molanran

[molanran]

to do anything ; caleb x m.reader

cw: caleb is really stupid here, like genuinely really dumb and his reasoning for his actions don't make any sense, verbal harassment, caleb raises his voice a lot, very mean insults, manipulative behavior, guilt tripping, he's really confusing, he uses his evol on you, a lot of shouting - description of characters being scared/flinching due to the shouting, terribly written and open-ended ending, sorry guys i just really wanted to get this out to u all !!!

pairing: caleb x male reader, subtle (not so subtle) zayne x male reader

summary: growing up alongside lily, caleb, and zayne, you were always closest with caleb. that is, until you leave for university, come back, and everything has changed between you two in an almost irreversible way. the worst part is that you don't even know why.

wc: 21.5....this was that one request that i said would be done in two weeks (it took me more like a month and a week...im sorry)

notes: proofread, but please if there are mistakes have mercy on me, this was an absolute beast to read through and took me multiple sessions to read through it asdjhadjkahsda

you moved through the kitchen with ease, everything around you working in harmony and organization. the timing of each dish you were preparing was natural at this point, a practiced execution of the meal you were making. your soft humming was the only sound in the kitchen, besides the sound of meat sizzling.

just as you were reaching into the tupperware cabinet, you felt arms wrap around your waist in a hug. recognizing the tight, but gentle hold, you patted her forearms at your stomach and smiled, “good morning, lily, you’re up early,” she only squeals in excitement behind, squeezing you tighter.

“how could i sleep when i could smell breakfast from the other side of the house? it’s my favorite!” she used her entire body’s weight to rock you two back and forth where you stood, but it was more so lightly swaying due to the size and weight difference.

“i know,” you mused, moving so that your arm was thrown over her shoulder as you brought her to your side, rather than behind, “you’ve been working hard lately, i wanted to give you some special princess treatment,”

she smiles and coos at your words, pinching your cheek, “you’re the best oppa ever! this is so thoughtful,”

you smile softly at her praise, petting her hair down, “i’ll bring you the food, just wait at the table, m’kay?” she nods in understanding. on her way to her seat, she snaps a picture of the stove, which had the delicious food in all of its glory. undoubtedly she was going to post it on her story later to brag about how spoiled she was with you, most probably tagging you as well.

it didn’t take for the breakfast to finish cooking and, as promised, lily was served a platter of food thoughtfully arranged, “caleb didn’t come down yet?”

she shakes her head, grabbing her phone and taking more photos for her own safekeeping, “nope! i think he was up late, might want to be sleeping in,”

you glance at the clock, frowning, “alright, i’ll wake him up in ten minutes. he’s also been working so hard,” the frown only deepens, “what do you say me and you cook him up his favorite dinner sometime this week?” she brightens at the idea, grabbing her utensils with an excited look on her face.

“just promise to make me extras when you do!” she takes a spoonful of the food and audibly moans at the delicious taste. she rocks back and forth in her seat in an adorable way of showing how the tasty the food was affecting her. you smile, glad that it was to her liking before going to clean up the kitchen.

just as you turned your back, caleb came down the stairs which gave him a clear view of the dining area.

“what’s this?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

“oh, good morning caleb! oppa made me my favorite,” she immediately says, showing off her plate, which caleb grimaces at.

“he made it?”

“well, duh, that’s why there’s such a mess in the kitchen,” she jokes, obviously exaggerating. but caleb didn't crack a smile.

“i could've made you some, pips,” he murmurs, ruffling her hair, “next time wake me up, i’ll make it for you instead of him,”

she pouts at his comment, not liking his tone, “heyyy, [name] made it really good though! try it!”

“no thanks,” his response is brief and he walks over to the fridge.

“caleb, have some,” you invite, grabbing a plate for him and going to prepare his food. but you stop when you hear a quick “don’t bother,” from him. he didn't even greet you a ‘good morning’ and was already giving you a snappy attitude.

you sighed, assuming it was the high stress of school and lack of sleep, so you didn't say anything. instead, you smiled and nodded (even though his back was turned to you), “well, do you want to get lunch together in between your classes? i can treat.”

you didn't want his only source of energy to be from the protein shake he was drinking now.

“pips, are you free for lunch today?” caleb asks after briefly looking at you, then focussing on her.

