with one of those oh-so-self-satisfied smiles. Propping himself up on one hand, he traced his fingertips along your own neck, across your chest, slipping them just under the edge of your bra. “And this way I don’t have to apologize when I cover all of this pretty skin with my own marks.”

You bit back a whimper, breath hitching in your chest. “Yeah?”

He hummed an affirmation, cupping your breast in a hand, and you watched the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Were enraptured when he tugged the fabric covering your breast to the side and groaned, tongue coming out to wet his lower lip while his thumb circled your areola. Round and round until finally he brought it to your nipple, rubbing against it, forefinger coming to join and softly pinch the swollen flesh. 

His hips were thrusting against your cunt, slow rolls that were nowhere near enough for either of you but were just enough to stoke the fire within you. You could feel the way your arousal was coating the fabric of his pants, soaking through it, as you pressed yourself up into the thrusts, in silent entreaty. 

“Fuck,” he rasped, lips replacing his thumb, tongue and teeth and those lips teasing your nipple while he ground down into you. 

Your hands cradled the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and you let out a breathy whine. “Want,” you started, legs locking behind his back and pulling him into you, moaning at the slow slide of his cock against your pussy, hissing when he circled his hips into yours. 

“What do you want, love?” Mingyu moved his lips from your breast to brush against yours, and he spoke against your lips while he stared down at you with eyes so full of heat you felt flames lick along your spine, centering in your sex. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you answered simply. Your hands came to the waistband of his pants, slid beneath it so that you could wrap your fingers around him, stroke up and down along the length and let your thumb rub across the head. Gasping at the liquid you found there, at the precome that had slipped down the underside, easing your movements. “Think you need me, too, baby. Wanna feel you inside me so bad. Need to.”

Mingyu cursed and then he had his pants and underwear shoved down, kicked off toward the end of the bed. He held himself over you, weight borne on a forearm while his other held the base of his cock, guiding it through your desire-slicked flesh. Rubbed the tip against your clit. Teased at your entrance. “You want this?”

“Fuck, yes, God, Gyu, please.” You whimpered, whined, shifted your body beneath him. Your hands found his hips and you tried to tug him to you.

He captured your wrists and gathered them both above your head, holding them there, and you would complain – you really would – except there was that strength again. You looked up at him, your pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, and every bit of your expression spoke to how much you actually liked that. How much you wanted him. 

The flash in his own eyes told you he noticed. You heard him curse and watched him swallow hard, felt his grip on your wrists tighten. “You like being helpless beneath me, fuck. Gonna remember that,” he promised. “Do we need a condom?” His voice was tight and he looked tense enough above you that you don’t know how he held it together. 

“N-No. I’m – I’m good. Implant. Clean. You?” It wasn’t the most eloquent sentence, but it got the point across and, in the next moment, Mingyu was pushing into you. 

“Clean, too, shit, sweetheart. Feel so fucking good,” he groaned as his pelvis met yours, cock in you to the base, filling you so full. He drew his hips back and then slowly pumped them forward again, giving you time to get used to the feel of him, cunt stretching around him and your body learning his in the most intimate of ways. 

“Oh fuck, you can – you can move faster, Gyu. Harder. Need you to. Need you to – to show me how strong you are,” you admitted, burying your face in the crook of his neck and whimpering when he did. 

Mingyu sat back on his heels, hands coming to your thighs and dragging your body into his next thrust, this one a sharp snap of his hips into you that made your eyes roll back. “Fucking love how strong I am, don’t you? Always teasing me about being so big –” he emphasized with another deep, hard thrust, and another as he continued, “so strong.” 

Guilty as charged. 

“Like it doesn’t get you off, too,” you said on a gasp, arching beneath him, heated gaze taking in every detail: the movement of his hips, the tension in his abdominals with each thrust, his thick biceps flexing, the muscles in his forearms and the strength in his hands where they gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks there tomorrow. His face. God, his face. The way his brows drew together in concentration, how his gaze – still hot enough to burn and completely focused, wholly attentive to you and this and getting you both off – kept flickering between where his cock was disappearing into your cunt and your face, the way he clenched his jaw and growled out your name. 

Shifting his hold on your legs, Mingyu leaned forward, a hand coming to fist in your hair and drawing your face to his, taking your lips, your mouth in a kiss as wet and deep and harsh as the movements of his every thrust. You felt his fingers on your clit, circling and rubbing fast around the sensitive bud, making you cry out, and your breath hitch, and you fuck, you were a heartbeat away from coming again. 

Heard him rasp against your lips, “Gonna come for me, love?”

You nodded, and your voice was shaky, breathless. “Uh– Uh huh.”

“That’s my girl. Let me feel it,” he hissed, groaning, starting to lose his rhythm and you knew he was close, too. “Gonna come, too. Gonna fill you all the way up, huh?”

You whined out his name, and yes and please, Gyu, please, baby and wanna be full of you. It was enough. It was too much. It was everything. Your orgasm slammed into you, rolling through you like a wave, leaving you clinging to him and shuddering in his arms, pussy squeezing his dick, dragging him into bliss with you.

His face pressed against yours, cheek to cheek, you heard him moaning your name as he came. You felt the shuddering of his own body, above you, around you, inside you, as he spilled himself into you.

Felt yourself being rolled over and onto his chest. Felt his heart pounding under your cheek as you sucked in sharp breaths, little aftershocks of pleasure working their way through you. 

You pressed soft kisses to his chest then turned your face into the touch of his hand, let his palm cup your cheek and tilt your face to look up at him. The broad, happy, sated smile you saw there and the warm affection in his gaze brought a grin to your own face. 

“I realized I never said earlier,” Mingyu started, gently guiding you up his body so you were eye level. “In case it’s not glaringly obvious, I have a thing for you, too.”

A soft, happy puff of laughter left you then and you leaned down to kiss him. Tenderly. You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and couldn’t bite back a smile when he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm. “I may have had some suspicion for a second there, but it’s good to have the confirmation.”

It was Mingyu’s turn to laugh then and he shook his head, arms coming around you, holding you close. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

“Oooh, what time?”

“I was actually thinking like, all day.”

“What?”

“Breakfast, lunch, movie, dinner? I figure I have a lot of dates to make up,” he said and his smile took your breath away.

You hid your face against his chest, burying the – you were sure – dorky, smitten smile there, as you shifted to get more comfortable – and closer – to him. “A whole day of dates with my favorite superhero? I think I can make that work.”

[milfhoon]

Do I Want to Hit You or Do I Just Want You?

Summary: Reader and Mingyu find themselves locked in a practice room after one too many clashes. They, uh, work it out.

Genre: Smut. Enemies to lovers.

Word Count: 3.9k (this one got away from me but no regrets)

Pairing: Mingyu x f!Reader

Warnings: Adult content ahead, including: hand action (m. and f. receiving), oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected!sex, cream pie, dirty talk, praise, teasing, manhandling, size kink, begging, swearing, petnames galore, deliberately antagonizing each other, standard enemies to lovers animosity in the beginning.

A/N: lol there's barely a plot here. the working title for this one was "talk shit, get kissed," okay?

Tag List: @berrryshortcake here it is! thank you for understanding my pain. ily, really.

“Keep talking shit and I'll show you the other things I can do with that mouth of yours.”

You narrowed your eyes at his words and stepped closer to Mingyu. If someone could hear your thoughts when he opened his mouth, they would think you were a violent person. Or at the very least that you were someone who needed to get laid a nap. You weren’t a violent person by nature, though, nor were you sleep (or sex) deprived. It was him! He was infuriating and had been since the first time your mutual friend, Vernon, introduced you. You got along with literally every other person in the universe. Okay, probably not the universe, but definitely every other person in your friend group and you could honestly say that he was the only nemesis you’d ever had.

“Oh, sweetheart, I would so like to see you try,” you cooed, injecting as much sugary-sweet, bless your little heart condescension into the words as you could.

“Okay! Okay, take your corners, you two,” your aforementioned mutual friend said with a laugh, clearly trying to break the tension.

“Actually, I think we should just lock them in a closet and let them sort it out.” At this - for the first and maybe only time ever - Mingyu and you were on the same page, and you both gave Seungcheol a dirty look for his very helpful suggestion.

That made everyone else laugh and, for the time being, did manage to diffuse the time bomb that was you and Mingyu.

Three hours later, after you got into another… disagreement, shall we say, the two of you found yourself locked in one of the practice rooms. Arms crossed, you spared a look over at your fellow prisoner. “Well, at least it’s not a closet?”

There. See? You tried to make conversation!

Mingyu let out a scoff, arching an eyebrow at you before walking the perimeter of the room because of reasons that were lost to you. Maybe looking for an alternate exit that wasn’t locked? Restlessness? To purposely annoy you? Who even knew with him?  “That’s what you’re going with? ‘At least it’s not a closet?’”

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to take a deep breath before responding. If you started shouting at each other, the others might never let you out. You could grow old and die in this - this stupid mirrored room with this stupid, irritating man. “I don’t hear you coming up with anything more productive, Mingyu. If you have something to say, please. Share it with the rest of the class.”

“Do you realize that the more pissed off you are, the more prissy you get? It’s cute, really,” he drawled, finishing his trip around the room and coming to a stop in front of you. Like, right in front of you.

You fidgeted, feeling very aware of how big the room was, how big he was, and how close he was standing. Was it warm in there? It was definitely warm in there. Still, despite the instinctive urge to move past him and give yourself some breathing room, you would not let him get to you. Or at least you wouldn’t let him know he was getting to you. “Aw, Minnie. You think I’m cute?” You brought a palm up to pat his chest. “It’s okay if you have a crush on me, but tugging on your crush’s pigtails isn't actually the way to get a girl to notice you.”

Mingyu’s lips curved into a smirk and he stepped further into your space, the satisfaction on his face only increasing as you took a step back to avoid him. And another. And another, until your back was flush to the wall, the cold from the mirror seeping through the thin fabric of your top and causing you to shiver. Your front, however, was - it was very much not cold because he was right there, hovering over you with a palm placed against the mirror on either side of your head, body a hair’s breadth from yours, and his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your face.

What. The. Fuck.

“Except you do notice me, don’t you? And I think you kind of want me to pull your hair, princess.” As if to prove his words, one of his hands moved to the back of your head, fingers carding through before fisting your hair and tilting your face up toward him, smirk deepening at the gasp you couldn’t quite bite back.

How the hell did he get the upper hand here? He was supposed to be annoyed, not… whatever this was. “I - I do not,” you scoffed, determined to gain back ground. “I think you’re an ass who thinks way too highly of himself. Always strutting around like the rooster who rules the roost.”

Mingyu appeared to put something together in his mind and his expression turned knowing. “My prissy princess,” he tutted, letting the weight of his body fall forward just enough to close the distance between your torsos. “There’s no need to be jealous. If you want my cock in your, ah, roost, you only have to say the word.”

“I’m - That’s not - Oh my god,” you started to deny it, but he pressed his hips into yours and you felt the hard length of him against your pelvis. Felt him pull back and then push forward again, making your head spin and your pussy clench, your hands coming to clutch at his biceps as you whimpered.

“Mm, what’s that?” This, he murmured against your neck, lips tracing a path across your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake, until he reached the skin beneath your ear and moved to take your earlobe into his mouth instead. Letting his teeth catch on the sensitive lobe and sucking at it softly.

“Mingyu- What are you - what are you doing?” you managed to ask, voice breathless, body arching into his, pushing closer while your hands slid to his shoulders and held him to you.

He drew his face away from your ear to brush his lips against yours. “Proving a point,” he said, voice practically purring in self-satisfaction.

As turned on as you were, you were aware enough to stiffen at his words. Suspicious. “Which point is that?” you hissed, some of the brain fog having lifted, being swept away by the anxiety of - if he was fucking with you. If this was some attempt to humiliate you…

“That I have your attention.” He tightened his grip on your hair and nipped at your lower lip. “That you like it when I pull your hair.” He drew your lip into his mouth and suckled it, slid his tongue across it. “That you want me to fuck you as much as I want to fuck you.” Mingyu punctuated his point by letting go of your hair to reach under your thigh and hike it around his waist, opening you up for him and allowing him to grind his cock into your cunt, despite the layers of fabric between you.

“Oh fuck,” you said on a gasp, hips bucking against his, achingly aware of how hard he was and how very true his words were. “Okay, yeah. You have my attention,” you admitted, rolling your hips to get more friction against your clit. “Question is what are you gonna do with it?”

Honestly, you were super proud of yourself for managing a whole sentence without any breaks. He knew exactly how to work his hips against you and you mentally thanked all of his dance instructors and choreographers and really, his genetics. So like, God, you guessed. For blessing him with natural talent, too.

You felt him smile against your lips, then he was kissing you, tongue sliding into your mouth, teasing yours, tangling with yours, giving no ground or mercy. You whimpered into the kiss, arm curling around his shoulder and the other hand moving to grasp his hair, tugging on the strands and earning you a moan that went straight to your center.

When he tore his lips from yours, you were both breathing heavily, panting. His voice was a rasp as he pulled back to rake his gaze over you, looking completely fucked out and gorgeous. “First thing I’m gonna do is what I promised earlier.” At your confused brow furrow, he slid his hand back into your hair and let his attention focus on your mouth.

“On your knees, princess,” he instructed, hand applying pressure to your head and guiding you down. “There’s a good girl.” And goddamn it, the way your body lit up with his praise and just complied. You were never going to tell him. Never.

Not that you needed to.

You brought your hands up to the button on his jeans, popping it open, then drawing down the zipper, pushing the denim apart and down because it needed to be fucking off already. Your eyes widened at the size of the bulge in his boxers, feeling yourself flush and slicken as you palmed him through the cotton.

Mingyu groaned, pupils blown at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. He reached down and let your hair go long enough to pull his shirt up and off of him, tossing it away. His nemesis. So perfect, such a know-it-all, so damned prissy and always so sharp with him. “Fuck, take it out, baby.”

Aside from the moment his absurdly fit torso came into view and you thought your brain may have broken for a second, there wasn’t even a second’s hesitation on your part. Permission granted, you had him out of his boxers and in your hand, letting yourself slowly stroke up and down to learn him. He ground his teeth together, sucking in a breath and running his thumb across the line of your lips. You looked up at him through veiled lashes, tongue darting out to brush against his thumb, catching the digit and sucking. Teasing.

He hissed, hand coming up to cover yours on his dick, tightening your grip with his, moving your hands faster. “Such a tease. Always teasing me, though, aren’t you?”

You shook your head and leaned closer, pressing wet kisses to his upper thigh, to his hip bone, and trailing your lips inward across his abdomen. “I think you’re confusing teasing with being driven up the wall and talking back, sweetheart,” you cooed, slowing your hand to a stop beneath his and guiding his cock to your mouth. You let your tongue flutter against the tip before tracing a line down the length of it and back up again.

Mingyu’s fingers tugged at your hair and he smiled knowingly. “Let’s not pretend that wasn’t foreplay,” he said with a breathy laugh. “You and I both know better at this point. Open up, princess. Let me feel that smart mouth on my cock. If you’re a really good girl, I’ll show you what I can do with mine,” he promised.

If you weren’t already desperate to suck him off and render him unable to run his mouth, the thought of his mouth on your cunt would be a really, really, really strong motivator. Giving up the teasing - because you absolutely, one hundred percent had been despite your denials - you took him into your mouth, moaning around him because fuck, the way he gasped and his hips jerked involuntarily.

The way he cursed under his breath and watched you with those dark, heated eyes, not looking away for a moment.

Well.

He was still an ass, but damn, he was pretty and you were pretty sure you were screwed after this.

You let his hand in your hair guide you deeper, swallowed around him when he hit the back of your throat, fingers flying to your clit to rub yourself through your leggings at the way he groaned your name then. Licked along the length of his cock, sucked at the head, tongue sweeping in to taste and tease, to draw more precome and more of those beautiful, fucked out moans from deep inside him.

And God, you could feel how you’d soaked through the fabric of your panties and your leggings. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, each revolution in time with the strokes of your hand on him, each downward bob of your head, clenching around nothing with each word of praise he offered, telling you that you looked so pretty like this, took him in your mouth so well, felt so good.

His grip on your hair tightened and his hips thrust forward one last time before he was coming, holding your face in place and spilling his come down your throat. Watching you swallow it all down as his orgasm took him, a sense of satisfaction far beyond the physical release washing through him.

You gulped in a breath when he finally released his hold, dropping back onto your heels and just…feeling drunk on power and desire. Every nerve in your own body still on a hair-trigger, but you were absolutely fucking not going to come just from - from watching him.

Because that would be ridiculous.

No matter how hot he was.

After several moments in which you struggled not to squirm, Mingyu tilted your chin up with his forefinger. “Stand up for me, princess,” he instructed, holding a hand out for you to grab, and helping you up. Wiping the mascara from beneath your eyes, he let his gaze sweep over you, taking in your pebbled nipples, the flush that spread from your face all the way down until it disappeared beneath your shirt.

Mingyu’s gaze returned to meet yours and his hands dropped to the hem of your shirt, thumbs slipping beneath the fabric and brushing back and forth across your skin and eliciting a shiver from you. You let yourself be led back to the mirror while he lifted your shirt over your head, dark eyes heated while he uncovered so much more skin, licking his lips once your top was off and all that was between him and those really fucking distracting breasts was cream-colored lace. You let out an unsteady breath when his hands came up to palm you through the material, thumbs teasing against your nipples.

“Gyu,” you said shakily, letting your head drop back against the glass behind you. Your hands returned to his biceps and squeezed - you just really, really loved his arms. You might hate him but even you could admit the guy was built and you felt a little weak in the knees feeling the muscles beneath your fingers, knowing he could pick you up and toss you over his shoulder without even breaking a sweat.

With him looming over you the way he was, you felt so…small. Dainty and vulnerable in ways you - well, you didn’t go out of your way to avoid feeling that way, exactly, but there weren’t many men who could get close enough or whom you felt comfortable letting have that power over you. That you felt comfortable letting Mingyu, of all people, should probably concern you but in the moment, you let yourself lean into it.

Let yourself give up the need to be always-at-the-ready, on-edge, prepared and in control and just…exhausted by the weight of all that you put on your own shoulders.

Mingyu noticed. How could he not? You went pliant and he had to bring a hand to your back to keep you upright, lips curling upward at the corners when you arched your breast into his touch. “That’s it,” he crooned, placing a gentle kiss against your lips, then across the line of your jaw. “I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed softly, refusing to overthink this any further, carding your fingers through his hair, parting your lips for his tongue. And oh, the way you felt like liquid when he pulled down the cups of your bra and broke the kiss to replace his hands on your breast with his mouth, flicking his tongue across your nipple, then drawing it into his mouth and suckling. Whimpering, you squirmed, thighs rubbing together. Needing this but needing more and for him to touch you.

Which he knew and fucking loved, so he did. Mingyu brought his hand to press against you through your clothes, groaning at how wet they were and how wet you must be for that to be the case. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you. Right here,” he hissed, fingers sliding along your slit to your entrance, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it. For your breath to catch and for you to let out another one of those needy mewls he couldn’t get enough of, pushing down into his fingers. “Yeah? You want my cock in you, baby?”

You nodded, teeth digging into your own bottom lip. “Uh, uh-huh.”

Mingyu’s dick twitched, already half-hard again. He groaned, dropping to his knees and bringing your pants and panties down with him, helping you step out of them, then grabbed you by the back of the knee and hitched it over his shoulder. “I’ll give it to you, but first I’ve gotta taste you.”

“Oh fuck, please. Gyu, please,” you pleaded so prettily and it went straight to his head - both of them, actually.

“I’ve got you,” he said before turning his attention to your pussy. He trailed a fingertip through your folds, so wet and slick, circling at your clit then down to tease at your entrance. Letting one finger, then two, slip into you, drew them out, thrust them back in again. Curled them just so, catching the front wall of your cunt and rubbing against the spot that made you see stars.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’d been having sex with the wrong men. Up until that moment, you would’ve sworn that the g-spot was a myth. You whined, tightening your hold on his hair and dropped your gaze to watch him. Inhaling sharply when you found him looking back, watching your face while he lowered his mouth to you, tongue swirling around your clit, licking your cunt from where his fingers thrust into and out of you, then back up to suck at your lower lips, at your clit.

You were a writhing, moaning mess, and you were “gonna come, oh God, Gyu.”

He moaned, thrusting his fingers faster, harder, still catching and rubbing against that spot every time. Increased his suction and swirled his tongue, the vibrations of his moan and him and just everything sending you spiraling into an orgasm. Your body spasmed, squeezing his fingers, and you gushed, covering his face and his fingers in your come.

“Fucking squirted, fuck, that’s so hot,” you were vaguely aware of him rasping before you found yourself in his arms again, strong arms holding you up by your thighs and then his cock was in you and you thought you might die from how turned on you still were, now were - what was a tense?

“Min-Mingyu, you,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were trying to say, but knowing you wanted more. You wound your arms around him, clawing at his shoulders as his hips snapped, driving himself into you to the root, and winding that excruciating tension right back up again in your center.

His lips covered yours and you tasted yourself on his tongue, which was - God, you just wanted to taste yourself on him all the time. You dug your nails harder into his shoulder blades and fought with him for control of the kiss, biting at his lips, sucking at his tongue, giving up only when you needed to breathe. Gasping for that breath, you turned your attention to the crook of his neck, pressing kisses and licking, and nipping with your teeth.

He growled, hands shifting their grip and changing the angle of his thrusts so his dick was hitting the front wall of your pussy every time, snapping his hips harder, pace quickening as he chased both your releases. “Gonna mark me, princess?” he grunted, not sounding as though he minded. Point in fact, he tilted his neck to give you better access. “Want everyone out there to know I fucked you?”

“Want,” you sucked in a sharp breath at the bolt of electricity that went through you with a particularly hard thrust. “Want everyone out there to know I fucked you,” you argued.

“Oh, baby. If you wanna - wanna show me off, I’m not gonna talk you out of it.” After all, maybe it would get Jeonghan to stop fucking eyeing you up all the damned time, making you giggle and making Mingyu want to punch his friend in the face.

Making him want to drag you off and do exactly this.

Looking so fucking hot, so beautiful, all drunk on his dick, greedy cunt clenching around him. Clinging to him like you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you protested. “Look at me,” he demanded, voice a dark rasp.

He demanded and you obeyed, lust-laden and fucked-out gaze meeting his, fighting hard to keep your eyes open because you were so close and you couldn’t focus and you just needed -

“Shit, when you look at me like that,” he said with a grimace. It took everything in him not to come on the spot. “Where do you want me to come, baby?”

“F-fuck, inside me, please.” The fact that you didn’t even think before speaking was another thing that should concern you, but in that moment, the only thing you wanted and needed was to feel him come in you.

Mingyu cursed, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss, and thrust once, twice, three times, then he was coming, reaching down to rub at your clit while his body shook, dick pulsing and come spilling into you, dragging you with him into bliss. Pussy convulsing, drawing every drop deeper, as if you could keep it - keep him - there.

It took a while for you two to catch your breath, both still trying to wrap your heads around what just happened. Mingyu turned with you in his arms, slipping out of you before lowering himself and you to the ground, drawing you into his lap. It didn’t occur to you not to curl up against him, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms came around you.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” he spoke softly into the room, the only other sound your labored breaths.

You swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable in a way you did not want to in that moment. So you did what you always did. You played it off. “You don’t have to lie to me just because we had sex, Mingyu.”

“Gyu,” he corrected you.

“What?”

Mingyu placed a finger under your chin and turned your face up to look at him. “I’m not lying. If you go back to calling me ‘Mingyu’ and glaring daggers at me, I might smack your ass, though.”

You let out a breathy laugh, looking at his face for signs he was fucking with you. After, you know, fucking you. But you found none. “Don’t threaten me with a good time…Gyu.”

Shaking his head, Mingyu tsk’ed, lips twitching. “You’re gonna be a handful, aren’t you, princess?”

“Pfft, you would be disappointed if I wasn’t, sweetheart,” you volleyed, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t even lie.”

In response, Mingyu slid his fingers into your hair, tugging gently. “Yeah, but I’m the one who likes pulling pigtails, remember?”

“I -” you started before you did remember and felt your cheeks flush. And then you grinned because, “I knew you had a crush on me, you giant rooster!”

“Yeah, well, right back at you, my prissy princess.”

[milfhoon]

ten dates: unmatched! (l.cn)

𖥻 . . pairing: non-idol!chan x fem!reader

𖥻 . . wc: 17.9k

𖥻 . . au(s): exes to enemies not really(?) to lovers; rom-com, angst, smut

𖥻 . . summary: once you and chan broke up, you decided to be cordial enough to stay friends with him. however, you’ve finally moved on and are taking on dating again. as you beg chan for advice, you should've known he’d grow tired of it.

𖥻 . . warnings: explicit language, alcohol is mentioned a ton, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap the willy silly), chan says “pretty girl” quite a bit, he also has a pretty big gratification kink.

a/n: minors do NOT interact! also, reader is race neutral. i finally finished! this was proofread quite a bit, yet there might still be mistakes :\ feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! i hope you all enjoy! :))

date one.

it was an ordinary saturday night. people in their early 20s would be out, getting drunk with pals, clubbing with the right people, having one-night stands, yet here you were, decked out in a tight dress and uncomfortable heels in a fancy restaurant with the worst date. the man you got to know on tinder was not who he presented himself to be in real life… obviously. the man, yoon jeonghan, that was supposed to be focused on you had his intentions set on a poor waitress that was oblivious to his advances. it wasn’t that he was focusing more on her, it was more so he wasn’t being interested in anything but her, a weird infatuation of sorts. he spared you a glance once or twice, his eyes widening with shock once he, what you assumed, remembered why he was at the restaurant in the first place. 

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[milfhoon]

jeong (정)

member: sunwoo genre: angst, fluff word count: 7,233 synopsis: the line between love and hate is blurred as you struggle to erase sunwoo out of your life.

a/n: lightly inspired by @timextoxhajima‘s hostis because i now understand the hype over the enemies to lovers trope

sequel: commitment

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[milfhoon]

Because Of You | L.HJ

The Boyz Hyunjae x Fem!Reader

And they were roommates... except that isn't how it is at all. If only Hyunjae could realise that your heart didn't beat for your roommate Changmin, if only he could realise that it never did.

Because of you, his heart is in disarray.

Listen to: Monsta X - Because Of U

Contains: Fluff, angst; poor jealous Hyunjae, sad and insecure reader (sexual innuendos, alcohol, swearing) | Exclusive traits: mentions of blushing, height differences, certain body parts maybe and hair that can tangle | AU: Romance, friends-to-lovers, slice-of-life, Slowburn | W.C. 21.1k+

A/N: Hi, hello, this is very self-indulgent haha so sorry if you aren't me (a January baby). I know it's so odd to have a practically new years fic that is very wintery in spring, but we move. Enjoy <3

The period following Christmas and New years brought about many mixed feelings; the depression of an empty bank account, the dullness of streets mute of christmas lights, the struggle with overindulging in chocolate(though that’s an all year round struggle in all honesty), the fact that life had now restarted its cog of routine work, eat, sleep, repeat. But, it was January and for you, there was something more special to you than Christmas or the celebration of New Years to look forward to; it was the month of your birthday. 

You spent the last week off from work in the cold and bitter days of January wrapped up in the warmth of a thick duvet, oversized woollen lined  jumpers and left over chocolate within arms reach at all times, recovering from both an alcohol induced and food overload hangover. 

As you stretch out your limbs, your fluffy sock clad foot peeking out from the covers, you felt the subtle thud of someone's weight landing beside you. The heavy smell of a certain someone’s grandma’s cinnamon and sugar cookies wash over you, your body turning towards your roommate, Changmin, who has buried his head into your spare pillow and shows no sign of moving.  

“Min.” Your voice hoarse and thick with sleep, poking his side and bringing a small smile to your lips when he flinches from your touch. He mumbles unintelligibly and sleepily into the sheets and a glance at the clock high on your wall shows that the time is still early (despite nearing lunchtime) for holiday-mode Changmin.  

You let the silence linger longer, closing your own eyes in peaceful bliss and relaxing further into your bed, bringing your legs near your chest on your side and burrowing your head into the tops of your duvet. You almost feel sleep seeping through your being again, that is until, your oh so lovely roommate utters something that has every part of you on alert. 

“Hyunjae’s coming over.” Is all he simply had to say to have your heart racing and panic running through you. Like clockwork, mere seconds after he’s informed you of the fact, the seasoned holiday christmas jingle rings out through your apartment, barely muffled by your bedroom door and causes Changmin, with a shit eating albeit tired grin to spring up and rush out of your room toward the door before you can so much as utter the word shit. 

The faint voice of one Lee Hyunjae carries to your room and you softly groan as the sweet like honey voice after all these damn months stirs a swell of emotions in the pits of your stomach as if it's the first time you’re hearing him all over again.

“She’s still in bed, c’mon.” 

You sit up suddenly. 

Changmin would not. 

No, he’s not that mean. 

He wouldn’t. 

Every minute detail of yourself is suddenly being scrutinised in your head, things that normally wouldn’t even matter in the comfort of your own home, but now you’re thinking of how your pyjamas are all wrinkly, of how twisted and tangled your hair is, the fact that you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet and you consider racing out of bed toward the bathroom, but of course Changmin is that mean and he did in fact bring Hyunjae to your bedroom, and God please don’t smell my wretched breath from the door.

Hyunjae trails behind Changmin, with his beanie covering the tops of his ears and his plump round cheeks flushed a pretty pink, no doubt from the cold outside. He’s taken off his shoes and you suppress a smile seeing his princess socks gifted by a close friend in jest that Hyunjae can at times seem like one (which you completely disagree with— he’s more of prince in your eyes), his dark jeans are slightly baggy at his ankles and the thick white jumper he wears makes him look nothing short of an angel. 

So simple, yet so flawless you swoon. 

Changmin flops back onto your bed, beside you in complete comfort and probably a smug look hidden in your duvet, leaving Hyunjae standing unsure at the door. 

You smile, finally finding your voice amongst your erratic heart. “Hey, Hyunjae.” You try clearing the roughness from your throat, offering a small smile to Hyunjae who’s brows slightly furrow, softly uttering a hi before looking at Changmin. 

“You sleep together?” He questions, a finger hanging lamely in the air when he points toward the boy in question. 

“Oh, he just likes crashing here sometimes. My bed is more comfortable apparently.” You laugh. 

“It really is hyung! Sit down.” Changmin finally moves so that he can jump up and literally drag Hyunjae towards your bed. He pushes him to sit on the side, Hyunjae’s eyes widening, back stiffening into the awkwardly straight position he chooses to sit in. He’s even more unsure now, eyes perusing your room, the belated realisation that he had never in fact been in your room. 

Then, a bitter after fact drifting in his head, but Changmin has.

Just as awkward, you shift up your bed, bringing the duvet under your chin and leaning back against your headboard, attempting to subtly take in Hyunjaes side profile. 

“So, hyung! It’s this beauty's birthday soon and I know you came over to try that new game, but” he prolongs with shining eyes and a finger held up, “this one has agreed to cook,” he holds his finger toward you now, knowing that protests were about to fall from your lips, “and by the way her cooking is to die for honest to God better than sex,” he adds as an afterthought, “But I digress! I thought you could help me plan something for my sweet angel.” His hand reaches out to pinch your cheek, the move both annoying you and bringing an embarrassed warmth to your cheeks. 

You squint your eyes at Changmin, having no clue what game he’s playing, asking Hyunjae to help with your birthday plans. 

“I’m sure he has better things to do Min, I mean-”

“I’m more than happy to help.” Your eyes shift to Hyunjae’s quickly, and you wish they hadn’t because his eyes are so dark and certain, a strange aura being exuded from his being the longer your eyes are locked to his and with a small intake of breath, “in fact I insist.”

 Hyunjae finds himself determined to make your birthday amazing, especially as he mistakes the redness staining your cheeks for a swooning blush caused by Changmin. 

— 

It wasn’t long before Changmin had ushered you out of bed, urging you to go look presentable and to get your cook on ASAP. 

You just finished putting cream on your face when you walk out into the open spaced living room to find both men lounging around the kitchen island on the far side of the room. 

“Oh babe! Wait till you hear what we’ve been cooking up for you.” You grin, Changmin’s enthusiasm as infectious as the endearing grin on his face.

“Oh pray, do tell honey.” 

Hyunjae feels the tips of his ears burn hot, silently taking in the exchange and watching you walk around the island, ruffling Changmin’s hair along the way before opening a cupboard to take an assortment of spices and herbs out. Hyunjae didn’t like to admit it, much less feel it, but he was rattled. The casual use of terms of endearment has a little green eyed monster threatening to make an appearance, a small, yet painful clench of his heart making him want to get out of his seat and cradle you in his arms. 

But, he had no right, he realised, and instead willed away those ugly feelings brewing inside of him and calmed his mind and his heart.

“Well,” Changmin began, gaining both yours and Hyunjae’s avid attention, “Hyunjae reminded me of when you got drunk at that festival and tripped over a pothole-”

“Get to the point please.” You huff, clearly embarrassed from the memory, even more so that Hyunjae remembers it. Hyunjae’s lips twitch into a small smile, watching the gloom and clear want to move on from the memory etch onto your face, finding your expression cute. 

“Anyway, he said that even though you were limping and crying and— ” 

“ — Changmin!” 

“— drunkenly insisting to go back to the tent forever, there was that one DJ that you just went crazy for and stayed to dance.” 

You smile, with a roll of your eyes, recalling exactly who he was talking about.

 “Anyway,” Hyunjae continues, catching your smile, “I happen to have a friend who is close to Sangyeon and I’m sure I could get you a hook up for your birthday.” 

The squeal — more like scream— you release echoes throughout the apartment, making Changmin wince, but you don't care, literally jumping around and releasing excited squeals. 

“No WAY! Are you serious? Please tell me this isn’t a joke, because if it is, that's mean and I will cry.”

Hyunjae chuckles, halting your freak out over your favourite DJ, to instead freak out inside over how beautiful his frickin 'chuckle is, I mean what the hell.  

“It’s not a joke, please I wouldn’t do anything to make you sad or cry.” Despite the lighthearted tone in which he spoke, the underlying sincerity had your heart skipping several beats and your gaze lingering on him for far too long. 

You clear your throat, looking away when Hyunjae’s gaze catches yours. “We-well, thank you so much Hyunjae. That’s the best gift ever.” You finish quietly, turning toward the fridge to distract that little moment you just had. 

“I knew hyung would be the right man for the job.” Changmin sat feeling proud of himself, especially after catching that little moment between you both. If they don’t get together after this, I’m going to kill them both, he thinks. 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Hyunjae’s hand scratches awkwardly at the back of his head, feeling weird about whatever had just happened. “Anyway, I was thinking about food too… Chanhee would probably help out. I’m sure he would give us a good deal if he were to cater. Plus I kinda think he’d be mad if we got someone else.” He adds with a grin.

You felt so grateful, smiling gently, “Thanks Hyunjae, I really appreciate that.” thinking of how kind and thoughtful and caring this man was and how unfair it was that he was just that perfect and not yours.

—

The rest of the morning and into lunchtime was spent with ideas being thrown back and forth and the smell of your cooking lingering in the air. You caught Hyunjae’s gaze on the stove multiple times, his throat bobbing with his heavy gulps, or licking his lips. Hyunjae was a good eater and hungry Hyunjae is just damn adorable.

So when you announce that food’s ready, he’s the first to stand and just as quick to shift through your cupboards and drawers for plates and cutlery, setting out the table as if it were something he did at your place all the time. And that small moment allowed a pathetic yearning image to form in your head of you cooking and Hyunjae setting the dinner table every night and wow, you have to stop doing this to yourself. 

Changmin pulled up a seat in the middle of the small table and you and Hyunjae sat opposite of each other at the heads of the table. Like the heads of a household. Okay,stop, stop. 

Changmin gets out the dish mats just as your mitted hands bring the deep dish over. Between the three of you the side dishes and rice are placed on the table and by the time you have all served the food, silence washes over everyone realising just how hungry you all are.

“So good.” Changmin suddenly moans after scoffing spoonful after spoonful of food in his mouth.

“I know how to please.” you grin, adding a wink.

Hyunjae's eyes widen to the size of saucers for two reasons. 1) Did you just make a damn sexual innuendo at fucking Changmin? 2) He was currently choking to death.

You and Changmin look at Hyunjae for mere seconds in shock before rushing from your seats. Immediately your palm is slapping down on Hyunjae's back, while Changmin in panic grabs Hyunjae's juice from the table to force feed him the damn thing. You grow more worried, not even having time to admire the firm and wide back muscles of your crush, because hey, he was about to die!

He continues to cough harshly, all the while Changmin has spilt bright purple juice over Hyunjae’s (previously) white jumper. 

Hyunjae finally raises his hand, stifling his harsh coughs to look up at the both of you with teary eyes, looming over him. After a few deep breaths he manages a sheepish smile before looking down at himself to see the bright purple stain. 

"O-oh that'll stain, let me wash it! Min, go grab him a shirt." 

Changmin rushes off and during that time, your eyes return to Hyunjae who raises to a stand whilst pulling up his jumper, baring the toned skin of his belly and a happy tra- wait why is he stripping? What? What?

Your eyes widen and by the time your inner panic has settled, he has pulled his jumper over his head, standing before you in all his topless glory, holding his jumper out for you to take while you stand numb, eyes practically devouring the sight of him.

"Ummm?" 

Your hands quickly snatch the jumper, spinning on your heels and rushing toward your washing machine, completely avoiding Hyunjae’s gaze when you shove it inside. 

"Babe, all of my shirts are too small." Changmin appears, whining as he holds up one of his slightly bigger tees against Hyunjaes torso. 

"I might have something." You mumble, eyes on the floor as you rush back to your bedroom. Hyunjae blinks after you, watching you disappear down your hall, Changmin standing there with his much too small shirt in hand. 

When you return, your eyes are awkwardly set to the side as you thrust a very large hoodie towards Hyunjae. As he takes it, Changmin gapes at you, or rather the hoodie and starts to whine. "THAT! IS MINE!" 

You turn, pouting and whine back in the same tone as Changmin. "But I liiiiike it." 

As Hyunjae pulls it over his head, he eyes you with a barely noticeable frown. She wears his clothes?  It’s seems stupid. It is stupid. The way he feels at the thought of your frame all snuggly and warm in another man's clothes when he doesn’t even have the courage to tell you how he feels about you, that he feels this way despite having no right to tell you to not wear Changmin’s clothes. And of course, it has to be Changmin. His best friend. Your damn roommate and best friend too. The boy who could make the colour black look like sunshine. How was he meant to compete with that? 

During the time he had been mulling over his thoughts, Changmin got to cleaning the split juice and you were hovering by the washing machine, cheeks tinged red. And if Hyunjae was anything like Changmin, a tease, he would have gathered that the flush is due to the permanent image of his body ingrained on your brain and that it won’t disappear and so, if he was anything like Changmin, which for the first time in his life he wishes he was, he would have turned that shade of red deeper with a smirk and a whisper of you can see the real thing instead of thinking about it, angel. 

But, he isn’t anything like Changmin. Anything like what he thought you wanted. So, he remains as quiet as you. 

Later, when Hyunjae eventually leaves your apartment, Changmin is quick to give you a shit eating grin, while you give him a look that could kill. 

“I can’t believe you.” Changmin only rolls his eyes and you huff, adding, “actually I can. You’re such a little shit.” 

Once again Changmin rolls his eyes at you, casually slinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you over to the sofa where you both heavily drop your bodies with a sigh. “Something had to be done. You both clearly like—” 

“—He doesn’t like—” 

“You’re so stupid.” You turn your head to gawk at him. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard. Thick as shit. Dumb as… bums?” When you give him a look he only shakes his head, hand swiping through the air dramatically. “It doesn’t matter. The point is. He likes you. Just wait and see, okay? It’s all part of my plan.” You groan at that, knowing full well how Changmin's plans go. “Don’t groan, you know they work… eventually. Anyway, the point is that you both will get to spend more time together since he’s gonna be helping and I just think it’s a good chance to get closer and maybe confess.” Changmin whispers the last word, knowing how you feel about confessing. Feeling you tense up beside him he rubs your arm, bringing you closer against his body until your head falls into the crook of his neck. “I know it sounds scary, but baby you’re not gonna get anywhere like this. He could be the one y’know? And listen. Hyunjae is a great guy. I know he wouldn’t hurt you.” 

“He will if he rejects me.” You whisper, curling in on yourself and effectively burrowing against Changmin. The thought, the ache of being vulnerable and having your feelings out in the open without knowing his scares the living hell out of you. You’ve gone through rejection and things not working out after giving your all before and to do it again… It’s not something you want to do right now. 

Changmin knows you and he knows how your mind works and instead of saying anything more, he kisses your forehead and cuddles you tighter. 

Hyunjae was right, the boy could make sunshine from the colour black and right now in your best friend's arms, you felt as if winter was a faraway dream and instead you were on the soft beds of summer sand.    

— 

You see Hyunjae again three days later. This time without the comforting presence of Changmin. 

It’s midday and you’re bored at home, simply lazing on your sofa with a rerun of an old show playing on your TV. Changmin started at work earlier than you, thus leaving you alone. So when you hear the familiar christmas jingle (that you really should change now) ring out through the apartment, your brows screw together in confusion and with a grunt you push yourself up and begin to approach your door. 

Your hand draws beneath your shirt to scratch at your belly, slippers faintly squeaking against the floor until they come to a stop and your eye squints into the peephole. In an instant, you’re shooting backward, eyes wide and once again panic has made itself at home inside of you. The soft tufts of dark brown falling above gentle eyes unmistakably belong to Hyunjae, though you think you must be seeing things, holding your breath as if he could hear you and once more leaning toward the door to peep at him. 

Yeah, no, it’s him. 

When the bell sounds off again your lip catches between your teeth as you nervously gnaw at it, debating in your anxiety riddled brain on whether to answer or not. The answer becomes clear, however, when your fingertips rest on your door and you lean closer to peak at Hyunjae once more. He’s wearing a baseball cap but when he tilts his head back the creases on his skin when he furrows his brows are clear to see and your heart skips more than one beat when he releases a huff of air and pouts his lips out. No, you simply cannot leave him waiting any longer. 

Smoothing out your hair and clearing your throat in some unspoken appear like your shit is together ritual you finally unlock the door, seeing Hyunjae straighten up and features relaxing and when you pull the door open you think that just maybe that little ritual to calm yourself is for nought, because nothing can control your heart or the way the way heat invisibly kisses your cheeks when you’re at last face to face. 

As your eyes meet, the edges of his lips lift just the slightest, but his small smile feels like the full exposure of the sun while sitting on freshly trimmed grass in the middle of summer and your heart lurches into your throat, leaving you still and mute. Hyunjae’s own lips falter on words, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly and before he can say anything you find yourself blurting out “Changmin’s at work.” 

The silence hangs between you both, Hyunjae’s eyes boring into yours until with some kind of finality to whatever thought he was having (that he was going to get you to forget about Changmin for a while) he stands straighter and lets his lips stretch that much further, until the effect of it reaches from his plump cheeks balled high right to his eyes to form endearing slits.

 “I’m here for you.” He says warmly, friendly, but still, you feel that your heart might explode in your throat right now. A lovely image. 

“M-me?” 

Hyunjae, a seemingly simple man, gives you a simple nod, eyes glimmering with warm rays, lips gently lifted and calming your racing heart, but only because you’re sinking into his entirety right now. 

“Uh, well, you should come in then.” You say eventually, letting out a nervous laugh. 

You pause for a split second after you’ve closed the door just to take a deep breath; that was a mistake because the smell of Hyunjae has already permeated the air, something faintly sweet and homey that embeds itself into your senses, leaving only him to fill your being. When you turn around Hyunjae has taken off his jacket, already hung it on the hooks as if he’d just arrived home and kicks off his shoes to place neatly on the rack right beside yours. 

It's things like this. 

The way Hyunjae is effortlessly comforting, how everything he does feels in sync with you, how he’s as natural as the air you breathe, the way he filters into your lungs and spreads throughout your body, how he settles himself into your world as if he were always there… It’s always so natural and domestic and it scares you how much you want him to fit himself into your world, how much you crave for the calmness and warmth he exudes. It’s things like this. Things like this that made you fall for Hyunjae in the first place. 

Eyes curled into that adoring smile of his, silence lingers with the tick tock of your clock, everything but your heart still. Something thankfully snaps in your mind, like a rubber band slapping back against your skin and you’re spurred to act, to do something, before you really do something foolish like ask Hyunjae if he could just hold you quietly for, well the rest of time if possible. 

Instead you gesture toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

His smile somehow grows and with it the weight in your heart bears down heavier in your chest. He rubs his hands together, small steps shuffling toward you. “I’d kill for some tea or something hot. It’s freezing out there.” One blink and suddenly, you’re practically toe to toe, his height looming over you and smile, a shining light directing itself right into your eyes. His smell, the heat that’s clung to his skin, the slow faint sound of his breathing melds into one wonderfully disarming spell that knocks your whole world off its axis when it hits you, and you’re stuck in it, unable to fathom anything else around or within you, because right now your anatomy, your biology, all its senses, nerves, synapses and the like have been rewired to respond to Hyunjae and Hyunjae only.  

Even when you do manage to gather yourself to complete a task (that’s for him anyway) it’s all slow, as if you were trying to pass through clingfilm, or you were moving through an invisible force field attempting to hold you back. Your eyes linger on his without any thought that it may come across as weird for how long and how deep you allow yourself to sink into his dark pools, your rational side certainly didn’t think it was weird at all, didn’t even want to attempt to get you to hold back and even as you drew away from him, stepping backward so your sight could stay on his a little longer, you still didn’t think to yourself perhaps it’s time to wake up now. 

You’re in a strange headspace when you eventually do reach your counter and grab at the kettle to fill with water. Hyunjae hasn’t said anything though he did notice your strange behaviour. He was just as floored at the way you looked at him, how your gaze lingered in the way it did and fought to stay on him until you eventually had to turn away.  And while you were away with the fairies Hyunjae stands by your table with red tinged ears and a racing aching heart. 

The kettle bubbles away and you’re moving slowly, like you’re not really present and Hyunjae watches you, takes note of the small smile on your face and the glaze that makes your eyes look all shiny and far away and he’s never had any particular wishes in his life; he’s a rather practical man, yet in that moment he wants the universe to grant him the impossible, to allow him to invade the world that is your brain and witness the thing that made you get such a beautiful dreamy look on your face. 

If only he knew. 

Strangely enough, it’s the tranquil sound of the water being poured into the mugs and bringing steam to float out of its confines that breaks the spell you seem to be under. You realise that Hyunjae is here and that you are both alone once more. And now your anatomy, biology, the nerves and synapses and the like have reverted back to their actual purpose, or at least to what they do best and that’s to make you a panicked and jittery mess. 

“Um, take a seat. I’ll bring them over.” You quietly say.

And now Hyunjae really does wonder about the happenings inside your head. Alas, he turns to walk over to the sofa, a large stretch of comfie white that looks smaller than it is once he takes a seat. 

“Sugar?” You call out, scooping up your usual two spoons and mixing it in. 

Hyunjae replies that he would like two and you really are back to normal, or at least your version, because you’re brain decided to throw itself back to your youthful days as a nerve-filled young girl high on the thought of romance and love and allows you to think oh, two, just like me. 

You’re almost angry at yourself when you roughly scoop up two teaspoons of sugar and stir Hyunjaes mug. “Milky, or strong?” Again, like you, he likes his tea strong, just a ‘couple quick flicks of the wrist’ he says and you don’t feel like the adult you are at all, getting happy and gooey and all over something so miniscule. Letting out a huff your fingers slide into the handles to grasp the mugs and you make your way over to the sofa. 

Even with you sat on the other side of the sofa, Hyunjae is big enough, wide enough that there doesn’t even feel like there’s much distance between you and that makes you so incredibly nervous. Like you’ve never sat beside a boy, well a man, before. Something swells inside your throat, or maybe it’s actually your throat closing up. A silence stretches and you hope to God that it’s only you feeling awkward, because you really don’t want to make Hyunjae uncomfortable, but the silence is so long and his heat is stitching itself into your skin and almost tugging as if to make you curl up against his side and— 

“Ahh that’s the stuff. Thanks. I really needed that.” 

Your eyes meet his again and they’re curled into that favourite eye smile of yours. The one that makes you feel like your heart is smiling right back. You can tell he’s grateful, that he’s genuine about it. Because that’s Hyunjae all over. Appreciative, honest, sweet and the few seconds you mull over his qualities that had you falling for him, you also realise that unlike you both liking your tea strong with two sugars, that’s probably where you draw the line with being similar. You shouldn’t think this way. At all. Especially when it took years from your late teens into the early years of adulthood to accept yourself, flaws and all to build yourself as close as possible to a person that you wanted to be. 

But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help the small demeaning thought that Hyunjae is way out of your league and that he is everything you are not. 

Before you can go off on a tangent of self-deprecating thoughts, however, Hyunjae speaks up once more, shuffling on the sofa closer to you with his long legs and smiling eyes. 

“So, I didn’t drop by randomly, by the way.  Changmin just said that he would be working, but that you would be free to talk about your birthday a bit more, so I should drop by…” 

Changmin, of fucking course. 

“It seems like he didn’t tell you though, so I’m sorry if me coming here has made you feel uncomfortable or anything.” 

You’re quick to take note of the small frown lines forming on his head and it urges you to rush out a string of no’s and wave your hands around as if to physically wipe away the thought. You can feel that your cheeks have warmed and you give Hyunjae a sheepish smile, allowing your hands to fall limp into your lap. 

“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in any way at all, Hyunjae.” You don’t notice, because your eyes fall to your hands twisting in your lap, but Hyunjae’s eyes widen ever so slightly and his throat bobs as he tries to swallow the dryness and he shifts ever so slightly because his heart just moved all kinds of crazy and all because of your soft eyes and the curve of your lips when you said his name. “I just,” You continue, not allowing yourself to look at him still, “wasn’t expecting you. But, it’s nice to see you. Really, it is.” And you meant it, you really did. 

Somewhere between general chit chat and sips of warm tea, you and Hyunjae had moved to the small round table that sits as an invisible border (even though the carpet and the tiled flooring is a clear indication) of where your kitchen and living room separate. Your legs knock together at first and you both do that laugh that people do when something kind of silly happens, something to not be made a big deal out of so you laugh in apology instead. And admittedly the touch did make your heartbeat spike, but the laughter and its warmth and the fact it was something shared really made everything more natural, more comfortable. 

When you both manage to find a good position to settle in at the small table, right next to each other, with both of your legs poking out next to the other, Hyunjae smiles at you again. It’s so disarming, honestly.

In the middle of this small table of yours is a big square piece of white paper, blank and waiting to be filled and in your hand that’s not drumming against the side of your mug is a big red marker pen, pulled from the packet of other markers laying beside the paper. 

“Okay, so like we should make a list of what we got so far and then go from there?” You ask. 

Hyunjae only nods, smiling again before taking a sip of his tea. He could be somewhat of a talker (an understatement, he could rabbit on when he wants to), but seeing you so invested and chatty, he feels no need to talk, simply wanting to sit back and listen to your voice. 

And with that you began to messily (because you hadn’t been at work for a few weeks now and hadn’t had the need to write and so your writing skills have become a bit sloppy) jot down the very little plans you’ve made for your birthday.

The list went like this:

x Music — Sangyeon

x Food provider — Chanhee 

And… that was it.

Apparently Hyunjae’s thinking the same thing because he quirks his brow at the paper and then looks up at you with questioning eyes. “What about the venue, you know that.” 

“I do?”

“Yeah… Changmin said that place by the river. You know the one with the fairy lights and hanging flowers and inside it's got this over the top chandelier?”

You did know. But you were feeling playful and you knew sweet and trusting Hyunjae would believe your little act when you made your eyes big and sat up suddenly in your seat and allowed your mouth to hang open in shock. 

“What? Changmin ACTUALLY booked that place for me?” 

Then you watch Hyunjae pause. With his cup mid air and his eyes round and bottom lip hanging and the way the oh shit crosses his eyes nearly makes you break then and there if not for the subtle inhale through your nose. 

Hyunjae slowly sets his cup back down and he starts to frown, letting it grow deeper until he finally says. “You didn’t know?” 

“Nope. I mean I told Min that’s where I wanted to go, but he said it was all booked out.” God, you should have been an actress. They’re like professional liars, right? 

“Shit.” The soft curse sounded so sweet from his lips and made you want to burst into giggles, especially when he began to repeat it over and over throwing his head back. A deep groan leaves his lips and you really should not be thinking about how the rich sound rumbles up his throat and past his lips only to reverberate through your own body, making you feel hot under the collar. Especially when he’s being so innocent about it. But, God did you really have to make ONE man that cute AND that sexy? 

Thankfully, he distracts your borderline saucy thoughts by speaking again. “I thought you knew — Gah I can’t believe I ruined the surprise. I’m so stu—”

“— I’m kidding.” 

Hyunjae blinks at you, words dying on his tongue. As soon as he sees your lips twitch into a barely contained smile his own breaks out and he bows his head, shaking it at you as he chuckles. 

“I expect that sort of shit from Changmin. I really thought I fucked up there.” And you think he might be a bit upset, but he laughs again, eyes shining when they look at you and you find yourself joining him. “I’ll have to get you back.” 

You raise your brow at that, curling the edge of your lips into a smirk. “That so?” 

Then he leans forward on his forearms as if to tell you a secret, but you’re too distracted by the way his arms flex in the simple shirt he had on beneath his hoodie; he’s so broad and solid and just… God. Before your thoughts can fly even further into dangerous territory, Hyunjae speaks.

“I’ll get you when you least expect it.” He drawls in a way that makes your throat feel dry. It feels as if the smallest molecules that make up the air have frozen in place, everything still as your eyes lock with each others and the way the edge of Hyunjae’s lips are still curved into the smallest of smirks makes you subconsciously hold your breath, leaving you to sit quietly in your chair and keep your stare on him. 

He moves on as if nothing happened, however. As if you both didn’t just engage in one of the most powerful and tensest eye contests that left your heart fumbling to remember its purpose and your throat bone dry. 

Then again why would he be affected when you’re the one with a crush. 

“So now we know the venue,” he says, interrupting your gloomy thoughts with his teasing voice, “you can add it to the list. Have you already made a list of people coming?” 

“Yep. Sent the invites out. If you didn’t get one then you weren't invited.” You say pointedly.

But Hyunjae seems to know the tells of your lies and teasing already, because he just chuckles and nonchalantly says, “looks like I’m gatecrashing.”  

You both discuss the venue capacity versus how many guests you’re having, factoring in Chanhee’s catering staff, which you still need to ask him about, and of course the DJ. You’re usually bad at planning and thinking of ideas, mostly leaving that sort of thing in Changmin’s hands, but with Hyunjae it’s easy to flow from one idea to the next and get things organised. You’re pleasantly surprised to find that Hyunjae is very detail oriented and amazing at helping you to sort through everything. He’s already helped you to plan the colour theme and the dress code and he’s helped you to work out a budget (minus the venue since Changmin had sorted that for you) and all that’s really left is for you to send out the invites via text as is the way nowadays. 

And by the time he left, you were too sleepy to be sad about it, though your heart did manage a little ache in longing as you both softly said goodbye to each other. 

And when you closed the door and turned back around to quickly clear the table and neaten out the blanket and cushions on the sofa it was then that you noticed the thick grey hoodie that Hyunjae had removed earlier on. Your hand hovers over it for but a moment before you’re picking it up and slowly bringing the material to your nose. With your deep inhale his scent permeates your entirety and like a sedative you feel every part of you sighing in content; he’s just like home. 

You drop Hyunjae a quick message and inform him of the forgotten hoodie. 

From; Hyunjae: Don’t worry about it, I have plenty.

From; Hyunjae: Besides, it'd look better on you. So keep it :)

You can’t remember how long it took you to reply to that, or how long it took to calm your heart (well as much as you could at least), but what you did know is that the weight of his large hoodie on your skin and the warmth it gave you and the scent of Hyunjae clinging to the material gave you one of the most peaceful sleeps you’ve ever had in your life. 

— 

Changmin has a day off from work the day before you’re due back and you curse Changmin’s work for inconveniencing you, because now you have to use the last day you’re off from work to go shopping with him for your birthday outfit. 

You told Changmin the day after Hyunjae had been around (because you ended up sleeping the entire night and into the next day) that you both decided on a theme and colour scheme and Changmin was very pleased.

That brings you to today where you’re waiting for Changmin to finish in the shower so you can start getting ready. Thankfully he doesn’t take too long to use the bathroom anyway, so you can chill in the living room and watch the last ten minutes of your show until he’s done. 

During the time you’re waiting the doorbell rings and you wonder if it’s the mailman with a package (because Changmin is often ordering things from online) and while looking back at your TV because something dramatic is happening, you stumble over to your door and blindly pull it open. 

Hyunjae already has a smile on his face, but as he watches you with your head turned back to the TV and body engulfed in his hoodie, he feels his cheeks bunch higher with his smile and the warmth he feels from seeing you so free and relaxed in something of his does more to his heart than words could describe.

When you do eventually turn around to apologise to the mailman the words die on your tongue and you’re left blinking up at Hyunjae with your lips shaped like a fish blowing bubbles the longer you gape at him. 

“Hy-Hyunjae?” 

He adorably raises one of his large hands and gives you the tiniest wave in greeting. “Changmin said something about shopping? I don’t really own anything purple so…” 

Lee Changmin. 

You really shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Sure, come on in…” You step aside for Hyunjae and once again that familiar warmth like the morning sun kissing your skin through the cracks in your curtains spreads within you as you watch him hang his coat as if he were coming home. God I’m whipped. 

“Min’ is just in the shower. He shouldn’t be long. I have to get ready and then we’re good to go.” Hyunjae nods, walking toward your sofa and plopping down, leaving you by the door and staring at the back of his (stupidly beautiful) head. “Oh and we’re gonna go to Ki’s restaurant to decide on food.” 

At that Hyunjae turns his head as you’re walking toward him. He has a huge smile plastered on his face, eyes creasing until they nearly disappear. “I know. That’s the second benefit of coming, the food.” 

His happiness is so contagious and endearing that you nearly miss what he says. “That’s the second  benefit? What’s the first one then?” You frown when you see Hyunjae’s smile falter, eye smile completely disappearing and then his features slowly fading into a blank stare. “Hyunjae?” 

His throat bobs when he swallows and you’re even more confused when you spot his ear’s tinting pink. “U-uh. Just that... You know…” Your frown deepens when he trails off and before you can inquire further Changmin loudly announces that he’s done in the bathroom, casually strolling down the corridor with only a towel around his waist walking into the kitchen area and pulling out a bottle of juice from the fridge, that he drinks straight from the fucking bottle despite you telling him to not to do that numerous times. 

Hyunjae breathes a sigh of relief when he sees your attention is on Changmin, because how was he supposed to outright say oh well you see the first benefit is that I get to spend more time with you? 

The relief is short lived, however, when he watches you go over to scold Changmin, slapping him up the head and making the man yelp. You begin to go off at Changmin once again about how drinking from the bottle is unhygienic and asking him if it was so fucking hard to just use a damn cup. Green eyed monsters have been making more and more appearances as of late; like right now, when Changmin just giggles as he tells you how cute you are when you’re mad and it makes Hyunjae mad, because yeah, you are fucking cute, even when you’re mad, but who is Changmin to say it in that annoyingly teasing voice, and who is Changmin to pinch your cheeks and who is Changmin to stand practically naked before you and be touched by you when you slap against his bare chest in annoyance. 

No, not ‘who is Changmin’. 

Who am I? To be getting mad. 

The fist he hadn’t even known he was clenching slowly relaxes and he watches you leave with an annoyed whatever. 

Changmin goes straight back to drinking from the carton. 

— 

Your apartment is situated in a convenient spot; the bus stop is literally in front of your building, and the fact that more than one bus comes to that stop means  you can  more or less go to where you need to at any given time. A ten minute walk down the street to the left and you’d be at the underground station. In half that time a walk down the street to the right would bring you to all your small local stores; a grocery store, a post office, an off licence, all the basics you’d need if you were not in the mood or fussed to go to a bigger supermarket. And right across the street was a whole stretch of green, the park perfect for a run, or a picnic, or just to read a book when you didn’t want to be cooped up inside, but didn’t necessarily want to travel far from home either. And the trip to the outlet would only be roughly twenty minutes by bus depending on traffic. 

Another convenience is that the buses tend to be on time too, so as the three of you wait and you quietly listen to Changmin chat Hyunjae’s ear off while you look down the street to see when the bus would approach, which if it’s on time should only be in a couple of minutes.  

You are unsure of how many times this has happened, but at the sound of Hyunjae’s laughter, light and sweet, you’re distracted from the road and instead are looking at him. You watch as his shoulders shake with his chuckles, his lips stretched wide on his face and baring his teeth, eyes squinted into its own smile and you feel your senses mellow out to hone in and focus on that laugh and his smile. 

You’re only pulled out of your dreamy stupor when Changmin playfully shoves you and leans forward to whisper in your ear. “Bus is here, don’t worry loverboy will still be there.” And your cheeks immediately grow warm, the sensation travelling up your neck and even reaching your ears. 

You shove him back and turn toward the bus, seeing it pull up and quickly pull your pass from your pocket. 

When the doors whine upon opening, Hyunjae is quick to move to the side and gestures to you with a warm expression to go ahead first. You smile gratefully (and a little shyly) and when you go to step forward Changmin, the little shit, pushes past you, blowing a kiss to Hyunjae and thanking him loudly for being such a gent’. You roll your eyes, quickly making your way onto the bus.

Changmin has found a spot near the back and once you reach him you’re unsure if you should take your own window seat or sit next to him. He decides for you when he spreads his legs effectively blocking any space for you to sit, making you roll your eyes again and you take the window seat adjacent to him. The little seat conundrum makes you momentarily forget about Hyunjae and you stiffen when you feel him plop down next to you without hesitation. 

You’re layered up for the winter cold already, but he feels so warm; the kind of warmth when you get home and turn on the heating and feel it slowly spread in your apartment instantly making you feel cosy and safe and you have to resist leaning closer into it, into him. You chance a look up at Hyunjae and something strikes your heart when your eyes meet, Hyunjae is already looking down at you. And then he smiles and there’s another strike.

The bus pulls away from the stop with your eyes caught and not seeking to look elsewhere. Not that you would want to, anyway.

— 

The streets are missing that holiday glow; the lights that decorate the trees don’t seem to shine as bright, or joyously. The crowds that occupy the streets seem drained of the previous rush that would make the surroundings feel alive, may it have been stressful at the time or not. 

Now everything just feels dull.

And you would be quick to get sucked into that dreary mood if not for the fact that you were currently with your two favourite boys. Between your two favourite boys actually. 

One of the entrances to the outlet is near the bus stop that you walk toward once you all step off of the bus onto grey concrete with your arms brushing against Changmin’s and Hyunjae’s. 

Normally beside Changmin you barely notice your height difference, but next to Hyunjae it’s so obvious. Even sitting beside him on the bus he had taken up much of the space with his broad shoulders only serving to make the urge to lean into him that much more prominent, feeling safe and cosy and almost miniature next to him.

Seeing all the stores with multiple for sale signs and the sight of clothes astrew and masses of people piling in and out already makes your head hurt and you suddenly recall why it is that you hate shopping and wish you had ignored Changmin and stuck to searching for something online.

Alas, you’re here now and Changmin is at least happy and in his element, taking a hold of your hand when he spots a sale in a store he regularly splurges most of his paycheck at. 

You yelp as he drags you whilst Hyunjae is left behind the both of you with a frown and darkening eyes on Changmin’s hand wrapped around yours. He sighs heavily, irritated, because he seems to be feeling more and more unbecoming to his friend as of late, and that’s just not him at all. It’s not like it’s Changmin’s fault that Hyunjae has developed a crush on you who has a crush on Changmin, your damned friend and roommate. It’s the biggest cliche in the world, something inevitable, for two people who are not only close, but who live together to eventually develop feelings for the other. 

It’s also not Changmin’s fault, Hyunjae reminds himself again, that he was too afraid to tell you about his feelings.

Hyunjae steps into the store not long after you both, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as his eyes scour the masses of people at the ‘for sale’ racks. He spots you with Changmin who is busily sliding dress after dress along the rail in dismissal. You stand there looking bored, head fallen to the side and eyes staring at nothing in particular. It makes Hyunjae smile. He feels bored already too. 

When he approaches you both, you turn and smile at him, muttering something about how you’ll be stuck there for hours if Changmin has his way, but then with a quick glance at Changmin you lean closer as if to tell him a secret. “But if you wanna escape I can distract him. Seriously. Make a run for it while you can.” 

Hyunjae barely registers your playful words when your smell plays with his senses, fogging up the cogs of his brain and making him feel all droopy eyed and dopey as it washes over him. He quickly makes himself chuckle (awkwardly) and then he leans closer, not catching the way your breath hitches at his proximity. 

“I can accidentally knock him over. I’m big enough. He’ll be dazed and we can both make a run for it.” I know you’re big, you almost sigh out, suppressing a shiver when you once again think about how broad and strong Hyunjae’s entire frame is. 

Instead you quietly laugh back, holding up your hand with mischievous eyes. “Deal.” 

As Hyunjae goes to shake your hand, damn Changmin interrupts. 

“C’mere babe.” 

Hyunjae’s hand immediately curls from its loose gesture into a tight fist as soon as he hears that stupid term of endearment leave Changmin’s lips. Babe. Fucking babe. Hyunjae doesn’t even think he’d call someone babe. Maybe baby, or honey, or something, but not babe. Even so, he doesn’t like that Changmin gets to be the one to call you that. 

You turn away from Hyunjae and he feels his heart drop into his gut, the pulsing making him feel sick to his stomach because it just feels, once again, that this is how it will always be. With you turning away from him to Changmin. And he briefly wonders how long he’ll be able to handle that. If his feelings for you will ever leave, just like he feels you are leaving him for Changmin. 

Changmin shoves a dress against your body and Hyunjae exhales low through his nostrils, and if he were a dragon or something he’s sure that there would be fumes of smoke billowing from his nostrils. 

“Min.” You whine out when the boy practically manhandles your body, pulling the fabric of the dress tight around your frame and his eyes scanning your body trying to picture how it would fit against you when on. 

Hyunjae feels the way his body screams to react, the instinct to pull you away from Changmin nearly winning over his rational thinking when his eyes zero in on how close Changmin is to you, sees how casual he is when touching you and fuck for the first time in his life he just wants to STOP thinking and just punch Changmin’s stupid face. Hyunjae fights to calm his breathing, turning his eyes away from the situation as if that will make reality cease and it only helps a little. Until he hears Changmin’s voice. 

“I knew it. Your tits would look great in this.” 

Hyunjae manages to catch the shrill call of Changmin’s name when he freezes, blood rushing to his ears and hands squeezed painfully tight until his knuckles are white and his fingers begin to turn numb.

You nervously shoot your gaze back at Hyunjae, an invisible fire flaring across your cheeks and lip pulled between your teeth. Your nerves fray at the edges when you spot the cold look on Hyunjae’s face. It’s unlike something you’ve ever seen on him, eyes hard and expression stoic, his whole build seemingly stiff and you feel the need to cry, because it must be because you and Changmin have made him uncomfortable. And you never want to make him feel that. 

You shove Changmin away, slapping him across the head and hissing watch your damn mouth, before turning back to Hyunjae again, eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry. You know he has no filter. I hope we didn’t make you uncomfortable.” 

You could do no wrong. He wants to say. The sound of your voice and the sight of those flying lit lanterns that melt the colour in your eyes sates him only slightly, giving him something other than his anger and frustration to focus on. Instead of saying and acting the way he really wants to in this situation, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t worry. Changmin’s dumb.” Changmin protests in the background, but the both of you ignore him. Only keeping your gazes on the other, heart beats mirroring within your chests. 

— 

“I can’t believe we haven’t found anything.” Changmin groans, grabbing your arm and throwing his head against your shoulder. “We’ve been to like more than half of the good stores already.” He continues to grumble.

Hyunjae stands on the other side of you, peering down at Changmin practically hanging off of you and his brow twitches. It had been like this for the entirety of your shopping trip. Changmin casually touching you, dragging you here and there with him, making crude remarks like earlier on about how something would look on your body, what certain features would be accented, even going as far as to playfully land a slap on your butt when he’d direct you toward a changing room. Hyunjae thinks he must be a saint, the whole day weighing down on him and depleting him of energy. He doesn’t think he’d even have the strength to punch Changmin if he allowed himself. 

And his heart only aches more because when Changmin would make those remarks, or when he touched you in a way Hyunjae thought was inappropriate (touching you at all was inappropriate in Hyunjae’s eyes though) your eyes would always find his, shy and flustered, and it just hurt. It physically hurt Hyunjae to see you react to another man that way. 

You’re about ready to give up. Tell Changmin you’ll look for something online when you spot the back of someone's head. “Kevin?” You call out, moving away from Hyunjae and Changmin and toward the person you hope is your friend's direction. As they turn your teeth bare with your wide smile and you speed up your steps until you’re half jogging over to him with your arms spread.  

Kevin’s face is the epitome of sunshine when he smiles brightly at you, already slightly bending with his arms spread to catch you. He stumbles from his spot when your body crashes into his, arms secure around yours when he barely lifts your body from the floor.

“Ohmygosh!” You say into his neck, voice coming out muffled making him laugh. You pull your head back just as Kevin settles you on your feet again. “I thought I wouldn’t see you until my party.” You gush, hanging onto his arms as you look up at him. 

“Same. I’ve actually been stressing all week trying to think of what to get you.” He pouts, tilting his head and he’s so damn adorable you just want to pinch his cheeks. 

You give a sympathetic look, patting his arm. “Aw, don’t worry about it hun. Just you coming is good enough for me. I know how busy you are with your new line and everything.” 

Kevin shakes his head adamantly. “N’uh I have to get you something. I am glad I found the time for your party though. Things have calmed down a bit since Christmas.” 

“But everything's going well?” 

“Amazingly well. I’m just so… Happy.”  

Your cheeks ache with your smile, words nothing but honest and sincere when you tell Kevin. “I’m glad. You deserve it.” 

He gives you a soft smile, nudging your shoulder bashfully. “What you up to anyway? Catching the new year sales?” 

“Actually,” You say with a heavy sigh, “We’re trying to find an outfit for my birthday, It is not going well.”

Kevin’s eyes widen and he suddenly steps closer to you, clutching your arms. “Why didn’t you ask me? Um hellooooo fashion designer right here!” 

You laugh, giving him a pointed look. “Your stuff is a little out of my price range Kev.” 

“Well then it’s perfect.” 

“What is?” 

He huffs, suddenly pinching your cheek very hard, laughing when you pout and rub your cheek after he lets go. “Now I know what I can give you as a gift. We just have to sort out a time to meet for me to take your measurements. Is tomorrow evening good?” 

“Are you serious?” “Deadly.” You rush forward and embrace him in a tight hug. 

“I think I might love you.” You say into his chest.

Why does everyone get to touch her that way, but me? 

—

Chanhee’s restaurant is everything you would expect from him; classy colour design with fine cloth lining the tables, seats plush and velour covered, walls detailed with intricate oriental art, a comforting, yet elegant and upper-class feel to the place. 

Your small group stands out — yes the clothes were designer, but you didn’t think designer sportswear really counted as you all made your way toward the back room for the tasting. Thankfully, it was before they reopen for dinner, so you didn’t have any judgmental eyes on you. 

Minus the staff currently dressed better than all three of you put together.

Hyunjae pulls the door open, allowing Changmin in and then giving you a gentle smile, ushering you in before him too. You mouth a thank you, following Changmin inside and seeing your dear friend Chanhee, brows furrowed in concentration as he reads something off a clipboard. He quickly signs along the bottom and hands it over to a staff member with a thank you. 

When his eyes lay on you all a smile took over his face. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He jests with a flamboyant bow. 

“Um, what's humble about this place please? I could probably eat my food off this prestige floor.” Changmin comments. 

“Please… God...Don’t.” Chanhee says with intense repugnance etched into the creases of his face. You all recall that Changmin has in fact eaten off of the floor before, and that… disgustingly, he would not hesitate to do so again. 

“I can’t believe how long it's taken for us to come here, Chan.” You marvel, approaching him for a gruff and friendly hug. 

“I know! It’s just been so busy since the opening… honestly, it still doesn’t feel real, having my own restaurant I mean.”

Changmin came between the two of you then, slinging his arms around you both with a proud smile; the both of you have known of Chanhee’s dreams of opening his own restaurant since your first year of university. He was always the one to aim high, going above and beyond in everything he did to get to where he is now. You’re all proud and happy for him, especially to be around to witness his hard work come to life. 

“I see they dragged you too, Jae.” Chanhee moves away from you both to slap his hand against Hyunjae who smiles fondly at the younger. 

“I was not gonna miss a chance to taste some of your food.” He takes a look around, thinking that the place is just so Chanhee and pats him on the back. “Congrats’ man. The place looks good.” 

Chanhee’s face turns serious when he leans close to the three of you. “Don’t tell him I ever told you this, but,” He sighs, a grimace spreading on his face as if the words he is about to say are truly painful. “I owe that to Hak. The man really does know how to make art come to life.” 

“Damn I wish I was recording.” Chanhee shoves Changmin, rolling his eyes before clapping his hands together. 

“Right! I spent a long time thinking of a good menu and making it too. So if you don’t like it… tough!”  Typical Chanhee. 

Chanhee takes you to another room extended to the back room, much smaller than the main seating area of his restaurant, but still spacious. Chanhee tells you all that this area is usually reserved for VIP guests, or small private dinner parties. 

Unlike the squareness of the main room, this room resembles a bird cage, you think. The wood has been carved in a way that might resemble the top of one, the room circular and the glass windows stained in different colours that paint the room like a kaleidoscope when the sun shines through. 

The tables aren’t clothed like the ones in the front, instead they have been cleared to make way for silver trays of food to be placed down on mats. The smell immediately wafts over you, sparking the hunger within you and making you salivate. And looking over at Hyunjae you can see that it’s had the same effect on him. 

Your eyes meet and immediately you both burst into laughter. 

“Looks good.” You tell Chanhee.

And Hyunjae quickly, with a voice of longing says, “smells good too.” 

“And it will taste good.” Changmin affirms for Chanhee, making the man scowl when Changmin reaches up to pinch his cheek. 

“Yes. It will. So let's get to it.”

“I was thinking you can have a table laid out with some appetisers so people can pick when they’re hungry until actual food is served. I have mini kebab skewers— “ 

“Ooo fancy—”

“— I made lamb and chicken and the accompanying sauce tzatziki or thai chilli. The sauces are amazing together.” Chanhee boasts. He continues to take you through the different starters, all kept simple and within budget, though Chanhee the sweetheart said he did go more fancier just for you. He’s got a good selection, from crispy cheese melts, to battered squid and garlic. 

It all sounds so good, but your rumbling stomach is saying what you’re all thinking: let us try it already. 

“Like the starters, I have vegetarian and gluten free options for the main. I have slow cooked lamb served with…” The longer Chanhee drones on about the various food he has planned for your birthday, the tighter your stomach coils waiting to be sated and you can barely pay attention to what he’s saying when your eyes can’t look away from the sealed metal trays of hot food just waiting for you and as he starts to speak about dessert you’re only thankful that you aren’t the one asking him to just let you try the food, because the only person hungrier than you at this point is Hyunjae. 

“C’mon Chanhee, we can talk and eat. I’ll eat you at this point.” You and Changmin snicker into your hand and Chanhee looks mildly concerned but nods his head nonetheless, finally lifting the lid from the first tray where the kebab skewers sit. 

With gloved hands Chanhee hands you all one each and then holds two small dishes with the sauces up and informs you — as a chef strict as Chanhee would — how to eat the skewers, instructing you all to chew slowly and to let the flavour blend in with the sauces for a moist, as he grossly put it, experience.

He knows what he’s talking about though because there is a cacophony of satisfied moans the moment you all bite into your sauced up kebabs, the meat falling away effortlessly in your mouth and the sauce enhancing its already delicious flavour. Once more, mid bite, your eyes connect with Hyunjae’s, each of you with full cheeks and expression full of content, but it makes you both laugh, the chuckles muffled behind closed lips and your hand coming up to your mouth to keep from spraying the food so elegantly everywhere. But it doesn’t matter because the food hits the back of your throat weirdly and you feel your eyes water up and your throat tighten all the way down to your chest when you begin to splutter around the food, going into a glorious coughing fit. 

You keep your hand over your mouth as you attempt to push down the coughs and Hyunjae’s eyes are immediately filled with concern and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into him and tap his large palm against your back, eyes peering down at your watery ones while the lasts of your embarrassing coughing fit comes to an end. 

When he notices that your coughs have eased into small croaks, his hand rests on your back and moves in calming circular motions that make you want to fall even deeper against him and your tears clear from your eyes and everything feels quiet and still, something thick seeming to muffle your ears and block out everything else whilst your stare remains on him, steady like the motion of his palm that burns through the material of your clothes and it’s only the thrust of a glass of water in your face from a frazzled Chanhee that washes away the invisible cloak over your senses that makes Hyunjae’s body fall away from yours. 

“Shit, please do not die in my restaurant.” He says, watching you carefully while you gulp down the cool liquid, clearly having missed the moment he interrupted. (Thankfully, busy body Changmin did not.) 

After that little incident Chanhee basically coddled you, instructing you to chew slowly and carefully and for all that is good to not laugh while you have food in your mouth, and though annoying you know it was his way of caring and preventing a death in his restaurant.

With the appetisers and starters all tasted and approved, Chanhee brought out small plates of the potential mains. Right now you are trying the spicy beef curry and garlic and herb naan bread, once again taking your palette to heaven. Hyunjae turns his head toward you, making sure that you have safely swallowed your food before mumbling in your ear while Chanhee and Changmin spoke that he might have to kidnap Chanhee and make him his personal chef slave, making you giggle. 

“Okay, but you have to lend him to me three times a week.”  

The browns of his irises glitter when he smiles, the gentle lift of his lips serving to tip your heart out of balance when he leans closer with a light laugh. “Or maybe you’ll just have to stay with me, too.” You’re sure he can hear the way you sharpy inhale through your nose and seem to hold your breath as you stare up at him; him and his warm smile that now teeters on the edge of teasing, and it makes you dizzy because sure Hyunjae is playful and charming, but you’ve never experienced something that you’re sure could be classified as flirting from him and though you’re a mature young woman you just don’t know how to get a hand on the way your heart stutters out of control and your throat grows dry and you still can’t breathe let alone reply and he seems to eat up the way he’s got you to respond, his lips spreading into a fuller smile that bunches his cheeks and turns his beautiful eyes into even more beautiful crescents. 

His eyes move as if searching for something in you, trying to get a read on the thoughts in your head that unknowing to you, he’s so desperate for, but as per usual, once more someone else interrupts and Hyunjae feels that foreign burn in the pit of his stomach accelerate to a full blow flame that rushes to his chest and passes as a low growl in his throat when Changmin struts on over ever enthusiastic. 

“Oh my gosh you have to try this one!” Changmin is standing before you both in a matter of seconds, oblivious (or at least that’s what the little shit would have you believe) to yet another moment you and Hyunjae had been sharing and Hyunjae watches with pinched brows as Changmin brings a spoonful of food toward your face and he has no idea what comes over him, his body reacting before he could even control himself but he pushes his head forward and wraps his lips around the spoon, pulling back with an exaggerated hmm and giving a thumbs up to Changmin while he chews. 

Changmin cocks his head to the side with a smirk. “Taste good?” He asks, voice much too light. Hyunjae nods, eventually swallowing and gruffly replying yes. Changmin and Hyunjae engage in a weird starting contest, though as you look between them you’re not sure why, only that it’s weirding you out. 

“Anway, what else you got for us Chan?” You push through between the boys, reaching Chanhee’s side and looking back to see that while Changmin is grinning at Hyunjae, his jaw ticks as he stares right back. 

Chanhee whispers to you, asking what’s going on and you can only give him an incredulous look because you too have no clue what that was about. 

— 

Things seemed to return to normal by the time you all left Chanhee’s restaurant, having got the chance to enjoy an actual meal before he had to finish preparing for opening and making you forget that you even wanted to ask Changmin what that strange moment between the two of them was about. 

The walk to the bus stop was spent chatting about the food and Changmin and Hyunjae pushing each other for God know’s what reason, but at least they were laughing about it. The sun is still high, the afternoon relatively early and you’re encaptured by the way the sun falls around Hyunjae’s form; a halo of light akinning him to the brightest angel birthed from the heavens and you find yourself sighing the longer he leaves you mesmerised.

Until your best friend turns around with a shit eating grin and a quirked brow to ask if Hyunjae has something on him. “Huh? What?” 

“Well you’re staring so intently I just assumed that he had something on him.” 

At this point Hyunjae turns his head to look back at you and your eyes widen at Changmin for a split second, the idiot having the nerve to snicker into his fist when he reads the murder in your gaze and you fake a laugh narrowing your eyes at Changmin and instead give him a smug smile when you say “nah, I was actually wondering how you’re so small and have such a fat head whereas Hyunjae is perfectly proportioned.” 

Changmin comes to a stop, swinging around to look at you and you belatedly realise your mistake when instead of the frown you were hoping he’d sport, his eyes are alight with mischief, lips curling into the smuggest smirk when he quirks a brow at you. 

“Oh?” he asks in a voice light and airy and teasing. “He’s perfectly proportioned?”

 Hyunjae comes to a stop then, watching you watch Changmin with narrowed eyes. Changmin hums, moving behind Hyunjae’s tall frame so only his face is visible — only that evil grin can be seen. You watch as his hands come up to rest on Hyunjae’s wide shoulders, curling his fingers ever so slightly to massage into the skin and Hyunjae, bless him, only frowns, but makes no move to get Changmin off of him. 

“I suppose he does have nice shoulders. Can you imagine hanging onto these shoulders? Can you imagine clutching at them?” You know I can you goddamn imbecile. “But what about his chest? Bet you’d like to lay your head on a chest like this.” Why must your stupid eyes follow Changmin’s stupid hands down to Hyunjae’s broad chest and why must you be so enthralled by said chest that you fail to realise a certain someones eyes on you when you bite your lip and almost sigh. When Changmin’s hands slide down his stomach and toward his belt that’s when you finally find your voice, hissing Changmin and glaring with all you have. “What? I was just wondering what your exact thoughts on Hyunjae’s perfect proportions are.”

You scowl, fully wanting to pull at Changmin’s hair and maybe even get your metaphorical claws out, but instead you take a deep breath and give him a tight lipped smile. “I don’t have any thoughts. I simply made an observation. Now can we go? We’re gonna miss the bus.” 

You move past the two men, face feeling as if it were on fire. You absolutely refuse to look at Hyunjae, mortified by Changmin's antics, but the other man feels something like pride swell through him. He’s unsure if it's the fact that he feels a little victorious that mayhaps you like his body more than Changmin’s — because beating your crush at something? It’s only normal to feel so smug, but to know that you like his body enough that you sighed in such a dreamy way. That was the icing on the cake. 

And he didn’t miss the embarrassed look in your eye, enjoying the fact that you’re clearly flustered more than you should be and for a moment Hyunjae forgets that you’re probably in love with you roommate, and instead replays your reaction and your own mouth calling him perfect  in a sweet loop in his brain. 

He notices how quiet you are on the way to the bus stop, once more wishing he could read your mind, but at least he doesn’t have to watch you interact with Changmin and feel that foreign and ugly feeling run through him because of it. 

And when the bus comes and he sits next to you again, he can even forget the fact Changmin is there and allow himself to immaturely imagine that it’s just you and him and it’s his company you’ve chosen and that you feel the same way as him. 

The thought of you and him follows him from the moment you both say goodbye, all the way home and even after, because ever since Hyunjae has recognised his feelings for you he finds that one thought is a constant and he wonders if there was no Changmin, would he be able to make that a reality? 