“i am, which is perfect! we can all-”

“i’ll wait for you outside of your class then,” caleb smiles as he walks out of the kitchen, not sparing you a glance or another word.

lily sensing his odd behavior frowns and reasons, “it might just be because of school, sorry he’s being so rude…will you join us for lunch still?”

“i don't think i can, actually. i might head in early at work,” you smile weakly, “it's fine though! take my card and it’ll still be my treat,” you go to get your wallet, but she’s stopping you with a glare.

“hey, you don't have to just give up your wallet for us. caleb or i can pay,” her tone is stern, not wanting to just rob you of your money, especially when you weren't coming. but you gently loosened her grip on you.

“no, it's okay, i want to still treat you,” and ignoring her weak protests, you hand her your card. “please? it’ll make me feel better knowing i was able to help him got some good food in his system,”

she sighs, taking your card reluctantly and standing up to hug you, “you should come,”

“it’s fine, really. i’m a little short on my usual hours next week, so going in earlier will help balance that out! trust me, that was my original plan anyway,” she doesn't seem to believe you but she doesn't press you further for answers.

“get to work safe, i’m gonna get ready now,” her tone and expression looking as if she is warning you, instead of simply telling you, which you weakly smile in response to.

“you too, see you later!”

when her back turns to you, the smile on your face slowly dims. thinking of the entire interaction with caleb you groan and run your hand through your hair. dealing with caleb lately has been frustrating and it’s been hard to ignore each interaction.

you were thinking of asking him about what was wrong, what this long lasting hostility was about, but decided against it. whatever this was would just hopefully pass. and as much as you cared about caleb, there were bills to be paid and a lot of other things to worry about. those things you worry about related to taking care of them as well, so you had to prioritize it.

you’re spinnin' me around

my feet are off the ground

i don't know where I stand

“[name] i’m glad you’re here,” zayne’s smooth voice is the first thing to greet you after you punch in. he seems to notice the tired smile on your face, a slight shift in his expression only noticeable because of how close you two were standing to each other. you’d say it was in between his trademark stoic expression and small frown, “have you been getting good sleep? you look tired,”

you attempt a smile, but it must obviously not reach your face, “i’m alright, just,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to avoid actually answering and he grants you that, nodding as if he understands.

“well, stick with me tonight and i’ll try being mindful of not putting so much stress on you,” his offer is tempting, but you don’t want to be a burden to him, especially in the work environment.

“i’ll be fine, zayne, thank you for worrying about me, but work is work,”

he smiles softly, “i can’t allow my favorite scribe to get overwhelmed or else everything might end up crumbling down into chaos,” you can’t tell if its a dry humor joke, but it does get a smile out of you. “let’s get to work, [name],”

“yes, doctor zayne,” you call out to him, mimicking a salute that earns a chuckle of amusement from the usually stoic man.

being friends with lily and caleb since childhood also meant that you were somewhat acquainted with zayne. he was more so closer to lily, but he was always kind and polite to you. you learned his stoic, but also shy, attitude was simply his personality and, although a bit off putting at the start, due to how different his behavior was in comparison to lily and caleb’s, you found it to be somewhat comforting.

you could always count on zayne to be honest with you as well as a good-objective advice giver. you’re sure if you told him about your troubles with caleb, he’d actually offer some good advice. realizing that you were thinking of the handsome man with purple eyes, you physically shook your head. this caught zayne’s attention and he tilted his head in question, “is something bothering you?”

“no, no, it’s nothing, sorry.” you apologize, but he just shakes his head.

“you don’t have to apologize, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says it as if its obvious. his nonchalant demeanor is unintentionally easing your worries, making your face heat up — for reasons unknown to you. “just make sure to focus up when we get out there,”

“of course,” you say in confidence, pushing the worries you had about caleb to the back of your mind.

“i know i can rely on you, so rely on me too, okay?”

his surprisingly heartfelt words make you admire him for a second longer before nodding, “i will,”

for the rest of that gruelling shift (13 hours), you two are working in harmony with each other. sometimes he’d be pulled away in urgent cases, but for the most part the two of you were working in tandem with each other. it was all seamless. and although you were tired by the end of it all, zayne offering you a cold drink from the vending machine made you feel reenergized.

“thank you, doc,” you smile, opening the water bottle and taking in hefty sips.

“did you have any food today?” he asks, standing in front of you. his tall figure casts a shadow over you, comically making him look like a light lined savior in your exhaustion. he may as well have been anyway.