— 

Something you adore about winter is that there is no chance of sunlight breaking through your curtains and interrupting your sleep in the early hours of the morning. In the darkness of your room you are deep in slumber, body curled into the comfort of your duvet, skin kissed to deep sleep by the material of Hyunjae’s hoodie and making you never want to leave.

So why. In God’s name. Are you being woken up right now? 

The answer should be an obvious one by now. 

Fucking Ji Changmin. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYY!” You flinch, a deep aggravated groan leaving your lips when you feel the full weight of Changmin’s body fall on top of you. His arms move to bury into your sides beneath your body over the duvet, his head falling against the back of your neck. 

“Fuck. Off.” Despite your voice being muffled against your pillow the threat is clear, the way you growl out your words through clenched teeth means to warn Changmin from keeping you from sleep. 

This is Changmin we’re talking about though. 

The man only laughs, snuggling closer, if possible, against your body and humming in delight. 

“Ey,” He begins to tease, “that’s very unbecoming of a lady. You shouldn’t use such wor— Ooof—” Changmin rolls over to the side of your body and clutches his nose after you throw your head back to headbutt him. 

“How’s that for a lady.” You test, groaning once more when you shift onto your side and turn your head to squint at the much-too-pleased-with-himself man. He peaks at you from over his fingers, eyes bright even in the dark and it makes you groan once again because fuck it’s too early for this— for him, and you’re further aggrivated when you feel that your body has slowly but surely started to wake up. 

“Right. I’m gonna make my way over to the venue to start setting up. Chanhee said he’ll arrive about an hour after me to set up the kitchen and food. Kevin said he’ll be around soonish to make sure your dress is good to go so get up missy. You stink.” You tut, not even having the energy to hit Changmin for his rudeness, but Changmin takes your noise as confirmation that you heard and understood him, moving to get up from your bed. “Oh and Hyunjae said he’ll pick you up.”

As always at the mention of Hyunjae’s name your being comes alight and you’re wide awake, on alert for everything and blood pumping adrenaline through your system, urging you to go even if your brain is telling you to stay in bed. 

“Your doing, I’m guessing.” 

You hear Changmin’s steps shuffle across the floor, his voice reaching you from near the door. “Nope,” he quips, “Hyunjae volunteered. Something about not letting the birthday girl get a taxi. He must think you’re royalty.” Changmin giggles, knowing just how true the fact is. 

Honestly, if you or Hyunjae don’t make a move on each other soon, he’ll really throw a fit. Though, he thinks with a smirk, that doesn’t mean he can’t help to make that happen. “See you later, princess.”

You hear your door shut and you sigh in relief as once again you’re engulfed in silence. It’s my birthday… Despite going as far as to have a party, the thought doesn’t excite you like it used to. Now it just feels like any other day, but you suspect that’s something likely to feel as you get older. Having a party really was due to Changmin’s encouragement and also the thought of being able to spend time with your loved ones, because Lord knows how difficult it is to have everyone meet up— Even if it was just the holidays. Sometimes, you think, being an adult really sucks. 

The saving grace of today though is your party and… The fact that Hyunjae will be there. Although you’re a walking ball of nerves whenever you so much as think of him, let alone see him, you can’t deny how his mere presence makes you feel featherlight and so incredibly warm; with Hyunjae it’s like dipping your feet into the cool azure sea and feeling the sun slowly crawl up your skin as it rises, a total dream. 

With Hyunjae on your mind (as usual) you roll out of bed, feet finding your bedroom floor and a groan parting from your lips when you feel how stiff your body is. You massage the back of your neck as you roll your head slowly to the left and then the right, sighing when you slide your feet into your slippers and push yourself up.

A shower sounds heavenly right now. And with Kevin coming over… well Changmin said soon, you needed to make sure that you were nice and clean to try on your finished dress. He had made you try it on last night, but took it back home to finish it off and make sure it was perfectly fitted for your body. Though it was very strange to try on a dress blindfolded, Kevin said it’s bad luck to see your dress before your birthday… Like, is that even a thing? 

You push open the bathroom door letting it swing shut with a click, quickly getting to pulling your clothes from your body and dumping them in the laundry basket. You pull your towels from the shelves, placing them on the rack within reach when you step out the shower, then go over to turn the shower knobs until the water reaches the temperature you like.

Moving beneath the water you feel your muscles relax under its hot touch, your eyes slipping shut as the remaining sleep you felt is washed away. Your mind drifts back to Hyunjae while you scrub your body and properly wet your hair. You wonder if Hyunjae is awake already, if he’s looking forward to seeing you as much as you are him. No— stop these silly thoughts. Rubbing the shampoo into your hair you clear the thought from your mind, reminding yourself it’s useless to think such a thing. You know Hyunjae is a man of action, that he’s a very open and honest person and that if there was even a miniscule chance that he liked you back he would have made it known by now. 

Your hair sits in a bubbly cloud atop your head and you move to grab for your shower gel, squeezing a decent amount into your hand and lathering it on your body. You instead start to wonder what he will wear today. He hadn’t found anything for himself the day you all went shopping and surely he’d gone out in his free time with you all having started work already.

With the theme being purple you start to picture him in the colour — your favourite colour. There are so many shades that would suit him, from the soft tones of lavender to the heavy and dark hues of grape. It’s easy for your mind to dress him in pale cloudy cotton shirts, or maybe a deep plum turtleneck which you know would look dashing on him. Your mind slips up and allows you to think how would he look next to me?

After rinsing out your hair and the gel from your body you turn off the shower, letting some excess drip off your body and then step out onto the shower rug. The towel feels nice wrapped around your freshly cleaned body, drops of water splattering across the floor when you bow your head to wrap a towel around your hair.

You go through the motions after wiping the condensation from the mirror to brush your teeth and do your face routine, all the while thinking of how bad you want to see Hyunjae. 

When you slide your dry feet back into your slippers and walk out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom you hear your phone going off. You see that you have a missed call notification and quickly go to answer your phone before you miss it again.

It’s Kevin.

“Hey, bub... Yep. Okay, I’m just getting dressed... Cool, see you soon.” 

Quickly drying yourself off, you pull out your underwear and some casual clothes, putting them on after using some body cream and deodorant. With your hair still wrapped in the towel you head toward the kitchen and put the kettle on, pulling out two mugs for you and Kevin. 

It’s still relatively early and you have hours until the party. And some silly part of you wants to message Hyunjae to come over before then. You don’t think that would be too weird. Afterall, you both are friends and it’s not like you both haven’t been in your apartment alone together before. Maybe you can just tell him you want someone to chill with before you’re swept up by all your friends. Because now you’re realising that even if he is going to be at the party, there’s no guarantee that you’ll actually get to spend time with him.

“Fuck. Am I whipped or am I whipped?” Your inner turmoil is cut off when the kettle clicks, steam rising through the spout and the water bubbling away. As you’re making the cups of tea the buzzer goes off and you rush over to buzz Kevin up, then finish up making the tea and bring the mugs over to your coffee table in the living room. 

Kevin arrives in no time, knocking lightly on the door and as soon as you’ve pulled it open he has a huge loving smile on his face, his free arm stretched out to engulf you in a hug as he wishes you happy birthday.

“How’s it feel to be a year older?” He asks after stepping into your apartment and taking off his shoes. He follows you to the sofa, laying the garment bag carefully over the back of it along with a plain gift bag. 

You fall down onto the sofa, smiling with a sigh. “No different than when I was a year younger.” 

He only hums thoughtfully, giving you a teasing smile. “Just wait. You’ll feel the difference soon. Trust me.” 

You laugh, lightly kicking his shin with your foot. “Gee, thanks.” 

Kevin picks up his mug, blowing briefly before bringing the rim to his lips and taking a tentative sip. “Ooo, you remember how I like it.” 

“Of course.” 

He places the mug back down and reaches next to him for the gown. You sit up, excited to finally see his work of art. “I made the length a little longer, even though I know you liked the length before, but only because I added a slit. You gotta bare those lush thighs babe.” 

“Speak for yourself. I hope you’re planning to show up in the tightest and shortest hot pants if we’re talking about showing off.” Kevin smirks, standing up to unzip the bag. 

You gasp upon seeing it. Eyes wide and sparkling the longer you look at the beautiful dress. It’s dark purple, solid tones making up the bodice shaped like a corset with the skirt part embroidered with flowers in a slightly darker purple. The skirt cuts into two pointed pieces and as Kevin had said one of the sides has a slit running up it, but you notice plum material under the skirt, assuming that Kevin had gone for a sort of layered look. All in all it's gorgeous. 

“Right, go try it on because if the under skirt doesn’t fit over that ass of yours I’m gonna have to alter it in time for the party.” You laugh, but grab for the hanger not having to be told twice.

In your room you lay the dress down gently as if it’s as fragile as glass and then squeal in excitement as you start to strip. You feel like it's prom again or something, acting like a bride who’s found their perfect dress. 

The bodice has pretty hoops and buttons on the side rather than a zip and you’re careful to undo the fiddly clasps. You put your feet through after the bodice parts wider and pull the dress carefully, slowly up your body, already sighing at the feel of the silk on your skin. You have to wiggle your hips slightly when pulling the under skirt down your thighs and as Kevin had so eloquently put it that ass. You reach under the skirt to pull down the bunched material, smoothing it out before you lift the bodice against your chest, using your other hand to push it against your back. It’s fiddly and takes time for you to get a proper hold of, but eventually you manage to awkwardly hold a part under your arm so you can start to button it. 

You walk over to your mirror, readjusting your breasts in the bodice and smoothing out the bottom of your dress. When you see your reflection you swear to Almighty that you nearly cry. Not that you ever doubted Kevin’s skill, but the dress on you is almost too good to be true. You feel as expensive as you look and you haven’t even done your makeup or anything yet. 

There’s a knock at your door and then an impatient whine courtesy of Kevin to ask what’s taking so long and you quickly move — skipping like a child — over to the door, pulling it open and holding your arms out as if to say ta-da! Kevin is as mesmerised as you it seems, jaw slack and eyes comically wide as he takes in the sight of you in his creation. 

“Did not have feelings for you before… Might start now…” He mumbles in a daze. 

You only laugh at him, rolling your eyes as you walk back over to the mirror to admire yourself some more. “You mean you have feelings for your dress.” 

Kevin moves behind you placing his hands on your shoulders and peaking around you to stare at your reflection. “But you in my dress is just— wow. I knew I was good, but this good?” 

You turn around and your eyes soften with your smile when you look up at Kevin. “Thank you so much. Seriously. I think this is the best present I could have got.” 

You lean forward and embrace Kevin in a hug which he returns, lips by your ear when he says, “Well I may have done a present better than this.” You pull back, arching a brow in question and he only chuckles, pulling away and booping you on the nose. “You’ll know soon enough. Anyway now that we know the dress is good to go — God I’m so glad I don’t have to alter it — you should put it away for now.” 

You pout with a defensive whine, hands coming up to cover your chest when you move away from Kevin in protest. He only gives you a firm and disapproving look. 

“It’s hours until the party and I won’t have you ruining it before you even get a chance to show it off.” 

“I wo——-nt.” Your whining does nothing to deter Kevin from moving your body sideways and undoing the dress himself. 

“Alright alright I’ll take it off. Jheeze.” You want to wipe that smug smile off his face. 

“I just realised… I don’t know if I have shoes that will go!” Kevin rolls his eyes almost as if he predicted this… Because he did. 

“Call me fairy godmother— father?man? Whatever. Point is I got shoes and even a cute clutch to go with too. They don’t call me a visionary for nothing.” 

“People call you that?” 

He pauses, looking to the ceiling in thought. “Well they should.” He concludes. 

After redressing in your casual clothes Kevin finishes his cup of tea and gives you the gift bag that contains the shoes and bag to go with your dress just as he has to leave to do some last minute things at his workshop and then get ready himself for the party. 

Now alone in your apartment all you can do is lounge on the sofa in your sweatpants and tee, scrolling through your phone to reply to birthday messages and mindlessly look through your insta feed. 

It’s when you turn on the TV and the 12 o’clock news comes on that you realise it is now afternoon (kind of) and you revisit your idea from earlier of inviting Hyunjae over. You could ask him around for some pre-drinks. Telling him that because Changmin said he would be driving the both of you over to the venue you just thought he deserved some fun first. He’d have hours to sober up and it’s not as if you would be going crazy… 

To; Jae: Hey Hyunjae, here's an idea… come over to mine for some pre drinks… please 🥺

From; Jae: I’m driving…

To; Jae: Yeaaa but if you come over now we have time to drink and for you to sober up until we have to leave 👀

From; Jae: True… But I don’t wanna ruin my clothes either

To; Jae: So come in normal clothes and get dressed here before we go duh 🤪

From; Jae: ...ok give me twenty

You grin, throwing your phone to the side and head into the kitchen, pulling out a large mixing bowl and some alcohol. 

You’ve never drank with Hyunjae per say, only when you met him at Haknyeon’s party a couple years ago and maybe a few casual beers during get togethers after that. You think back to when you first met him, a tipsy glaze in your eyes and warm body after the brief introduction to him. You couldn’t recall seeing much of him that night — well you wouldn’t, considering how many shots you had done with Changmin and Eric and the downing competitions you had engaged in with Juyeon and Hak. But, he had left a lasting impression on you for sure. 

One that only grew when you’d met him the times following the first, noticing his calm and gentle demeanour despite seeming so looming and boisterous, he was and still is nothing like how he appears, always friendly and soft spoken and full of sunshine like smiles, playful and doting on your friends and letting them get away with almost anything. 

And that was how you found yourself crushing on the sweetheart. 

Of course, you never said anything. Only to Changmin during one of your nights in after work, bottle of prosecco opened and a loose tongue when Changmin ranted about his lack of romance and sex. ‘Ugh well I can’t even bring myself to tell the person I like that I do.’ You had complained and of course Changmin and his sharp ears caught onto your slurred words, his head flying in your direction and his body moving to shuffle closer to you, practically laying his tipsy body atop of yours eager to know more. 

The rest is history and though you appreciate Changmin’s ability to keep his mouth shut about important things such as your new crush, it didn’t mean he never sought an opportunity to tease you, or push you in Hyunjae’s direction.

But, you convinced the boy it was completely one sided and that nothing would come of it. After months that neared an entire year of you staring longingly at the man though, Changmin had had enough. And that’s why he found a chance in your birthday to get you both closer together and finally confess. Because while you are completely oblivious to Hyunjae’s feelings, it wasn’t hard for Changmin, or anyone else for that matter to catch onto the mirroring gazes you both throw at each other when the other isn’t looking.

You pull out some tumble glasses and decide that you’d wait for Hyunjae to show up before you actually made anything, instead dropping your body back onto the sofa and flicking through the channels until the music station appears. 

It’s playing something upbeat, a garage tune that makes you think of your younger days, afternoon sun feeding through the kitchen window and your mum dancing along to its catchy beat. 

The buzzer goes off and you realise how much time must’ve passed when you shoot up and reach the intercom to let Hyunjae up.  You’re practically vibrating in your spot by the door, overcome with nerves and excitement to spend some more time alone with him.

Gazing through the peephole you instantly spot his head of hair, messy from fingers pushing it this way and that and before he can even raise his hand up to knock you pull the door open with a beaming smile. 

“Hi.” You say near breathless and you swallow the dryness that suddenly overcomes your throat, tearing your eyes away from his to allow him inside when he returns your greeting.

He goes through his regular motions of taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket, his beanie half hanging from his pocket. He turns to you in the kitchen, holding up the garment bag that you assume holds his outfit and looks at you unsure. 

“Here.” You say, walking toward him with your hand held out. “I’ll leave this on Min’s bed. You can get changed there.” Hyunjae’s breath subtly hitches when your fingers brush against his and he forces himself to smile and make his mouth form thank you when you pull the bag away and turn to walk towards Changmin’s room.

Hyunjae isn’t sure if alcohol, despite him having a good tolerance, will help his nerves or make it worse.

When you return you’re still smiling and Hyunjae can feel his being melting, nearing non-functional when he stands before a sight as beautiful as you. 

“I’m making punch but be warned it’s famous for tasting like juice and getting you fucked.” 

Hyunjae’s brows fly up so high they could touch his hairline when he hears you swear. Of course, he’s heard you drop the odd insult to Changmin or Sunwoo here and there, only to call them little shits or something along the line, but he doesn’t know why hearing the casual swear word leave your lips makes the word sound less vulgar, rather it sounds sweet. Maybe this is the silly train of thoughts that come with being whipped, he thinks. 

Instead of acting like a complete weirdo he laughs and moves closer to watch what you’re doing; you take the ice from your freezer and dump a decent amount into a bowl, twirling the bag till it’s sealed and replacing it in the freezer drawer, then move onto pouring out plenty of alcohol and topping it with some tropical juice from your fridge. 

You give Hyunjae a cheesy grin when you pull a ladle from your drawer and quickly fill both of your cups. 

“Cheers.” You say, quickly clinking your glass against his. 

“Happy birthday.” The rim of your glass pauses at your lips with your eyes peering into the warmth of Hyunjae’s and with a barely concealed smile you thank him, because that will probably be your most favourite happy birthday you’ve ever received. 

“Wow, that’s refreshing. You can barely taste the alcohol.”

“That’s exactly why it’s dangerous.” 

Hyunjae laughs, pouring himself some more, peeking at you when you give him a look. He shrugs when he effortlessly goes through his second cup. “Sometimes you gotta live dangerously.” 

“You did not just say that.” You laugh and Hyunjae starts to chuckle along, drinking his third cup much slower.

You pour yourself another cup and move over to your small kitchen table, going back to carefully retrieve the bowl and ladle. Hyunjae joins you at the table, sitting opposite you with the music channel still playing in the background.

“How’s your birthday been so far?”

“Like a regular day,” you chuckle, “I got woken up by Changmin’s loud ass. Then Kevin came around with my dress and I was just chilling. Since Min said you’re picking me up anyway I was hoping you’d be free to keep me company.”

“I’m surprised you wanted me to keep you company.” At his comment you tilt your head questioningly. “Well I just… I know I came last time and it was just us, but I wasn’t sure if you felt awkward around me…” 

You frown at his words, wondering what gave him that impression and cursing your awkward self for making your crush doubt that you actually enjoyed his presence. 

“Hyunjae, I feel totally comfortable around you. I really like your company. Sorry if I gave the impression I didn’t… I can be awkward at times.” 

You watch Hyunjae take another sip from his cup, placing it down and shifting the cup side to side lightly with his fingers, eyes trained on the cup. “Good. That makes me… Happy. I really like your company too.” 

Oh how easy this man could make your heart beat faster. 

“Well, cheers to good company.” 

—

Time passes until the bowl is nearly empty and by that time you have both moved to the sofa, the music louder and your laughs overpowering any beat coming through your TV. The alcohol has made your face hot, as you predicted hitting you both quickly and unsuspectingly with the speed it had been consumed at. 

Hyunjae just amazed you with his dance skills, easily moving to the house beat playing and making you laugh and cheer for him with his head bangs and shuffling, slipping numerous times in his sock clad feet. 

He crashes against your cushions beside you, panting heavily while you’re left in drunken awe. For a moment it’s quiet between you both, but then Hyunjae’s brows pinch together in thought and he turns his head to you. “Hey I just realised. Aren’t you meant to get birthday beats or something?”

“Are you gonna hit me?” You shriek, giggling at the thought at first then wincing when you actually think of how painful a hit from Hyunjae might be. 

“Pfft… not hard.” He teases. “I guess I could give you kisses instead of beats.” The way he said that so casually has you stilling, laughter catching in your throat when your gaze falls heavy onto his face; his head has fallen back into the cushions so he’s staring up at the ceiling, except his eyes are closed and he looks so… Serene and totally not flustered unlike you. 

Noticing your silence he lifts his head and swings his head to look at you. For a moment, a long moment, his eyes are stuck on yours, almost searching, depths full of that familiar honey sweetness and summer warmth and it's so tempting to take a step into them, to get stuck and sink and let your being be swallowed whole. 

His eyes move then. And you think his jaw clenches, though you’re unsure why. “I guess you’d rather Changmin did that.” He almost spits and the subtle hostility in his otherwise calming voice throws you from your thoughts, brows raising in surprise and confusion. 

“Changmin?” You frown, shifting in your spot whilst trying to gauge why he would even mention your roommate. 

Before he can even say anything, however, there is a distinct and shrill noise coming from your phone. Your alarm that you had set earlier sometime to let you both know when it was time to start sobering up and get dressed. 

Hyunjae downs the last of his drink and then pushes himself to stand silently, leaving you to look up at him with parted lips and murky eyes, still confused by the sudden change in mood between you both. 

“Time to get dressed.” He mumbles. And just like that you’re left to simmer in your own thoughts, wondering what on earth had just happened and why he seemed so… cold. In the time you’ve known Hyunjae he’s made you feel many things, but never that.

— 

After having downed plenty of water and even nibbling on some toast, you returned to your room. Hyunjae hadn’t come out in the roughly twenty minutes you had been lounging around and though you tried to convince yourself it was only because he was still getting ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Now in front of your vanity after having another quick shower that didn’t help with sorting your thoughts at all, you set to doing your makeup, unable to even bring yourself to be excited for the party, too stuck in your anxiety-riddled thoughts that you had done something wrong, upset Hyunjae somehow, though you still don’t know how. His comment about kissing you seemed offhand, as if he was joking and while to you kissing Hyunjae meant everything, you’re sure to him it was minor, so once again you’re left overthinking, feeling too much and all in all dejected. 

The motions of putting on your makeup and then parting your hair to start styling it feel empty, as if you’re not present in the room. You’re wondering if you should confront him. But, then again, you don’t want to make things worse, much less before the party. 

But this is important.

You sigh for what seems like the millionth time when you stand, moving over to put your dress on.

The sight of your dress out of its bag once more makes you feel a little better. The purples and the material pulling you in to admire its beauty. It makes you snap out of your thoughts. It's your birthday. You can’t be an emotional mess on your birthday. Well you can but not before anything even started. And you know if Changmin saw you right now he’d tell you to grow up and get a shot down you… His definition of growing up at least. 

The dress is like a second skin, fitting you perfectly, but still giving you enough room to breathe. You adore how it accentuates all the parts you’re confident in and smooths out the parts that you’re, to be honest, a little insecure about. Showing your legs a few years ago was a big no for you, and wearing something tight was an even bigger no, but the dress makes you feel what you are: beautiful, though you don’t always feel it. You guess that’s partly the reason you were so reluctant and afraid of your feelings for Hyunjae and if he ever found out. It had taken years to build your self esteem and you’re not even 100% there, not by a long run, but when you looked at him and then yourself it made you feel as if your progress hit zero again. And not because he had made you feel that way, no, Hyunjae was not that type of person. But you guess younger you and the thoughts you had, reared its ugly head the moment you began to fall for the God-like man. 

And it’s why whatever happened earlier makes you feel a billion times worse. 

Taking a few deep breaths and looking yourself in the eyes you give yourself a little pep-talk, try smiling at yourself and when you felt a semblance of normal you nod your head and turn to get the bag with your shoes and clutch and leave your room. 

You decided that you would confront Hyunjae about earlier. Not awkwardly (you hope), but maybe just to get some clarity and in your style mask it with humour. 

You hear the tap running in the kitchen and figure Hyunjae’s getting some water. It gives you time to pause at the corridor's mouth before you come into view and think over what to say.

Though, words don’t find you and you figure it's best to treat this situation like a bandaid; just rip it off. 

“I cannot wait for Chan’s food.” You say chirply, moving into the open space and toward the small island. “I’ve been thinkin—” You freeze in your tracks. Eyes trained on Hyunjae’s broad back at the sink. He turns hearing your voice and his eyes move the same as yours — over your dress. 

The material is… identical to yours, shirt made of the same purple fabric and embroidered in that darker purple the exact same way. The shirt parts at his chest, baring his smooth defined skin and making your breath stutter.  His greyish suit pants sit high on his hips, two lapels neatly folded over at his waist and you catch the peak of simple streaks of material wrapped around it as a makeshift belt, one strand the same material as his shirt and the other a contrast of leopard's print. Like the clutch Kevin had given you. 

Swallowing your shock you breathe out the few words you can. “You look…” At the sound of your voice Hyunjae seems to break from his daze, eyes no longer trained on the dress you shine like a goddess in and instead he finds your eyes, expression as awestruck as yours. 

“You look beautiful…” It’s tense and silent between you both, the kitchen island parting you seeming to be more obstructing now that you wish you could cross over the few steps and pull him in by his shirt without thought. “Kevin. He um. Changmin messaged me to say Kevin would make me something to wear… Actually I think he came to see me the same day we met. Nice guy…” He trails off, seeming to be at a loss, much like you. 

You can only nod mutely, not sure why Kevin would make Hyunjae, a stranger, something to wear for your party, much less an identical piece. You could try and rationalise that Kevin had left over material (you don’t know it, but as per usual, the answer to that is Ji Changmin.) and given the short amount of time he had to come up with something, using it and making a shirt would seem plausible, but why, why the same as you, why dress him as if you both are something more to each other. 

You don’t want to allow your thoughts to go there anymore. Even your plan to mention that strange moment from earlier has left your mind. No. Now you just want to go to your party, have fun and forget even for a little while. 

“Are you sober?” You eventually ask. 

Hyunjae simply nods, turning back to the sink to allow the gushing water to fill his glass and quickly gulping it down. “I feel fine.” He says, not even looking at you now. “It’s been a good few hours now. I have a high tolerance anyway.” 

You nod despite him not looking at you. Really, you don’t think you can find your voice right now. 

Then he turns. “Shall we get going?”

— 

The journey over to the venue was mostly in silence, apart from the radio that you were thankful to Hyunjae for turning on. Sitting in the passenger seat right next to him didn’t help with your nerves or anxiety. For some reason thing’s just felt weird between you both right now. And it was messing with your head because it had never been like that between you both before.

So when Hyunjae pulled up to the venue you were practically ready to zoom from the car — cartoon style. 

Shockingly, you’re stilled by a very noticeable hand on your thigh. You tense up and he senses your discomfort, quickly pulling his hand away and when you look over a flush has overcome his cheeks.

 “S-sorry. For that and um… earlier. I feel like… Things have got weird between us? I don’t know ,it just feels different and I don’t want it to be.” He confesses.  

You don’t know how to respond, but you feel your lips lift into a small smile, the invisible weight pulling down on your heart breaking away and setting it free and you let out a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry too. I don’t… know what happened to be honest. But, I don't want it to be different either.”

And it’s with those words and matching smiles that you both leave his car and walk toward the venue.

As you both approach the doors, Hyunjae does a kind of cute skip jog thing over towards them, reaching it before you and pulling it open to hold it for you. You smile at his chivalry thanking him as you step past, him following after you.  

Inside, you both enter the lobby and notice the sign with your name and reading party this way. The corridors are long and plain leading to the room which is why when you actually reach it you gasp in amazement. 

Changmin, with the help of Haknyeon and whoever they managed to rope in, has managed to completely transform the room you’ve hired.

They’ve kept to the theme and the season; light purple snowflakes made of soft and bristly fabric, spots of mini fluorescent lights embedded in them, fake snow dusting the edges of the room contradicting the plastic palm trees, round tables with glass candle holders shaped like pineapples and sparkly white tinsel wrapped around to nest it in; a tropical and purple winter. 

Sparkles seem to glitter in your eyes as you take in the hard work of your friends and when you spot Changmin emerging from a backroom already bickering with Chanhee your body pushes forward away from Hyunjae who watches you crash into Changmin’s arms. 

Immediately Hyunjae feels the dark thunderous cloud that had been looming over him earlier on return headstrong, his insides rattling with its ferocity the longer he watches you fuss over Changmin with loosely linked hands swinging back and forth and amazed eyes tracing the room.  

Suddenly it all feels pointless. His plans to finally confess. His presence. His friendship with you. He had always thought himself to be a logical person who could accept rejection easily, and in the past he had. If someone didn’t return his feelings it was easy enough for him to move past that and if they happened to be friends too it was easy for him to continue on in that manner.

But you. 

It hurts too much. 

Just when he’s thinking of leaving it seems as if a whole crowd of people have swept the entrance, moving around Hyunjae suffocatingly. Amongst the crowd is Kevin, your friend and the man responsible for your couple outfits. 

He smiles as soon as he spots Hyunjae. 

“Hyunjae!” Politely, Hyunjae smiles, offering a small borderline awkward wave of his hand to the man in a lilac suit. “You look great!” Kevin compliments as soon as he’s in front of Hyunjae and before Hyunjae can reply, Kevin’s eyes find you and he nods to himself with a small barely contained smile stretching across cherry red lips. “You both look great.” 

He gestures his head toward you and Hyunjae’s eyes magnetise to you immediately, sighing without prompt and voice almost lost when he says yea, she does and Kevin doesn’t miss the shine in his eyes, nor the way his stare is unable to leave you for a long moment, leaving him to smirk at the man who he agrees as Changmin had said is not as inconspicuous as he believes. Because Kevin could spot that look a mile away; the adoration melting the brown of his eyes into something warm and sweet like liquid hot honey, his expression totally relaxed and dazed, almost hypnotised as he looks at you and he only snaps out of it when Kevin chuckles. 

Raising his brow at Hyunjae when he turns back to look at him, his cheeks instantly tinting like the redness of a rose and he clears his throat, trying to appear unaffected and absolutely failing. “You look great together.” Kevin softly says and Hyunjae’s brows screw together at his words, lips parting as if to question him, but before he can Kevin speaks again. “I’m gonna go wish the birthday girl, well a happy birthday.” And just like that he walks away, leaving Hyunjae to stand there staring at the back of Kevin’s head as he approaches you. 

At the sight of Kevin your voice pitches into an excited squeal and he watches you engulf Kevin in a warm hug. He can read your lips as you say thank you and then Kevin must say something to you, because your eyes flutter almost nervously and flit over to Hyunjae who’s eyes widen and turn away as if he hadn’t been watching you. 

“I was telling Hyunjae that you both look great together.” The mere word of together brings a heat to your skin, laugh a stutter of nerves when you lightly hit his arm, Changmin sipping his drink in amusement. “I mean it. You both look amazing.” 

“Yeah, but why say it like that?” You huff, fanning your face. 

“Because it’s true. You and him look good together.” You don’t know how to reply, only knowing that his words have made you flustered and that you can’t help but agree that even if it was unintentional (which you’re beginning to think it wasn’t) the both of you in your matching clothes make for a very pretty pairing. 

Though, the thoughts turn sour when once more you remind yourself that while the aesthetic is there, it doesn’t matter, because you’re not together and Hyunjae, no way, would he share the same sentiment as you, nor would his heart flutter the way yours does at the idea of actually being together. 

Changmin seems to sense the drop in your mood and grabs your hand. “Let’s do some shots.” Kevin makes Changmin pout when he reminds him that he isn't much of a drinker and then teasingly adds, “and you haven’t been much of one lately now I think about it,” referring to how Changmin has been losing the heavyweight battle against alcohol lately, “so don’t upstage the birthday girl.” Changmin rolls his eyes in response, telling Kevin to fuck off playfully and then he turns with your hand still in his to walk to the bar.

“Two shots of xo cafe patron please.” The bartender nods and gets to sorting out your drinks and Changmin notices how quiet you are, nudging you with his arm. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing— Nothing.” You’re too quick to say, but your sigh tells Changmin otherwise. 

“How was the drive over?” 

“Fine.” 

He quirks his brow at you, the both of you thanking the bartender when he places two shot glasses on the counter. “Just fine?” Again you sigh and Changmin can tell you’re hesitating by the opening and closing of your mouth. “Spit it out, girl.”

The both of you pick up your shot glasses and back the sweet but burning liquid in one clean shot. 

“Something weird happened with Hyunjae.” When Changmin remains quiet, only speaking to request two more shots you sigh, mulling over your thoughts as you think of how to say what’s been playing on your mind. “So. I invited him over earlier for drinks. And… And everything was fine, but then I dunno, there was something about beats and kisses and — “ 

“— Ooo kinky” 

“No, Changmin. Anyway when he said about the kisses I guess I froze? I don’t know what my face was like but I guess it rubbed him the wrong way, because he kinda got moody… But before I could talk to him about it, it was time to get ready and then later we both apologised for things being weird without like saying what the weird thing was and I just— . I. don't. Know.” Once more the bartender places the shots on the counter as you finish your rant, but this time you don’t wait for Changmin, instead quickly picking up the shot and backing it before Changmin could so much as blink. 

“Right…” He trails off, eyeing you with concern. “What do you mean kisses though — I’m confused. Why was that mentioned?” 

You sigh, taking Changmin’s shot glass this time and now he’s really concerned. “He made a joke about giving me birthday beats and then said something like well I guess I could give you birthday kisses instead and I can’t remember saying anything but then he got really weird and— wait he said something about you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah,” you say with a nod, frowning as you recall exactly what happened. “He said I guess you’d rather kiss Changmin and I was just confused because he sounded so… cold… it was so odd. And then before I could ask what he meant by that the alarm to get ready went off and he basically walked away from me…” 

Changmin turns his body directly into yours and gives you a look of disbelief. “Oh. My. God.” 

Leaning against the counter you sigh for what must be the hundredth time in under five minutes. “I know.” You mutter dejectedly. 

“No. Oh my God, he was jealous!” 

It takes you a moment to register Changmin’s words. To actually try and digest them, to make sense of it, because there is just no way… Though you tell yourself that, you start to think and think and attempt to rationalise with yourself that maybe Changmin’s right, which is something you never thought you’d say in the first place, but there really is no other plausible explanation for him to mention kissing you and then mention Changmin and then act so... Off. 

“But wait, what do you have to do with it then? Why would he randomly mention you?” 

Changmin’s eyes are sparkling, a river of secrets as he looks at you with a small smile. “I think that Hyunjae thinks that you like me and that’s why he hasn’t confessed yet and it’s also why he mentioned me.” Hasn’t confessed yet echoes back at you. 

In the seconds Changmin starts to ramble on about how annoying you and Hyunjae are and that one of you needs to make a move, you’ve already tuned him out, the air ghosting your skin in a warm static touch and like two ends of a magnetic coming together your head turns and you meet Hyunjae’s eyes.

You’re still unsure. Still filled with so many doubts.

But for once you don’t want to live in your insecurities and uncertainty and it's what has your legs moving, leaving behind Changmin and finding yourself growing closer and closer to Hyunjae.

You miss the greetings from friends and family, miss the way Changmin calls your name, miss the movement of the lights and the sound of the music, you miss it all because every part of you is focused on the man that you’ve wanted for so unbelievably long.

And he’s staring right back, rooted to the spot he had felt lost in mere seconds ago until he met your compelling eyes and felt himself sink and maybe he feels like he’s drowning right now, because you’re so close yet so far, especially far from being his it seems, but the way you take his breath away, the way you make every inch of him react washes him in a calm that makes him embrace the metaphorical water filling his lungs right now.

As soon as you’re toe to toe, your hand curls around his neck, your other clutching at his shirt in desperation and without a second thought you’re dragging him down to meet your lips.

The ferocity in which you lay your lips on his should have made it hard and messy, but it's the complete opposite. His lips are so unbelievably soft that it's no surprise that you melt against him, but he does too, melts in a way that makes his hands come up to carefully cup your cheeks, the fragility of kissing you something he treats with care, because he cannot believe this is happening and he does not want to ruin it in anyway; his lips move languid, sensual, in a way that makes you feel like you’re swallowing embers of the sun that light up your insides, you’re singed, feverishly hot and still he kisses you back so slow your fingers dig harder to mirror the painful clench of your heart. 

You don’t know when you both part, or rather, you don’t know how long you both spent unable to part, but there’s barely room to regain your breath anyway. He’s so close, his warm breath mingling with yours and his head resting against yours and your hand meets one of his, his thumb ceasing its stroking when your fingers curl around his palm and you press your face deeper into its comfort. 

It feels like it takes time before you are able to open your eyes and even then it's barely, just enough that you can gaze up at him, finding that he’s already staring down at you.

“I only want to kiss you.” You whisper, voice heavy with emotion. “Okay?” 

He doesn’t respond at first and those insecurities and uncertainties catch up for a split second when you wonder if this isn’t what he wants at all. 

But he leans back down, pecking your lips and then moving his hand to your nape and his other down your back and around your waist to pull you into him when he takes your breath away with another kiss. “Okay.” He mumbles against your mouth. 

“ABOUT FUCKING TIME.” Your head drops to Hyunjae’s chest as you laugh at Changmin, realising you’ve just kissed Hyunjae in the middle of your party in front of everyone. 

But, you can’t deny that he isn’t right — it is about fucking time. 

[milfhoon]

HOW TO GET THE GIRL

lee chaeryeong is the most sought after girl in your school. everyone has fallen victim to her charms, including choi beomgyu and it is no surprise that he wants to try and win her over. what is a surprise is that he came to you for help considering that one: you have never spoken to him in your life, and two: you have no connection to chaeryeong at all. well, except for your beginners music composition class.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x fem reader

GENRE. college au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS. swearing, lots of food mentions, y/n is a grump lol, two small mention of a creepy teacher, making out/kissing, drinking, social anxiety but it’s not presented that way?

FEATURING. chaeryeong + yeji (itzy), taehyun + hueningkai (txt), rina (weki meki), keeho + theo (p1harmony), jay (enhypen) mentioned

WORD COUNT. 21k (it was never supposed to be like this...)

AN. here she is! finally! i have been working on this for a while now and its done! this fic was beating my ass but look who came out on top. ty to my stink stink @hyukaas for her help. now i am going to go curl into a ball and sleep for 600 years, hope this was worth the wait

TAGLIST. @junniesavidreader @pr0dbeomgyu @rainy-cobbled-streets @laviendove @imyuna-06 @xiaoting999 @hellevatormoa @yyx2 @soobin-choi @xysthe @hyukaas @tsupuffs @yjwfav @ren-chib @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fairybinie @fallingforhoon @hanlvkes (fill out this form to be added to my permanent taglist)

On days like these you wonder seriously why you would ever choose Music Composition as class. You want to blame it on the fact that you must not have been in your right mind, or that you must have been really drunk when you made that decision, but alas. When you selected the class you were completely aware of your actions.

After dropping out of a Design class you were taking for extra credit due to a creepy professor (who has now been kicked out), you needed another subject to replace it. And Music Composition seemed like the easiest one out of the options. It was not.

Your class had written a test two weeks prior and your teacher was finally giving out the papers for you to check your marks. You watch with dread as one by one students make their way to the front of class to view their tests, waiting for your name to be called. Ms Kwon liked to call everyone up to her desk when giving out tests so she could discuss where you went wrong without the whole class hearing. A small mercy, you think.

You have your arm lying flat on your desk, your head resting on top of it. You find yourself wishing that the fire alarm could go off so you could leave the class before you see just how badly you failed this test. Maybe an earthquake could strike right under your seat and you would be put out of your misery.

Too caught up by the pity party you were having for yourself, you almost didn’t notice the door opening and a boy walking in. He was tall—like tall enough that you would have to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His hair was dark and long, brushing the back of his neck and it looked good, you’ll admit. If only he’d style it instead of letting it lay flat on his head.

The boy walks right up to your teacher’s desk just when she finishes up with a student, grinning cheerfully. He wasn’t in your class, you observe. You don’t know most of your classmates very well but you think you would at least remember him.

He stays by Ms Kwon’s side making casual conversation about whatever and that gets you curious. Who is this guy? When he is not talking with your teacher, he is staring off somewhere in the class and you can’t find it in you to find out what he’s looking at.

“Y/N.” Your head snaps up at the sound of your teacher calling you, eyes wide. It was your turn already?

Taking a breath, you slowly stand up from your seat. You try your hardest to calm your racing heart. Even though you know the mark you are going to see (a big fat fail), you still hated the look you knew would be on Ms Kwon’s face.

Once at her desk, she looks up at you with a slight frown on her face and disappointment pools in your chest. She shows you your paper and you have to swallow a lump in your throat. This was probably the worst you had ever done.

“Thanks, Miss,” you mumble. You lift your head up to find the boy regarding you with a calculating look. Great. Now someone you don’t even know knew how badly you were doing in this dumb class.

You shoot him a glare before turning back to go sit down. The rest of the lesson is spent contemplating whether you should just drop the class and save yourself the suffering. The boy never leaves your teacher’s side.

When the bell rings you waste no time in rushing out of the class, ending up being one of the first ones to leave despite sitting near the back. You had plans to continue wallowing in your dorm and hopefully your roommate Rina would still be in class so you can have the space to yourself.

Your plans are unfortunately interrupted by someone yelling from behind you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

It takes a moment for you to realise that they were talking to you and that was only because they appeared right next to you. And it’s the boy from the class. Absolutely not.

You pick up your pace.

The boy keeps walking alongside you. “Y/N, right?” he asks even though you both know he knows that’s your name.

“No,” you say anyway.

He is undeterred. “I’m Choi Beomgyu.”

“So what?”

“I have an offer for you.” It’s then that you accept the fact that no matter how much faster you try to walk, you will never lose him. Stupid boys with stupid long legs.

Slowing down to walk at your normal pace, you let out an exasperated sigh. “We don’t even know each other.”

“That’s true,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck in a manner that makes him look so boyish. “But I was thinking we could help each other out?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “And how exactly could you help me?”

“I could tutor you. In Music Comp.”

You don’t even bother holding back a scoff. So what, he sees your one bad mark and thinks you need help? “What do you even know about Music Composition?”

He shrugs easily and you feel his shoulder brush against yours. He was really close. You step to side slightly and he doesn’t notice. “It’s my major.”

That makes you stop in your tracks and rethink whatever smart comeback you had. You aren’t sure you believe him but it would explain why he was so comfortable walking into an in session class and just talking to Ms Kwon. If he is telling the truth, maybe he could help you. Despite being terrible at it, you know that you weren’t just going to drop the class. (It was too late to anyways.)

“Say I agree,” you start crossing your arms. “What do I have to help you with?”

For the first time since you started talking, Beomgyu looks shy. He takes a moment before answering. “Um, help me get Chaeryeong to date me?”

Oh, he cannot be serious.

“You cannot be serious.”

You immediately start walking again and start trying to lose Beomgyu in the crowd, not caring if he’s following you. Which he was, but whatever. Because you don’t care.