“yeah, i was able to get a quick bite from the cafeteria,”

“was it nutritious? you seemed to have been sluggish the entire shift, when did you get that food?”

“hm, maybe halfway in?”

“that was hours ago. come on, let’s go get something to eat,” he says simply, already turning to walk away and expecting you to follow. but you shoot up onto your feet to stop him.

“it’s alright zayne, i’ve got to head back home anyway. prepare food for lily and caleb,” his expression hardens and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“and when do you plan on taking care of yourself in between that?” he sighs when he sees you go silent, “lily had messaged me earlier today, before we clocked in, said that she was worried about you. and that has made me worry for you as well. take care of yourself, [name]. put yourself first more often,”

you think about his words and offer, but still shake your head, “i will, but i still should head on home,”

zayne hums at your response, “very well. take care, [name]. see you next shift and get home safe,”

“see you, zayne!”

and you’re trudging along back home. you would have liked to be greeted with a warm welcome, the idea itself making a smile grow on your tired face, but instead it’s just silence for a beat. but then you hear it; footsteps rushing down the stairs and to the front door.

to your shock it’s caleb. and he’s actually coming towards you. not glancing at you for one second before scoffing and going off to the kitchen (it’s already happened a handful of times, you almost expect it at this point). no, he’s coming over to you— more like stomping to you, though. why does he look angry?

before you can ask him that exact question, his palm is splayed against your chest, knocking you back a couple of steps at the force, “don’t insult me like that again,”

you’re quiet only because you’ve been shocked into stupor. then, finally you collect your thoughts enough to utter a meek, “what?”

“this bullshit,” he sneers, shoving his hand against your chest again. thankfully, your footing is better and you barely budge this time. but when he moves his hand off of you, you barely react in time to catch the card that was in between you and him, “giving lily your card when we were the ones going out? i can take care of her just fine, y’know?”

“i know you can, but-”

“but you just always find a way to squirm your way back in,” his voice sounds annoyed and his expression is even clearer how he’s feeling. he’s angry, obviously, because he’s looking at you with narrowed eyes and his jaw is clenched tight. “don’t do something like this again, alright?”

“caleb, i just wanted to-” your attempts at fighting back are silenced by his voice booming over yours.

“and i just want you to stop. whatever you think you’re doing to help her, i am fully capable. why don’t you worry about yourself from now on? you look like you’ve been ran through,” he scoffs, a mocking smile on his face.

heartlessly that’s when he steps away and goes back upstairs to his room. it almost makes you want to laugh out of disbelief. you come home from a 13 hour shift, gone the entire day and afternoon working to provide for him and lily. and the first thing greeting you was caleb and his hostility that has become more familiar than his usual warm personality.

where did things go wrong? is all you can ask yourself, looking at the place that no longer feels a semblance of being a home. you had practically raised both him and lily, provided almost entirely for them as much as you could without running yourself dry. and caleb can’t even muster a simple thank you?

it hurts even more knowing how close you two used to be. back when you’d come home from school, he’d be the first to greet you at the door — faster than lily and definitely faster than josephine. back then, he’d cling onto you like a koala bear, practically hanging off of your figure like he was trying to climb you. he wouldn’t shy away from skin to skin contact.

now, he doesn’t even look at you if not to scorn you. you don’t know when this switch happened exactly, but you assume it had to do with you going away for so long for university. that’s what you liked to tell yourself at least. it’d ease your pain knowing that it wasn’t something you’d done directly to caleb, but something of your environment that split you two apart.

every interaction now stung when before it felt nothing but euphoric. to have him be so close to you, to simply trust you.

it hurts to know he doesn’t even want your care and love in the form of money, the most shallow exihibition of love, in your opinion. it’s already expected he won’t accept outwardly kind gestures, won’t accept the homemade lunch boxes you used to give him, won’t listen to you when you tell him to take care of himself more, get more rest.

but not even accepting your money? the money you make solely to provide for him? the money, which in reality, is the cheapest thing you could offer him to show how much you love him? that’s not even worth anything to him? it stung as much as an actual slap to the face.

you silently prepared dinner for lily and him, knowing that only lily would eat it, and left a note for her on the dinner table. you checked her location to make sure she was on her way home safe and shut your phone off when you confirmed it.

that night you spent an unreasonable amount of time in the shower, holding a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound of you crying. it was as if the moment the water came pouring down on your bare skin, the reality of caleb’s actions came crashing down on you.

why did everything have to change? was it your fault? for expecting things to stay the same from childhood. of course, he’d change, you expected that. but to this extent…

it wasn’t until lily was banging on the door, her whining audible through the wood that made you snap out of your breakdown. attempting to blow your stuffy nose and push your hair down as much as possible to cover your eyes, you tried to suit the image of nonchalance. someone unbothered. but when you roughly went past her, she caught your wrist.

she always knew when something was wrong.

“were you crying?” she asks bluntly, eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“no,” you sigh, avoiding her gaze and gently closing your hand around hers, pulling her hold off of you, “it’s nothing,”

“it’s not nothing if you’re crying,” she insists, grabbing your bare, still wet shoulder and forcing you to turn to her, “what happened? did someone make you cry? tell me,” beyond her control, her voice began shaking as well. she was always such a strong empath. if it was any other circumstance, you’d tease her for having such an easily swayed heart. but all you could manage was a sad smile.

“it’s alright, i’m okay, lily. just a rough day at work,” it was a lame excuse and her face only scrunched up more at the blatant lie, “it’s hard working long shifts,”

“then take time off. tell me honestly, why are you crying?” her tone is pushy, more aggressive than it usually is. it’s only out of her genuine concern for you. but you didn’t have it in you to deal with this right now.

“lily, i need to go to bed, please,” your voice and demeanor screams tired, but this is more than a regular physical fatigue. no, you look as if you’ve been tormented by something, for a long, long time. and her emotions quickly turn to anger as it all points to one thing- person that it could be.

”i’m gonna go beat his ass, that insolent piece of shit,” she curses, uncharacteristically so and she’s about to stomp off, but you grab her before she can reach his door. she’s about to berate you, scold you for allowing this to go on so long without telling him off, but she stills when she feels your damp hair against the side of her neck.

you, still standing in just your towel, hair wet with droplets of water, and nose now running again, were trying to stifle your cries into her neck, “please, don’t,” it’s a soft whimper and she’s never heard this level of vulnerability from you. “i can’t make him hate me even more,”

“he doesn’t hate you, he’s just being-”

a dry laugh from your throat that physically hurts you, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. as if the pipe that feeds you air and makes sure you can breathe wants to kill you, tightening and making it impossibly hard to talk, “lying to me isn’t going to make this any better,”

she grips the skin and muscle of your back tightly with her fingertips, borderline scratching you, “he doesn’t hate you, i know he doesn’t. he’s just…he’s just going through a phase or something, i don’t know! but he doesn’t hate you!”

you sniffle, squeezing her tightly, “just don’t…hate me like he does, please. i can’t lose both of you,”

her bottom lip trembles, eyes turning glassy as she nods against your shoulder, “i could never, you know i love you, right?”

“i love you too,” you say and for the first time in hours, you genuinely smile. even if its miniscule, even if she can’t see it, you smile.

and the momentary peace is disrupted. because caleb’s door slams open, his room being only a couple of doors down from the bathroom. the hallway is short, so it’s not surprise that he heard the noise a couple feet away from his door. it’s very obvious he doesn’t like the sight in front of him.

“what the fuck are you doing to her?!” he snarls, doesn’t shout, no because that’s not how he is. how well did you know him anymore, though? when caleb gets angry, he gets ferocious in other ways. using his build to intimidate others, glaring daggers that cut through you, spitting venomous words that not only sting but poison your mind. “you’re half naked, well practically naked, and you’re hugging her? you don’t think that’s disgusting?”

“caleb! stop!” lily shouts, dropping her arms around you and protectively standing in front of you. her eyes are still glassy with tears, but instead of being full of sorrow, they’re just angry.

“you’re crying?” he asks her, not you, noticeably softer than when he was talking to you. but that moment of kindness disipates in seconds because he’s glaring at you again, “you tell me what you did to her, or i swear to god- why is she crying?”

“caleb! shut up! shut up!” she shouts, her hands reaching in front of her to prevent him from coming any closer to you, “it’s because of y-”

“lily, stop,” your voice is stronger now. a front you have to put on to not give in, not show caleb just how much you care and love him that his words drive you to nothing but tears and sobs, “it’s enough.”

“no, no, you can’t just do that! you can’t just not tell him!”