It’s not even like you’re surprised that he has a crush on Chaeryeong—literally everybody does. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t. And many people have tried valiantly to get the attention of the most popular girl in school, but to no avail. What was really making you speedwalk your way away from the boy is the fact that he thought that you would be any help in being the one successful guy who manages to steal Chaeryeong’s heart.

It was an impossible ask and what’s worse, it wasn’t even a fair trade. I will help you not fail and in exchange you help snag the most unattainable girl in existence? Yeah, there was no way you were doing that.

But Beomgyu was persistent and remained chasing after you and weaving through students to reach you.

“Y/N—Wait!” when he catches up, he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from moving. You sigh and roll your eyes “Just hear me out for a second.”

You don’t respond and he takes it as a go ahead. “Look, okay, I know it’s sudden but I really like her okay.”

“Yeah, and so does half of Seoul,” you scoff.

“That’s where you come in! You help me by, I don’t know, making me stand out from the other people trying to get her attention.”

He sounds so earnest it annoys you. His plan had so many holes in it and once again came the issue of why is he bothering with you. “But why do I come in? I don’t even know her!”

Beomgyu shuffles his feet. “Well, you’re in the same Comp class.”

Oh my god, you think. That’s who he was staring at.

Chaeryeong sits in the middle of the class with her one friend Keeho, you think his name is. You have never spoken to her or interacted, save for the times when she hands out worksheets.

In your opinion, in no way does this qualify you to be some kind of wingman for a boy you just met.

“Sorry man, thanks for the offer, but I can’t help you.” You sidestep around him and walk away, and this time, he lets you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next day you are feeling a little better about yourself. You managed to burrow yourself under blankets on your couch, and even though Rina was home, she made a whole bunch of popcorn for the two of you and put on old historical dramas.

Ms Kwon is standing at the front of the desk, arms crossed, when the lesson starts. “So, after showing you all your marks yesterday, I have decided that it would be best for you to have a rewrite next week.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as gasps and cheers erupt in cheers. Even Chaeryeong seems pleased by this news. Rewrites were hardly ever granted in this class, the first and last one being in your first year. The class had to have done really bad on the last test for your teacher to even consider it.

The older woman waves her arms around to get you all to quiet down. You, however, are too stunned to speak.

“Don’t just take this as me being nice, okay? You actually have to use this opportunity to do better. Got it?” A chorus of “yes” went out as you all answered. Even though Ms Kwon was addressing the whole class, it felt like that last part was specifically for you.

In that moment you make up your mind to study harder than you ever have for this makeup test. Even if you didn’t get an A, you at least wanted to raise your mark.

Except.

You had tried all that. That was literally what you had done for the last test. There was just something about this subject that did not make sense to you no matter how much you tried to understand it.

If you wanted to do well on this test, you’d need help. So like, fuck you.

At the end of the lesson you make your way to Ms Kwon’s desk. “Miss?” you ask, and she looks up from her work to regard you with a curious look.

You watch as Chaeryeong laughs leaving the class with Keeho in tow and and let out a long suffering sigh. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “That boy that was here yesterday? Choi Beomgyu? Where can I find him?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The answer was in the Music room. There were two main music classrooms at your school—one for where the lessons take place and the other for students’ personal study. You had never been in either class before because despite taking the Composition class, it was the only music related subject you did.

Ms Kwon’s class was the only one you ever went to in the Music block.

The Students Music room is one of the classrooms at the far end of the block. It was the last room on the right and you had to pass a bunch of other small rooms where students were either recording music or just sitting around.

The door to class was open and you caught sight of Beomgyu before you even entered the room. His back was to you, but you would know that long head of hair anywhere.

You don’t bother with knocking. “Choi Beomgyu,” you say as you walk into the class and march right up to him. He turns around, eyes wide, and a guitar hanging around his body. Huh. You didn’t know he played.

He is not alone, you notice belatedly. There is a boy sitting at a drumkit and another standing by the wall. Whatever. You were not going to be deterred.

“Uh, hi?” That boyish look is back as he scratches his neck. Standing right in front of him, you can see just how tall he is. You do, in fact, have to lift your head up slightly to be able to look at him properly and that in and of itself is…an experience, to say the least.

The overhead lighting casts a harsh yellow glow on Beomgyu’s face, and it should make anyone look unappealing but somehow he looks good. It takes everything in you not to stare.

“You have one week.”

He tilts head to the side and furrows his eyebrows. It is such a simple yet endearing action and you have to monetarily cast your gaze somewhere else. “One week for what?”

“To help me get an okay mark on my make-up test that’s next week.”

“Wait. Does that mean youʼll help me?” The way he perks up is reminiscent of a puppy and you have to roll your eyes at his incessant want to get with Chaeryeong.

The other two boys were watching the both of you intently and trying very badly to be discreet about it. You wonder if these are his friends, if they know about his insane plan. If they tried to talk him out of it. Doesn’t matter, really. Because even if they did, it clearly didn’t work.

“Only if I get a good mark on that paper. Or, at least better than what I would have gotten if I was alone.” You made sure to stress the ‘if’ because the way you saw it, this way you could potentially raise your grade but if that didn’t happen, you wouldn’t have to do anything for this boy.

A fool proof plan.

(Unless, of course, Beomgyu actually does end up being a big help and you have no choice but to fulfill your end of the deal. But, you’ll cross that bridge when you get there.)

Beomgyu grins at you and nods. “Okay, deal. Prepare to get an A.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. We start tomorrow at your place. Send me your address.” With that, you turn on your heel with every intention of going back to your room before your next class.

“I donʼt have your number!” Beomgyu yells after you as you continue on your way.

“I’ll find your Instagram!” you shout back in a dismissive way. Besides, you don’t see a point in giving him your number when there is a chance that after this week is done the two of you will never speak again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You do, in fact, find his Instagram. It’s something simple—really just his name and a couple couple numbers at the end. All you had to do was sift through the countless Choi Beomgyus on the Internet and narrow it down to all the twenty-somethings with HYBE University in their location.

You felt like a spy by the end of it.

@ ynln: address

@ choibeomgyu01: woah by me dinner first ;)

@ ynln: chaeryeong will never love you

@ choibeomgyu01: WOAAAHH CALM DOWN ILL SEND IT

@ ynln: see you :)

At 8am, you are standing outside Beomgyu’s door with your bag slung across your back and a muffin and coffee in your hands. Before you knock on the door, you roll your shoulders back and try to rid yourself of any doubt.

This has to be some kind of violation of the Girl Code, or something. It is for the greater good, you tell yourself. The greater good of your grades. Chaeryeong was nice, she’d forgive you, right? In fact, if you do successfully help get them together, she would have to thank you, really.

With that, you raise your free hand and rap your knuckles against the door. A moment passes and you think that Beomgyu isn’t even awake. You roll your eyes before you hear the lock click.

There in front of you is Beomgyu, looking like he just rolled out of bed. His long hair sits ruffled on his head, sleep shirt slipping off his shoulder revealing the soft looking, cream skin that otherwise would have been covered. You force yourself to tear your eyes back to his face. You barely suppress a groan when you see he is still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re early,” he says around a yawn.

“No, we didn’t agree on a time, so technically, I’m right on time.”

He doesn’t fight you, just yawns again and moves away from the door into his dorm. You follow him wordlessly and he leads you to a table in the living room. He drops his body onto his couch with a loud groan that is muffled by the cushions.

You barely pay him any mind as you give yourself the okay to look around his place. It’s smaller than yours, you notice immediately and you wonder if that’s because he lives here alone. It was clean enough, you supposed. For a house solely lived in by a twenty-something year old college boy, there was a surprising lack of dirty laundry and empty food containers.

There is, however, an abundance of music sheets and guitar picks and photo frames and Polaroids. Pictures of him and who you think are his friends are sitting on the TV stand, on display for anyone to see.

Except you don’t, because your tutor is currently asleep and you want to finish as soon as possible. Putting your breakfast on the table in front of the couch, you kick Beomgyu’s leg to get him to get up. He groans indignantly, but complies anyway. When he catches sight of your food, he sends a pout in your direction.

“Where’s mine?”

Your eyebrow raises on its own accord. “Your what?”

“My food. I think if I’m going to be waking up everyday at 8 in the morning helping you, I deserve breakfast.”

Rolling your eyes you shrug. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Literally anything. I can eat anything.”

“I will keep that in mind.” You suppose it’s the least you can do. An extra muffin from the dining hall wouldn’t kill you. He makes no move to get started and you have never been tutored before so you don’t know what the procedure is. “Are we going to start, or…?”

That seems to spur him into action. “Oh, right. You can put your books on the table, I’ll grab my notes.”

You nod and watch as he disappears into his room. Your eyes stray back to the photos and before you know it, you have a frame in your hand.

It’s a picture of Beomgyu with those two other boys you saw in the Music room. They were at a beach, the ocean behind them as they smiled at the camera. They look like they were having fun, and glancing at the other photos, it seems like their together often. You wonder belatedly why he doesn’t ask them for help, and instead come to a stranger for this.

There’s a longing in your chest as you continue looking. Your only friend here is your roommate, and you and Rina aren’t close enough to take photos whenever you are together.

You wouldn’t say you were lonely, no, in fact, you loved the time you got to spend by yourself. But this just served as a reminder of what you were missing.

“Oh-kay, let’s go!” You don’t notice Beomgyu coming back into the room until he is yelling from behind you.

You turn away from the pictures with a grimace. “Are you always this loud in the morning?”

He shrugs, putting his books down. “Trying to wake myself up. Where do you want to start?”

You wonder briefly if saying The beginning would be too much for a first session before settling on, “The test we’re writing is on music theory and all that, so there, I guess.”

Beomgyu nods and holds out a cushion for you to take, flipping through pages in his notes. You accept it and place it on the floor before sitting on it and getting out your notes. You notice immediately the difference between you and Beomgyu.

For one, he actually had notes.

Like, they weren’t organised by any means and most of them made no sense to you, but, well. He has stuff written. You, however, have Theory written at the top of the page and probably only ten lines of notes.

A bit embarrassing.

When Beomgyu notices this, you see his whole body physically deflate. “Oh.”

You feel yourself getting sheepish. “Sorry. If it’s too much, or whatever, you don’t have to—”

“No!” He is quick to interrupt and you are starting to think that maybe he really is this loud in the morning. “It’s cool, really, don’t worry.”

Wow, he must really be serious about this Chaeryeong thing if he’s still willing to help you when you know virtually nothing. You nod your head slowly with a tight smile. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Pulling his notebook towards you, he goes over definitions and symbols with you from across the table. You think that reading upside down must be hard for him but he expresses no discomfort. He hardly looks down at the book at all, seeming to have all the information in his head anyway.

And you get it. Kind of. It’s a lot to expect to understand everything after only an hour or so, but it’s working. You don’t know what Beomgyu is doing differently to Ms Kwon, but you are not complaining.

“Does that make sense?” Beomgyu looks up at you and you’re struck with how earnest he seems. Like he really wants you to get this. Like he wants to be of help to you.

And maybe it’s just so he can get help with Chaeryeong, but you’re fine with that. At least he cares a lot.

You nod sincerely. “Yeah, it does.” He lets out a sigh of relief that’s oddly endearing and grins. Your phone alarm that you swt reminding you to leave for your first class goes off then and you begin packing your things up.

“Well, I’ve got a class soon so I’ve got to go, but. Thanks.” You stand up from your spot on the floor, and Beomgyu joins you, nodding, as you walk to the front door.

Beomgyu smiles that boyish grin as he opens the door for you. “You’re welcome. Tomorrow?”

Despite your hesitancy, you nod curtly. “Tomorrow.” And you turn around and leave to head to your class.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The rest of the week goes a little like this:

You wake up, go to the dining hall and get a muffin and coffee for yourself, and a coffee and cookie or a muffin or sandwich for Beomgyu. He meant it when he said he could eat everything. Well, almost everything. You had bought him a sandwich that he looked really excited to eat but once he took a bite, his face twisted in disgust. Apparently the only food that he can’t eat is tomato and after rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you swap your muffin for the bacon, cheese and tomato sandwich. He may be a baby, but you're not a monster.

Beomgyu teaches you with his notes and you try to pay attention enough to take down your own. You get caught a couple times doodling faces instead of music notes and he tries to pull a disappointed teacher look, but you can’t really take him seriously when he’s sitting on a Lightning McQueen pillow.

One time, you actually doodled what was supposed to be him and he couldn’t even try to be upset because he thought it looked just like him, he couldn’t stop gushing.

The session ends and you take your new notes back home with you to go over again. It works well.

(Not included, but worth noting, you getting distracted every time Beomgyu answers the door with his shirt slipping off his shoulder. You might not like him, but you’re not stupid.)

You still haven’t exchanged numbers though, because as well as tutoring has been going, you haven’t written the test. And that is, like, the test of time, basically, for if you will be spending more time together.

On the day of the test, Beomgyu walks with you to your class. Next to you, he seems more nervous than you. He’s constantly wringing his hands out and muttering little nothings under his breath.

It’s annoying. Endearing, but annoying.

“You know I’m the one writing the test, not you?” you say after you’ve just about had enough.

He gets the hint and lets out a sigh. “I know, it’s just—I have a lot riding on this, too, you know?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I will try and do my best so we can see if you will end up with my help. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna, like, flunk on purpose.” Which, honestly, you had thought of doing. Multiple times.

It seems to put him at ease, though. He takes a breath and when the two of you stop in front of your class, he pulls you into a hug. You can’t help the grunt you let out at the sudden contact.

“What are you doing?” you ask, arms hanging limply at your sides. As confused as you are, you can’t help the heat that rushes to your face.

“Wishing you good luck. This is a good luck hug,” he informs you speaking into your hair.

“Right…” you drawl. You can’t help but think about how weird this is. “You can let me go now.”

He finally does and pats your shoulder once for good measure as well. Beomgyu shoots you what is supposed to be an encouraging smile before walking away with two thumbs up shooted at you. You opt for just nodding, before walking into the class in a half confused daze.

Whatever that was, you think, when you get to your desk. Beomgyu, you decide, is a very strange boy.

Ms Kwon enters the class not shortly after. She greets everyone then gets right down to business by giving out the tests.

When she tells you can start, you push all thoughts of stupid boys and stupid hugs out of your mind and focus only on the test in front of you and what you covered the past week. And, well. It goes well. You have the answers to most of the questions and while you know you don’t get everything right, you at least know why and what you forgot.

The next hour and a half passes by in a flash, and the next thing you know you are handing in your test. Leaving the music block, you feel like skipping. You have never felt this confident after a Music Comp test before, you could sing. Like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Chaeryeong comes out, too, just a moment later and shoots you a smile. You politely return it then make your way back to your dorm as fast as you can. If you really did as good as you think you did, then you would be seeing lot of the other girl—seeing a lot of Beomgyu—which is something you are going to have to get used to.

Maybe failing wouldn’t be so bad?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Well. You passed.

Like, you got a D. The highest mark you have ever gotten in the class. Ms Kwon even smiled at you when she showed you your paper (“I don’t know what you did, but keep doing it”). And, well, not like you have a choice.

Beomgyu is waiting for you outside the class, rocking on the heels of his feet, when your class lets out. You are surprised to see him there. And you let that be known. “What are you doing here?” you ask, stopping in front of him with a deadpan expression.

The boy just shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant even though you can tell he is waiting for you to tell him how it went. “I wanted to know how you did.” There it is.

You hum noncommittally, turning to make your way out of the Music block and Beomgyu follows. “And what if I did terribly; you would have come all this way for nothing.”

He blanches. “Did you?”

You shrug. “I got a D.” You turn to see Beomgyu’s reaction only to find that he’s stopped in his tracks. “What?” you ask, turning to face him fully.

“Oh.” He looks crestfallen, and that doesn’t make sense to you. “So I guess I didn’t help much, then, huh?” Beomgyu scratches the back of his neck

You fix him with a deadpan stare. “What are you talking about? I did good. You should be, like, jumping for joy right now.”

“A D is…good?” You figure that since he is so good at the subject, he probably can’t wrap his head around you being happy about your grade.

“For me, at least. So stop looking like I kicked your dog, or something.” Turning on your heel, you continue your way across the quad. You don’t look to see, but you can tell Beomgyu is chasing after you.

“Parrot, actually. I have a pet parrot,” he says, falling into step with you. It takes you a moment to realise what he’s talking about.

“The phrase doesn’t go like that.”

“Just letting you know,” he says with a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes. “So,” Beomgyu starts, with a mischievous glint in his eye, “what I’m hearing is you are officially a part of Operation: Woo Chaeryeong.” He holds his arms out at his sides and proceeds to do obnoxious jazz hands.

You barely suppress a groan at his dramatics. God, you hope you don’t regret this. “We need a new name. And a plan.”

Which is how you found yourself here:

“Okay, first things first, new plan name,” you say, putting a piece of paper on the table between the two of you. The two of you are at the on campus café that you have never actually visited before. It was Beomgyu’s idea, apparently they have the best coffee at HYBE.

Beomgyu ordered for you—your standard coffee and muffin, and a slice of cake you didn’t ask for but just trust me on this—because the reason you don’t visit new café’s all that often is because you don’t like ordering for yourself. You find it awkward and anxiety inducing, and oh god what if you don’t like it? Of course you don’t tell Beomgyu this. Instead you tell him it would make sense because he’s been here before so he’d know what’s good.

He cracks his knuckles and nods. “Right, right. So I’ve been thinking and how about ‘Make Chaeryeong Fall in Love With Me’?” Beomgyu actually looks pleased with himself, like that isn’t the worst name for, well, anything. You stare. “Think about it! It’s simple and straight to the point!”

“Yeah, and sucks,” you deadpan. You bring the page closer to you with a sigh, realising that you are going to have to do everything yourself. Grabbing one of the pens Beomgyu brought, you write something at the top of the page. You take a moment to admire your work before you show the boy.

How to Get the Girl: A 5 Step, Foolproof Plan by Y/N

Beomgyu pouts. “Why is your name the only one written?”

“Because, if it was a plan by you, it wouldn’t be foolproof,” you say easily and he scowls.

“It’s boring but I suppose it’ll do.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, step one should be—”

“Here you guys go.” You are interrupted by your waiter bringing you your food.

You mumble out a “thanks” through pursed lips, awkward as ever, while the boy across from you smiles brightly as he accepts the food.

You waiter grins back at Beomgyu but shoots you a glare when she turns to you, that you have no problem returning.

When she walks away, you turn back to your page. “You’re a grouch,” Beomgyu says matter-of-factly.

“Am not.”

“Are to,” he shoots back childishly. “Would it have killed you to be nice?”

“That was me being nice,” you say, a little indignant. It’s not your fault that girl thought you were rude. You were saying thank you!

He levels you with a stare, before raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine Little Miss Sunshine—” you feel like throwing your spoon at him— “what’s your master plan.”

“The first step—Get her to notice you.”

Beomgyu hums, sipping his own coffee. “I can manage that.”

“Uh-huh, because I’m here for fun?” He opens his mouth to retort, before seemingly remembering why he asked for your help in the first place and he deflates in his seat. “Thought so,” you say with a smirk. He sticks his tongue out at you.

“We need to come up with a list of things about you that can get her attention. What you got?”

He ponders this for a moment. “Well, for starters, I’m tall.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawl, writing it down. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“I’m good looking.”

“Right.”

“And I’m charming,” he adds with a wink. Your pen stills and he notices. “Why aren’t you writing that down?”

“Ooh, I just donʼt know how true it is.”

“Oh, you don’t know how true that is,” he repeats, twisting his face and putting on a high pitched voice, supposed to be resembling you.

“I don’t sound like that.” Beomgyu just responds with an angry bite of your muffin. Ignoring him, you continue. “Second, enter her space. Eat where she eats, find mutual friends, stuff like that.”

“Sounds stalkerish.”

“You’re stalkerish.”

“What are you even saying?”

You sigh. “Okay, so it needs a little rewording, whatever. You just have to show her that you’re, you know, available. That you have stuff in common. Get her to want to hang out with you personally. Which brings us to step three. Hang out with her.”

“Like dates?” he asks with a tilt of the head.

“Yeah, but don’t call them that. You’re just two new friends getting to know each other.”

“Like us,” he teases, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You don’t even crack a smile. “As if,” you scoff. Beomgyu just grins. “The fourth step is asking her on a real date. And then, step five, ask her to be your girlfriend. That is, if you get that far.”

“Hey!” he yells indignantly. “Have some faith in me!”

You snatch your muffin back from him and take your first bite. “We’ll see how well you do on the first two steps and I might change my mind.”

“I can live with that.” He brings the plate of cake closer to him. “We should, like, ask each other questions,” Beomgyu says around his piece of cake.

You barely hold back a long suffering sigh. “Why?”

He just shrugs, a trait you have grown to find increasingly annoying. Does he not have any other way to express himself? “To get to know each other.”

“I already know plenty about you; you are tall, good-looking and not as charming as you think you are.”

“How sweet,” he deadpans and you give him a tight smile. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Look—I’ll go first.” You raise a single eyebrow at that. You can tell he pretends to think about his question for a moment because not even five seconds later, “Okay, why are you doing Music Comp anyways?”

At first, you pretend not to hear him, taking your first sip of your coffee. And it’s really good. Like, you probably can’t drink from the dining hall anymore. But Beomgyu just stares at you, waiting for you to answer. You sigh, realising that there’s no getting out of this. “Do you know Mr Seo? From last year?”

“The creepy, predator design teacher that got caught trying to get with a freshman?” Huh. His reputation precedes you. You nod your confirmation and Beomgyu hums. “It was hot gossip for, like, a good two weeks.”

“Yeah, well, he was my design teacher.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen. “No way. He didn’t, like, you know?”

“Oh no, not me,” you’re quick to clarify. Beomgyu looks relieved to hear that. “I just didn’t want to be there anymore and Music Composition sounded easy enough. I was sorely mistaken, though.”

“Huh. Well, it’s your turn.”

You sip your coffee. “To do what?”

“Ask me a question.”

You bite back the snarky What makes you think I want to know anything else about you? that’s threatening to fall from your lips, because you do have something you want to know. “Why did you hug me? When I was writing my test?”

You weren’t used to people hugging you, and certainly not people you had known for only a week. It was unnerving how quick it took for Beomgyu to initiate that contact. You didn’t even think you were that agreeable of a person—that barista certainly didn’t even though that’s just your face.

Beomgyu doesn’t seem to understand your turmoil or confusion. He just shrugs and replies easily, “For good luck.”

“Yeah, but why.”

“I donʼt know, I hug a lot of people. I’m a tactile person, Y/N.”

“And that’s why you’re trying to play footsie with me right now?” He had been knocking his foot against your leg since the moment you sat down.

Beomgyu has the decency to blush, even though he doesn’t stop. The tips of his ears turn red but he tries to play it off with a shrug. He’s so annoying. “It’s an instinct.” You hum. You suppose it is, the same way frowning and grumbling about everything is yours. (Maybe you are a grouch.) “I can stop if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“It’s whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Your turn.” Beomgyu seems to be able to tell that your nonchalance is a front, that it’s not that you don’t care what he does, you don’t mind. And that you are giving him permission for if he ever wants to do it again.

He doesn’t mention it though. Just smiles knowingly and nods. “Eat the cake.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s not a question,” you note.

He just shrugs. “I’m saving it. For later. Right now, I want you to taste the cake I spent my hard earned money on buying for you.” He throws in a pout for good measure and you roll your eyes.

Whatever, you think, one bite of cake won’t kill you. And so far the coffee and the muffin had both been good, so who’s to say this won’t be too? Except, you don’t have one bite. You finish the whole thing without even stopping to look up from the plate. It shouldn’t be possible but every single thing you’ve tried from this place has been incredible. You hate to admit it—really, really hate to admit it—but Beomgyu was right.

Beomgyu is smirking at you, as though he can read your mind. “Was it good?” he teases.

“Shut up,” you say with no real bite to it.

He just laughs good-naturedly. “So, how do we start step one?”

You think for a moment. Interlocking your fingers and resting your chin on them, you study Beomgyu closely. He shifts under your gaze, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck nervously. Then it hits you.

“We need to fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” He furrows his eyebrows, clearly confused.

“It’s plain, it’s boring and while it is a cool cut, it doesn’t look good because you don’t style it. So. We have to fix it.”

Beomgyu sighs, giving in. “Fix it how?” It surprises you how easily he’s going along with what you’re suggesting. You expected more fights, more disagreements, but so far, Beomgyu has just been oddly compliant.

“How do you feel about hair dye?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP 1: GET HER TO NOTICE YOU

STEP 1B: CHANGE YOUR HAIR

BG’S NOTE: BLONDE PREFERABLY!!

Y/N’S NOTE: SHUT UP, YOU WILL DO WHATEVER COLOUR I GET

The hair dye is not blonde. You aren’t a monster, of course you tried to look for some, but apparently everyone on campus had the same idea as you and it was sold out at the store. So you settled for the next best thing—white.

Beomgyu was not amused.

“No.”

Standing in the middle of his living room, you are showing off the hair dye you just bought with pride. “Oh come on, think of it as, like, platinum blonde. It’s the same thing!”

He looks affronted. “No, it’s not! My one clause was that it had to be blonde!”

“And mine was that you would suck it up! I tried getting blonde but there wasn’t any. So, you know, this is the best we’ve got.” You cross your arms across your chest with finality.

You kind of feel bad, because if someone had walked into your house and demanded to dye your hair white, you would have kicked them out immediately. You can understand his apprehension, and honestly, you’re a bit nervous, too. You can’t show it though, obviously. If you look confident, it might ease Beomgyu.

You expect him to put up more of a fight, to tell you that there is no way he is letting you dye his hair white. But…he just sighs, walks into his bathroom and sits on the chair he placed in there, levelling you with a stare.

“Do not ruin my hair.”

Beomgyu had everything you would need for the hair dying process ready for you in the bathroom. A pair of gloves on the counter, a chair in front of the bath and a towel draped over the back of it. You enter the bathroom after him, placing the hair dye next to the gloves and get out your phone. You take your place behind him, him finally being shorter than you making you more excited than it should.

“Okay,” you say, rubbing your hands together, “let’s do this.”

Beomgyu’s hair, you learn, is really soft. You haven’t started doing anything, the gloves still on the counter behind you, but you were curious. Wanted to know what it felt like. Carding your fingers through the strands, you enjoy the feeling of the silky locks slipping through your fingers, a bit ticklish. Beomgyu sits still in his chair. He doesn’t say anything, barely even moves. The only indication you have that he hasn’t somehow passed out is the steady rise and fall of his chest. When you tug a little too hard, the boy lets out a sound from below you.

“Sorry,” you say, face flushing, even though he can’t see you.

“It’s fine.” His voice sounds strangely hoarse. “Didn’t hurt.”

You nod. “Okay.” It takes a lot to remove your hands from his hair, but you do and grab the gloves from behind you and put them on.

He clears his throat. “You have done this before, right?”

Well.

The short answer is no. You have never dyed anyone’s hair before, not even your own. You have no idea how this is going to turn out.

The long answer is well, technically. Your conditioner was nearing empty and needed to be replaced. Now, you hadn’t known that what you thought was a refill packet of the conditioner was actually blue hair dye until Rina came out of the bathroom looking murderous, but. That had to count for something, right?

The answer you settle on is, “Yeah. Sort of.”

Beomgyu whirls his head around to face you. “What do you mean ‘sort of’?” he questions, eyes blown wide.

You wave off his concern with a dismissive hand. “Relax, would you? I have a tutorial so if it goes wrong you can blame jaydoesstuff on YouTube. He calls this look ‘Rock Chic’.”

“Oh my god.”

“What happened to having faith, huh?” you ask, barely paying attention to him anymore as you press play on the tutorial. Jay welcomes you to his channel and you fast forward through the sponsorship bit (which takes almost two minutes, god) until he actually starts with the tutorial.

“You are probably the most cynical person I know.”

You let out a snort involuntarily. “That’s fair.” You shake the dye bottle over his head, watching as it drips over his hair. Google says you should mix the dye in a bowl but jaydoesstuff only has the bottle, a brush and hope.

The rest of the process passes by without incident. You let it set for ten minutes and in that time you and Beomgyu watch other YouTube videos from the Jay guy and find out that he goes to your school. What a small world. When the timer goes off, you rinse out the dye in the sink while Beomgyu whines from under the tap that water is getting into his eyes.

You let him dry his hair with the towel on his own, and take to throwing your dirty gloves away and cleaning up any mess on the counter.

“How does it look?” Beomgyu asks when his hair is mostly dry. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, wringing the towel nervously.

You can’t help teasing. “Well. I want to give a zero, but that is not possible. So I give you a one.”

He just stares at you. For a moment you think he didn’t get your reference, then, “Okay, Tyra,” he says with a scoff.

Your mouth quirks upwards. “You watch America’s Next Top Model?”

He shrugs. “I’ve seen clips.”

“It’s fun. Trashy reality TV is a good stress reliever.”

“Maybe. But seriously….Does it look okay?”

This time, you take your time looking at him. Again, you’re astounded by how he can continue to look so good under the crappy light of the bathroom. The harsh yellow casts an almost golden glow across his face. You trail your eyes up to his hair, to take in his whole face with his new look and, well. You did a good job. It’s not professional by any means, but it’s not awful and the white highlights actually suit him.

Your eyes find his only to realise that he’s been looking at you this entire time. That he could have looked in a mirror and come to his own conclusion, but he hasn’t.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “It looks good.”

To test if the first phase of step one works, Beomgyu is going to pick you up from your Music Comp class. Hopefully, Chaeryeong sees him and is so wowed by his beauty, she falls instantly in love with him and kisses him in the middle of the hallway. Which, of course, is not your expectation, but Beomgyu has been talking about it for days and it has kind of bled into your subconscious.

You take your time packing up when Ms Kwon dismisses the class, trying to time your leaving with Chaeryeong who's messing around with Keeho.

When you see that she’s about to leave, you head out before her. Beomgyu is there waiting like you knew he would be, and when he sees you, he walks towards you.

“Is she coming?” he stage-whispers and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, which is something you find yourself doing a lot around him.

“Give her a second,” you say, adjusting the straps on your bag.

And as though you summoned her, Keeho and Chaeryeong come walking out of the class right then. You catch her eye and return the small smile she gives you as she passes. You watch as she notices Beomgyu, her eyes travelling up to his face and an unreadable expression flashes through her face.

She nods at him in acknowledgement. “Cool hair,” is all she says before walking away completely.

Next to you, Beomgyu lets out a squeak. A blush has spread all the way from the tips of his ears and disappears down into his shirt.

You turn to face him. “Well?” He is standing frozen in place, mouth hanging slightly open. You are sure that a tornado could hit and he wouldn’t move a muscle. His face is still bright red.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out when he finally regains the power of speech. “She’s never spoken to me before.” His eyes trail after her as she disappears out onto the quad.

“Yeah, well, you’re wel—”

You don’t get to finish chastising him, because the next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your shoulders and his head is resting on your head. “Thank you,” he says with such sincerity, it makes you rethink teasing him in the first place.

You pat his back gingerly, still awkward about the contact, but you suppose you should come to expect it now. “Um…. You’re welcome.”

He pulls away from you, grinning widely and you can only offer a more strained one in return, but Beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind. “We should celebrate.”

You scoff lightly, no weight behind it. “Celebrate what?” You turn to walk out onto the quad, expecting Beomgyu to follow you. Which he does. He falls into step with you almost immediately.

“The plan working, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Come on,” he whines dramatically. “I’ll buy you cake.” He has managed to pass you and is standing in front of you, lifting his shoulders in what is supposed to be a tempting manner.

In all honesty, you were kind of planning to go do something with Beomgyu today, anyway. You didn’t know whether or not changing his hair would actually get Chaeryeong’s attention but you figured Beomgyu would drag you away somewhere regardless. And clearly you were right.

He is looking at you with a smirk as if he’s cornered you and there’s just no way you can say no to him now. He doesn’t need to know that you would have agreed without the bribery, because free cake is free cake and who can say no to that?

Humouring him, you sigh in defeat. “Fine, I guess this is worth celebrating.”

Grinning proudly, Beomgyu easily loops his arm with yours and leads you across the quad to the café. He orders for the two of you again, sitting across from you at the table and starts talking about how he was so nervous about today that he could hardly answer questions in his classes all day.

You kill two hours like that, just talking in the café. By the time you make it back to your dorm, Rina is home and asks if you were out with a friend. You pause for a moment before answering.

“Yeah,” you say before entering your room. You suppose you were.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Beomgyu shows up to pick you up from class more often than not. He is always there before Ms Kwon let’s you out and it makes you seriously wonder if he ever attends class himself.

It’s a smart move, you acknowledge, because Chaeryeong gives him a nod in greeting whenever she passes by him on her way out of class. You tell him as much and he grins cheekily gushing about how smart you find him, so you make it a point to never praise him again.

You spend a lot of time with Beomgyu. Not necessarily by choice, he just always happens to be around you and you can’t find it in you to tell him to go away. (You find that you don’t want to.) Between him tutoring you and walking you from class, it’s like you see him everywhere now. Even now, the two of you were walking into the café for no reason other than you were both hungry and, according to Beomgyu, what better way to eat than together?

The café was packed today, students and teachers alike rushing in and out of the restaurant, the bell above the door constantly ringing. You don’t know what the occasion could be for there to be so many people here now, but you find you don’t really want to stick around to find out.

You turn to Beomgyu to tell him as much, that you guys can just go somewhere else but he looks almost offended. “We can’t just go somewhere else! This is our place now. We can’t betray it by eating at a basic Mcdonalds.”

You cross your arms and fix him with a deadpan stare. “What’s wrong with Mcdonalds?”

“There’s no charm. No memories attached. We have to eat here.” Staring up at him, you realise that he’s not going to let up. You sigh in defeat and Beomgyu smirks in satisfaction. “Okay, you order, I’ll go find us a table.”

You grab his arm, stopping him before he can walk away. “Uh, you order.”

“Why?” Beomgyu questions.

“Because you know what’s good,” you explain shrugging.

He narrows his eyes at you. “You’ve been here at least twenty times now, I think you know what you like.”

“Can’t hear you, I’m already getting a table!”

You effectively bypass him, weaving your way through the throng of students and teachers alike. If you were to look back, you would probably find Beomgyu staring at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

On another day, you might have been able to push past the anxiety and place an order for the two of you. But today there are just too many people, too many orders the workers have to fill. And maybe it’s the crowd or the waning patience of the workers, but you really can’t bring yourself to talk to anyone here, especially when Beomgyu can do it for you.

“Do you have, like, a fear of ordering in public?” Beomgyu asks when he joins you at the booth you managed to secure. He opts to sit next to you instead of across the table, making you slide closer to the wall.

You scowl. “No.”

He continues like he doesn’t hear you. “Because it’s totally okay if you do. I know I’m more—out-going? Sociable? Charismatic?—out of the two of us, so I don’t mind being used like that.”

“Oh, you’re so annoying.” You punch his arm and he laughs goodnaturedly. “It’s just—It’s weird. And makes me feel awkward, so I don’t do it.”

Beomgyu hums in consideration, like he can tell you are holding back, but doesn’t push. “Well I meant it, you know. I don’t mind.” He nudges your shoulder for good measure and you roll your eyes.

“Like I was giving you a choice?”

He contemplates this for a moment. “Suppose you’re right. Choice or not, though, I don’t mind doing stuff for you.” He says it so easily. So earnestly. Almost too earnestly. There’s a weight behind his eyes when he looks at you and you can’t figure out what it means. He seems to notice his staring and averts his gaze. Clearing his throat, he jokes, “Like paying for your lunch.”

You hit his arm again. “I never asked you to do that.”

“Stop punching me, this is a very small booth!”

“Then move to the other side.”

“Don’t wanna.” And just like that, whatever happened before was gone, replaced with the natural light atmosphere you always have around Beomgyu.

A waiter comes by, then. He leaves your food on the table, and the both of you thank him simultaneously. He nods in response, goes to walk away but does a double take looking at Beomgyu. He regards him for a moment before nodding. “Nice,” he says pointing to Beomgyu’s hair then goes on his way.

Beomgyu smirks in response, claery satisfied with the attention his new hair is giving him. You don’t indulge him and turn your attention to the sandwich and chips Beomgyu ordered for you.

“You know,” he drawls out, nudging your side, “it’s not just Chaeryeong. Bunch of people in class keep telling me how cool they think my hair is.” You raise an eyebrow and Beomgyu nods seriously. “If you ask me, you should drop out of school and do this professionally.”

That makes you snort. “I dyed your hair once, I don’t think that qualifies me for a job.”

He hums thoughtfully, then shrugs. “It’s for the best. I’d miss you too much.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it! You’d be so busy doing everybody else’s hair because you’re so high in demand that you won’t have any time to spend with me. I don’t know how people can go through life without your quick wit and sunny disposition.”

“Most people don’t put up with me long enough to get past the ‘she’s mean and glares a lot’ thing so I don’t think they’re missing out.” You snort involuntarily at your own joke, expecting him to laugh a little, too. But he doesn’t. He frowns.

“Do you think I’m putting up with you?”

Beomgyu stares at you intently and you wonder how the mood was able to change so quickly again. You want to get back to teasing, not whatever this is. “I was kidding,” you clarify, shifting in your seat awkwardly.

“But do you?” When you don’t say anything, he takes your silence as an answer. “Y/N, I’m not hanging out with you because I feel like I have to.”

“I never said that.” You didn’t. It’s not even what you were thinking, not really. It’s more a proximity thing. You’re helping him, he’s helping you, and for either of those things to happen, being together makes sense. There isn’t much more to it. There doesn’t need to be. (You want there to be.)

You hang out with Rina because she’s your roommate. The two of you aren’t friends, but you’re friendly enough. It helps that the two of you live together, so, naturally, you spend time together, but it’s always because you’re there.

So, no, you don’t think he’s fulfilling an obligation by being around you. Just. He probably doesn’t enjoy these outings as much as you do. And that’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Except—

Beomgyu is the closest thing you’ve had to a friend in a long time. The thought of that feeling being one-sided sucked. The thought of it being reciprocated, though? Too good to be true.

Beomgyu turns so that his upper half is facing you. Stares at you right in your eyes and holds your gaze for so long you start squirming in your seat. He opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it again. Then, eyes and voice full of conviction, “Y/N, you’re, like, my best friend, you know that, right?” You wonder what he wanted to say, if that’s it.

Your mouth drops. You blink owlishly at him, not believing what he just said. “Oh, now you’re pushing it,” you finally say, shoving a couple fries in your mouth.

“I’m being serious! I spend way more time with you than I do anyone else, I’m pretty sure we’ve been hanging out everyday. My leg is literally hooked over yours right now!” Looking down at your lap, you realise that it is. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the weight on your leg.

“You’re a tactile person,” you say, repeating his words.

“Y/N,” he looks at you like he can’t believe you don’t believe him. Like he’s explaining such a simple concept and doesn’t know how you can’t get it. Grass is green, the sky is blue and you are his best friend. “I wouldn’t be around you this much if I didn’t want to. I’m not tutoring you, and we’re not discussing the plan. There is no reason for me to be here with you right now other than I want to be. I like being with you.”

The only explanation you had to Beomgyu’s clingy nature towards you was the one he gave you first. That he was touchy because he was just like that, and you just happened to be there. Not because he liked you. But here he was telling you that that’s not true.

You flounder for a bit, struggling to find the words, any words. He’s still staring, head tilted slightly with a grin on his face. This, you think probably way to excitedly, is your best friend.

“God, you’re so cheesy,” you say, fighting back a blush, pushing his smiling face away from you. And he laughs goodnaturedly, steals fries from your plate and does not move his leg.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP 2: HANG OUT WHERE SHE HANGS OUT

BG’S NOTE: NOT IN A STALKER WAY

Y/N’S NOTE: IT WAS NEVER IN A STALKER WAY!

The success of Step One has Beomgyu itching to begin Step Two immediately. Obviously, patience is a virtue and timing is everything, so you say no. You reason that it would be weird for him to just show up wherever she is after she acknowledged his existence one time (“We want her to think you’re interesting, not creepy”).

The both of you are on your way to Beomgyu’s dorm for no particular reason. You ran into each other on campus after class and started walking together without caring about where you were going, only realising belatedly the familiar route you were taking.

Beomgyu is talking your ear off animatedly about one thing or another, arms waving around him, clearly very into whatever has caught his attention. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t realise you’ve arrived, so it’s up to you to unlock the door and let you both in.

There are two boys sitting on his couch. They both have their feet kicked up on the coffee table, messing with their phones. You wonder who they are to be sitting so comfortably in here when Beomgyu’s gone.

You nudge Beomgyu’s side, making him look up and take notice of the two might-be intruders. He doesn’t seem fazed. “What’re you guys doing here?” Dropping his bag by the door, he moves into the house, leaving you standing in the doorway awkwardly. The boys shrug, looking up from their phones.

“Oh, well, Y/N, this is Kai and Taehyun. Taehyun and Kai, this is Y/N.” Beomgyu points out each boy individually and it’s then that you recognise them as the guys from his pictures. The ones who were in the Music room with him. The ones in his pictures. He waves you over with a slight jerk of his head and you follow him inside.

“Hi!” The one named Kai greets cheerily. Taehyun nods at you with a “Hey” and you wave back awkwardly, a tight smile on your lips.

“Don’t be upset, this is her being polite,” Beomgyu stage whispers to the boys, as if he’s letting the other two in on a secret and you hit his shoulder.

You clear your throat, straightening up your back. “Nice to meet you,” you say. Beomgyu grins brightly at you.

Taehyun speaks up first. “He told us about the plan. Have to say, I’m surprised you agreed to help him.”

“He’s helping me with Music Comp,” you say easily. And he really was. Your grades have never been better and the proud smiles Ms Kwon had been sending you when showing the marks for tests were something you could get used to. Honestly, you never thought Beomgyu would be such a help to you, but here you were.

Kai nods. “And how’s that going?”

“She said my hair is cool,” Beomgyu gushes, like he has been every time you’ve seen him since that day. You didn’t think it was possible, but he actually looks like the definition of heart eyes.

Taehyun studies his friend’s hair for a moment. “I guess it is.”

Pride blooms in your chest and you stand up a little straighter. “Thanks. I did it.”

Kai perks up at that. “Ooh, do you think you could do mine? I’ve been wanting to dye my hair red for a while.”

“Sure,” you say easily, shrugging in agreement, at the same time Beomgyu blurts out, “No!”

You all turn to stare at him. You’re surprised at the outburst, considering he was the one suggesting you open a salon. “Sorry, but I can’t risk Y/N’s magic hands also making Chaeryeong fall in love with you at first sight.”

“She’s not in love with you,” The rest of you say in unison.

Beomgyu stares at the three of you with wide eyes. “This was a mistake.” He sighs heavily and sits on an open armchair while you and Kai snicker.

“We’ve been trying to find out ways for him to bump into her but aside from my Music Comp class, we don’t know where else to find her,” you explain, dropping your bag at your feet. Beomgyu tugs on the sleeve of your shirt, pulling you closer to him until your trying to get comfortable on the arm of the chair he’s sitting on.

“We’ve been stumped for a week,” he says when you’ve settled on the arm of the chair, your own arm resting on his shoulder.

It should be weird how quickly you were able to get used to Beomgyu’s constant touch. How quickly you were to oblige to it. To let him hug you or play footsie with you whenever he wanted. Especially after last week’s revelation that he actually liked being around you. That he thought of you as his friend. It made you closer, somehow.

It should be. But it isn’t. Just easy.

Taehyun eyes the two of you from his spot on the couch and when you catch his eye, he just quirks an eyebrow before looking away. Weird.

“I see Chaeryeong every Thursday,” Kai says. You are surprised Beomgyu’s head doesn’t snap off from how fast he whipped it around to stare at his friend. “Her dance class is before mine.”

Silence. Then. “And you mention this now?”

Kai shrugs, unperturbed by his friend’s outburst. “It never came up.” The way he is smirking, though, makes you think that he was withholding this information on purpose.

Thursday comes around and between you, Beomgyu and his friends, you came up with the next move for Step Two. Beomgyu would go with Kai to his dance class to drop him off and “bump” into Chaeryeong, thus starting his first conversation with her.

He had begged you to go with him. Moral support, he said. But you have a class. You can’t tag along with Beomgyu to make sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself, a fact that had him begging you to skip. You said no, obviously, because even if you didn’t have a class, what are you supposed to do while Beomgyu tries to flirt for five minutes?

Halfway through your lesson, your phone vibrates from inside your pocket. Pulling it out discreetly, you find seven texts from Beomgyu. Mainly incoherent key smashes and an excessive amount of exclamation points.

As discreetly as you can, you text back telling him to meet you at the café when your class is over. As soon as the bell rings, you speed walk your way over to where Beomgyu is already waiting for you, booth secured, food waiting to be touched.

You slide into the seat next to him and stare him down. “Okay, talk.”

And, essentially, this is how it went:

CHAERYEONG’S AND BEOMGYU’S FIRST CONVO, ACCORDING TO CHOI BEOMGYU

To say that Beomgyu was nervous would be an understatement. There was a difference between waiting outside Ms Kwon’s class with the intention of exchanging polite, but curt, nods and going to her dance class to (hopefully) talk to her. He was freaking. Out.

“Dude, chill out,” Kai tells him for the fourth time in a row since they started walking to his dance class together. “You’re literally going to scare her off with how much you’re sweating right now.”

Beomgyu knows he’s exaggerating, that it’s a part of his friendly duties to tease and make fun of him. He’s not actually sweating, obviously. But. What if he is? He does a quick and inconspicuous pit-check, and, yeah, he’s not sweating. Kai’s just a dick.

Beomgyu tells him as much and he just laughs obnoxiously loud.

When they arrive at Kai’s class, the students from the lesson before are packing up their things. The students including Chaeryeong.

When she notices him, she looks a little shocked, like this is the last place she would have expected to see him. She gets over it quickly, though, and makes her way over to him. “Cool Hair Guy?”

His mouth hangs open stupidly, tongue dried up. She was talking to him. Chaeryeong was talking to him! He doesn’t know how long he stands there gaping like an idiot, but the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like you gets fed up. Say something, idiot! Yeah, definitely you. “Uh, it’s Beomgyu, actually. Choi Beomgyu,” he manages out.

“Nice to meet you, Choi Beomgyu,” she says smiling, something she does a lot. It’s so pretty. She doesn’t introduce herself, probably knows that she doesn’t have to. “I didn’t know you did dance?”

Beomgyu can’t really believe this is happening. That he’s here, talking to Lee Chaeryeong. That she’s talking to him. “No, I’m just here dropping off my friend.” He waves his arm around noncommittally in the general direction he last saw Kai.

She seems to contemplate this for a moment. “Well, I’ll see you around, Cool Hair Guy Beomgyu.” Chaeryeong smiles at him and gives his arm a squeeze before leaving with her friends. Beomgyu is frozen in place, mouth hanging open as he wonders seriously if this is real life.

Kai’s wolf whistles from wherever he is tell him that it is. Oh my god. He has to tell you.

When he finishes recounting everything, you have a few questions about the legitimacy of everything. You sincerely doubt Chaeryeong was trying to feel up his muscles but you digress. You won’t ruin his fun.

You nudge his shoulder slightly. “See, you didn’t even need me there.”

“Still would have been nice.” You try not to show how much the comment affects you, how it tugs at the corners of your lips, a smile threatening to break out. “So, what now?”

You shrug, keeping your face neutral. “Keep dropping Kai off, I guess. She knows your name now, so it’s basically open season. Anything can happen, really.”

“Open Season,” he deadpans and you regard him with a quizzical look. “That bear movie with the deer?”

“No, Beomgyu, open season the expression.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, but doesn’t push it. Clearing his throat, he says, “I could keep picking you up, too. From your Comp class.”

“I guess. It would maximise the amount of time you see Chaeryeong, or whatever.”

“Well, yeah, but no.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to hang out with you. Seeing Chaeryeong would just be a bonus.”

He doesn’t say anything more and gives no indication that he wants to. He busies himself with his food and you take advantage of the fact that his attention is no longer on you and try to will the heat rising to your cheeks to stop.

When you are sure that the temperature in your face is back to normal, you clear your throat. “I have a question.”

Beomgyu glances from his plate. “It’s not your turn,” he says. “I haven’t used my second question.”

“Well, do you have one?”

“No,” Beomgyu says cheekily. “But I suppose I can let you skip.” Bringing his sandwich to his mouth, he nods his head slightly, giving you the go ahead.

“Why do you like Chaeryeong?”

He swallows. “Everybody likes Chaeryeong.”

“Well, yeah, but not everyone would ask a random stranger to be their wingman.”

“You got me there.” You continue to stare, waiting for an answer, and after a moment Beomgyu sighs. “I don’t know. It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Well it’s great that I already don’t think that highly of you,” you tease. (You do.) It makes Beomgyu laugh, though, just a little. He exhales dramatically before leaning back in his seat.

“I transferred here in the middle of the year. I missed freshman orientation, I got stuck with a single room because everybody else had a roommate meaning I missed out on the quick and easy way people made friends. Or enemies, depending on who you were stuck with.” You laugh a little at that last bit when he turns his head to give you a wry smile.

He continues. “The first month kind of sucked. And then one day I’m rushing to class twenty minutes late because I still haven’t figured out where everything is and Chaeryeong is running, too, in the opposite direction and when she notices me—this is where it sounds stupid—she smiles.”

“She so clearly had somewhere to be and yet she took the time to do that. To comfort me, or just to say ‘Hey, we’re in the same boat!’ or something, I don’t know. It just made me feel better. I’ve had a crush on her since.”

When he finishes, he drops his gaze to the table, practically burning holes into the metal.

“Hmm,” is all you say.

“I told you it was stupid,” he says looking up at you, chuckling half-heartedly.

You look affronted. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You have that look on your face. You’re thinking it’s stupid.”

“I was actually thinking that I found it sweet.”

Because of course one act of kindness is all it takes for Beomgyu to all but fall in love with someone. He is the kindest and most earnest person you know, it makes sense, really. You wouldn’t have expected anything else.

It makes you think back to your own first meeting with him, how you thought he was crazy and probably said so out loud, too. The farthest from kind or sweet. Not that it should matter. You don’t want him to have a crush on you, obviously.

“Yeah?” he asks uncertain.

“Yeah. Chaeryeong seems sweet. Your crush is sweet—if not a little obsessive at times.”

He chuckles. “Thank you. You’re sweet, too.”

The comment catches you off guard. “Meaning?”

“That you’re a lot nicer than you give yourself credit for.”

Beomgyu has this uncanny ability to seemingly read your mind. To tell when you’re in your head too much and knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

You can’t believe that he’s managed to render you speechless and flustered twice in one conversation. You kick him under the table, biting back a smile. “Eat your food.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP 3: ASK HER TO HANGOUT

BG’S NOTE: NOT AS A DATE, RIGHT?

Y/N’S NOTE: NOT AS A DATE! IT’S A FRIEND THING!

This, you think, is the perfect time for Beomgyu to take the plunge and ask Chaeryeong to hangout. She knows his name, greets him whenever she passes him on her way out of the Music block, there really is no better moment.

You don’t know what he’s waiting for.

Whenever he gets close, he gets nervous, changes his mind and speedwalks in the opposite direction. He keeps saying he’ll get to it, but at this rate you’re not holding your breath.

You’ve almost given up entirely but Beomgyu surprises you by strolling into your Music Comp class casually heading straight for Ms Kwon’s desk. You sit up in your chair, shocked to see him, and your eyes blow wide when, as he’s talking with your teacher, he points to you.

Ms Kwon eyes you suspiciously and looks wary to give Beomgyu permission to do, well, whatever it is that he wants to do, but gives in eventually. Your friend bounds up the steps two at a time to get to your desk, falling into a crouch when he reaches you.

“Hey,” he whispers, head reaching just above your table.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper back leaning forward to his face, entirely confused by his sudden appearance.

“I’m going to ask You-Know-Who to hang out.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Voldemort?”

“What? No! Chaeryeong,” he whispers, looking around to make sure no one can hear. Your mouth makes an ‘O’ shape in realisation. The girl in question is sitting at her desk, diligently doing her work.

Then what he said hits you. “Wait—Right now?”

He shrugs. “I had a surge of adrenaline. If I don’t do it now I’ll probably chicken out and never talk to her again.”

It makes sense and well, better now than never, right? But— “So you’re just gonna, what? Go up to her in the middle of class and ask her?”

“’Course not. I’m going to wait for class to end.”

He makes no move to leave.

Your eyes blow impossibly wide. “You mean here?”

“Told Ms Kwon that you’re giving me help in Calculus,” he says standing up and moving until he’s right next to you.

“I don’t take Calculus.”

“Neither do I. Scoot over.”

You sigh. The sounds of you moving out of your seat and into the next one draws the attention of the class to the two of you. Even Chaeryeong looks back curiously and Beomgyu blushes before waving shyly.

“This is so stupid,” you groan once you’ve both settled and everyone has turned their attention back to their own work.

“Hush. Now, how do you calculate the slope of a curve?”

The lesson passes with Beomgyu nudging you every so often to make it look like you’re helping. Quick, pretend to explain something to me. It makes you wonder what it would be like to actually share a class with him. Fun, probably. You wouldn’t get any work done, though.

When the bell rings and Ms Kwon dismisses you, Beomgyu stands up, determination written all over his features, staring at Chaeryeong’s back.

He rolls his shoulders back. “Okay, I’m going in.”

“Oh, god,” you groan.

He ignores you. “Wish me luck?” Beomgyu turns to you, cheeky smile on his face and you sigh before wrapping your arms around his torso. He squeezes you back once then pulls away. “Okay,” he breathes out, straightening his back, “I got this.”

You watch as he makes his way to Chaeryeong’s desk and how she brightens up when she sees him. She waves Keeho off and he complies with a perplexed look on his face. Huh. It seems Beomgyu didn’t need the good luck anyway.

You don’t stick around and choose to leave the class, saying goodbye to Ms Kwon. However, once outside, you don’t leave. You linger in the hallway watching the door as students rush to their next classes. Probably because you are invested in the outcome and want to know what happened immediately. More definitely because you want to see Beomgyu again as soon as possible.

Chaeryeong comes out first. Her face gives no indication that she just rejected someone or accepted their offer so you guess you’re just going to have to wait for Beomgyu.

He emerges a moment later, walks with his head low, somehow already spotting where you are. He looks…Well, dejected. You feel your body deflate just watching him.

“Well,” he exhales when he reaches you. You frown. “Guess who’s going to a movie with Chaeryeong.”

“Oh my god, no way!” you gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth. When the initial excitement dies down, you punch Beomgyu’s shoulder and he yelps. “That’s for making me think she turned you down.”

Beomgyu laughs nervously, shaking his arm out. “Yeah. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

You feel your face fall. “We? As in you, Chaeryeong and whoever else you’re going with? Not you and me?” You have a sneaking suspicion that you already know the answer and you’re not going to like it.

He remains silent. You punch his arm again.

“I got nervous, okay!” he exclaims when you continue your assault on his limb but you don’t let up. You couldn’t hangout with Chaeryeong. The great part about the plan was that you handled the logistics and Beomgyu did the heavy lifting. You haven’t even talked to the girl.

“It hit me how weird it would be to just go up and ask her out when she only realised I existed, like, last week, so I turned it into a group thing. A couple of her friends are coming and, well, you—Stop hitting me!”

You stop punching him. “Why couldn’t you bring Taehyun or Kai with you?”

“Because Chaeryeong knows you, kinda. Same class and all. Also they would just make fun of me the whole time.”

“And I won’t?”

“Well, you will, but once you’ve had your fun you’ll help me.”

The worst part is that you know he’s right. Instead of responding, you turn on your heel and stomp your way to the quad.

“Where are you going!” Beomgyu yells.

“You owe me so much cake!” You flip him off over your shoulder, not bothering to look back. But, of course, he was following you anyway.

The movie everyone decides to see is the new Scream. By everyone you mean Chaeryeong, her friends and Beomgyu. He came to you with the suggestions and out of protest you refused to give your opinion. But it seems you spend too much time with Beomgyu because he chooses the exact movie you wanted to see anyway.

Saturday afternoon finds you and Beomgyu on the bus on your way to the mall where you will meet up with Chaeryeong and her friends.

The boy in question nudges your side for the fifth time in ten minutes. As part of your act of protest you had been sitting silently next to him, not engaging in any conversation with him. Which is effective because it seems all you do with him is talk.

“Y/N,” he sing-songs, jutting his finger in your stomach, “you can’t stay mad at me forever. It’s free snacks and a movie, which, by the way, I know you’ve been wanting to see.”

“I’m not mad at you, Beomgyu,” you sigh, slapping his finger away from you, bringing an end to your silent treatment. You can’t have him thinking this is a bigger deal than it is. Or worse: have him feeling bad. “It’s more the principle of the thing.”

“The principle,” he repeats, clearly not following.

You nod. “I have never had to interact with Chaeryeong before and now I’m being thrown into the proverbial deep end.”

It takes him a moment to fully understand what you’re saying. Then, “Oh, I get it—you’re nervous!”

Scowling, you clarify, “I never said that.”

“You have nothing to worry about! You just have to go there and charm everyone with your dry humour and worrying, yet endearing, pessimism and they’ll fall in love with you in no time.”

You don’t fail to notice the implications of his words. But you can’t afford to think about it so you don’t. You don’t say anything and let Beomgyu give you advice on how to not be nervous and just be yourself. Which is rich coming from him, because the moment you meet up with Chaeryeong, he freezes completely.

You sigh.

“Hey, guys!” she greets brightly, waving the two of you over when she catches sight of you. There are three other people with her, one being Keeho. You don’t know who the others are.

“Hi,” you say back. Beomgyu is still stock still next to you so you send an elbow to his stomach.

“Hi!” he finally squeaks out.

If Chaeryeong is confused she doesn’t show it. She turns to her friends. “Guys, this is Beomgyu and Y/N. Beomgyu and Y/N these are my friends, Keeho, Yeji and Theo.”

You all wave at each other before moving to buy snacks. You shoot Beomgyu a look that you hope reads Get it together, loser! but judging from the confused head tilt he sends your way, he doesn’t get the message.

The six of you move as a group into the cinema playing your movie and start looking around for the perfect place to sit. Settling on a row in the middle, all that’s left to do is sort out the seating arrangements.

“Y/N, where do you want to sit?” Chaeryeong asks politely.

“Uh…” It hits you again that you are here for Beomgyu. Choosing to sit next to him would limit or hinder him from sitting with Chaeryeong but you don’t really want to sit next to people you just met. Making up your mind with an internal groan, you lie, “Actually I forgot to buy skittles. So. I’m going to go get them. I’ll sit wherever when I get back.”

“You sure? We can always just save you a seat.” God, she was so nice. Why did she have to be so nice?

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay.” You start making your way up the steps to the door.

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” Beomgyu states, following you up the stairs and you freeze.

“What are you doing?” you question when he reaches you.

He regards you with a funny look. “You don’t like ordering? I can go with you.”

Warmth erupts in your chest. “I don’t actually want skittles, I just said that so you could get a seat with Chaeryeong.”

“Now, how would that work?”

“Oh, shut up, go sit with her!”

He bites his lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just stand by the door for two minutes or whatever.”

Beomgyu hesitates for a moment longer before nodding. “Okay. Okay, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

You don’t linger to see if he manages to snag a seat next to Chaeryeong, and just exit the cinema. True to your word, you only stand outside for a moment before you walk right back inside. Sitting in the aisle is Chaeryeong and right next to her… is Beomgyu. You don’t know how he pulled it off, but you feel a swell of pride in your chest.

There is a seat for you in between Yeji and Theo with Keeho at the end and you almost turn back on your heel to sit by yourself at the back. Squaring your shoulders, you walk to your seat and once you pass Beomgyu, he shoots you a secretive thumbs up that you return with your own, equally secretive and equally impressed.

“What happened to your skittles?” The boy named Theo whispers to you once you settle down and the lights dim.

“Oh, they ran out,” you lie easily, waving him off.

“Here,” Yeji says from your opposite side, holding out her own packet of sweets, “we can share.”

You smile gratefully and only after a split second of hesitation, you reach into the bag and pull out a sweet.

You sneak a few glances at Beomgyu throughout the duration of the movie to see how it’s going for him only to find him already grinning at you. Yeji whispers her thoughts to you and while you would usually be annoyed by that, you find that you don’t mind, because in the short time you’ve spoken, you find that she’s pretty cool.

By the time the movie ends and you all exit the mall, the sun has set and everyone is making plans to head back to campus. You and Beomgyu politely turn down Chaeryeong’s offer to drive you both back, insisting that you’ll be fine on the bus. As much as you enjoyed yourself, you can feel yourself getting drowsy and you don’t think you could handle spending more time with them without falling asleep.

“This was fun, we should do this again sometime!” As apprehensive as you were about it, you have to agree with Chaeryeong.

When you part ways, Yeji gives you a quick hug with a promise that you should text her and waves goodbye to you. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face as you wave back. Beomgyu doesn’t comment on it but he just gives you a knowing grin. You merely flip him off and board the bus.

It’s late enough that there aren’t many people on the bus, so you get two seats next to each other with no problem.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Beomgyu says plopping down on the seat next to you. “Chaeryeong was basically talking to me the whole time.”

You nod half listening, eyelids heavy. “The movie was really good. And I guess the company wasn’t too bad.”

A cheeky grin spreads across Beomgyu’s face. “What I’m hearing is you had fun.”

You groan dramatically. “Hush, please, I’m way way too tired to engage in clever banter.”

Beomgyu laughs, but doesn’t say anything else after that.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you must have, because when you reach your stop, Beomgyu is nudging you gently to wake you up. You groggily raise your head from where it was resting on his shoulder and look around trying to figure out where you were.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, helping you stand up and leading you out the bus.

The cool air of the night helps wake you up. You walk the rest of the way to campus in comfortable silence with Beomgyu.

“You’re going to be fine getting to your dorm?” he asks when you reach the point where you both part ways.

“Yes, dad.”

“Hey!” You snicker childishly. He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly before sobering. “Thanks for coming today,” he says seriously.

“You’re welcome. I…had fun.”

You’re not sure if it matters or what it even means if anything, but when Beomgyu hugs you goodbye, his lips brush against the top of your head for the briefest of moments, you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.

It stuns you all the same.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Hanging out with Chaeryeong and her friends becomes such a common thing, you start reminiscing on the times when the only person who asked you to go out was Rina and it was your turn to take out the trash.

Chaeryeong likes going out. You have an invite to a new event almost every week. You have been out watching movies or eating or doing karaoke so much that one time Rina even asks if you’re in a cult. You say no, obviously, but sometimes it really feels like it.

Just yesterday, one of her friends suggested going to an amusement park for the day and Beomgyu was beyond nervous. Am I supposed to win her a prize? Would she want one from me? You have to come, Y/N, I can’t do this. You had fun, sure, none of these hangouts had been boring (Theo won the biggest and ugliest plush for you after you joked that you wanted it. You kept it on your bedside) but it’s the principle of the thing. You are pretty sure that being outside this often is not good for anyone.

And it is not good for you. After the third consecutive week of following Beomgyu around while he becomes friends with Chaeryeong, your battery for these social events has been tapped and you need time to yourself. So when Chaeryeong tells you that they’re going bowling that weekend, you lie and say you’re sick. That your roommate has the flu and you caught it from her, but you’re so sorry you can’t join. Chaeryeong tells you that it won’t be as fun without you and to get well soon and while you don’t buy the first bit, it warms you to know she cares. You almost feel bad for lying.

Almost.

It’s the first Saturday you are spending on your own, in your dorm in almost three weeks, and oh how you missed your couch. Rina comments on this too, wondering why you aren’t with your “group” today. You just tell her that you wanted the day to yourself and so you asked for permission to skip the meeting.

Sometime during your rerun binge of Basketball Wives, there is a knock at the door. You hardly pay attention to it, far too caught up in the fabricated drama on your screen and leave it to Rina to go see who’s there. Probably one of your neighbours asking for eggs or something.

Rina leaves her spot in the kitchen and opens the door. “Uh, is Y/N here?” you hear whoever it is ask cautiously. That gets you curious. You pause your show and try leaning back on the couch to see who’s asking about you, but from your vantage point you can’t.

Rina does it for you. “Uh, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Beomgyu. Choi Beomgyu?” Your eyes blow wide and you practically jump up from your spot on the couch. What was he doing here?

Rina doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Oh, so you’re the boy Y/N—”

“—Okay! Enough of that!” You say jumping in before your roommate could embarrass you any further. Rina just smirks knowingly and moves out the way of the door. You take her place, staring up at the boy who is supposed to be bowling right now. He’s looking down at you, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“You’re sick?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, concern lacing his voice.

Your eyes furrow. “What? No. How do you know where I live?”

“You told me. When we were doing homework you got a text saying that the water pipes in the showers burst and you were all like ‘Fucking Kings Building fucking sucks! Fuck!’ Or something like that.” He shrugs, grinning.

You remember that day like it was yesterday. The building your dorm is located in is one of the oldest on campus. The only things about it that’s been updated are the furniture and accent pieces to make it look more modern, even though everything else about it is ancient. Including the plumbing.

The text came from the group chat your floor has. One of the girls was taking a shower when water started spraying everywhere. It took two weeks to fix. You had to walk all the way to the neighbouring building to wash. But it wasn’t yesterday.

“That was a month ago,” you inform.

He points to his temple. “I have a good memory.”

“Okay, but how did you find my dorm?”

“Lucky guess,” he says easily, although he looks shifty. Can’t look at you directly.

Your eyes widen in realisation. “Did you go knocking on people’s doors until you found me?” His silence and sheepish expression is answer enough for you. Your face threatens to break out in a grin but you hold it back. “Come in,” you say instead, opening the door wider for him to enter.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he follows you inside.

“I thought you were sick and came to check on you. Turns out you’re just a liar.”

“But you’re supposed to be bowling.”

“So are you.”

“Didn’t feel like it. You don’t have to stay. As you can see I’m fine. You could probably still make it if you left now.” You hope he can’t tell that you don’t want him to.

“Nah,” he brushes you off shrugging. “Looks way more fun here.”

You try not to look too excited, and return to your seat. “Whatever.”

Beomgyu joins you on the couch, kicks his feet up like he’s been here before, immediately getting comfortable.

“What’re we watching?” he asks, pulling your laptop onto his lap.

“The lives of the wives of basketball players from Atlanta.”

“...Cool?”

“You can leave.”

“No, no, no,” he exclaims, backpedaling. His insistence to stay is cute. “I’m sure it’s super fun and interesting and—what was it you said about reality TV?—a great stress reliever. Well, I am just full of stress that needs to be released so press play.”

He stays over well into the evening, Rina migrates to join you in the living room and you switch to watching some drama that they both were looking forward to. Beomgyu gets along well with Rina and it shouldn’t be a big deal but it is. It feels like bridging a gap in your life you didn’t even realise there was.

Beomgyu almost falls asleep on your couch, too, but you kick him out telling him to go to his own room.

(“But I’m already here and your couch is way more comfortable than mine.” “Sleep on your bed, stupid.”)

The fact Beomgyu chose to be here, with you, instead of out wooing Chaeryeong, has you blushing all over again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Yeji is the one to text you about the party. Someone’s parents are out for the weekend meaning they have the house to themselves and of course throwing a party is the best way to celebrate the fact. Honestly, you’re more surprised that a college student still lives with their parents but whatever.

This party is significant, Beomgyu tells you, because Chaeryeong invited him personally. As far as he knows, the usual suspects are going, too, but Chaeryeong asked him to meet her there, save her a dance, which basically puts them at Step Four. You’re his good luck charm, he tells you.

Rina eyes you suspiciously when she sees you getting ready to head out. “Where are you going all dressed up?” she asks from your bedroom door.

You look down at your outfit of black jeans and a crop top and think you don’t look that different. Or spectacularly good. “A party,” you say.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Is Beomgyu going with you?” You sigh.

Ever since Beomgyu showed up at your dorm, Rina has not stopped badgering you with questions about him. What he’s like, what he studies, if you’re dating. (That last one landed her a cushion to the head.) You indulge her anyway and find that all those teen dramas might have been on to something when it comes to boy talk. It’s fun.

You spent most of your time complaining about him and find that the things that used to annoy you think are more endearing than anything. When you talk about him, Rina always gives you a funny look, the same one Taehyun gave you all those weeks ago, like she knows something you don’t.

“Yes, he is, and he’s coming to pick me up, too, so behave.”

Rina raises her hands in mock surrender “I will make myself scarce.” Then, seriously, “Have fun.”

Not ten minutes later, there is a knock on the door. You smooth out your clothes, checking yourself in the mirror, once, twice then finally exiting your room.

“Hey,” Beomgyu greets, when you open the door.

“Hi.” You don’t know how long you stay staring at each in your doorway, but it must be long enough for someone to clear their throats from behind you. “Let’s go,” you say, when you finally snap out of your daze, “I’m pretty sure Rina is watching us from the kitchen.” He laughs, nodding his consent and you follow out, closing the door behind you.

The two of you make your way to the bus stop together in comfortable silence. You’re always comfortable with Beomgyu, you find.

He’s the one to break it. He clears his throat awkwardly, turns to look at you, changes his mind and looks away, before looking again and averting his gaze. His nervousness is cute, you observe, although you don’t know what could make him nervous. It’s just you. He settles his gaze on a lamppost. “Uh, you look nice.”

You scoff lightly, endeared all the same. “I’m pretty sure I’ve worn this exact outfit in front of you before. I look the same.”

Beomgyu rounds on you suddenly. “Maybe you always look nice.” Where his newfound confidence comes from, you don’t know, but it makes something burn in your stomach. He is staring down at you, using his height to his full advantage. The light from the lamppost is all you have under the night sky and you are thrown for a loop at how gorgeous he was.

Part of you is grateful for the bus arriving just then, the screeching signaling it’s arrival taking you out of the spell you were under.

“The bus is here,” you inform, not sure why you’re whispering, even though Beomgyu probably knows. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, though.

Eventually he nods and moves away from you in a way that makes it look like it physically pains him too.

You don’t find any seats next to each other; there are a couple singles spread out here and there, but Beomgyu wants to be next to you. He grabs your hand with his own, pulling you close to his side as you stand, using your other hand to hold onto the bar above your head.

Your mind is still reeling from what happened outside, even though you don’t really know what happened. One moment, you were teasing him like you normally do and the next—

You think he might’ve—

You wanted him to—

“This is our stop.” Beomgyu’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. You let him lead off the bus and you don’t have to walk far before you reach the house.

Music is blaring from the house, so loud you can hear it from the street. It only gets worse as you enter, the noise seemingly coming from inside your head.

You turn to Beomgyu. “You should go find Chaeryeong!” He doesn’t look like he hears you.

“I’m going to go find Chaeryeong!” he yells over the music and you nod. He pushes his way through the bodies and you remain in your spot. You look around the crowd, watching people dance to the music and find that if you’re to get through this, you’re going to need a drink.

It’s only been ten minutes since you’ve arrived, you nursing the same bottle of beer, when Beomgyu is emerging from the throng of people. He’s saying something. To you, you realise belatedly. The music is too loud to hear anything.

“What?” you yell back.

“Chaeryeong!” he starts, louder this time, “she’s not here!”

Your eyes go wide. The whole reason you were here is because you were banking on her being here. Now that she’s not, well. “What now?” you ask and Beomgyu can’t hear you. You lean closer to his ear and repeat your question.

It seems what you’re saying still doesn’t register and you’re about to ask for the third time when he grabs hold of your wrist and leads you through the crowd, deeper in the house. You want to ask what he’s doing but figure he won’t hear you anyway. There are less people here, though not by much.

It’s still impossibly loud, and Beomgyu seems to realise this at the same time as you, because before you can comment, he spies something by the wall—a door, you realise belatedly—and pushes you inside. He follows closely, shutting the door behind him, but underestimates the size of the room you are in and ends up chest to chest with you.

It must be a closet, you think. Far too small to be anything else. Beomgyu doesn’t step back.

“What were you saying?” His question makes you realise that it is significantly quieter in here, the music a soft thump muffled by the walls.

“Oh. Uh, I was just asking what now. Since Chaeryeong isn’t here.” Your words come out breathless, despite the fact that you have been standing still this whole time.

Beomgyu’s eyes search your face, for what, you don’t know. Your heart is pounding under his stare. Nervous, you realise. Beomgyu is making you nervous.

His eyes flick down your face for the briefest of moments and you think he might have been looking at your lips. But it happens too fast and the lighting is too dim to be able to tell.

A beat.

Then, “Do you want to dance?”

Dancing with Beomgyu consists primarily of swaying inappropriately to bass heavy music and standing stock still when people jump around too close to you. He smiles at you the entire time, face lighting up so bright it rivals the LEDs stuck on the wall. Yours is probably matching.

You’re in a limbo, it feels like. This moment is a liminal space and the only thing that exists is you, and Beomgyu, dancing together, while he stares at you like you are the only person in the world. The space in between something ending and something starting.

An almost.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP 4: ASK HER ON A DATE

BG’S NOTE: I CAN’T DO THIS

Y/N’S NOTE: u’ll be fine

You have a problem.

A serious, life threatening problem caused by one long legged, pretty faced, chronically annoying yet eternally endearing boy. This problem has your stomach turning over and your chest erupting in warmth whenever you are in contact with said long legged, pretty faced, chronically annoying yet eternally endearing boy.

Rina says it’s a crush. Says that you like him, have for a long time but just didn’t realise. She also says I told you so, like she ever brought it up before so what exactly does she know?

You suppose, though, it makes sense. Suppose that you have been leaning into his touch more, lingering in his hold during hugs. Catching yourself smiling at him stupidly when he’s not looking.

God, you feel like Beomgyu when you first met him. Obsessed with the object of your affection. Except, obviously, you aren’t going to extreme measures to win them over. No, you plan on just letting it run its course until you eventually get over it.

(Although, according to Rina, you’re in too deep. There is no “getting over it”. It’s been too long and your feelings are probably much stronger than you realise. In simple terms: you’re fucked.)

((But she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, remember.))

Though, as of late, you suppose Beomgyu has been following your footsteps.

He hasn’t seen Chaeryeong, or talked to her as far as you’re concerned.

You figure he’s just nervous and you know you should give him some pep talk to inspire him and get him back on track with the plan, because doing otherwise and taking advantage of this would be selfish. Allowing your own personal feelings to affect how you help him wouldn’t be fair. But, as it stands, you are selfish. If only a little bit.

You don’t give him a pep talk, you don’t encourage him, in fact, you don’t even bring up the plan. Don’t even bring up Chaeryeong. And neither does he. So if Beomgyu wants to spend every waking moment with you, you can’t find it in you to deny him.

loser gyu: come over

ynie: hmmm no

loser gyu: PLEASE IM BEGGING

ynie: uh huh

loser: DON'T BE LIKE THAT loser: i bought you cake

ynie: oh so u RLLY want me there huh? what's going on

loser: i need ur help w smth

ynie: do i have to get my hands dirty?

loser gyu: um loser gyu: not if u do it properly?

ynie: well my curiosity is piqued ynie: give me ten minutes

Arriving at his dorm, you don’t bother knocking and just let yourself in. “Beom?” you call out when you don’t see him immediately.

“Bathroom!” he shouts back.

You leave your things on the coffee table and locate your friend, stopping short when you see the state the bathroom is in. “What is happening?”

There are bottles and brushes on the counter, plastic bags and a bowl, too. A towel is laying across the floor, another draped over the back of a chair, and in the centre of this mess is Beomgyu.

Beomgyu has the decency to blush. “My highlights are fading.”

It is then that you notice that the bottles are hair dye and the plastic bags are actually gloves and it hits you what you’re here for.

You stare. “Did you make me come over here to redo your hair?”

“Depends on how you will react if I say yes.”

God, he was so stupid. You like him so much.

This time, you didn’t even need to watch a tutorial, going off memory from the first time. The colour comes out good, better, even, than the first time around. More yellow, too, something you know he’ll be happy about.

“Looks like you finally got to do that blonde,” you joke, dropping down onto his couch once you finished cleaning up the bathroom.

Beomgyu huffs out a laugh and sits down next to you. Right next to you. Which is normal for him but now that you are aware of your feelings (stupid parties and stupid roommates), you are keenly aware of all the points of contact between the two of you. His thigh against your thigh, his arm pressed up against yours.

You try to keep still, to limit your movements, lest he somehow figure out how much this simple contact is affecting you.

Throughout your inner turmoil, Beomgyu is oddly silent next to you. Gaze straight ahead at his collection of pictures. Pictures that now include you.

The two of you at the café, one of you when you fell asleep on the bus. Another of you two on this very couch where you had a marathon of old dramas and woke up with uncomfortable pains in your necks.

Beomgyu speaks up suddenly. “Do you think this plan is stupid?”

You look over at him curiously. “The Chaeryeong thing?” He nods. “Oh, yeah, terribly stupid. I’m pretty sure I’ve said so, too, when we were making it. Or maybe I just thought about it.”

He laughs. “I can vividly hear you saying it. Like, it’s exactly the kind of thing you would say.”

“Then I stand by my initial thought. It’s so stupid. But, it’s working. Who’d’ve thought?”

“You, of course.”

“Of course. I believed in this plan from the get go.”

“Just a ray of optimism.”

“That’s me. Optimism and positivity.” The two of you are a giggling mess on the couch by the end of your little bit. You wait until your laughter dies down to ask, “Why?”

He shrugs. “Just thinking. We started here, you know?”

“And how far we’ve come,” you muse, chuckling to yourself. You never would have expected to get this close to Beomgyu when you started this whole thing, let alone develop feelings for him. But, looking back on it, you guess it was bound to happen anyways.

“Do you think we should stop?”

Beomgyu’s sudden question brings you out of your musings. You shift on the couch so you’re facing him dead on. “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. He wrings his fingers, eyes flitting between his hands and your face. Then, “I saw Chaeryeong earlier.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“She apologised. For missing the party. She had a lot of work to get done and forgot to text that she wouldn’t make it.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I was like ‘Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry’. And she was ‘Cool’ and asked if we could go out later to make up for it and I said I’ll let her know. Then we stood there for a moment and then I just…left. Impulsively felt the need to dye my hair. Texted you.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” Beomgyu leans back into the couch, releasing a breath.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing everything he’s told you. You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes. “Well, that was stupid.”

He snaps his head to you. “What?”

“She obviously wants to go out with you!” you explain. Beomgyu just stares at you. “You were supposed to agree and then go on a date—a real date—and then ask her out like ‘Oh, Chaeryeong, I’ve been obsessed with you since I came out the womb, will you be mine, rah rah rah’.”

The boy scoffs. “I do not sound like that. And also, that is a terrible way to ask someone out.”

“Well, what would you say, then?” you challenge, crossing your arms. This is dangerous territory you’re entering, but it’s too late to turn back now.

Beomgyu stares at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Are you serious?”

You shrug. “Yeah, since you know so much about romance. Pretend I’m Chaeryeong.”

And maybe there’s something to be said about you being selfish as well as a masochist. Because why else would you subject yourself to hearing the boy you like use you as a placeholder to confess to someone else? You get to pretend that he is talking to you, that his words are directed to you. But on the other hand? You know he isn’t.

Retribution, maybe, you think. For keeping him to yourself for so long.

Making up his mind, Beomgyu sits up straighter, mirroring your position to face you. “If you had told me three months ago you and I would be friends, I would have stared at you like you just told me you were from the future and walked away. But here we are, three months later, and you are probably the most important person to me in my life.”

He is not talking about you. You know. But he looks at you like he is.

“I don’t know how you became such a staple in my life but I’m so glad you did because I can’t imagine not knowing you. I’ve liked you for a while now, Y/N. Will you go out with me?”

Your breath hitches. It feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He’s staring at you intently. Like he is actually waiting for a response. Like he meant it.

“Chaeryeong,” you whisper. Beomgyu’s mouth falls open slightly, as if only now realising his slip up. “You mean Chaeryeong.”

“Y/N—”

“Other than that, that was good, yeah. You should, like, call her now. See if she’s still interested.” Standing up from the couch, you begin to collect your things, getting ready to leave.

You can make up for your selfishness like this. All he needs is a push.

Beomgyu stands up after you, following you to the door. “Y/N—”

You don’t look back. “Text me how it goes, yeah?”

“Y/N, wait—”

But you’ve already shut the door behind you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

This, you think, is the longest you’ve gone without seeing Beomgyu. Five hours of time to yourself watching your favourite bad TV shows with Rina out studying with some people from her class. You are by yourself in your dorm with nothing to do and no one to see for the whole day, just like old times.

It sucked.

You never realised how much you actually hated being alone until you weren’t anymore.

The day passes in a blur and you think about Beomgyu on his date with the girl of his dreams, then immediately try to think of something else. It doesn’t work very well. Because even before you started liking him, he was a staple in your thoughts.

Rina tries to distract you when she comes home. You don’t tell her what’s wrong but it doesn’t matter because apparently she can spot “boy problems” a mile away. She goes to bed, eventually, leaving you on the couch with only the company of your laptop and Tyra Banks.

You don’t know what you’re staying up for. Nobody’s coming, you’re expecting anyone to. It’s more hope than anything. But it’s late and he can text you in the morning and—

There is a knock at your door.

It can’t be. It isn’t.

It is.

Beomgyu is at your door, still dressed in his date outfit, slightly wrinkled button down paired with black jeans. “Hi.” He looks surprised to see you. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“You still came,” you point out.

“Hoped you were.”

Heart in your throat, you step aside to let him in. He’s nervous, you observe, playing with his fingers as he moves into your dorm.

You swallow. “How did it go?”

“She kissed me,” he blurts out and time seems to slow.

You become acutely aware of the space between you. Him standing by the door and you near the couch. You want to be closer. Don’t think you could handle it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clearing your throat, you try plaster an encouraging smile on your face. “Well, there you have it. She likes you. Only thing left is for you to ask her to be your girlfriend.”

There is a moment where he doesn’t say anything. Just stands there. Then, “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

Beomgyu pulls his bottom lip between his teeth nervously. “Do you want me to go?” he asks cautiously, eyes boring into yours. It looks like he’s about to take a step to you, body tilted in your direction, but he’s waiting. For your answer, you realise.

You think back to the party, from the bus stop to the party where the two of you danced together. How you wished that moment would last forever. How it felt like it would. But it didn’t. And the party came to an end and you were hit with the reality that was supposed to be Chaeryeong.

It was always supposed to be Chaeryeong.

“Yes,” you say. No. “You’ve got to finish the plan.” Please stay.

Beomgyu looks stunned. Opens and closes his mouth like he doesn’t know what to say. “The plan,” he says breathlessly, dazed. “Right,” this time with more conviction. “Okay, yeah. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

You give him a small smile, something you hope says You’ve got this! and not I don’t know what to do when you’re not around, please don’t go. You open the door for him, leading him out. He gives you one last glance before stepping out into the hallway.

He doesn’t say goodnight. Neither do you.

Turns out Rina was right. You were in too deep. And there was nothing you could do about it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP 5: ASK HER TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND (CONGRATULATIONS FOR MAKING IT THIS FAR, LOSER)

BG’S NOTE: uh thanks

Y/N’S NOTE: ur welcome

“I’m surprised, really,” Yeji starts, from her place on your couch. “I could have sworn you guys were dating when we met.”

You nearly spill the coffee you were drinking all over yourself. “What?”

Yeji had invited herself over that morning, under the guise of catching up, then bombarded you with questions about why she hasn’t seen you around with your shadow (Beomgyu) lately. You don’t know why, but it led to spilling your guts to her about everything—the plan, your not planned feelings, pushing Beomgyu to Chaeryeong.

Yeji shrugs noncommittally. “Yeah, you guys are, like, all over each other, all the time, I just figured.” You’re sure you must look like she just told you she believes the Earth is flat with the way you are staring at her mouth agape but she pays you no mind. “And then we started hanging out more and Chaeryeong just wouldn’t stop talking about Beomgyu and I was stunned because, you know, I like you and think you’re cool and Girl Code and all that so I’m like ‘Dude, back off, don’t be a homewrecker’—”

This time you do spill your coffee. “You said what?”