“tell me what? what do you need to tell me?” caleb asks, but he’s not asking for a genuine answer. it’s mocking. you can hear it, as well as the smirk on his face, “need to tell me how you’re grabbing at lily, fucking naked, straight out of the shower? you’re wearing nothing but a towel too, it’s so fucking disgusting and vile,”

lily’s breathing is heavier than your own as she listens to him. you’ve gone still. it feels like world is off tilt right now. like none of this is real. caleb was seriously accusing you of being a perverted freak, copping a feel on lily? how lowly did he think of you?

“can’t defend yourself, huh? cause i’m right, is that seriously what you were doing to her?!” his voice raises and his fist slams into the wall next to him, stomping forward. the sound reverberates through the house and lily yelps, hands instinctively covering her ears.

seeing a reaction from her, shoulders ragged with her breathing and the sound of what seems like wheezing makes you snap out of it. caleb doesn’t even notice how him slamming the wall had affected her, too blinded in his misplaced rage in you to see how he was terribly, terribly scaring lily.

“caleb, stop it,”

“no, you’re the one that needs to stop! okay, i’ve been holding it in to spare your feelings, but this, this is taking it a step too far,”

“please, just stop.” lily’s words go unheard from caleb, but they make you frown and feel anger bubble in your stomach.

“always acting like you’re the man of this family, playing this role up when in reality — we don’t fucking need you! you put in those extra hours at the hospital then whine and complain about being tired! there’s no need for you to even be working, grandma’s will left us being able to pay off this house until we all move out! so why don’t you start using your money to save up for a place on your own, okay? because i can barely take your hovering, stupidly clingy and nagging behavior every single day!” he goes to step forward, to do whatever to you, but lily pushes herself in between you two.

now she’s fully sobbing and you’ve gone completely numb.

“you want me gone?”

“fucking out, get out of our lives,” he says it so casually, as if he’s been thinking about this long and hard.

“caleb! shut up already! you don’t mean that!” lily shouts, pushing her hands against his chest, barely making him budge.

“pips, i do, though,” he laughs as if its funny, “you think he can provide for us? that he’s capable? he complains everytime he comes home from work, he can’t even decide on a steady career for himself — lily, we only need each other. i’m not sparing the feelings of a guy i hate,”

silence hangs in the air and you nod in understanding, teeth grinding against each other. it takes you a couple of seconds to process everything, but when you do come back to reality, you’re stepping forward before you can even control yourself.

caleb doesn’t flinch as you stop right in front of him, standing eye to eye.

“don’t ever yell like that in front of lily again or you’re gonna be laid out on hard pavement, caleb,” lily flinches at the mention of her name, pushing the hair out of her face as she looked at you in bewilderment. “do you understand me?”

seeing as it was lily that was the topic of discussion now, he no longer cared for you. his attention shifted to lily in a split second and he was just about to go comfort her, but lily moved faster. she evaded his touch, glaring at him like he was the devil himself. her eyes flitted over to you, but you were watching caleb like a hawk.

her heart ached even harder to see wet streaks going down your face. when she turned back to caleb, her anger flared up so hard she shoved him so hard he had slammed into the wall behind him.

“don’t,” was the only thing she said to him, walking past him and grabbing your wrist to go into your room. she slammed the door shut before he could chase after you two, locking it and pressing her forehead against the door.

wordlessly, you grabbed your clothing and changed while her back was turned to you, using your towel to dry your hair as you sat on the edge of your bed. she was already waiting beneath the covers for you, watching you with sad eyes.

“are you going to really leave us?” her voice was shaky and she sniffled, hand gripping the comforter in frustration, “i won’t blame you if you do, but,”

“i’m not leaving, lily,” you assure her, running a hand through your hair and deciding it dry enough, “not yet, at least,” you laid down next to her, smiling as she immediately drew herself to you. she slotted against your side, head resting on your chest as you hugged her close.

she breathed a sigh of relief, “good, he shouldn’t get that satisfaction — if you left he would’ve thought he got to you or something,” you felt her jaw tighten against your skin, “that stupid idiot, why would he say those things? he’s not thinking straight. [name], please understand this,” she looked up at you, bleary eyes making you frown, “i don’t hate you, i never will. i need you in my life. even if you decide to leave this house sometime in the future, don’t leave me. please,” she put her head down, cheek resting on your chest, “i’ll support you whenever you do decide to go, but don’t shut me out,”