“—and she was like ‘Oh, no they aren’t dating, don’t worry’. Now you can imagine how confused I was. But, I let it go because I know Chaer and she wouldn’t do that, but, I don’t know. Had this feeling in my gut. And now here you are telling me that I was, in fact, wrong and that this whole thing was planned. Crazy.”

At your silence and most definitely frazzled expression, Yeji winces sympathetically. “Too much at once?”

“A lot at once—You told Chaeryeong we were dating?”

“You guys sure act like it! Like, the amount of heart eyes that boy sends your way? Anybody could see he liked you.”

You cross your arms, frowning as you lean back into your seat. “Well, you got your facts wrong, clearly. Those were for Chaeryeong.”

Yeji sighs. “Remember when we went to that amusement park? And the guys were trying to win all those prizes?”

“Yeah, and Beomgyu was trying to win some for Chaeryeong.”

She waves you off with an eye roll. “He was and he did, and she appreciated it, by the way.” You scowl. She is undeterred. “Anyways, you and me were looking at, like, the big ones, the ones that need, like, a bajillion points, right? And you point at this giant, ugly as shit sloth as a joke and tell me that that’s what you want?”

You nod, confused as to what this has to do with anything. “And Theo won it for me.”

Yeji shakes her head. Your eyebrows furrow further. “I asked and he didn’t. Beomgyu did.”

You throw a cushion at her head. “Shut up.”

“I’m being serious!” she exclaims, dodging successfully. “He heard you say that you wanted and stayed back for twenty minutes trying to win that thing for you. Told Theo to pretend it was from him.”

You think back to the plushie in question, resting on your bedside table and try to imagine Beomgyu trying to win it for you. Try to imagine him hearing your offhanded comment, taking it seriously and spending all that time and shake your head to rid the thoughts. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s in love with you and is too stupid to see it? And you’re just as stupid for not seeing it either.”

You sputter to defend yourself. To defend Beomgyu. “That’s not-The plan-He can’t—”

“You can’t plan for feelings, Y/N. You shouldn’t try to.”

You go to argue again but decide against it. Instead you slide down the couch and hide your face in your hands. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Well, for one, get out of your head.” At that, the cushion you threw comes launching back and hits you square in the face. You release a string of curses that Yeji ignores. “Stop refusing the idea that Beomgyu might like you like you like him. After that? I don’t know. It’s kind of up to you.”

Yeji leaves soon after that, having a lesson that’s starting soon and you figure it’s time for you to head to your own, too.

Seeing Chaeryeong in class feels like a punch in the gut. She smiles when she sees you, waves you over to her table to talk but you can’t find it in you to do so.

You give a small wave in return but make a beeline for your desk. You ignore the frown she sends your way. The truth is, you’re not mad at Chaeryeong. You can’t be. It’s not her fault and she didn’t do anything except be super welcoming and nice. But, you can’t sit with her, not when your feelings are practically eating you up inside. Not when you don’t know if Beomgyu’s asked her yet.

If she said yes.

After nearly another hour feeling sorry for yourself, Ms Kwon lets the class out. You sling your bag over one shoulder and exit, barely looking up from the ground.

“Hey,” Beomgyu breathes out, standing right outside your class, like he always does.

You gssp softly, surprised to see him here. For you. “Hey,” greet back, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“How was class?”

“Fine,” you blurt out. You find that you can’t do the small talk. That you just want to know. “Did you talk to Chaeryeong?”

Beomgyu blinks. “Uh, yeah. I did.”

“Well what did she say?”

A breath. “That she likes me—which, I figured—and that, if it’s okay with me, she wants to keep hanging out as friends.”

It feels like the whole world has tilted on it’s axis. “What?”

“Gave me a hug for good luck, too.”

“For what?”

He shrugs, stepping closer. “Getting the girl.”

Your chest tightens. “Did you?” You hold your breath, afraid of the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Another step. “You told me to go to Chaeryeong.”

You scan his face, hoping to find answers to the one question playing on loop in your head: What is going on? “I thought it was what you wanted. Still do, kinda. I’m confused.”

“I wanted you to tell me not to. To stay. With you.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles softly, “Yeah.”

Talking to Beomgyu always came easy, too easy sometimes. You could talk for hours on end and never get bored. But now it feels like there aren’t any words in the world. Nothing you could say.

He does it for you. “If you don’t mind, I would like to cash in my question now.”

“Go ahead.”

“If this isn’t completely out of left field and I’m not reading this the wrong way, Y/N, would you like to go out with me? And then, I don’t know, if you don’t end up having a horrible time with me, go on another one? And another—a dozen preferably. And, hopefully, if after all that, you’re not absolutely sick of me, would you say yes to being my girlfriend?”

You blink once. Twice. Gasp. Then, “Oh my god.”

“You can be incredibly slow, you know that?” Beomgyu teases, smirking until you punch his shoulder, making him wince.

“I thought you were being friendly, you jerk!”

“Stop hitting me!”

You bring your arm back. You avert your gaze to somewhere over his shoulder, uncertainty and nerves washing over. “I haven’t had any in a while. Didn’t want to mess it up.”

His face softens almost impossibly so. “You couldn’t mess up anything with me. So…about that question?” That boyish nervousness is the only confidence boost you need to remember that this is Beomgyu. Your best friend. The boy you were in love with. (Maybe. It might be too soon to tell. It doesn’t matter.)

“Well,” you drawl and Beomgyu groans at your dramatics, “do I really have to wait till the twelfth date before I can be your girlfriend?”

Beomgyu pretends to think, smile beaming so bright it’s almost blinding. “I suppose we could knock it down to at least six. Minimum four.”

You hum in consideration, taking a step forward. “How about, one and a kiss?”

“Wha—?”

Before he can finish his question, you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull his lips onto yours, bag slipping off your shoulder. He’s stock still for a moment, stunned by the sudden movement, but quickly melts into the kiss.

His hands find your sides, running up and down your arms, pulling you closer. Your hold on his shirt releases as your body practically turns into a puddle. It’s all too much. Too much and not enough all at once. You want him closer, think anymore would make you combust.

Breathing, you remember belatedly, is a necessary thing. Reluctantly, you pull away from Beomgyu, resting your forehead against. He chases your lips once, twice and you giggle.

“No dates.” Beomgyu’s breath comes out ragged. “Let’s just kiss some more and I can be your boyfriend right now.”

You laugh loudly, attracting the attention of a few students. Beomgyu beams. He kisses you again, slower this time, softer. The urgency from the first one is gone, replaced with a gentleness that has you sighing into his mouth.

“You were right,” he says suddenly when you have to stop to breathe again. You tilt your head slightly confused. “Pretty fool proof plan.” Beomgyu grins at you wide and silly and you try your hardest to hold back from kissing it off his face.

(You do, anyways.)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BONUS STEP!!

REMEMBER: NOTHING REALLY CHANGES

BG’S NOTE: ONLY THERE’S A LOT MORE KISSING

Y/N’S NOTE: CAN CONFIRM, KISSING AS WE WRITE THIS

“So, I guess you fell for my charms after all, huh?”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

[milfhoon]

a little TMI between friends

summary: sunwoo breaks reader’s brain with a little unexpected overshare, but then he takes the initiative to fix it – so really, everyone is a winner here

pairing: sunwoo x f!reader 

word count: ~3.9k

genre: smut, friends to lovers

contains: adult content (this is 18+ folks), humor, teasing, petnames, dirty talk, unprotected!sex, creampie, fingering

prompt: “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

this one's for @biaswreckingfics because she humors me and I just love her, okay?

It probably wouldn’t have taken you quite as by surprise if you and Sunwoo hadn’t been just sitting there on the riverfront, eating ice cream cones, of all things. But you were enjoying what you thought was a perfectly innocent afternoon sweets break with your friend. Your obviously very attractive friend, but a friend nonetheless – and not the kind with benefits. 

So when you caught him staring at your mouth, mid-lick at your ice cream, you didn’t think that much of it. You laughed. “What?” When he didn’t look away, you brought the hand not holding your cone up to your lips, wiping at them. “Do I have ice cream on my face or something?”

Which was when Sunwoo turned your world upside down, finally lifting his gaze from your ice cream to your eyes.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

He just. Blurted that out.

And thank God it was ice cream you were eating and you’d already swallowed because otherwise, you definitely would have choked. “I’m – I’m sorry, what?” 

Smirking, he reached up to brush your hand aside and replace it with his own, his thumb wiping the melted white liquid that yes, was there from the corner of your mouth and bringing it to his own. You stared, dumbstruck, and suddenly feeling a little warm, when he sucked the digit into his mouth. 

His eyes flashed with mischief, having caught the way your breath hitched and your pupils dilated. “I thought about you when I came last night,” he repeated. Lifting an arm to rest against the back of the bench behind you, he turned his attention to the river and resumed licking his ice cream. 

Okay, so the good news was you hadn’t hallucinated what he’d said. 

The less good news was that you were rendered speechless because your brain happily volunteered to fill in the blanks. It was playing a mental image of Sunwoo lying in bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking, thumb gathering pre-come from the head and coating himself with – your gaze zeroed in on his hands and you squirmed. Sunwoo with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and his breath coming in sharp pants, while he moaned your name – now you turned your attention to his mouth, riveted by the sight of his tongue taking long licks of his ice cream. Your mental imaginings then shifted to what that tongue would feel like licking you and those hands holding your thighs open for him. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Forcing your unruly eyes shut (because that was the only way you could stop staring at him and being jealous of ice cream, for God’s sake), you swallowed back the nervous laugh threatening to bubble up. “I’m, um, not sure what you want me to do with that information? You’re welcome?” 

Sunwoo chuckled, sending you a wicked grin. “What do you want to do with that information?”

“I – I want to bleach my brain. Sunwoo, honey, what you do in the privacy of your room is – I mean, it’s totally up to you and it’s okay, it’s great! But, uh, I don’t think –” you rambled and rambled. Clearly flustered, you shifted restlessly on the bench, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks, rapidly spreading down and across your chest. 

“Liar,” he tutted and leaned into you like he was going to tell the most illicit secret. “Like you’ve never thought about me in the moment – you have my permission, by the way. Feel free to get as creative as you’d like.” 

Could a person choke on their own words? Like literally? Or maybe their tongue? Because you didn’t have anything else in your mouth at that moment, but the noise you made was some kind of a choked something. It took you several tries for your lips to start working again and a whole lot of effort to pretend his whispered words didn’t go straight to your core and that your oh-so-helpful brain wasn’t acting up again. 

“How generous! I’ll make sure there are lots of bindings, then.” You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips, gaze dropping to his mouth. “Maybe a gag, actually.” 

Sunwoo winked at you and stood, then held his hand out to you. “That’s my girl! Come on; I’ll drop you off back at home on my way to the studio.” 

You took his hand and let him pull you up, shaking your head at his antics, still baffled by the turn of events but also happy to let it go. 

Certain you could and would let it go. 

If only that were true. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were going to kill him. 

You just were. It had been a week – a whole week – and every day and night during that week you’d had visions of naked Sunwoo in your head. It didn’t even matter where you were at the time. 

Have a moment of downtime at work? Check! Your imagination decided that was the perfect time to picture him bending you over your desk and pounding into you from behind. 

Lunch with a friend? Absolutely. Could I interest you in a daydream about Sunwoo drizzling the chocolate sauce you’d had with dessert over your body and licking it off? 

Date? That was just too easy. Why not think about Sunwoo dragging you to the restroom, pushing you against the door, and fucking you into oblivion? That particular fantasy was extra fun because your brain decided to add on the cocky, knowing smile he got sometimes as imaginary Sunwoo sent you back out to your date with his come dripping down your legs. 

Trying to sleep? Hah! It wasn’t visions of sugarplums dancing in your head, but visions of him lying in his own bed and getting himself off to the thought of you. Honestly, you had all but given up getting actual rest this week. 

By the time Friday night rolled around, you were pretty sure you would spontaneously orgasm if someone looked at you the wrong way. Because like hell would you give in and actually masturbate to these stupid fantasies. You just knew he would see it written all over your damned face. Suffice it to say, you had never been more sexually frustrated and you were starting to snap at people.

So yeah. You were going to kill him. 

Which was exactly what you told him at 12:02 AM on Friday night/Saturday morning when you texted him after flopping around uncomfortably in bed for the last several hours, sliding under the covers then flinging them off of you, and repeat. Ad nauseum.

You: I’m going to kill you, just so you know.

Sunny-Boy: What? Why? What did I do?

You: Don’t play innocent with me, mister. You know exactly what you did.

Those three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. 

Sunny-Boy: Do I? I’ve done lots of things, so you may need to elaborate.

You: Ha. Ha.

You: You broke my brain! There’s not enough bleach in the world to fix it and I think I’m starting to go loopy from lack of sleep. :( 

Needing to do something – anything – other than lie there in a state of perpetual horniness, you dropped your phone onto the other pillow and went to splash water on your face. This was ridiculous. You were a grown-ass woman. A woman with a healthy sense of her sexuality and a robust – well, all right, so you hadn’t had sex with someone else in like a year, but you certainly weren’t hurting for orgasms. And yet, here you were. Pandora’s Box had been opened and the damned thing wouldn’t let you shut it again, no matter how hard you tried. 

The sound of your doorbell ringing reached you and your brows furrowed in confusion. Flipping the lights off, you exited the bathroom and glanced over at the clock on your nightstand. 12:20 AM. You turned your gaze toward the front door, silently debating on whether to answer, or whether it was someone who’d had a little too much to drink ringing the wrong doorbell. 

Curiosity won out, though, when the doorbell rang again. 

Your eyes widened when you opened the door to find Sunwoo standing there – or more accurately, lounging there – bracing himself against the door frame with a hand on either side, and giving you a look laced with knowing, with capital ‘T’ Trouble. “Sunwoo, what…” you started, words trailing off as you really let yourself look at him, from his grey sweats to his black hoodie (that you were like 80% sure he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, based on the skin you saw peeking out where it wasn’t fully zipped), to the smirk he wore. 

The smirk he wore. Goddamn it. You tore your gaze from his lips, still curved in that self-satisfied way, and brought it up to meet his. 

“I broke your brain, huh?” 

Your brain chose that moment to really focus on what you might find if you were to – very helpfully, of course – just unzip his hoodie the rest of the way. What? Fuck. No. You were going to kill him, not sleep with him. 

You nodded, stepping back and pulling the door all the way open, gesturing for him to enter. “Yes? But did you seriously come all the way over here to ask me that, you weirdo?”

“Nah. That was just me confirming something,” he said as he walked in and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and let his eyes sweep over you, something about which you could almost feel, especially when his gaze lingered on your breasts, nipples pebbling from the cold (definitely the cold), and the short hem of the t-shirt you wore to bed that night. 

Yeah, if you didn’t end up sleeping with him, you were going to get yourself a medal. Something big and gaudy and – 

“I actually figured that if I broke you, I should be the one to fix you.” His voice was a purr, the vibrations of which you absolutely felt in your cunt, which chose that moment to clench. 

Oh, fuck it. “You really should.”

Sunwoo pushed off the wall, then, walking toward you until he entered your space, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. “You gonna let me, beautiful? Say the word and I will.”

“Sunwoo, if your annoyingly pretty lips aren’t on mine in the next thr– mmph.” It took him less than two seconds for his hand to slide around your head to catch the hair at your nape and his mouth to cover yours, lips brushing against yours, tongue sweeping out to taste the seam of your lips and silently urging you to part them.

A request you were more than happy to oblige because his lips felt as soft as they looked and you’d been wanting this for…far longer than you would admit. You looped your arms around his shoulders and leaned your weight into him, breath catching in the back of your throat at the heat and solidity of him. Yes, okay. You knew he worked out and had seen the man at the pool but feeling him pressed against you, from sternum to thigh, was something else entirely. 

The hand not in your hair came to rest at your waist, drawing your hips together, and the moan he let out into your mouth sent a bolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to your center. He drew back enough to meet your gaze and the fire burning in his left you weak in the knees. 

The hunger in your own eyes pulled a curse from him and he was bending down to grab you by the back of your thighs, voice having dropped an octave as he instructed you, “Up,” lifting while you jumped and helping to guide your legs around his hips. 

You both cursed then, at the press of his cock, already hard and straining against his sweats, into the wet heat between your thighs. 

“B-Bed,” you gasped, squirming against him. “Now – now.” You loosened your hold on his shoulders just enough to let yourself drop a bit, his grip tightening and lifting you back up giving you the perfect kind of friction right where you needed it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Yeah, okay.” His hands moved to squeeze your ass, holding you in place and grinding himself into you long enough to pull a whimper from you, before he was carrying you to your room and dropping you onto your bed. 

Sunwoo stared down at you while he unzipped his hoodie and slipped his arms out of it, tossing it to the side. You watched, eagerly taking in the sight of every inch of skin he bared for you, pressing your thighs together and fisting the duvet in your hands. He was unfairly beautiful, standing over you, chest rising and falling rapidly and palming himself through his sweats, lower lip caught between his teeth and tongue darting out to wet it. 

Guh.

“Been thinking about me that much this week?” 

“Huh?”

His next out breath was a laugh and then his hands were on your knees, pushing your legs apart so he could kneel between them on the bed. “I guess I really did break you, didn’t I, baby?” He brought a hand to rest by your shoulder, the other sliding up your leg and bringing your sleep shirt up with it, focus shifting between your eyes and the skin he was uncovering. His gaze was molten once your panties came into view.

Swallowing hard, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, parting your thighs farther, giving him the space to press closer. “Yeah. Kept thinking about –” You gasped again when his fingers drifted to trace a line up your slit, panties sliding easily against your folds with how wet you were. “Thinking about this, thinking about you, God, Sunwoo, please.”

“Good,” he said, dropping down to brace his weight on his forearm, and suddenly you could feel his breath on your face. Feel the way it hitched and hear the rasp in his voice when he slipped the cotton off of you and his fingers returned to stroke your cunt, teasing at your entrance then moving to rub against your clit. “Fuck, you’re wet. Been wanting to feel you like this since we met,” he admitted your hips jerked up into his touch. “Soaked for me, so damn hot.”

Stupid. He was stupid. You were stupid. Whatever. You were both idiots. Just –

“Y-You're touching me now, just – just don’t stop,” you demanded, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging his face down so you could kiss him. Lips and tongues slipping against each other, sharing breath, while his fingers slid around and around your clit, each rotation ratcheting the tension within you tighter. 

You whined when he moved his fingers, lips already open to complain, but then he replaced them with his thumb while he slid those fingers into your pussy, curled them, and started a steady thrusting, tearing a cry from you when they found your front wall. “Oh, f-f-fuck, please, Sunwoo, please,” you whimpered, you mewled, you gasped. 

“I’ve got you, beautiful,” he crooned. “Just like that. So pretty, taking my fingers. Can’t wait for you to take my cock.”

A whole body shiver went through you then and your gaze locked to his, a breath away from shattering. “God, I want – I want.”

“Come around my fingers and I’ll give you what you want, baby.” He groaned, nipping at your lower lip, then tracing a line along your jaw to nip at your earlobe and whisper against your ear. “What we both want. I’ll fuck you like we’ve both been desperate for since I told you I got myself off thinking about you.”

Your orgasm crashed into you then, visions of your fantasies over the past seven days, of him with his hand wrapped around the cock you still hadn’t seen, hadn’t touched, but so fucking would, the sight of him now, so close, his own need written plainly on his face, his fingers – his fingers – him. Your pussy pulsed around those fingers while your body trembled beneath him.

Shit, you were gorgeous, coming apart for him. Sunwoo clenched his jaw, willing himself to wait until you came down from your orgasm. To not just shove his sweats down and fuck himself into you right then and there. Instead, he ground his hips down into the bed beneath him, trying to take in every minute change in your expression. 

Once your shaking stopped and your eyes fluttered back open, you caught and kept his gaze while your palms came to rest against his chest. Your fingertips teased at his nipples and then slid down his torso to slip beneath the waistband of his pants, and you bit at your bottom lip when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything under them. You paused there, toying with the fabric and letting the back of your fingers brush against his lower abdomen. 

He groaned, hand coming up to the other side of you, forearm mirroring the other, holding himself over you while he dropped his hips and pressed his dick into your cunt, letting the heat from you sink into him and teasing you in turn with a slow thrust.

Screw it. You could play games next time.

You stopped teasing, instead taking hold of his sweats and carefully pushing them down his hips, shoving at them with your feet once your arms couldn’t reach any further, too impatient to draw this out any longer. 

It seemed like Sunwoo had the same idea because he was kicking them the rest of the way off and in the next moment, his cock was slipping through your folds, coating himself in your arousal and groaning your name against your lips. 

But he wasn’t inside you yet and that wasn’t okay. 

Your hand came down to wrap around him, stroking along the length of his dick, rubbing the head against your clit, and sliding it down to press against your entrance. His hips jerked instinctively, his tip dipping inside you, and you nearly saw stars at the stretch of your opening around him. 

You whimpered, tilting your pelvis up, an invitation – a plea – for more, for deeper. “Thought – thought you said – said you’d fuck me –” You sucked in a sharp breath. “You gonna t-tease me all night or what?” 

“Keep mouthing off –” he said in a breathy laugh, pressing the rest of the way inside you before drawing his hips back and snapping them forward again. “I just might.” 

Except he didn’t and you couldn’t. 

His lips covered yours again, tongue slipping inside to tangle with yours, while he started a slow rhythm with his hips. Feeling and letting you feel every inch of him as he pressed forward, every catch of his cock at the entrance to your pussy on each pull back. 

Sunwoo moaned, thrusting forward, deep, and pelvis grinding into your clit, shaking with the force of holding himself back. “Fuck, baby, you feel – so fucking tight,” he hissed into the kiss, teeth gently biting at your lower lip, and fingers finding purchase in your hair. 

He pressed his forehead to yours, gasping down at you, staring up at him with those intoxicating eyes. Let himself revel in the fact that he was inside you and it was his name you were panting, it was him you were clinging to and begging. So damn pretty. So fucking gorgeous in your need.

“God, you just – harder, please,” you whined, nails scratching at his back hard enough you both knew he’d be wearing your marks tomorrow. “Faster. I just need you to – S-Sunwoo…” 

“You need me to – fuck – take you hard, huh?” Sunwoo released your hair to squeeze your waist, willing himself not to come right then and there, high on how much you wanted him after a goddamn year of wanting you and having to watch you be oblivious. 

“M-mhmm.” 

“Mmm.” He pulled out and you whimpered, but then he was guiding you onto your hands and knees, bent over you with his hands covering yours, lacing your fingers together. He gently nipped at the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into the delicate skin beneath your ear. “I’ll give you what you need, baby. Gonna take you like you’re mine, yeah?” With that, he was thrusting back into your cunt, burying his cock into you to the base, and your vision went black at the sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

Words. 

What were words? 

You needed to reply to that. 

Needed to tell him that yes, exactly that, wanna be yours and maybe you did. Probably did because Sunwoo let out what sounded like a growl in the back of his throat and his front was no longer pressed to your back because he was upright, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, while he fucked his dick into you, thrusts harsh and fast, leaving your head spinning and your body on high alert, pushing back into him with each thrust.

Your arms felt like liquid, wobbly and useless, but you didn’t fall on your face – he was too quick for that, drawing you up against him, your back flush to his chest, and – “Oh, fuck, there, Sunwoo,” you said on a gasp, the angle allowing him to hit in just the right spot, and you were putty in his arms. Dropping your head to rest on his shoulder, your fingers finding and lacing through his at your waist. 

His free hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fisting in your hair and turning your face for his kiss, voice a low rumble against your lips. “C’mon, beautiful. Looked so pretty when you came around my fingers earlier… let me feel that needy pussy come on my cock.”  

You did. 

With one last snap of his hips, you came apart, your whole body quivering, pulsing around him, his name falling breathlessly from your lips again and again. Sunwoo cursed, the hand on your waist squeezing while he pumped himself into you half a dozen more times and then he was holding you tightly to him, his other arm wrapped around your torso while he spilled himself inside you, filling your cunt with his come. 

Sunwoo gasped your name, pressing kisses to your nape, your jaw, your shoulder, any place he could reach, while he held you through the aftermath and aftershocks from your orgasms. He gently guided you onto your back and beneath the covers once you both regained your breath, and slid an arm around you when you curled up against his side. 

“I think you may have broken me in a different way this time,” you said into his chest, lips forming a pout. 

“What? How?” He genuinely sounded worried as he turned to look at you, concern marring his brow. “Did I hurt you?”

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his lips, then smiled against them. “No, you goober. I’m just definitely not gonna be able to think of you as just a friend after this. You’ve ruined m–” your words broke off on a gasp as Sunwoo rolled you onto your back and leaned over you, grinning down at you. 

“So what you’re saying is my evil plan worked?” he teased, eyes lit with warmth, tender and affectionate. 

You arched an eyebrow, but brought a hand up to softly stroke against the skin of his cheek, mirth in your gaze. “You planned this?”

He scoffed, expression playful. “You think I accidentally told you I got off thinking about you?”

“I – Did you actually masturbate to thoughts of me?”

“More times than I can count, beautiful.”

Your response was to roll on top of him and crash your lips into his.

Round Two, anyone?

[milfhoon]

Read It In The Newspaper

Pairing: ten X fem!reader

Genre: rivals to lovers, fake dating, college au, smut

Word count: a little above 24k

Includes: tbh pointless plot; yangyang as side character; yangyang doing god's work tbh; cameos by sicheng, louis and leon; random small bursts of fluff i think; slow burn but only if you squint and imagine literally everything in the month of storyline that i decided to just skip; an offensively vague description of dancing; a dash of unnecessary drama; mc having a plot-relevant talent for pickpocketing that is only mentioned once; marking kink; mc and ten kind of being in constant competition for the power dynamic; mc calls ten 'slut' once; blowjob; fingerfucking; riding; nothing too wild but it's like 4k words long lmao; unprotected sex (do not attempt unless carefully considered)

Summary: being in the college newspaper club was amazing. writing for the university newspaper was a dream come true. except when it came to your lifelong rival, ten lee. you hated the guy with your whole soul. and yet somehow you ended up pretending to date him. you now officially also hate liu yangyang.

!Requested by @georgespiffincloone (thank you ♡)

Author's note: so i wrote most of this while watching all 6 seasons of teen wolf, do with this information whatever you want; also i didn't mean for it to get this long like what happened? what happened is i almost deleted half of it because im scared that it's too long; i hope that you will enjoy it nonetheless and thank you for wasting your time here ♡ disclaimer: i have literally no experience in journalism so im only going off of how it works in the imaginary world of my head

Why is it so hard to find some interesting gossip in this goddamn college,” your best friend Yangyang whined for maybe the 16th time this week. “I have less than a week to come up with something or I’ll lose my spot.”

“Yeah, well better get digging then,” you said, empathy absent in your voice. It’s not that you didn’t really care, your mind was just a little too occupied with the article you were working on yourself.

Both you and your best friend were part of your college’s newspaper club. Yangyang had the gossip page which meant that every month he had to find the most interesting useless pieces of information that the student body could care about and make them sound important. And you, on the other hand, kept a record of the academic achievements of anyone and everyone in your college.

The piece you were working on at the moment was about the science club. There had been a competition recently and sadly they had lost, so now it was your job to report about it in the next edition of the college newspaper. At the moment, you were working on the closing paragraph and you just didn’t seem to be able to make it sound good.

“Can’t you be a little more considerate and helpful?” Yangyang whined once again, breaking the fantasy that you had built in your head of him not disturbing your work. “Come on, you’re basically famous, there must be something you have heard?”

“Whatever made you think that people would come and share their problems with me?” you raised your eyebrows at him in question. “How do you usually find what to write about?”

“I have a large network of spies who provide me intel about people’s dirty business,” he grinned and you would have smacked him if he wasn’t on the other end of the large table in your club room. Instead, you glared at him. “Okay, I just overhear stuff most of the time and then go around asking until I have enough information. But I haven’t heard anything good enough recently”

Your only response was shrugging as you focused again on the document in front of you. It was quiet for a while longer and you managed to finally write your paragraph. Not ideal, obviously, but it was enough for now and you could go back to it if you came up with something better. Once again, you had almost forgotten that your best friend was in the room. Until he spoke up again.

“You’re a terrible best friend, Y/N. Ten would have offered to help me.” You froze in your spot and slowly looked up at him again, death glare on your face.

“What did you just say?” you asked quietly, tone dangerous as if you were giving him the opportunity to fix his mistake before it was too late.

“Ten would have just shown a little more sympathy, you know?” he went on though. “He would also offer to help me find something, he wouldn’t blow me off like that”

Ten Lee, another member of your newspaper club, was nowhere nearly as nice as your best friend implied. In fact, he was a little bitch that would laugh in Yangyang’s face if he heard him complain about something like this (and you could say this from personal experience). You were very aware of the fact that what the boy was doing was manipulating you for his own gain. You were smart enough to know that. But not smart enough to resist.

“Give me three days and you’ll have something to write about,” you said through gritted teeth. The grin that spread on Yangyang’s face made your blood boil. You hated the fact that he could control you that easily. But you wouldn’t break your word.

“You’re the best!” he cheered, shutting off his laptop as if the fact that you agreed to help meant that he had no more work to do. Infuriating.

“Remember that for the next time you decide to compare me with Ten, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes, adding a barely audible “brat”.

“Of course, of course!” he said cheerfully. “I gotta go meet up with Hendery now, but I'll text you later, okay? Let me know if you find anything good!” he said as he packed his things quickly. You hummed in response and waved at him weakly as he rushed out of the club room.

Three days, of course you could come up with something until then. You were an experienced journalist after all.

…

Three days later, you had nothing.

“Why the fuck is everyone in this god-forsaken establishment so boring?” you sighed dramatically, forehead resting on the desk in front of you as despair filled your every cell.

“See, I told you it's impossible to find something right now,” Yangyang sighed next to you. “I have been scrolling through thousands of Instagram comments all day just in case someone somewhere is causing drama and absolutely nothing…”

“How can this be possible, you can't tell me everyone is suddenly peaceful and loving with each other,” you lifted your head, pouting in your best friend's direction.

“At this point I am willing to go and-” the boy started but he couldn't finish as the door opened and someone walked in.

“Ah, dumb and dumber,” you heard a painfully familiar voice and you looked up.

There he was, the infamous Ten Lee.

When it came to you and Ten, there was a long story to tell. Well, not really that long. But you hated the guy ever since the first day that you'd met him in freshman year. He was an insufferable annoying little shit and no amount of fangirls could change your opinion.

And yes, somehow the little (and by little, obviously you also meant short) fucker was one of the most popular faces in your college. Somehow people found him attractive. You credited that mainly to the fact that he was part of the dance team. You'd heard incredible things about his dancing, yet you refused to believe any of it simply out of the stubborn belief that there was no way he could be that good at anything besides pissing the hell out of you.

There was one good thing that came out of your deep despise for Ten and that was the newspaper. Both of you were in the club and your initial irritation with each other quickly turned into a fierce rivalry for the first pages and the best articles. Little by little, as a result of that, the newspaper had gained more and more readers, nowadays almost everyone read it. But that only meant that the importance of the quality of what you wrote only grew, and so did your rivalry with Ten.

You quickly recollected yourself, never in a million years would you let him of all people see your little mental breakdown.

“Have you two losers been in here all day?” he asked and you sighed in despair. Of course, there was no way you could have a moment of peace with him in the room.

“Some of us take this newspaper seriously, you know” you retorted, glaring at him as he chuckled at your response.

“Didn't you submit your, ahem, very interesting and important article yesterday though?” he asked, mockery in his voice. “Or you're already starting next month's one? It wouldn't be a bad idea, maybe this time you'll manage to finish it without the editors complaining that they can't do their job because you're running late.”

“Well, unlike some people, I don't write about the same thing every month, so I need some time to do proper research,” you rolled your eyes, closing your laptop in frustration.

“Actually, she was trying to help me,” Yangyang spoke up and you looked at him in disbelief - it wasn't Ten's business what you two had been doing. “Y/N, he might be able to help,” the boy reasoned, noticing your displeasure.

You didn't respond, instead simply crossed your arms and let the younger one make the mistake he seemed to think would be a good idea.

“I haven't been able to find what to write about this month,” he explained to the older one. “So she agreed to try and search for a topic with me.”

“And what is the masterpiece that you're helping him with?” Ten glanced at you, raising his eyebrows. You gritted your teeth together. He simply couldn't not be a little bitch for a second, could he? “Surely, a renowned journalist like you must have found the biggest hit of the century.”

“We have nothing,” you hissed through gritted teeth. You felt almost physical pain from admitting your failure in front of Ten.

“I'm sorry, did you just say that you have nothing?” he asked, blinking as if in confusion. “You haven't started it yet or?”

“No, I said we have nothing,” you raised your voice, your annoyance taking the better of you. “I was not able to find anything at all for him to write about. Are you happy?”

It took a moment for your words to register into Ten's brain (you supposed that thing was so rusty and unused, it probably needed a couple of years to process information and load a response).

"Amazing!" Ten laughed out as if you were the brightest comedian he had ever heard speak. "And you call yourself a journalist?"

"What, like you could do better?" you spat defensively. "90% of what you write is about your own dance team"

"I write about the things people care about, darling. You should try it too, maybe then you would be able to finally make it to the first page."

"At least I put in actual research into my work. If Yangyang had asked you for help, you wouldn't even know what to do!"

"Oh really? Remind me again, with all your research experience did you find anything, Sherlock?"

"You guys just gave me the best idea!" Yangyang's voice suddenly interrupted your argument. You turned to look at him, halfway having forgotten that he was in the room as well. "What if you guys dated?"

Neither of you had what to say at first. You stared at the younger boy with a mix of utter shock and disgust on your face. Ten blinked a few times, before chucking and crossing his arms.

"I thought she's the dumb best friend," he said, grinning but his own surprise slipped through. "Makes sense though, a sane person wouldn't stick around her"

"Excuse me, last time I checked, your single brain cell is only passing classes because your team got first place in the dance championship two years ago," you retorted.

"Academic success being your only personality trait doesn't make you smart." That one hit a little too close to home so you opened your mouth to say something back, but Yangyang spoke up again.

"Guys, seriously, this is perfect!" he said excitedly, the grin on his face so big you were scared his head would split in two. At least it would provide a chance to confirm your suspicion about the void in his head where his brain was supposed to be.

"Would you please care to enlighten us how exactly this abomination of an idea is any good?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at him in disbelief.

"Everyone knows Ten," the boy started, causing a smirk on Ten's face. You rolled your eyes. "And by relation, everyone knows you," he turned to you.

"I'd hardly say that people really know me, Yang," you objected.

"Yeah, it would require being at least a little bit interesting for people to care about her."

"Can you shut your fucking mouth for one second please?!" you let out an exasperated sigh.

"No, but I'd like to see you try to make me," he winked at you, making you roll your eyes again.

"Oh my god, if this wasn't already so ideal, I would drive both of you over with the dean's car," the youngest laughed again. "Please let me finish, everyone knows the two of you. But more importantly, everyone knows how much you two hate each other. And that's precisely why literally everyone in this university is betting on how long it will take before you two get together!"

You could only stare gaping. Across from you, Ten choked on a laugh. For the first time since you'd known him, the two of you shared something in common - the absolute disbelief you felt right now.

"They are doing what now?" Ten asked finally, laughing as if that would break the spell on Yangyang and the younger would stop talking nonsense. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

"Come on, guys, you two would be the perfect example of the enemies to lovers trope! I've heard even professors talk about the sexual tension between the two of you."

You couldn't help but fake gagging at the last part, the idea of there being literally any sexual attraction in you for him making you cringe, in addition to the fact that apparently, your teachers were discussing your potential sexual life.

"It's okay, Y/N, you don't have to pretend you wouldn't fuck me if you had the chance, I won't judge," Ten said sarcastically. "Take it as a compliment though, people think you actually stand a chance with me."

If it wasn't too much effort for you, you'd walk over and kick him in the crotch for that. But instead, you chose to completely ignore him.

"Assuming that's true and people do think that way," you started, "it still doesn't mean I would ever date him."

"That's the thing, you don't have to!" Yangyang said as if that explained anything. "All you have to do is pretend that you're dating!"

"And why would we do that?!" Maybe it was your brain lagging but you didn't see what Yangyang wanted to achieve.

"And then she gets offended when I call her dumb…" If this was any other normal person, he would at least have the decency to say this quietly. But Ten Lee didn't have even a drop of decency in himself. "He wants to use us for his article, idiot."

"Exactly!" Yangyang nodded excitedly. "All you have to do is pretend that you're madly in love for a month or two. You can keep bickering as you already do, people love seeing it anyway, just with less murderous glares. After that, you can have a dramatic breakup and I will write about that as well, of course."

The room was silent for a while again. You glanced at Ten and found him already looking at you. For a second you were scared of what would come out of his mouth - you didn't care about his opinion and you didn't want to do this, to begin with, yet you knew he could reject you in the most brutal ways.

"Fine, I'll do it," he said instead. There was no way you could have been prepared for this. "But you owe me a favor," he added, chuckling at Yangyang's little happy dance.

"Hold up, I am not doing it," you protested quickly. "I have no reason to agree to such a thing. And I don't want to. No."

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Yangyang whined at you. "Aren't you as my best friend supposed to always have my back and help me when I need it?"

"Not if it requires being near Ten?!" you exclaimed. Honestly, you couldn't even process how your friend had come up with the idea - he knew better than everyone how much you hated the older boy.

"But you promised that you'd help me come up with something to write about," he pointed out, a pout curving his lips.

"And I worked hard, trying to dig up something to help you, but I never agreed to be the thing you write about in your gossip page."

"What are you so scared of, Y/N?" Ten butted in your conversation suddenly with a tempting tone in his voice. "Are you afraid that you might fall for me for real?"

“Wow, sorry to burst your bubble, but I am pretty sure I will be more than capable of resisting your so-called charms,” you rolled your eyes. “I am more worried about my sanity and IQ, I’ve already lost enough brain cells just by talking to you at the moment.”

“We don’t have to talk to each other to convince people we’re dating,” he had the audacity to wink at you suggestively and lick his lips and you faked gagging once again. He rolled his eyes. “Right, sorry, forgot you’re a prude with no sense of humor. On second thought, you probably wouldn’t even be able to act your part properly. There’s no way anyone would believe us if you keep being yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked quietly, offended at the idea that you would be a bad actress.

“Exactly what you heard, angel, I don’t believe you’d be able to put your ego aside and act like a normal human being for long enough to convince people we’re really dating. No matter how much they want to see it, with your character they will know it’s fake,” he said, looking you dead serious in the eyes despite the smirk curving his lips.

“Just because I don’t flirt mindlessly with everything that walks, doesn’t mean I can’t act like a whipped high schooler for a couple of months,” you hissed out, lifting your chin proudly.

“Oh, really?” Ten said, tilting his head to the side in mock curiosity. “Prove it then. Kiss me, here and now. Yangyang over there sure knows painfully well how bad your opinion on me is. Convince him. Make him believe at least for one second that you are deeply and hopelessly in love with me. And I will admit to being wrong.”

You glanced at Yangyang for a second. The younger boy was paying close attention to your exchange, perhaps still hoping you’d end up agreeing. No help was coming from him, that was clear. If you were a bit more rational, you’d think that this was not worth it. But rationality left your brain whenever Ten was around. Especially if you had a chance to prove him wrong.

So you took a deep breath and stomped over across the room until you were standing in front of him.

“Very romantic approach,” he noted mockingly and you rolled your eyes before immersing yourself into your role, changing your expression to a more sensual one. You took a moment to slowly look him up and down as if appreciating the leather pants and nearly see-through shirt that he wore. You found the outfit extremely inappropriate.

“You come to school looking this hot and you expect me to remain indifferent?” you asked instead though, tone somewhere along the lines of ‘giving out that you’re turned on’. “Have you seen the way other people look at you when they pass by? They all want you so much…”

His arms that had until now stayed crossed in front of his chest relaxed and fell by his sides.

"You've noticed the way others look at me?" he asked, kind of sounding genuinely surprised. You chuckled softly.

"Of course I have, it's hard not to, especially when I have to listen to them swoon over you all the time," you replied, proud of yourself that you managed to sound only borderline jealous rather than very sick and tired of hearing his name wherever you went. "But I have to be honest with you, Ten," you went on, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "It's getting on my nerves. Don't you think it's time they know you belong to me?"

You didn't wait for his response. Instead, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. It was a good thing that he wasn't that much taller than you so you didn't have to tiptoe or stand in an uncomfortable position in order to kiss him. It didn’t take him more than a second to kiss back, his arms wrapping around your waist and before you knew it, you were already deepening the kiss, pushing your tongue in his mouth.

Fuck, why did he have to be a great kisser… You’d started this with the full intention of pulling your best act at enjoying it, but instead, you were getting lost in the kiss, high on the way his tongue moved against yours. Somehow his hands slid under your shirt, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. A soft moan escaped you as you felt his teeth scrape your bottom lip and you felt him smirk in the kiss.

That was your sign to pull away, gasping for breath as your lips lingered against his for a little bit longer. You opened your eyes slowly meeting his. For a moment there, he wasn’t Ten Lee that you hated from the bottom of your heart. For a moment, you could see why people were attracted to him. And maybe in the heat of the moment, you leaned your lips closer to his ear and whispered: “If Yangyang wasn’t here, I’d make sure to mark you up so that everyone else would know you’re mine”.

Then you pulled away as if burned from his touch. You took a few steps back for good measure and turned to your best friend, waiting for his final judgment. You didn’t dare check what Ten’s reaction was to your words. Mainly because they didn’t make sense, Yangyang wouldn’t hear what you had said. And you sure as hell did not want to do anything of the sorts to him.

“I think that was a pretty convincing scene,” the younger boy said, shrugging slightly. “I have no idea what you said to him, but if he keeps looking at you that way, no one will even doubt you two.”

You didn’t check what Yangyang meant by “that way”, you didn’t want to know. Instead, you just shrugged and walked over to pick up your bag from the chair it had been peacefully sitting on during this whole shitshow.

“Month and a half. And we’re breaking up because of him,” you declared, still only looking at Yangyang. The boy clapped his hands excited, stars glimmering in his eyes. “Now excuse me, I have no desire to look at either of you unless it is a matter of life and death, and maybe even then. I have a class to get to.”

With that you walked out of the club room, mentally cursing yourself for agreeing to this. How ridiculous, your hands were shaking.

…

About three minutes after your last class for the day ended, your phone rang. You didn't recognize the number, so you didn't pick it up. But your phone rang again. And then a third time. You caved in and picked up.

"Yes?"

"Wow, when I don't have to look at your face, I can almost enjoy hearing your voice," a familiar mocking tone sounded through the speaker and you couldn't help but groan.

"How'd you get my number, idiot?" you hissed out.

"I asked Yangyang," he replied casually. "You know, it would be weird if we were dating and didn't have each other's phone numbers."

"Great, so you have mine and I have yours, now you have three seconds to hang up or I will."

"Hold up, we have some things to talk about," he said instead and you raised your eyebrows even though you knew he wouldn't see you.

"Pray tell, what would that be?" you asked confused.

"Details about our relationship, love," he chuckled. You gagged at the pet name and a tsk sound came from the other side. "First of all, you gotta stop forcing yourself to act disgusted around me."

"If you genuinely think I am forcing it, you're delusional. Sorry to break it to you," you hummed, sighing. "But surprisingly, you have a point. We should… ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this, we should meet up and talk about it."

"How shocking, a thought has appeared in your pretty head for once," he hummed and you tried to ignore the weird almost compliment in his words. "Hopefully, by the end of the next month and a half, it won't be so lonely."

"Yes, and maybe you'll stop being such a little bitch," you muttered, fully aware he would hear you over the phone. "Meet me in the library in 10 minutes."

"No," he said quickly, "we need people to see us. To make it seem like we started slipping so that people believe easier once the article is out. The cafe. And you better be there in 5."

He didn't even bother waiting for you to respond, instead just hung up on you. You cursed under your breath, muttering about an annoying little jackass who thinks he owns the world as you saved his number into your contacts list. You were tempted to not listen to him and just go home, but reminding yourself that you're doing this for Yangyang, you unwillingly made your way to the campus cafe.

Contrary to what you expected, he wasn't in the center of the room and surrounded by people. Instead, he had taken a seat at a small corner table with only one other seat across from him. Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to him, ignoring the glances you got.

"You're one minute late," he said instead of greeting you as you sat down on the empty seat.

"Wow, a whole minute! Plus, you're lucky I even came. If you try ordering me around one more time, the next thing Yangyang writes about will be your death under mysterious circumstances," you rolled your eyes.

Completely ignoring your comment, he slid one of the two cups in front of him over to your side. When you looked at him in confusion, he sighed.

"Hot chocolate. Yangyang said you like it."

"You asked him what I like?" you asked in confusion, being considerate enough for something like that wasn't a trait of his.

"If we're going to do this, we need to know things about each other, you know," he rolled his eyes as if your question was the dumbest thing someone could ask. "And I didn't really think you'd tell me if I asked."

You didn't reply. He did have a point. You hated the fact that he had had a point on more than one occasion today. Instead, you wrapped your hands around the warm cup and took a sip, looking around. People were looking at the two of you, you could see some of them whispering to each other. There were two options - either they were just genuinely surprised to see you together, or they really did think something was going on between you and Ten.

"So, how did we start dating?" Ten interrupted your thoughts and you looked at him startled. Rolling his eyes, he clarified: "Yangyang is close to both of us. It makes sense that he knows how it happened. Plus if he writes about it, we won't have to explain it."

"Ah, well…" you hummed, thinking. "Honestly, I cannot imagine any scenario where I'd fall for you. But, uh… we hooked up at some party?"

"Have you ever been to a party in your life?" he mocked and you were tempted to pour the hot chocolate over his head. "Also, that's lame. And I don't do hookups at parties, everyone knows that, too many people have tried. We need something different."

"Okay, calm down," you muttered, crossing your arms. "What do you suggest then, top 10 hottest male celebrities?"

"I don't know how you manage to make something like that sound offensive," he laughed. You shrugged. "Okay, what if we tell them we were working on an article together and in the process, we discovered that we don't entirely hate each other?"

"But that would mean that we have to actually work together and publish something," you pointed out.

"What, you don't think you can manage with that?"

"Of course I can, I know how to be professional"

"Then I don't see the problem. We have a month to come up with something for the next edition."

"Fine," you agreed. You couldn't imagine what topic the two of you would be able to write about together, but you were willing to try.

"Now for the next month, people will have to see us together often. And acting appropriately for a couple. If there is something you'd like me not to do to you, tell me now," he said, looking at you seriously. You raised your eyebrows.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you don't try to fuck me in public."

"So I am allowed to try in private?" he smirked and you groaned in exasperation. He chuckled. "Fine, no sex, I didn't think we'd have to clarify that, but okay, anything else?"

"I don't really know, if we're gonna be going off the sexual tension everyone sees between us, it doesn't make sense to just hold hands and stare at each other lovingly," you said, mostly thinking out loud. "And it wouldn't be us. So, as Yangyang said, we keep acting as we always have, just less hostile and with occasional making out." Ten just stared at you for a moment so you leaned back, suddenly cautious. "What?"

"I didn't expect you to be so rational about it," he responded. "I expected you to freak out more after your initial disgust with the idea."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I still hate this. But I promised my best friend, so I can at least make an effort."

He looked at you for a bit longer. A small smirk curved his lips before he stood up from his seat.

"Finish your hot chocolate, I'll call you if I have an idea for the article," he said and you blinked at him, startled by his abrupt leave. Then he winked at you. "See you on Monday, babe."

…

"Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I act like I hate you for a few years first?

It is finally happening, my friends! The moment we have all been waiting for since we first saw them together. And I am delighted to be able to report to you straight from the crime scene: our own local heartthrob Ten and his life-long rival, none other than my best friend Y/N, have finally found love. And by that I mean, with each other. Yes, you heard me right! The enemies have finally become lovers! And they will both probably kill me when they see their names on this page, but I could just not hold my excitement, I had to tell you as soon as I heard!"

After that, Yangyang went on with your made-up story of how you'd fallen in love and how "disturbing it is to have to share the club room with you, now that you two are all over each other all the time".

You took a deep breath. The news was out. Which meant that the moment you set foot on the campus, everyone would think that you're dating Ten. You weren’t sure whether you were ready to go through that. But there was no going back now. So you made your way to campus.

“Is it true?!” a girl you had never met in your life jumped up as soon as she saw you.

“Is what true-” you asked dumbfounded as more girls seemed to notice you and rush over.

“You and Ten, of course!” the first girl clarified, rolling her eyes as if you were acting dumb. Maybe you were. But so what, you deserved to act however you wanted in this case.

“What about me and him?” you asked, scrunching your nose in disgust and glaring at her.

“Well, are you two together or not?!” another girl asked impatiently and you made a point to look at her in utter distress.

“What- what do you mean “together”-” you stuttered out, looking from face to face frantically. They were all looking at you expectantly, excited or ready to kill, you weren't sure.

“Well, it was in the newspaper,” a girl said, almost sounding as if she was forcing herself to be patient with you. “Y’know, we just didn’t wanna assume-”

You gritted your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “That little brat,” you hissed out to yourself.

“So it is true then?!” someone squealed and a few gasps flew by. You almost broke into a smirk, this was just too easy.

“I- well-” you tried to look like you’re panicking, like you don’t know whether to admit it or not. A giggle came from your left. You let out a defeated sigh. “Uh, yes? It’s true…” Squeals were all you could hear for half a minute. Gosh, were these girls in high school still? You barely held back from rolling your eyes.

“You have to tell us everything!” someone tugged your arm. You genuinely didn’t recognize any of the faces around you yet questions were pouring over you as if every one of these girls had known you since you were a baby.

“Uh, maybe some other time-” you responded, slowly making your way out of the crowd, trying to be the least violent that you could. “I’ve got classes in a bit so I don’t- it’s not the best time-”

Despite your best effort, it took you almost 10 minutes to finally shake off the last of the intruders and get to your class. Sadly, the peace was only temporary as almost everyone who had managed to sit somewhere around you had just as many questions. And once class was over, it was more people in the hallways stopping you and asking for more details. It was draining you so quickly, you were considering going home early.

“This is all your fault,” you grumbled to your best friend. It was time for lunch break and you were hoping that they would at least let you eat in peace. All hope was lost though as yet another girl you’d never met in your life asked if Ten was good in bed. What the fuck did that matter to her anyway?!

“Oh, come on, give them three days to accept it and they’ll stop,” Yangyang chuckled, patting your back sympathetically. “I told you it would be big news.”

“Yeah, and I thought it would be big news that they would talk about amongst themselves!” you whined. You could hear whispers, you could feel eyes all over you. It was already getting colder, which meant that everyone would be eating inside. So you decided that eating in the cafeteria wasn’t an option. “Come on, we’re having lunch outside.”

Yangyang looked like he wanted to protest but a murderous glare from you had him making the wise choice to not open his mouth. You sent him inside to get some food for the two of you as you made your way to the backyard to find a nice spot where you could sit.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out your name and you felt like crying. You had hoped that you wouldn’t have to be around him so soon. But luck was never on your side, was it? You looked over in his direction and met eyes with a grinning Ten that was waving at you. You took a deep breath and made your way to him.

“Shut up, idiot, I barely made it here without one of your dumb fangirls asking me what your favorite sex position is,” you hissed out as soon as you made your way over to him. The poor excuse of a human being had the audacity to grin back at you.

“So what is it?” a new voice popped up and you glanced to the side, meeting eyes with a pretty-looking boy. You must have looked confused, as he went on to clarify. “His favorite position?”

“Why would I-” you almost finished with ‘know’, yet stopped yourself on time. Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I don’t think it’s any more of your business than it was theirs.” You were fuming, barely holding back from shouting at this kid that obviously was a friend of Ten, since the two of them were there together.

“Love, you know Sicheng?” Ten chimed in as if to prevent you from actually lashing out. You looked back at him, a grin spreading his lips as if he was holding back a laugh. Your mind went over the name a couple of times. Oh, yes, Sicheng, he was also on the dance team.

“Right, Sicheng, sorry,” you sighed, relaxing your posture again. “I’ve just- had a rough day,” you hummed apologetically at the boy. He smiled at you slightly, nodding as if to dismiss your concern.

“See, that’s better,” Ten cooed and before you took notice, grabbed your wrist and pulled you sideways in his lap.

“What the fuck-” you nearly screamed, immediately trying to get back up but an arm wrapped quickly around your waist and held you down. “Ten, let go right the fuck now, I am not sitting in your lap!”

“Come on, babe, please?” he looked at you, all pouty lips and pleading eyes. He was mocking you and you had no way of escaping it. “It’s not like we have to hide anymore,” he added and you would have clawed out his eyes if you could.

“Y’know, I will leave you two alone,” Sicheng said suddenly and you felt like begging him to stay. You opened your mouth to protest but he beat you to it. “No, really, I don’t mind finding some of the others instead. You two spend some time together.”

Smiling at you again, he collected his stuff and walked away. You followed him with eyes, glaring at Ten once the boy was out of sight.

“Great job, there are probably not many people who really enjoy your company and you just made one of them uncomfortable enough to leave,” you muttered.

“But look, at least you don’t have to pretend you like me for a little bit,” he smirked at you, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair. To a side-eye, you probably looked utterly in love and just being touchy.

“As long as I am sitting in this exact spot, I need to act like I enjoy it here,” you rolled your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Well, you better make yourself comfortable because this is where you’re spending lunch break.”

“Damn, you must be really desperate to feel any kind of intimacy if you’re so willing to keep me here against my will.”

“Where’s your little pet?” Ten narrowed his eyes at you, completely ignoring your words. You decided to take it as a win.

“Yangyang? He’s getting food for the two of us,” you responded, raising your eyebrows at him slightly. “There aren’t really rules set in stone when it comes to dating, okay? We made a point, you can easily have something to do that requires you to get up and leave now.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here,” he grinned. “You’re not the only one that has to deal with nosy questions, I prefer you over them,” he added. Then his eyes moved from you as he waved to someone behind your back. “Ah, there he is. Over here, we have room for one more.”

“I swear to fucking-”

“Ah, young love... I see you two have already found each other,” Yangyang’s voice suddenly entered your bubble and you turned to look at him. “I hope you include me in the stories you tell your grandkids,” he added and you rolled your eyes.

“Stop talking nonsense, Yang, I want my lunch,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out to him.

“I could be your-” a voice started from next to you and you put a finger up to stop him from going on.

“If you continue that sentence in the way that I think you want to, I will stab you to death with my fork.”

The only response that came from Ten was a chuckle. You didn’t look away from Yangyang as he handed you a box with baked potatoes. You fished out your little purse from your bag, took out the fork you carried with you and opened the box. The food was still warm so you hummed happily and started eating.

You felt a slight weight on your side and glanced over. Ten had leaned his chin on your shoulder, eyes closed as his fingers kept twirling your hair. There was a weird intimate feeling creeping in on you and you were tempted to move away or at least tell him to stop that, yet… it somehow felt nice. So you didn’t say anything. You looked ahead again, meeting Yangyang’s eyes.

He was analyzing the two of you, you could see it. But why would he be doing that, he knew the truth - you were doing it for him. He should be grateful, you thought, scowling slightly. You would have never agreed to do something like this - sitting like this, if it wasn’t this dumb promise that you had given.

“Are you two usually just sitting in silence when you’re together or is this a special occasion?” Ten asked, his voice quiet and distant, almost as if he was getting sleepy.

“Not usually, no,” it was your best friend that responded. “But usually, I don’t have to look at my best friend, sitting in the lap of her arch-nemesis, who is also my other best friend.” You raised your eyebrows at him, since when did Ten qualify as his best friend? He rolled his eyes and chuckled, his only acknowledgment of your reaction.

“You can leave if you want to,” Ten shrugged.

“No, I will literally kill you if you leave,” you protested. You wouldn’t be able to do this on your own.

Being the amazing friend he occasionally decided to be, Yangyang did stay. It took you a couple more minutes, but you finally managed to engage in a comfortable conversation. You could almost ignore Ten, as he didn’t really join you two. Yet the soft weight on your shoulder was a constant reminder that he was in fact there. And at some point, you started feeling conscious about it.

You couldn’t help but glance over at him as you shifted uncomfortably. His eyes opened slowly, almost cat-like, and met yours, a silent question in them.

“I think I should really get up,” you started quietly. You felt his arm around your waist tightening its hold. “Come on, Ten, I feel like I’m going to crush you or something-”

“Shut up and stay here,” he said softly, you could swear that he sounded like he was going to fall asleep for real.

“But I’m-”

“Y/N,” he didn’t even let you finish. “I am the one that gets to decide how much I can take. Trust me, I would have literally thrown you off if it bothered me. Now finish your meal.”

With those words, he made a point by wrapping his other arm around you as well, hugging you closer to himself. You could hear your heart pounding and it took you a lot of effort to go back to eating and chatting with Yangyang.

It was much later into the day, when you were already home on your own, that your mind went back to what had happened. You hadn’t particularly enjoyed the situation, having Ten cling onto you was very very low on the list of things you’d like to experience, if on it at all. But you couldn’t say it had been all that bad. Now, the question was why would he do it in the first place. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d used the position you two were in to tease you and make you uncomfortable. Yet his touch on you had been gentle and comforting in a way. You couldn’t make sense of it. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to know what was going on.

…

Yangyang had turned out to be right. It took just a couple of days for the ‘news’ to settle down in everyone’s mind and people stopped intercepting you in the hallways and interrogating you on your (nonexistent) relationship with Ten. You’d also not spent that much time with the man himself, thankfully. You wouldn’t have been able to take another inexplicable cuddle session in the middle of campus. Especially since the first one was still haunting your thoughts.

Your luck seemed to be running thin though, as you entered the newspaper club room and found him buried in his laptop, glasses popped up on his nose. You’d never seen him with glasses before. You didn’t even know he needed those. He did look kinda good with them though.

“Since when do you need glasses?” you voiced out as you took a seat across from him.

“Uh, since quite a while ago?” he looked up, cocking an eyebrow at you. A half-smile curved his lips. “You’ve known me for more than three years now and you only find out now? What an attentive girlfriend I have…”

“How am I supposed to know when I’ve never seen you with them?” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not something that would just naturally come up in a conversation that we’d have.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged and went back to whatever he was working on.

You were caught aback. Usually, he would take the chance to keep bickering with you, he would say something mean or dumb, but he sure as hell wouldn’t just… agree and leave you alone. You couldn’t help but stare at him.

“Can I help you with something?” he looked up once again, noticing your stare after a while.

“I still hate you, you know.” You heard the words leave your mouth before you had thought them through. Ten’s eyebrows shot up and his so far neutral expression changed subtly to a sarcastic smirk.

“I am well aware, love, thank you,” he chuckled. “Am I supposed to give you an award for it or something?”

“No, but-”

“Or is my presence disturbing your fine tastes, princess? Should I get up and leave the room immediately once you enter?”

Now he was just being the asshole that you had known for the past three years. Narrowing your eyes, you huffed in annoyance.

“If the offer is on the table, I’ll take it, thanks,” you bit back, tapping your fingers against the table in front of you in annoyance. “And here I almost thought you might actually be a decent human being.”

“And that’s how you treat normal people? You tell them you hate them?” he laughed out. “You call me a bitch, but I’m not the one here attacking people for no reason.”

“I’m confused, okay?!” you blurted out as if to defend yourself. “It’s like you’ve done a one-eighty and become a different person and it’s confusing me! Usually, I can’t have a moment of peace if you’re in the same room and now you’re just- working quietly.”

“Maybe I have something important to do? Hate to burst your bubble, but you’re not the center of my world. I thought that you’d appreciate some alone time to focus on your work if you’ve come here, sorry for not knowing that I was meant to bother you.”

“Ten, that’s not what…” You sighed, there was no point in this. He had gotten defensive. And maybe he had a reason to be. “Okay, this is on me,” you raised your hands in surrenderer, “but what the fuck was that on Monday?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

“I mean whatever the fuck took over you during lunch break,” you hissed out, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively. You hated the fact that he had you so worked up over probably nothing at all. Realization lit up in his eyes. It seemed like he was hesitant for a second but that was gone in a blink.

“It’s called hugging someone, has it been a long time since the last time a person hugged you?” You pressed your lips together, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes. “I specifically asked you if there’s something you wouldn’t be okay with. If you’re going to make a scene every time I touch you-”

“That’s not how you touch someone you don’t like, idiot,” you couldn’t help but raise your voice. “You don’t hold them tightly and play with their hair and nearly fall asleep on their shoulder. And don’t tell me that you were just pretending because that wasn’t fucking acting!”

He flinched back. You could swear that you saw him flinch, the sarcastic mask on his face breaking for a second. It was quickly replaced by a cold expression.

“I know you have this perfect little idea of a world where you are a victim of life and I am the devil incarnate whose only purpose in life is to bother you, but news flash, Y/N, I am not. I have feelings of my own and my life does not revolve around you. Sure, I may enjoy annoying you and all, but sometimes… Maybe I just need a moment to myself. I apologize if I made you that uncomfortable.”

“Ten, I-” you started but you didn’t know what to say. You’d never seen him like this - cold and closed off. It was like you had managed to somehow hurt him for real. As far as you could remember it had always been you the one who had to hold back tears because of him. You were lost.

“I made a list of some topics that we could write about together,” he said suddenly, taking away from you the chance to say anything. As he said that, he slid over to your side a piece of paper. You could see his suggestions noted down prettily in neat handwriting. “Let me know if you like any of them.”

And before you knew it, he had walked out.

…

You were waiting for 20 minutes already in front of the campus gym. You knew for a fact that Ten had a dance practice today and that his group used the practice rooms that your college offered. And according to what Yangyang, your main source for Ten information, had told you, their practice should have finished 10 minutes ago. But no one had come out yet. And the coffee in your hand was already starting to cool down.

Now, the thing is, Ten was ignoring you. Ever since whatever had happened in the club room a week ago, he had been avoiding you, he would only speak to you if there were other people around and even then if he saw you nearby, he would make an excuse as to why he had to leave almost immediately. You had already realized that you had crossed a line somewhere. Now, you were feeling bad about it.

And you didn’t really know why you cared so much about it. He never really cared when he hurt you, he probably hadn’t even noticed that his words could get to you. You should have been happy that you didn't have to spend time around him, you should have been feeling good that you managed to get him to leave you alone… but you weren’t. So here you were, feeling cold, a cup of coffee in your hand and waiting for him to finish practice so you could talk to him. You felt dumb, he probably wouldn’t care…

“What are you doing here?” a voice cut through your thoughts and you were startled. Great job, you had gotten distracted and missed the one thing you were here for.

“I brought you coffee,” you said quickly, offering him the cup. He glanced down at it but didn’t take it.

“I prefer it iced,” he said and took a step to the side as if he was going to leave.

“Wait!” you reached up and grabbed his coat with your free hand. “I thought it would be too cold for iced coffee, I’m sorry-” you tried but he didn’t seem like that changed anything. “Are you going to keep avoiding me forever?” you asked, your frustration slipping in your voice.

“I thought you’d like that,” he raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. Your first instinct was to disagree, but this was Ten, you couldn’t just say you hate the fact that he’s not talking to you.

“We’re still dating, idiot, how are we supposed to look in love if people can’t even see us in the same room?” you said instead and he scoffed.

“Don’t pull the fake relationship thing on me, you don’t even care about any of it.”

“I care about the promise that I made to my best friend,” you flinched slightly. “I thought you would too since you were the one to push me for it.”

“Yeah, I pushed for it and I have made you do unimaginable things that made you uncomfortable so we can just call this thing off and tell Yangyang that we’re done.”

“Listen, I’m sorry!” you pushed the words out with a little difficulty. He finally turned to look at you fully. “I obviously hurt you the other day and I don’t know what it was exactly that made you pull away like this but I am genuinely sorry.”

“Never thought that I'd hear you say that to me," he chuckled and you narrowed your eyebrows. "You're already warming up to me, aren't you?" The teasing tone in his voice was back in a blink and you rolled your eyes.

"No, I just actually felt bad for what happened, but now I'm starting to think that you were just pretending to be offended," you huffed. "You don't deserve this coffee."

"Hey, hey, no" he smiled, taking the cup from your hand quickly. "I appreciate it. The coffee. And the apology." You couldn't help but smile a little too. "However, I am freezing so-"

"By the way," you interrupted him quickly. "I looked through your ideas and I did like some of them. I was thinking maybe we should discuss them?"

"Well, right now, I am not in the mood as I am freezing, as I mentioned already," he hummed. "But if you can handle the sacrifice of spending a little more time with me today, you can come over."

"As in, go with you to your place? Right now?"

"Yes, genius, come with me to my place right now," he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't murder you and hide your body in the freezer. My freezer barely fits my groceries as it is."

"I didn't think you'd do that until you mentioned it," you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. "But I'll take my chances. I'll just warn Yangyang where I am, if I don't come to class tomorrow, he'll know what happened."

It didn’t take long to get to Ten’s. You tried not to look around too curiously as he led you inside the small apartment.

“So… you live here alone?” you asked awkwardly as you took off your shoes.

“Not really,” he chuckled, glancing at you. “My roommates are probably sleeping at the moment. But if you’re lucky, you might get to see them.”

“I didn’t really ask to meet anyone but sure,” you shrugged and walked after him to a room that you assumed was the living room.

You took a seat on the couch and Ten chose the armchair on your left. You took a long look around the room and finally turned to him and found him already staring at you curiously. You couldn’t stop the awkwardness creeping up your back as you realized none of you had said anything in a while.

“So how’d practice go?” you asked.

“It was okay. We have a performance coming up in a few weeks so we’re working on that,” he replied, seeming surprised that you’d asked.

“Really? Like, you have some competition or something?”

“Competitions are usually later on during the year,” he chuckled. “This is going to be local, so to say. We do these performances every year before the season opens so we can gather new members. Curious what it’s gonna be like?” he smirked playfully.

“I’m just asking to be polite,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you’ll do great and blah blah, imagine some motivational speech here.”

“And you’re coming to watch, obviously,” Ten said and you blinked in confusion.

“Uh, I wasn’t aware of that- Usually, I skip those…”

“Yeah, right, you do,” he rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re watching this one for sure. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend could be busy. I could be attending someone’s funeral at the same time,” you protested.

“Sure, sure, love, I will remind you when it comes and you’ll decide then, hm?” he offered and smiled at you, a condescending smile that told you that he was 120% sure that you’d be going. Yet you nodded in agreement. “Also, I hate to change the topic but didn’t you say you wanted to talk about the article?”

“Ah, right!” you nodded as you leaned over to take out the list of ideas he’d given you. “I looked over them and I really like some of them, like, you have some very interesting ideas. But I wanted to pick a topic that would be, like… I guess, a bit more universal, so…” you handed him the paper, pointing to the article you wanted to work on.

“The student council representative elections?” he asked to confirm and you nodded.

“I just think… It's something that should be important to most students. We could, like, interview the candidates as part of their platform and it could be a way for everyone to meet them. And if we work on it together, I’m sure we’d have different ideas and questions to ask so it would be more… uh, beneficial, I guess?”

“Sounds good to me,” he nodded, leaving the sheet on the table. “I figured you’d want something like that.”

“If you don’t like the idea,” you started, a little anxious.

“No, no, I do,” he assured you quickly. “I like the idea, otherwise I wouldn’t have put it in the list. Now, let’s figure out the details, hm?”

You hadn’t intended to spend hours at Ten’s place, yet the two of you seemed to get pretty caught up in what questions you were going to ask and how the article would look like. You were so caught in the process that a sudden brush against your leg startled you and you jumped in your spot.

Looking down, you were met with a pair of light blue eyes. A cute siamese cat was looking up at you as if wondering what you were doing here.

“Ah, there you are,” Ten smiled, reaching over to pet the little ball of fur. “Y/N, this is one of my roommates, Louis.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that his roommates could be something else but human so you were a bit surprised. But the cat, Louis, looked so pretty so you couldn’t deny that it was a nice surprise.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooked, reaching down and stroking his head gently. He didn’t seem to mind and a small smile crept up on your lips. “But wait, you have more than one?” you looked up at Ten, the fact that he’d mentioned this being ‘one of his roommates’ only now processing in your head.

“Yeah, I have one more,” he nodded, a smile still on his face as he looked at his pet. You could see in his eyes the affection he had for him and that made you a little softer. “Would you like me to go find him?”

“If it won’t be a problem,” you nodded. You were momentarily distracted as Louis decided to use the opportunity to jump up on the couch next to you and examine you thoroughly. You let him do his thing while Ten got up and walked over to another room.

He didn’t take long, only enough for Louis to climb up in your lap and spread over it so that you wouldn’t be able to get up, returning with an abyssinian cat in his arms.

“Leon, we have guests, say hi,” he cooed as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to you. “I see Louis has already gotten comfortable,” he chuckled, noticing the new position his pet had settled in. “It’s nice to see that he likes you.”

“Feels nice to have him like me, too,” you chuckled, petting the black and white ball of fur in your lap with one hand as you carefully reached out with the other one to let Leon sniff you. “I keep finding out new things about you these days,” you glanced up at Ten for a second. “First the glasses and now you’re also a cat mom? What’s next, you read to sick kids every second Sunday?”

“No, but I used to,” he hummed and you looked up at him again, unsure whether he was serious or not. “What, your mind can’t handle the possibility that I might be a good person?” he laughed and reached over, flicking your forehead gently. It wasn’t hard or really painful, but you pulled away from the surprise.

“They are really cute,” you switched the topic back to the cats and Leon meowed as if to agree with you. “Honestly, I’d endure your presence if it meant I’d get to spend time with them.”

“Well, the good thing is that you have an excuse to come over whenever you like at least for the next month,” he chuckled, hugging Leon closer to himself. You couldn’t quite be sure whether the cat enjoyed it, but he didn’t try to run away so you guessed at the very least, he didn’t mind.

“Great, so we’ll work on this article here,” you chimed up, smiling down at Louis.

“You could come over just so too,” Ten mumbled and you almost didn’t hear it. You chose not to mention it. Instead, you focused again on the fluffy thing you were cuddling.

It did, however, indeed become a regular thing, you hanging out at his place whenever you could find an excuse for it. The two little fluffs would run out to greet you whenever you entered at this point. Of course, that meant you had to spend time with Ten. But usually, it ended up either with you two talking about the article, or each of you doing their own thing in silence.

There were three candidates in total for representative of the student council and you had already interviewed all of them. Now you just had to wrap up everything that you’d gathered and present the finished piece for editing. So you were once again at Ten’s.

“Okay, I think this one question didn’t really get us anything interesting, what if we don’t include it?” he offered, reading through the notes you had taken during the interviews. He’d pointed out that you could just record it, but you had insisted on taking notes.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you agreed, glancing over to check what he meant exactly. Then your eyes returned to your own sheet. It was from one specific interview and you were rereading the answers that you’d gotten for maybe one time too many now. “Listen, I know we’ve been over this but there is something off about this guy,” you huffed.

“This again…” Ten rolled his eyes, setting down the papers in his hands. “Darling, you insisted on three interviews with him just to catch him ‘slipping’ somewhere and you still got nothing.”

“But there is something, I’m sure of it,” you whined out, raising your voice, and Leon looked up at you from the spot between you and Ten where he had spread out to sleep. “I’m sorry, baby,” you pouted at him, stroking his back gently as he relaxed again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ten repeated mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I swear, you care about my cats more than anything else now. They’re still my cats, okay? Not yours.”

“Yeah? Do they know that? Because I’m the one they come to greet when we enter,” you smirked. “Are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Your eyebrows shot up and a grin spread on your face.

“You are!” you laughed, leaning a little closer to him. “Are you jealous of me? Or them? Whose attention is it that you want, babe?”

Maybe it was the fake relationship rubbing off on both of you, but pet names had become so common between the two of you that you barely even gave them any thought. But there was also the fact that from mocking each other, you’d gone to teasing. You refused to think about it. It somehow worked out and as long as he didn’t mention anything, you wouldn’t either.

“Don’t ask questions you wouldn’t like the answer of,” he replied, pushing you back with a finger against your forehead. You scoffed, picking up Leon and hugging him as if to rub in Ten’s face what he’s missing out.

“Anyway, about that guy-” you started again and you almost laughed at the dramatic roll of Ten’s eyes. “No, I’m telling you! We should investigate more!”

“How much more do you need?” he whined. “At this point why not go and straight up ask him “Hey, are you planning on doing something bad?”

“Okay, okay, look,” you huffed. “I can take the dean’s keys to the student council room. And I know at what time no one is there. Would you come with me to look around? Like, maybe look through his things or something…”

“I’m pretty sure that would be illegal,” Ten pointed out. You rolled your eyes.

“I didn’t ask, are you coming or not?” you asked again.

“Why would you even ask me to come with you?” he turned the question, looking at you suspiciously.

“I need someone to blame if they catch us, of course,” you responded with a matter-of-fact tone. “Plus, we’ve worked on this whole thing together so far. I promise, if nothing comes out this time, I’ll give up.”

“Fine,” he caved in, shaking his head a bit as if disappointed with himself.

“Okay, so we can go tomorrow-” you started but he shook his head.

“Not tomorrow,” he said simply.

“Why not? It’s gonna be pretty much empty the whole afternoon,” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Yeah, you know why? Cause tomorrow’s the performance,” he said and realization hit you. He’d been talking about this for the past week every day, he’d been late to most of your meetings because of practice. You could see how important it was to him. You'd grown curious about it as well. And yet you’d managed to forget. “So you either do it on your own, or you’ll have to pick another day.”

“No, yeah. That’s fine,” you agreed quickly, feeling dumb. “Not tomorrow. How about Thursday? I know there will be about half an hour of clearing.”

“Sure, works with me,” he smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. “So you’re coming tomorrow, right?” You were caught off guard. You stared at him for a long moment. “Well, since you are free tomorrow…”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” you lied. Obviously you lied. You’d actually been considering it ever since he first told you to go.

“Well, you need to,” he insisted. “Imagine, I’m one of the best dancers in this team and my own girlfriend won’t even come to support me. What are people going to think?”

“I could be supporting you from home, cuddling the cats,” you hummed, not acknowledging the fact that in a way you had just called this place ‘home’. “Besides, do you really care what people think?”

“No,” he grinned. “But I still want you to come.”

He wanted you to go. It took a moment to process and then another one to figure out how to react.

“Come on, in a couple of weeks we’re going to break up dramatically because of me, at least come watch as my girlfriend once,” he went on, leaning a little bit closer to you. You weren’t sure whether the movement was conscious or not.

“What makes you think that I’d even wanna go?” you asked instead of replying.

“I never claimed to think that way. All I’m saying is that I would like you to come watch the performance tomorrow. You can still say no if you don’t want to. The choice is up to you but that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.”

“Okay, fine,” you agreed and by the way he looked at you, you guessed he hadn’t expected you really would. “I’ll come, but it better be worth it.”

“It will be,” he smiled. "But you better really be there or I'll kill you."

…

The next afternoon, you couldn't believe that you were still on the campus an hour after your last class and not in the club room, working on something. Instead, you were standing in the corridor next to the big hall for ceremonies, near the backstage changing rooms door, with Ten.

"I still can't believe you managed to force me to come," you voiced out, glaring down at his hand that was holding your wrist.

"I didn't force you to do anything," he argued as his fingers tapped gently on your skin in the beat of music that you couldn't hear. "It's you who wanted to come." You wanted to argue with that. Unfortunately, both of those statements were true.

"Do you really have to be doing that? There's no one here," you said quietly, nodding to his hand. He let go of your wrist immediately and you did your best not to think about the sudden disappearance of the warmth of his fingers. "So what should I expect, really? What kind of dances do you usually do?"

“Have you really never been to any of our performances?” Ten asked and you could swear that for a second he sounded genuinely hurt.

“Honestly, no,” you admitted. “I knew you’d be there.”

“How insightful of you, are you always this bright or was that a special case?” he rolled his eyes. “Well, you are here now and if you try to skip it or something, I will know so you will have to watch it.” There was a smug expression on his face as if this was something he’d planned all along. “And you better make sure to really enjoy the show.”

“Jesus, you’re so persistent,” you huffed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you’re trying to impress me.”

He stared at you for a long moment. All of a sudden you felt conscious - was he actually hoping that he would impress you today? You couldn’t imagine that being true. You couldn’t imagine him making an effort to impress anyone, but you specifically even less so.

“It’s a good thing that you know better then,” he said finally, grinning at you. “No offense, your opinion is not something that really matters to me all that much.”

You knew that, obviously. With the way you two acted around each other, it made perfect sense that he wouldn’t need your approval, the same way you didn’t care whether you had his. And you were not surprised that he had no problem saying it to your face. But for some reason, it still hurt you. You gritted your teeth and smiled at him in fake sweetness.

“Good to know. But just so you know, if you’re not at least 60% as good as everyone claims you are and I end up disappointed, I will never let you and your enormous ego live it down.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else from the queen of saltiness herself,” he chuckled.

There was no hostility in his voice. And in all honesty, there was no hostility in yours either. You weren’t sure when exactly the two of you had genuinely stopped trying to hurt each other with every word that came out of your mouths. And you weren’t sure what to think about that change. So you just did your best not to think about it at all.

Instead, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss on his lips, resting your hand at the back of his head gently. You hoped that he wouldn't point out the same thing you had mentioned just a couple of minutes ago - that there was no one to be pretending for.

“Go out there and make me proud to be pretend-dating you, fucker,” you mumbled. You looked up to meet his eyes and found an unexpected depth in them. Almost as if all of this was real.

“You might have to channel back that possessiveness from the club room after the performance, love,” he warned. You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not. It sounded like a joke, but his voice lacked humor.

“I’ll deal with that if needed,” you chuckled, pulling away from him. “Just do well.”

With that, you walked away to find a seat for yourself. Your eyes traveled over the seats - most of them were already taken and you realized you’d probably have to sit way back and not really see much. And then you saw Yangyang, sitting peacefully in the middle of one of the front rows, and the empty seat next to him. You quickly made your way over.

“Never thought I’d get to see you here,” he said instead of greeting you.

“Then why’d you save me a seat?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

“You’re assuming that I was saving it for you. Maybe I’m here with someone else, as I am so used to you ditching me every time I offer you to come,” he sighed dramatically. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine, I knew he’d make you come watch. He wouldn’t miss the chance to show off.”

You wanted to ask him whether Ten really was that good. But you didn’t get the chance to, as the lights in the great hall suddenly turned off. That was everyone’s clue to focus their attention on the stage, so your mind drifted away from the question. Well, you guessed you’d know soon enough anyway.

The dance team took over the stage almost right away and you were mesmerized. The kids were really good. With each second, it was becoming more clear to you why everyone cared about them so much, why someone would want to read Ten’s each and every article about them. The choreography was beautiful, full of small details that you risked missing if you as much as blinked for too long and yet they made it look like something so easy.

It took you a while to notice that something was missing. Someone. Among all the things you could focus on during the performance, Ten wasn’t an option. He wasn’t on the stage. You narrowed your eyes in confusion.

“Where is he?” you asked quietly.

“That excited to see him?” your best friend glanced at you, the corners of his lips curving slightly.

“Well, I did come to watch him, after all,” you hummed, but your eyes never left the stage.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see him in action very soon,” Yangyang assured. For his own good, you chose to ignore the teasing tone in his voice. “He usually has solos at the end of the performances. He is their star dancer after all.”

You hummed again, keeping your eyes on the dancers on stage, letting Ten out of your mind for a while and just admiring the show that these kids had obviously worked hard to prepare.

Turns out it was a bad idea to let your guard down that way. Because the moment he showed up on the stage, your brain practically malfunctioned. He’d changed his outfit since the last time you saw it. And his stage outfit consisted of tight black jeans, a mesh top that practically left him naked whenever he moved and a velvety coat in black and dark red. Up till now, you had never seen Ten in the light of someone who could be even remotely attractive, not consciously at least. You knew people found him hot but you never really understood why. Yet at the moment, no matter how much you tried to, you couldn’t ignore his toned upper body, a tattoo peeking from under his shirt (which, honestly, really did absolutely nothing to cover his torso, thank god for the coat over it) or the way his jeans hugged his thighs.

And then he started dancing. And as much as you had loved the show before him, it couldn’t compare to the way he moved. He seemed so perfectly in control of everything, capturing everyone’s attention like it was nothing. His stage presence and the way he pulled every move effortlessly had your breath hitching in the back of your throat.

"Pick up your jaw," Yangyang laughed at your side and you'd glare at him and threaten to cut off his dick if it wouldn't require looking away and focusing on something that wasn't the way Ten moved on stage.

You were in a daze, you could clearly see why everyone talked so highly of him and it was almost driving you into an existential crisis. He was hot. He was beautiful. He was talented. He was… he was everything you didn't want him to be.

When the performance finally ended, the crowd erupted in loud cheers and screaming. You couldn't hold yourself back from joining in. At least you could tell yourself that it was only in case someone was watching your reaction - you should be cheering for your boyfriend after all, right?

"Come on, it would be best if we get there before the fangirls," your best friend said suddenly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away.

"Get where?" you asked confused. You didn't get a response, instead, you were pulled once again to the hallway that led to the backstage space.

Now, you understood what he meant by "before the fangirls". And what Ten had meant when he said you might need to bring out your possessive side. There were girls lined up all around the door, squealing excitedly to each other about the performance just now. You could hear some of them discussing asking him out. You scoffed, who did they think they were? Why did they think they have a right to try to ruin your pretend relationship?

Your eyes moved to the door as it opened and a sweaty and still slightly panting Ten walked out. The girls immediately started crowing around him. And that's where your brain completely gave up on you.

"Excuse me, girlfriend passing through, make way," you muttered, your tone far more annoyed than you'd deem appropriate, but you couldn't care. You pushed through the pack of girls, shoving some of them quite roughly until you finally stood in front of Ten. His eyes met yours and you could see anticipation in them. He was… waiting to hear your opinion, you realized. He’d said he didn’t care, but you could see the pressure in his shoulders.

You didn't speak. You weren't sure what would come out of your mouth if you did. Instead, you hooked your fingers into the holes of his mesh shirt and pulled him closer to you, crashing your lips against his. It wasn't a soft and gentle kiss. No, it was your anger pouring out from your mouth in his. Anger at him for being so good at something that you were left with no choice but to be in awe. Anger at all the girls around you for thinking they could just come here and think they could have him. And mostly, anger at yourself for caring so much about both of those things.

He was caught aback for a moment, probably because of the intensity of your actions, but then his arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed back. He didn't seem to mind that you were practically devouring him in front of half his fan club at the moment. Instead, he met your force and returned it, making you moan out into his lips. As your arms moved around his neck, you could hear gasps and whispers around you. You couldn't help the smirk that curved your lips.

"You were fucking brilliant," you breathed out against his lips once you finally pulled away. "And if you tell anyone I said that I will deny it with all I have."

"And what was the kiss for?" he asked, chuckling quietly. "A reward for a job well done?"

"No, it was because some people do indeed need to learn that you're not theirs," you hissed out, fingers brushing through his hair as you pressed closer to him. "I don't care if it's real or not, as long as this thing is going on, you're only mine."

"You so wanna fuck me right now." A smirk curved his lips to accompany those words. The angry part in you growled in confirmation.

"No, I don't. And if something like that as much as crossed your mind one more time, I will make sure that you are not able to fuck anyone ever again."

He chuckled, but instead of replying, at first he just looked at you. One of his hands let go of your waist and instead cupped your cheek, his thumb gently moving over your lower lip. You blinked at him in surprise.

"Well, I'm not ashamed to say that I do want to fuck you right now. Quite a lot. You look so hot when you're jealous."

You gasped out quietly, not expecting to hear those words from him. He chuckled again, pecking your lips before pulling away from you.

"As much as I love being this close to you, babe, I need to go get changed," he said and you hummed. "Thank you, everyone, for the support, it is always a pleasure performing for you," he turned to the girls and they cheered excitedly. It almost felt like you were at a K-pop concert and everyone was screaming because the idol had opened their mouth. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

You didn't wait for him to close the door on his way back to the changing room before you were also walking away. Yangyang caught up to you quickly, a grin you didn't like on his face.