“i won’t, trust me, lily. i’ll still be around,” you speak in whispers, as if the two of you are scared of caleb barging in at any moment.

in the next couple rooms over, caleb was laying in his bed and staring up at his ceiling. he was impossibly still and every breath he took was ragged.

honestly, he does hate you. he hates the way you linger, longer than any other presence or person that he’s known he hates the way you are constantly fretting over him and lily, as if he’s not capable of taking care of himself and lily. you’re overall a clingy mess that he could name a million things that he doesn’t like about you.

but most of all, where this all started, caleb hated the way you left so easily. then came back as if nothing happened.

you were always seen as a reliable figure in the house. grandma could count on you to cook dinner, to take care of utility things as she got older, and she had high expectations for you and standards that she expected you to meet. and not only did you meet them, you exceeded them.

teachers at school praise your intelligience, peers relied on you a lot for academic guidance.

caleb was quick to notice these things when he was young. and he was so eager to be just like that, if not better. he wanted to be someone you could rely on, show you how he learns and admires you so much he picks up your tendencies. honestly, he likes being lazy, not doing more than is required of him. but then he noticed how much weight rested on your shoulders.

so he wanted to be the one to alleviate that, so you could rely on him. and if you relied on him, you’d think highly of him. and that is what he wants more than anything in life. he wants your praise, attention, special treatment — he wants all of it.

he thought it would be like this. you two the main providers and reliable men in the house while you both cared for each other and lily. it was going to be the three of you, forever.

but then you got whisked away. a scholarship that was too perfect to pass up on. of course, you’d be graced with amazing offers left and right due to your intelligence. it wasn’t a surprise. but he never thought that as you were weighing all your options, the farthest away university had caught your eye. surely, you don’t mean it? leaving him and lily alone? it’s always been the three of you, what are you going to do without them? what are they supposed to do without you?

you left like it meant nothing. as if you weren’t abandoning your everything. at least that’s what it felt like. you didn’t even look back twice, waving from the platform then running onto the train with a quick glance spared in time before the doors shut. and he ran after that train, until he couldn’t anymore, breathing heavily and his hands on his knees as he looked at the concrete below him.

“he’ll come back, caleb,” lily comforted him, sad seeing how distraught he was. caleb was always used to being strong in front of her and soft in front of you. now, he felt as if he couldn’t be completely vulnerable anymore. he had to be strong for lily.

so he hardened up. got more rigid and rough around the edges, only showing genuine care towards lily. and he fell into that hole so deeply he didn’t know how to claw himself out. didn’t even know how to come back to being who he truly was when you pulled him into your arms when you finally came back to visit.

you’d think he’d eventually get over your absence, but the truth is he never did. he was angry at you, so, so angry. so angry he didn’t know how else to communicate it without verablly berating you. trying to hurt you just as much as you did him when you left.

he hopes his words sting you. he hopes they keep you up at night. and he hopes they hurt more than anything.

because that’s how he had felt every single minute, second, you were gone. he didn’t understand how you could so easily leave him. he didn’t understand and he didn’t want to anymore, he was over trying to comprehend it. he just wanted to make you feel his pain tenfold. make it so you’re always reminded of what happened to him when you left him.

you want to leave again? just know that when you come back, he’ll be waiting to break you down to such vulnerability that you won’t have anywhere else to go but back to him. and you’d always come back like he hoped.

he didn’t know why. what type of sick person stays with someone that hurts them?

he doesn’t know that the reason is the exact same reason as a person hurting someone out of fear that they leave again.

obviously, if you had told this to caleb now he’ll say you’re lying, you’ve got him wrong, and that he doesn’t care if you leave or stay.

but if you ask caleb, the caleb that was left running after your train on the platform, he’d answer truthfully and admit; every harmful thing caleb has said to you has just been a voice of his own insecurities. the fear you’d realize you’re better off without him or lily, fear you’d leave and never come back, fear you’d find someone better.

and just as much as he fears that, he’s scared of being hurt again. he doesn’t want to stay up for hours on end anymore just because he’s thinking about you, wondering if you’ve had dinner, if you’re taking care of yourself. it leaves him walking around like a brainless zombie. he doesn’t want to endure that slow, stabbing pain in his heart every morning he wakes up and you’re not even in the same city as him.

he wishes he could just forgive and move on from this, but every time he tries, he’s reminded of how helpless you made him feel. he hates that feeling.

so he kept hurting you, hoping you’d simply understand why he had to even though it made no sense. hoped you’d see why he had to, to make you feel how he felt. and he hoped you’d never leave.

he rationalizes this is what you get for leaving, for abandoning him.

of course, you haven’t got any idea about any of this. so, obviously, from your perspective, it looks simply like caleb’s had a switch flipped and there’s no way to reverse it. the damage has already been done and the relationship has truly been shattered this time. and you’ll still go home — if you could even call it that — but, nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

“lily told me what happened,” zayne sits across from you, a rare meeting you two are having outside of work, “she has expressed concerns of you staying there, so stay with me,”

you blink at him in confusion, “sorry?”

he clears his throat, “my apologies, i suppose my voice was not clear. i am offering you, wait no…” he pauses, fingers resting beneath his chin in thought, “I am opening my doors to you, for you to stay with me until you find another place to reside.”

“i’m sorry, zayne, but what?”

“surely i was speaking clearer this time,” he’s speaking more so to himself, “i am asking you live with me and become my roommate. i think it would do you some well to be far from caleb. although she spared me the details, it wasn’t hard to infer how he spoke to you the other night. it’s unacceptable and frankly dangerous for you to be near someone so volatile, openly so at that. so the only solution i could reach was offering you my place to stay, until you get on your feet,”

“zayne, i can’t possibly accept. also! i told lily i wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, i can’t just up and out her life, it doesn’t work like that,”

“lily and caleb are grown adults, you know? they can and will survive without you there,” you let his words simmer in your mind, thinking back to caleb calling you clingy and useless to them. he senses he may have said something that set you off, continuing on, “not to say they don’t need you — lily does, believe me, she does. however, all the main household duties you fulfill are jobs that they can easily learn.”

“did she really set you up to this?” you can’t help but questioned reason behind zayne’s sudden hospitality.

“well, she mentioned it to me in passing, i took it upon myself to daw up a solution. it makes sense, no?” he asks the question as if its simple to decide to move out of your home.

“i can’t just up and leave, zayne. also, that’s asking way too much of you. also, also, you really don’t need to worry about thi-“

“the way lily had described it would leave anyone worried and concerned. for being as cautious and perceptive as you are for other people, you don’t seem to let people do the same for you,” zayne’s curt voice cuts you off and you sigh in frustration. “we are friends, aren’t we? won’t you let me help you? i’m obviously telling you now that it is okay with me,”

you glare at the doctor with your arms crossed over your chest. for some reason, zayne was being quite adament with you. you make a mental note to ask lily what exactly it was that she told zayne because it sounds like he’s speaking as if he was in the room when caleb said those things to you. he sounds personally offended and hurt. even his facial expression makes it seem as if he knows more than he lets on. a grimace on his face whenever he mentions caleb’s name or the incident in general.

so after much thought, and heavy eye contact with each other as if you’re trying to read each other’s minds, you finally say, “i will stay with you for a week or two, just for some space. i won’t even bring my clothes to keep, i’ll go to my home in the day and just sleep at yours,”

“a glorified sleepover, then. fine by me,” a small smile graces his handsome face and you think this is the first time he’s smiled since you two have sat down. maybe his worries were finally eased when you accepted his offer. he seemed more laid back, shoulders slumping as much as they could when you have perfect posture like he does, as well as leaning more into the back of his seat.

“with that out of the way, shall we order? my treat, to celebrate your new freedom,”

“zayne! don’t call it that!” you laugh, finding the way he said it to be funnier than he intended.

“i see it as such,” he shrugs, calling over a waitress as he prepares to order, “you want the [favorite food], right?” he quickly clarifies as she steps closer and closer.

you tilt your head in surprise, “uhm, yeah, that sounds perfect. how’d you know that?”

“i studied the menu beforehand and ensured they had your favorite. i remembered.”

and he’s placing the order before you can even properly process what he had just said. all you know was that it was nice to be remembered. it was a pleasant feeling, warmth blooming on your face and chest as you watched zayne easily order for the two of you.

maybe it’d be nice to have a somewhat “new” start with him.

caleb notices the difference immediately. well, it’s not exactly hard to spot it when it’s in the form of lily glaring at him anytime they are near each other, as well as possibly spitting out venomous words to him.