"Are you just taking your responsibility as my best friend too much at heart," he teased, " or is something actually going on between you and him?"

"Not even in his wildest dreams," you grumbled, shoving your hands in your pockets so Yangyang wouldn't see your clenched fists.

"No, I'm pretty sure you're not just pretending right now, Y/N, I know you," he insisted, somehow a bit more serious.

"Shut it, Liu, you have no idea what you're talking about," you hissed, stopping in your tracks to death glare at him.

He raised his hands in surrender and you let out a sigh, the anger washing out almost as quickly as it appeared. You stood in your spot for a little more. Yangyang would understand if you told him, he wouldn't judge you. Maybe he'd tease you for a while but he'd understand. He seemed to take notice of the conflict on your face and a small smile curved his lips.

"Oh, sweetie, you're falling in deep, aren't you?" he asked and you huffed out in annoyance. Scratch that, you're not telling him, ever.

"No, I'm not," you rolled your eyes. "What I'm doing is going home." And hoping that you’d be able to forget everything that had happened today.

…

A couple of hours later though, laying in your bed, you couldn’t get Ten out of your mind. Pieces of his performance earlier were replaying in your mind, frustrating you more and more with every passing second. And it didn’t help that you could also still vividly hear his words from earlier.

Did he mean it? Or was he just messing with you? If he’d been serious, that could make all of this harder. Because if you were to actually sleep with him, that could blur the lines between pretending and real feelings for you. Especially since those lines were already kind of blurry, as much as you refused to acknowledge that. And if it was just a sick joke on his side… that would hurt you more than you would like to admit.

You knew that knowing the answer would not be good either way. But you couldn’t just stop thinking about it. So you ended up picking up your phone and dialing Ten’s number.

“Hello?” he picked up, sounding confused. You could understand why. There was no way you could excuse any of this with the article.

“Are you free tonight?” you asked, not willing to allow yourself to procrastinate.

“Am I- Y/N, did you dial the wrong number? Are you aware who this is?” he asked and you groaned.

“Yes, you idiot, I could never forget the voice that haunts my nightmares.”

“Does that mean that you dream about me?” you could practically hear the smirk in his question.

“I dream of murdering you painfully and slowly, yes, if that’s what you were thinking about.”

“So you have a thing for sadism, noted,” he hummed. “I can work with that.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groaned, feeling your face hear up slightly. “Answer my question, are you free tonight?”

“Well, usually after performances I stay at home and cuddle my cats, so… yeah, I guess, why?”

You suddenly felt bad - you hadn’t thought about the fact that he was probably tired and wanted to rest.

“Nothing, never mind,” you tried to change your direction. “Tell Louis and Leon that I love them, I’ll see you to-”

“Hey, loser,” Ten interrupted you. “Leave the kids out of this, what do you want?” You didn’t reply for a bit, contemplating. “Look, you can tell me, the worst I can say is no.”

You scoffed, yet after taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself to ask the question.

“Would you wanna come over to my place?”

“What?” he asked, as if in disbelief. You already regretted this and wanted to hit yourself and never speak to him again, yet there was no going back.

“Look, Yangyang promised me to watch movies together tonight but then he ditched me and now I have the snacks but no one to share them with so-"

"So you're inviting me over for a movie night," he finished your sentence. He still sounded doubtful. You sighed.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. It's fine, forget I asked, it was a dumb idea anyway. Good night-"

"I'll come," he said before you could hang up.

"Really?!"

"Yeah, just text me your address, I'll be there in a bit."

And so you did. You had to make a quick trip to the store as the Yangyang story was obviously complete bullshit so now you had to have some snacks around. But 20 minutes later, you had a convincing enough amount of chips and cookies on your table as your doorbell rang. You rushed to take it.

"Hey," you greeted awkwardly.

"Hey," Ten said back, chuckling at the way you stood there.

Not going to lie, you were staring. He looked so soft, wearing a lilac hoodie and sweatpants, his hair fluffy and messy as if he'd just washed it. It was so different from the styled-up Ten you saw every day.

"I figured it wouldn't matter much how I look for a movie night with you of all people," he shrugged, glancing past you to the inside of your house. "Now may I come in?"

He was right, of course. It shouldn't have mattered. Which is precisely why you couldn't tell him how much it mattered. Instead, you shook your head, stepping to the side so that he could walk past you to your living room.

"Make yourself at home or whatever," you waved your hand mindlessly.

"Look, darling, I know I am not your favorite person out there, but you could at least try to appear welcoming, hm? Have I ever neglected you like this when you’re over?" Ten laughed as he took a seat on the couch.

"Shut up, dumbass, I am already starting to question my decision to call you," you rolled your eyes, yet made your way over to the couch and sat down next to him.

"Great for you! That means you haven't completely lost your mind! Now, what movie are we watching?"

"I don't know, usually Yangyang is the one who chooses them," you shrugged, that much was true.

"So you wanna pick it this time?" he offered but you shook your head, handing him your laptop.

It took him a good 10 minutes of searching but he finally played some movie and set the laptop on the table in front of you. Each of you opened a pack of chips as you sat on both sides of the couch and watched.

20 minutes in, you wanted to scream. It all felt so weird. Neither of you was talking, as compared to how usually you couldn't keep your mouth shut when watching a movie. You couldn't help but keep glancing at him, thoughts running in your mind.

“We can cuddle if you want," Ten said, breaking the silence. You glared at him. "What? You've been staring at me since the beginning of the movie. I do consider myself extremely good-looking but as far as I know, you don't really think the same way. Either you wanna cuddle, or there's something you want to say. Whichever it is, go ahead because you're really keeping me from enjoying the movie."

"You said you wanted to fuck me," you blurted out, without thinking it through. Ten raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, I did. And you said that you don’t. What about it?”

“Well-” you weren’t sure how to word out what was going on in your head. “What if- What if I told you I lied about- that?”

“I’d tell you that you are a pretty bad liar,” he chuckled, a smirk curving his lips. “It was obvious. But I figured you’d want me to leave you with your lie and not mention it.

“How noble of you,” you said sarcastically, out of pure instinct. But you did appreciate the idea that he would give up on using it against you, just because you asked. “But my point is- I am… I am admitting it now. If you still-” you weren’t sure what you were saying.

It took Ten a while to say something again. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression, making you even more nervous than you already were. When he finally moved, it was to reach over and pause the movie.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You called me over with the fake ass excuse of a movie night with Yangyang because you’re horny and I said that I wanted to fuck you?”

“Well- yeah, it sounds kind of lame when you put it that way, but yeah,” you sighed. “It’s just- you really looked amazing out there and seeing all those girls piling up to talk to you, hearing them talk about asking you out… it pissed me off so much and I have no idea why but what I do know is that I haven’t been able to get you out my mind since then and-”

You were getting frustrated. The thoughts had been fighting in your mind for the whole afternoon and finally getting them out in front of Ten was both terrifying and relieving at the same time. You were so lost in your little rant that you didn’t notice him moving until his fingers had gently wrapped around your wrist. He tugged you, not harshly but enough to make you lean forward and reach up, gripping onto his shoulder for balance.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “But only if you promise me that you won’t regret it later.”

Could you really promise that? Could you really get out of all this unfazed? The answer was probably no. Yet you nodded in confirmation. Next thing you knew, he was kissing you. Hard, just like you had kissed him earlier today. You kissed back, your frustration slipping as you slid your hand in his hair and tugged on it. He let out a small hum as he leaned back and pulled you on top of himself. You didn’t need a second invitation to get comfortable in his lap as his free hand settled on your hip.

You pulled away for a short breath with the intention of going right back in but instead, your lips latched onto Ten’s neck, biting down and sucking hard. Soon enough, a bruise appeared on his skin. You knew that because you pulled away to look at it. Then you looked up to meet his eyes. He had his eyebrow raised at you.

“Come on, don’t look so surprised,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “I already told you that I wanna do that.”

“I thought it was just you trying to get back at me for doubting you,” he shrugged. “And since you never asked questions about that day, I figured I wouldn’t either.”

“Wait, now that you mention that… What did Yangyang mean back then? What was the way you were looking at me that-”

“Y/N, that day… you could have had me on my knees if you had asked,” he said. You froze, confusion clouding your mind. He chuckled at your reaction. “Come on, I thought you were smarter than this, love. It’s practically all written out for you and you still don’t get it?”

“Get what, Ten, I-” you started, but he didn’t let you finish. He was kissing you again before you had the time to think about it more. By instinct, you kissed back.

This time it didn’t last as long. He pulled away pretty soon and leaned his head back against the couch, almost as if he was baring his neck for you. You bit your lips and took your chance. Your lips were back on his neck, biting, sucking, licking as you left marks all over his skin. What you were surprised by were the soft moans that quickly started falling from his mouth. From your spot in his lap, you could also feel him growing harder with every new mark that you left.

“Who would have guessed that you have a thing for being marked up,” you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Only when it’s done by an extremely hot and possessive girl that’s been getting on my nerves ever since I met her,” he laughed.

“I’m not possessive!” you quickly shot back defensively. Then did your best to calm down your voice so you got back to teasing him. “It just looks really pretty on you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he rolled his eyes. His hand finally let go of your wrist and moved up, gently holding your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. “You know what else would look really pretty? Your lips wrapped around my dick.”

“Maybe in a little bit,” you hummed. You felt bold enough to roll your hips down against him and loved the way his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered closed. He looked almost vulnerable, like if you pressed just hard enough, he would break under your fingers.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Ten said softly and you blinked in confusion. “You’re looking at me like any of this actually matters to you. And if you keep looking at me like that, I will not be able to go through with this.”

You felt a shot of pain in your chest - would it really be that bad if it mattered? Would it be that bad if there was something more than just lust that was urging you on at the moment? Would it-

Yes, you thought to yourself, practically scolded yourself actually. It would be. You couldn’t have developed feelings for him, and he definitely didn’t have any for you. Being attracted to each other didn’t mean anything.

“Fine then,” you rolled your eyes, going back to the safe zone of treating him as your rival that you were used to. “It’s not like any of it could matter anyway,” you voiced out your thoughts, tone slightly harsher than you intended.

You saw him flinch for a moment, visibly taken aback by the shift in your behavior. Yet it took him almost no time to put on the mocking expression you had grown so used to in the past three years.

“Glad we’re on the same page, get to it now,” he urged you with a roll of his hips and you bit your lips to hold back a reaction.

“You should ask for it politely, maybe I’ll think about it then.”

“You want me to beg for you? Love, you’re seriously confused about how things work here.”

“What, I’ll be the one begging or something?” you mocked, rolling your eyes. “Good luck with that.”

“Really, you have the option to do something nice with your mouth for once and you still choose to talk nonsense?”

“Oh, was I not doing nice things with my mouth here?” Your fingers traced the hickeys on his neck. “You seemed to enjoy those.”

“If you stop fucking stalling, maybe you’ll have something more to talk about than a few hickeys.”

“Just so you know, babe, the fact that you’re not begging, doesn’t mean it isn’t obvious how desperate you are.”

You got off his lap, getting instead between his legs. You could feel his eyes glued on you but you chose to ignore them. Instead, you untied the knot on his sweatpants and quickly slid them down his legs. You threw them to the side, before taking off his underwear as well. His length came into view and you licked your lips slowly. Wrapping your hand around it softly without really doing anything, you finally looked up at him.

“Gonna ask me politely this time?” you asked, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Why, the first thing worked just fine,” he smirked.

“What if I just made an exception once?”

“You’ll make one more then.”

“Ask. Politely,” you repeated slowly, suddenly tightening your grip around him.

“Jesus-” he hissed out, hips bucking up slightly. “Please suck me off, Y/N. Is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” you smiled sweetly as your wrist started moving, stroking him slowly.

You were just about to lean closer when you noticed him starting to take off his hoodie.

“Leave it on,” you said quickly. He raised his eyebrow at you in question. “You look cute and fuckable in it,” you smiled fake-sweetly and he rolled his eyes.

“You better swallow it all then, I like this hoodie”

“Whatever made you think you’re cumming,” you hummed, more a threat than a question.

After that statement, you decided not to waste much more time and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. You felt him tense up and couldn't stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. Teasing the slit with your tongue, you let your hand glide along his shaft as you focused on riling him up even more. You'd seen it, the opportunity to wreck him, and you wanted to use it.

"Are you planning on doing anything today or should I go home?" he groaned from above you, you were pretty sure the needy tone of his voice hadn't been intended.

"You know," you pulled away, humming. You still kept the slow movements of your hand though. "You keep doing that thing with your mouth that I really hate. Stop talking. If you're not happy with the pace that I set, I'll just stop completely."

"Baby, you're the one who asked for all of this, remember?" he laughed. "Don't threaten me with something we both know you won't do."

You glared at him. He was right, obviously. But you didn't want him to be right. In all honesty, you wanted to see him break down.

"You know what? Fine."

You didn't bother going slow. Instead, you moved your hand away, gripped his thighs for balance and took him all at once. You felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you fought back against gagging around him. Now, you didn't really do this often, but you were glad that you could hold back for the time being.

A startled moan fell from Ten's lips and you closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the sound. His hand immediately flew to your head, gripping your hair tightly enough to cause slight pain. Not that you minded. You pulled away almost completely then went back down. A shiver ran down his body and his hips bucked up. Normally, you wouldn't mind encouraging your partner to go ahead and fuck your mouth if he wanted to, but with Ten it was somehow about having the upper hand. So instead you pushed his thighs down, digging your nails slightly in the soft skin as a warning. He glared at you but you just raised your eyebrows as you pulled away again, letting him out of your mouth so you could speak up.

"My rules, doll. Be a good boy and sit still."

You could see him open his mouth about to protest, yet never gave him the chance to as you went back down on him, this time allowing yourself to choke slightly. Whatever he had intended to say turned into a moaned-out curse, his fingers curling in your hair. He was cracking already and you loved it.

So you went all out. You bobbed your head up and down as fast as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and moaning around him occasionally just so you could hear the beautiful broken moans he let out whenever you did that. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat and you let out another moan. The sight you were met with was criminally hot. Pupils blown wide and sweat dripping down his forehead, he barely had the strength to whine out your name.

"Fuck, love-" he gasped out, "fuck, if you don't stop- I'm close- please, please just-"

You could feel how difficult it was for him to speak up at the moment and pride swelled in your chest. So you decided to let him have his moment.

You pulled away so that your lips were wrapped around his head, sucking on it gently as you let your tongue do the work. You wrapped your hand around his shaft once again for assistance. You hummed at him in encouragement. You could see the exact moment he broke down completely - his eyes fluttered closed, head thrown back against the couch as his hips shivered slightly. And then he was filling your mouth. You let him ride out his high, swallowing down whatever he had to give before you pulled away.

“What a cute little slut you are,” you mumbled to yourself, still panting for breath. He must have heard you as he forced his eyes open to glare at you.

“You’ll regret that sentence,” he threatened. You chuckled.

“Baby, can you even move right now?” you teased him, enjoying the way he narrowed his eyes at you. “You look like a wreck.” As you spoke up, you got off your knees and sat down in his lap, careful to leave some space between your body and his cock. “And what happened to no begging?”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your waist. His other hand reached up, gently moving away the hair strands that had stuck to your face. “Give me a moment and you’ll see why you shouldn’t be messing with me like that.”

“Can’t wait to see it, because I really can’t take you seriously at the moment,” you giggled.

“Really now?” You nodded. “So I guess I should get to work then.”

His free hand quickly found its way between your legs, rubbing you over the shorts you were wearing and you gasped in surprise. You were sensitive. You’d been horny since before this had started and the sight of Ten completely wrecked because of you had made things even worse. So after the long wait, a sudden stimulation sent a shockwave through your body. Ten grinned, his finger moving in slow circles. You couldn’t help but press down against his fingers a little.

“Impatient, are we?” he hummed teasingly and you sent him a glare.

“In case you weren’t aware, I have needs too.”

“And I’ll be more than happy to help you out with those,” he smiled at you. “If you ask politely.” You scoffed.

“Could you be any less creative?”

“You know, I liked you better when you couldn’t run your mouth like this. But think for a second, you can either do as I say and get fucked properly, or keep acting like a brat and deal with this here on your own.” He tapped his fingers gently against your core as if to illustrate his words.

It was tempting to keep pushing and see where that would go. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t follow up on that threat. Yet you were not exactly in the mood to stall anymore. And what Ten didn't seem to realize was that you'd go to great lengths to get what you want. So you leaned down closer to him.

"Please, Ten, make me feel good," you almost whispered against his ear. "I'm all yours, fuck me and make me scream, I promise I'll be good for you."

When you pulled away, you were met with wide eyes and a surprised expression. You held back the smirk that was threatening to curl your lips and instead rolled your hips down as if in an attempt to grind down against his fingers. His touch was so light the action was basically pointless, yet it was more of a show for him than for you.

“Damn it, you’re so fucking hot,” he muttered, the words coming out more like a breath and barely audible. “You already made your point earlier, do you have to keep driving me crazy?” he added, obviously not expecting an answer.

Instead, he quickly discarded your shorts, as well as your top, leaving you in your underwear only. His eyes went over you slowly as if he was appreciating the sight, before returning to your face. You met his gaze, anticipation bubbling inside you as his fingers pushed inside your panties. A whimper fell from your lips as you felt his fingertips glide over your entrance and up to your clit, rubbing gently.

"Baby girl, you're dripping," he cooed as if that was the most endearing thing in the world and you rolled your eyes. "All for me, hm?"

You didn't think you were supposed to respond to that. Yet when you didn't, two of his fingers suddenly pushed inside you, making you flinch and clench your thighs or, well, at least try to.

“I asked you something, love,” he mused, pulling them out again and going back to drawing slow small circles against your clit.

“Yes, fuck,” you gasped out. “All for you. Unless you see someone else in the room that’s wasting time asking dumb questions.”

“I remember you promising to be good,” Ten raised his eyebrows. “But since you’re that impatient…”

The gentle touch on your core was suddenly replaced with harsh fingers rubbing against your clit, causing you to moan out loudly and lean forward so your head would fall on Ten’s shoulder. Your fingers grabbed onto his hoodie, tugging on the fabric as he left your clit in favor of teasing your hole with the tip of his finger. Apparently, he’d taken the part about wasting time to heart as he was barely giving you time to process his actions.

Before you knew it, a finger was pushing in and out of you in slow movements. A second one joined in almost as quickly and you were almost shaking. Whenever your mind could catch on, Ten just gave it something new. It was almost overwhelming. But it was also not enough. You couldn’t help but try to roll your hips to meet the movement of his fingers. As soon as you realized it, you tried to stop yourself. A soft chuckle rang near your ear.

“Go ahead, love, you don’t have to hold back,” Ten encouraged and you were too far gone to respond.

All you could do was let go and let yourself ride his fingers. He didn’t leave you all on your own, meeting your movements, curling his fingers inside you, mumbling soft praises in your ears. The heel of his palm would occasionally press against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs and you couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that were falling from your lips.

The tension was building up inside you, ready to reach its peak any moment now, when he suddenly pulled his hand away from you. You whined out before your mind had even processed it and glared at the boy. He had the audacity to laugh at your reaction.

“Relax, baby, okay?” he smiled. There was a dark glimmer in his eyes. “I just want to see you cum when I’m inside you.”

Now that his fingers weren’t directly on you, you had regained a bit of your ability to bite back so you lifted your chin daringly.

“Well go on then, I’ve already been waiting for far too long.”

“Bold words from someone who was not able to sit up properly until a second ago,” he chuckled.

He didn’t stall anymore though, instead quickly took off your bra and panties, then reached down for his hoodie. As you didn’t protest this time, he pushed the clothing off his body and threw it to the side, followed by the tshirt he had underneath it. Your eyes traveled along his torso and arms, taking in the tattoos that covered his skin. You reached up to touch the one on his chest and he tensed up slightly. You pulled your hand away quickly.

“So, princess, would you like to lay down or are you comfortable like this?” Ten asked and despite the teasing tone, you knew he would do whatever you asked without another word.

“I like it here,” you smiled as you raised your hips and positioned yourself over his already hard again cock. He held you up with one hand as he adjusted himself so that the tip would be at your entrance.

You met his eyes once again. This was happening way too many times for one night, you thought to yourself. You could see the question in his eyes, making sure you were still fully on board with this. So you slowly started lowering yourself on his length. The stretch was bigger than his fingers, obviously, so it took you a while to bottom out fully. Once you did, you took a moment to breathe, overwhelmed by the feeling of being full with him.

He seemed to be in a similar state, eyebrows narrowed as he embraced whatever it felt like being inside you. You bit your lip, the pleasure on his face was one of the most beautiful things you'd ever seen. You wanted more of it, of the sounds you'd heard earlier and, well, you also wanted to finally get to your own high. So you started moving.

At first, you went slowly, but once you got accustomed to the stretch, you couldn't hold back even if you had wanted to. And unlike during the blowjob earlier, he didn't either. His hips thrust up to meet you every time you lowered yourself on him, reaching spots inside you that made you see stars. His hands moved to your ass, gripping on it as he helped you move.

Your thighs were hurting and you loved it. Your moans were mixing with his and the sound of skin meeting skin. Your body was burning and so was his under your palms that were resting on his chest for balance. Your nails dug into his skin and he hissed out, thrusting up sharply inside you. This time the moan that left your lips was his name.

"Say it again," he moaned out and you weren't sure if those were actual words or you were imagining them, your head was cloudy enough for that. But he repeated it, voice barely a whisper this time. "Please, my love, say my name again."

And so you did. You didn't think it was possible but his movements got even more intense. As for you, once you started, you couldn’t stop his name from falling from your lips. You’d already given up on moving yourself, your thighs had given out already, yet that didn’t bother him as he fucked into you. Already having been worked up before this, you were approaching your orgasm quicker than ever.

“Come for me, princess,” he said, more of a plea than an order.

But it was enough. Once again, your head fell on his shoulder as your body shook and you let out one last cry of his name. You clenched around him and suddenly, he was spilling inside you again. Pressed so close to him, you felt the breath hitch in his throat as he came for the second time today. You pushed your exhausted body to move up again so you could help him ride it out, but his arms wrapped around your waist again, stopping you as he pressed you close to himself again.

Closing your eyes, you let the bliss wash over you. His heavy breathing and the fast beating of your heart were the only things you could hear for a while. It took both of you some time to finally calm down again and you pushed yourself to sit up straight again to look at him.

The look on his face matched the exhaustion you felt yourself, but his eyes were alive and shining. Sweat was glistening on his forehead, hair sticking to it. And he was looking at you in a way that you could not put a description different from pure adoration. You were pretty sure it was an aftereffect of the orgasm, yet it still made warmth grow in your chest.

“I’m going to say this only once,” you said quietly. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

You didn’t wait to hear what he had to say about it as instead, you crashed your lips against his in a deep kiss and, as always, he kissed back immediately. Kissing Ten had always been amazing. And the more you did it, the more addicted you were to the feeling. As your lips danced against his, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to go from this to never touching him again. As your fingers found their way into his hair, brushing through the soft dark strands, you realized that you didn’t want to. The thought terrified you. But it was not something you’d ponder over in this state. So you brushed it to the side.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Ten asked, chuckling, once you pulled away. You looked at him in question. “You say something that I want to hear and then kiss me so I don’t have the chance to respond. You’re beautiful, Y/N. So beautiful, utterly and mind-blowingly perfect. Why didn’t you let me say that first?”

It was too much. The way he was looking at you and the things he was saying. And the way your heart fluttered to both of those things. The way you wanted nothing more but to stay like this, with him, forever. You didn’t respond to his question, you were scared you’d let out too much if you did.

“Will you stay the night?” you asked instead. It was a simple question. It made sense to ask something like that. And if he minded the fact that you ignored his words, he didn’t say anything.

“If you’ll be okay with that,” he said softly, reaching up to play with your hair. “I do hope we could use the bed though, nothing personal against your couch but I’d rather sleep somewhere comfortable.”

That one sentence was enough to break the spell that he’d put on you before, making you roll your eyes as you hit his chest lightly. He wasn’t being mean to you, but not saying and doing things that felt like taken out of a romance novel sure helped you get back to your senses.

“I am using the bed, you’re still sleeping on the couch,” you retorted, raising your eyebrows at him. “What made you think we’re sleeping in the same bed?”

“Darling, my dick is still inside you, I don’t think sleeping in the same bed would be the end of the world,” he laughed.

You couldn’t argue with that. Deep down, you didn’t want to, either. So when the two of you got dressed again, you showed him to your room. And who would have guessed, sleeping curled up next to him turned out to be more comfortable than you could have ever imagined.

…

Ten left early the next morning. Much too early for your brain to be functioning properly yet. He’d said something about needing to get ready because he had to look presentable or something, but you had barely been able to keep your eyes open as you sent him to the door, you didn’t really listen attentively. You’d gone back to bed the moment he left.

When you woke up again, everything that had happened last night crashed over you like a plane. You had had sex with Ten Lee. Ten Lee that you hated with every cell of your body. Ten Lee that had made your life living hell for the past three years. Ten Lee that… that you apparently didn’t really hate anymore.

The last part was what terrified you the most. Did you really… Had you really… Were you really in love with Ten? The logical part of you wanted to say no so much. The part of you that you’d protected from him behind sarcasm and passive-aggressive remarks wanted to deny him the chance to hurt you again. But the other part was already too deep to worry about that. You did your best to ignore that part.

A glimpse of something lilac caught your eye on the armrest of your couch. His hoodie. He’d forgotten it. You reached out to pick up the clothing item. It was soft and warm. And it smelled of him. For a short moment, you were tempted to put it on but you quickly decided against that. Instead, you folded it carefully and put it in your bag.

On your way to campus, you tried to decide how to act around him now. You didn’t want to let your guard down with him. And sure, there were moments when he seemed soft and loving and it was so tempting to think that maybe he shared the feelings. But you knew better than to trust him. So in the end, you decided that you’d go back to how things used to be before. Before the stupid idea of pretending to date each other. You were due to break up soon anyway. You ignored the bitter taste in your mouth at that thought.

By now, you’d learned his schedule by heart. So you knew exactly how to avoid him throughout the day. Everything was going smoothly and even Yangyang didn’t suspect a thing. Or at least you thought so. The two of you were sitting in the club room. You were working on the part of the article that had been left up to you. You glanced at the clock on your laptop, in about 5 minutes everyone from the student council would be out of their room and you were going to take action on your little operation.

“Ten’s been looking for you the whole day,” your best friend said, distracting you from the thought.

“What does he need me for?” you asked, voice as neutral as you could manage.

“He didn’t say,” Yangyang shrugged. “But he thinks you’re avoiding him.”

“It’s literally been less than a day since he last saw me,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “He’s a grown-ass man, shouldn’t he be able to handle himself on his own?”

“Did something happen between you two?” the boy asked, starting you, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?” you tried to act clueless. You forgot that there was no way you’d hide anything from your best friend.

“Y/N, my dear, you have many strengths, but subtlety is not one of them,” he shook his head slightly. “The moment I mentioned him you got tense. Either you tell me what happened so that I can help you, or you talk to him.”

“You wanna know?” you turned to him, chuckling drily. “Thanks to your amazing idea, nothing is the way it should be anymore. I had fucking sex with Ten last night. He slept in my bed. And what’s even worse, I didn’t hate that. And to top it all, I am in love with fucking Ten Lee and I am about to lose my fucking mind.”

Whatever Yangyang had thought he would hear, he clearly didn’t expect this little rant. He stared at you with a surprised expression for a while.

“Well, in that case, I suppose you’d like to know that I did tell him you’re here and he’s on his way,” is what he said when he finally opened his mouth again.

“What?!” you couldn’t help but raise your voice. “Okay, no, it’s fine, I have to go do something anyway. When he gets here, please just tell him I went home or something, okay?” you pleaded, desperation slipping in your voice.

“Yes, of course,” Yangyang nodded quickly, smiling at you. “I’m not going to tell him about this. But I do think you should.”

“Yes, uh, no,” you huffed as you quickly collected your stuff and headed to the door. “Thank you though, love you, bye!”

You headed over in the direction of the student council room. But, of course, it was just your luck that on the first corner on your way, you’d stumble into him. He looked as good as ever, carefully picked outfit, styled hair and, oh god, was that eyeliner? You reminded yourself that you’re not supposed to stare.

“Hey, there you are!” Ten smiled as soon as he realized it was you.

“Great job, you found me,” you muttered sarcastically and you watched his expression fall. It felt like a kick in your guts. “Sorry, but I kinda have something to do so if there’s nothing-”

“Wait,” he interrupted you quickly, eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe. “You’re not wearing it?”

“Wearing what?” you blinked in confusion. “Ah, right!” you remembered the hoodie and quickly took it out of your bag, handing it back to him.

“I… I left it for you…” he sounded confused and… a little hurt?

“Why would I wear your hoodie, Ten?” you raised your eyebrows, keeping your expression neutral as you waited for him to take back the hoodie.

“I don’t know, I… maybe it’s my bad, I thought you seemed to like it so…” Maybe he was waiting for a reaction from you, yet you forced yourself to not give any at all. Finally, he reached up and took the piece of clothing from you.

“Great, now I have to go-” you tried again but he seemed dead set on not letting you leave quickly.

“Student council, right? You’re going to investigate,” he smiled again and you nodded. Lying seemed pointless. “So then I’m coming with you.”

“Why?” you asked, staring at him blankly.

“Because we agreed that we’d do it together? Babe, you’re the one that asked me to come in the first place.”

You had indeed. You’d hoped he would have forgotten.

“Well, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He looked at you for a long moment as if trying to analyze you.

“Yeah, no, I’m still coming.”

You figured there was no point arguing. Instead, you made your way to the student council room, Ten following behind you. You didn’t speak and you were glad that he didn’t either. It was easier to be cold when you didn’t have to look at him or talk. Once the two of you reached the door you needed, you quickly glanced around, making sure there was no one to see you. You pulled out the keys and unlocked, slipping inside. He followed after you.

“Why are we sneaking in? Didn’t you say you could get the dean’s permission?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“I said I can get his keys, I never mentioned his permission,” you responded.

“Wait, so how do you have them?”

“Don’t question my ways, for all I know, I risk facing legal consequences if I tell you.” You weren’t going to discuss the pickpocketing skills you’d developed as a child. It was almost like a magic trick and 12-years-old you had been fascinated by the idea. At your current age, you knew that it wasn’t a socially acceptable skill to possess or practice.

“Did you really steal them?” Ten asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Borrowed,” you muttered, looking away. “He’ll find them peacefully waiting on his desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I find this little criminal side of yours very hot,” he leaned closer, a playful smile curving his lips, and your heart jumped in your throat. This was not part of the plan.

“Stop talking nonsense. We have work to do,” you shut him down coldly, stepping back away from him. “I’m not sure which desk is his so you go check over there and I’ll start here.”

You noticed the way his eyes darkened a bit, the smile leaving his face. You turned around so you wouldn’t have to look at him. Instead, you focused on the various notes and documents in front of you. Rummaging through them quickly caught up your attention.

Soon enough, you’d checked everything you could find on this side and looked up to check with Ten. And found him staring at you, leaning on his arms that were resting on the table in front of him.

“You do know we don’t have an infinite amount of time, right?” you narrowed your eyes at him. “The quicker we get out of here, the better. Get back to work.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said seriously and you froze in your place.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me. You’re acting cold and distant. I’d say you’re being a bitch again, but you lack even the feistiness you had whenever you’d speak to me before. So what the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Ten,” you hissed. “I’m just trying to focus, try it out maybe, hm?”

“Is it because of last night?” he asked suddenly, pushing himself off the table and making his way over to you. You couldn’t help but take a step back. He sighed, taking another step closer. “You promised me you wouldn’t regret it.”

“Yeah, well sometimes people don’t get what they expected,” you rolled your eyes and he froze in his spot.

“So are you saying you didn’t like it and that’s why you’re acting like this?”

“God, no!” you said without thinking. “No, this has nothing to do with-”

“Then what is it?” you could see him losing his patience, raising his voice slightly. “Love, you were the one to invite me in the first place, you were the one to offer it even though you were the one pretending not to want it earlier the same day. You were the one to bring the whole thing up, you don’t get to also be the one regretting it now.”

“Then maybe you should start regretting it and leave me alone. You make it sound like all I did was take advantage of you and use you so why are you here talking to me?”

“For fuck’s sake, are you really this dumb or are you just trying really hard to not get it?” he laughed humorlessly. You opened your mouth to argue, but you didn’t get the chance.

Suddenly, you heard a voice near the door. It was muffled, but you could recognize it easily - precisely the man you were here for. Except you had hoped he wouldn’t be here in the flesh. You looked around quickly but couldn’t see anywhere you could hide. And there was no way you could get out either.

Just as you saw the doorknob twist, Ten quickly pushed you to the vending machine (that you were jealous of). You realized he tried to use it as a cover as he pressed closer to you, pushing you as close to the wall as possible. You wanted to protest against the proximity but you knew better.

“If you keep quiet and if we’re lucky, we might get away with this,” he whispered against your ear. You decided not to mention the fact that ‘lucky’ was rarely a proper description of you.

“-and I have it all figured out,” the guy said as he entered the room. You figured that he was on the phone as you didn't hear anyone reply to him.

"No, you're not hearing me. It doesn't matter who they want as representative, okay? I got it all figured out."

Your eyes widened. Was this it? Was this the moment your suspicion got confirmed? You glanced up at Ten and he nodded slightly. Now he would believe you about it! Carefully, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out your phone. You opened the recording app, if he was about to confess to something, you'd need proof for it.

"Listen, I know. I know my chances, okay? That's why I have someone on the inside," he said, laughing. "I mean I know who will be in the commission when counting the votes."

You inhaled sharply and Ten shot you a quick glare. You pressed your lips together.

"No, I haven't talked to all of them yet, but I know how to get to them. When they announce the results, it will be my name leading the list no matter what."

You felt anger bubbling up inside you. Not only was he planning to rig the elections, you knew for a fact he wouldn't really care about the students if he was elected as representative. Despite his well-prepared answers to all of your questions, you had noticed during the interviews that his intentions weren't to provide a better environment for the people he was supposed to be speaking for.

"Yes, glad to hear that you are starting to get it. And don't worry about the dumb article. Those two are probably more focused on fucking each other than making something of at least decent quality for once anyway. Okay, I'll see you later, I gotta go."

And now it got personal. You could feel Ten's body tensed up against yours and you could see on his face that he was not pleased by the assessment of your abilities either. You stopped the recording.

You listened closely, you weren't sure what the guy was doing now. And you couldn't really check so all you could do was wait and hope he would leave quickly.

For once, life smiled upon you. He shuffled through some sheets of paper for a while, humming to himself, and shortly after you heard the door open and close again. You waited for a couple more minutes just to be sure before you finally spoke up.

"Told you there was something fishy about him."

Ten finally moved away from you and you took a deep breath, tension relieving in your shoulders. Sure, you'd been concentrating on the half of a conversation going on but the thought of Ten's body pressed against you hadn't made things easy on you.

"Okay, you were right," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I'd say this guy definitely lost my vote just now but it seems like it doesn't really matter to him." You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh, but what do we know, we're just too busy fucking each other to write something good, you know." You meant it as a joke. At first, he smiled, rolling his eyes. But you saying that suddenly reminded both of you of the conversation you'd been having before the guy had walked in.

“Do you really regret it?” Ten looked at you again, his tone suddenly serious. “If you do, I will leave you alone. For good.”

It was so tempting to say yes. It seemed so easy to lie to him and avoid him from now on until whatever feelings had grown inside you left. Except that it wasn’t easy.

“No,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t regret sleeping with you. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it. Because no matter how good of a time we had, all of this just complicates things.”

“Why does it complicate things, my love?” he asked softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Don’t call me that way,” you shot quickly before thinking it through as panic quickly took over you. You were making it all too obvious. You were already preparing for the mocking words that would follow.

You were not prepared for the hand that gently cupped your cheek.

"Are we going to do this again?" You looked up at him in confusion. "Are you going to deny the things you feel while I am here in front of you, willing to give you the world if you ask for it?"

"Ten, what-" you started but he rolled his eyes and pulled away.

“If you're going to act like you still have no clue what I mean, we're continuing this conversation out of here. Almost getting caught once was enough for me.”

You couldn't argue with that logic. Plus, you had what you needed already. So the two of you quickly made your way out and to the yard. Somewhere along the way, he'd taken your hand, pulling you after himself, maybe worried that you'd run away if he didn't have a hold on you. You couldn't really say that you hadn't thought about it.

You found yourselves on a bench in one of the far ends of the yard, a spot where people rarely came. People probably thought you were coming here to make out undisturbed. You pushed away the thought that claimed it wasn't such a bad idea.

"So listen here, I don't care how obvious you think you're being," you started once you were seated facing each other. "I need you to say it, whatever it is."

"But I already did?" he chuckled. "Did you think it's a joke? ‘My love’, did you think it's just something I say to everyone? I have, unfortunately, despite my better judgment, fallen in love with you."

You widened your eyes, flinching back slightly. You had done your best to discard the idea that this outcome was possible. You had convinced yourself to expect anything but that. And yet here you were…

“And you know what?” he spoke up again, probably realizing you weren't going to. “I don't mind it.”

"But you said," you finally managed to speak. "Yesterday, you told me not to look at you like it meant something?"

"I said that because I thought all you wanted was the sex," he chuckled. "I didn't mind being used by you, as long as I knew what to expect in the end. And when you said it couldn't matter anyway, I assumed that I was right, that you didn't feel anything but physical attraction."

"So what changed your mind?" you asked quietly, unconsciously lifting your legs on the bench and hugging your knees. You couldn't look away from him as he spoke. Thoughts were fighting in your head, looking for the best way to react.

"The way you acted after that. Something changed in you. And in the way you looked at me. And I thought that, maybe, you were just better at hiding your feelings than I had expected. So I tried to let you know. But you still ignored the obvious hints I gave you. The hoodie was kind of… my last attempt to confess without confessing."

"But I turned up hating you all over again." you sighed. He nodded, laughing. "To be fair, I did think about putting it on," you admitted.

"Why didn't you?"

"I thought you'd simply forgotten it. Imagine if you hadn't intended that, I show up wearing your hoodie without even asking you first. You'd mock me for it. And I didn't want to live through someone mocking me for my feelings."

"You thought I'd mock you for that?" He sounded taken aback, surprised. You scoffed and looked up at him.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that's not a reasonable concern after everything we've put each other through in the past three years."

"Okay, I understand your point. But I would have never made fun of your feelings. And… it was never me that started this whole thing, okay? Not to play the victim here but… I never even knew why you hated me so much."

You looked up to meet his eyes. He was being sincere, you believed that. But the idea made you laugh. Things that had been so important to you had gone… simply unnoticed by him.

"Well, Ten, you have this special talent of saying the meanest things about the people around you without even realizing it," you said and he flinched back. "Remember how we met?"

“Yeah, we had both just joined the newspaper club. The first thing you said to me was ‘Talk to me again when you learn how to keep your opinion to yourself.’”

"Wanna know why I said that?" you chuckled and he nodded. "Before you noticed me next to you, you were reading an article. And you were talking to the recruiter about it. You said that it was a literal piece of garbage and you weren't sure why anyone would ever publish something like that. The fun part is that the article was mine." He stared at you for a long moment, eyes wide with horror.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "I never meant to-" You raised your hand to interrupt him.

"You were right, it was an abomination, written by a kid who didn't know how to put two words together properly. But that kid had worked hard on it. And she took it personally. Thanks to you, I have improved so much. I stopped being upset about that a long time ago. But we had already started on bad terms and I suppose neither of us wanted to be the one to offer peace, it just stuck."

"I mean, if it had been the other way round, I would have probably murdered you on the spot," he chuckled. "I get it. And I'm really sorry. For everything. I am offering you peace now if you want it?"

You looked at his outstretched arm.

"I don't think peace is exactly the thing that works for us," you hummed. "But I think whatever we've had for the past month was pretty good."

"Yeah, I can work with that." A smile spread on his lips. "I'd actually love that. After all, imagine how heartbreaking it would be to explain to Louis and Leon why their mom is never coming back." You laughed out.

"No, look, I'd never leave them. If we break up, I’ll just steal them from you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would! I treat them better anyway!"

It was just that easy. You couldn't believe that after all this time, this was what it took to make things right between the two of you. But thinking about it, you figured it wasn't all that bad.

…

You and Ten were in your club room. You still needed to finish up your article. And now, you also had another project to work on - the attempt at rigging the elections. Ten had some friends in the student council, he had taken on the task to find who was on the other side of that phone call, hopefully you could convince them to help you out. As for you, you were researching the votes counting committee so that you could find who was the accomplice.

The two of you were sitting on different ends of the big table, yet his presence was enough to make you feel comfortable in the silence. A small smile was playing on your lips when the door opened and you looked up to see Yangyang entering. He stopped at the door, glancing at you, then at Ten, then back at you.

"I see you two are…" it seemed like he wasn't sure what exactly he was seeing. "On ‘sitting in the same room without killing each other’ terms again?"

"Yeah," you chuckled. "You could say so."

"That's good," the youngest said, almost awkwardly as he made his way over to you, leaving his backpack on the table to take out his stuff.

"Babe, I think I have a clue about who it might be," you said suddenly and Ten glanced up at you. "I'll go talk to her tomorrow."

"Need company?" he offered, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. You shook your head. He nodded in understanding and looked back at his screen.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, but this is new," your best friend spoke up again and you looked up at him. "My dearest lovely best friend, would you please care to enlighten me what the fuck did I miss?"

"Yangyang," you started, smiling softly as you glanced at your boyfriend buried in his laptop across the room. "I don't think you'll have to write that break-up article for the time being."

"Oh…" was his initial reaction. He was quiet for a while, before finally deciding what to say. "Well, I am really happy for the two of you," he patted your back gently. "But what the fuck am I supposed to write about next month?"

[milfhoon]

wait gonna post my favourite funny ncity tweets

[milfhoon]

dokyeom’s separation anxiety ♡

[milfhoon]

"old friends" is an underrated relationship dynamic because it's such an innocent boring sounding term for what is usually some of the wildest shit imaginable. it's always like 'oh yeah we go way back, we have history' and then you find out that history includes sex, drugs, murder, divorce, war crimes and The Incident