“you piece of shit,”

“you’re a heartless monster, caleb,”

“don’t come near me,”

things along those lines were delivered to him anytime he was near her. he had apologized repeatedly to her, but each time he tried, she would just scoff and walk away. as if he was wasting his breath. and, honestly, he was. because lily didn’t want an apology from him directed to her, she only wanted him to do that for you. and also to leave her alone. whenever he comes up to her, all she can see is your teary face from that night and how he was the cause of it.

and her anger spikes up all over again. it’s a never ending cycle.

but one day, lily says something that truly leaves caleb with a hallow feeling in his chest.

“when will you realize you’re the one going to get hurt from this? you absolute idiot,” a string of curses followed that declaration, but caleb was too busy thinking about what she was implying to care too much for her profanity.

as far as he was concerned, you were just avoiding him at home and that was as far as your response to him was. you weren’t lingering anymore, yes, but he preferred it that way.

obviously.

it didn’t bother or hurt him that he’d be leaving for his own plans just as you were coming back home from work. it didn’t bother him when he notices your house keys are always gone, never returned to their original spot for hours on end, which means you’re not home. but if you’re not home and you’ve brought your home keys with you, then where were you? he knew your shifts were never longer than 24 hours, so where you spending those other eleven hours you were off the clock — since you’d obviously not be home.

not that caleb cared. because he didn’t. he was just curious, to say the least.

this is exactly what he told you to do anyway. what he said and convinced himself he meant in that heated moment.

meanwhile, as caleb was slowly turning his brain inside out trying to think of what you were getting up to nowadays, you were finally able to somewhat relax and detattch yourself from the situation.

living with zayne was awkward at first. he was a very light sleeper, you found out quite quickly. you went to get a glass of water one night when you couldn’t sleep and he was already standing in the door frame of the kitchen, messy hair standing upright in every which way.

“i didn’t mean to wake you, i’m sorry,” you apologize sincerely, shutting the cabinet door as quietly as you could.

“don’t be sorry, i was rather restless in bed. who knows, maybe being up for a bit could tire my brain out,” he pulls back the seat at the dinner table, rubbing at his eyes underneath his glasses, “are you not able to sleep?”

“it’s just weird,” you say sheepishly, taking the seat in front of him and feeling suddenly bashful at his very watchful gaze. “not sleeping at home,”

“i can only imagine,” he comforts, albeit in his usual monotone and collected voice. it does well to soothe you though, knowing that you are simply being heard was a relief in of itself. it felt like you were rarely ever even heard nowadays, “i hope sleeps finds you easier, though. late night walks to the kitchen at,” he checks the clock on the wall, “4 a.m. will hardly do you any good in the long run,”

you nod in understanding, sipping your water and just tapping the glass. then, you hear a yawn come from him. it’s an odd sight. seeing the usually composed, very precise doctor zayne yawn like a tired cat in front of you, covering his mouth with his hand as he does so. without realizing, a smile has come onto your face at the sight.

“am i so funny to you?” he deadpans, squinting his eyes at your expression.

“no, not at all, zayne, you just,” you laugh a bit before speaking your mind, “you looked so innocent, it reminded me of when we were little,”

he hums, quirking his brow, “you like reminiscing?”

you shrugged, “it’s nice to think about. before you were a slave to the medical field and were working over 20 hours a day sometimes,” he seems to think that’s an entertaining comment, the slightest upturn of his lips being a reaction to your words.

“i remember you clearly,” he says, an unreadable look on his face.

“huh?” your face must have been funny because he actually chuckled at your reaction, “that was so out of nowhere,”

“not really, you were talking about me and now i’m talking about you,” he explains smoothly, “i remember you very clearly from our childhood, that’s all i was saying.”

“like what?” you ask in curiousity, “hm, i never thought you paid me much mind. you were always thinking about bigger and better things,”

he remains silent, fingers tapping the table before settling to be still and laying his palm flat on the surface. he pushes up, standing above you and nodding his head back to the direction of the door frame, “let’s go to bed,”

“hey! you can’t just not answer the question,”

“i’m feeling rather forgetful all of a sudden, we should go to bed to regain our recollection of what we’re talking about after a good sleep,” his excuse is so lame you think it must be a joke, his unique sense of humor. that being said, it doesn’t do anything to ease your wondering, but it’s obvious he’s not going to answer you properly. right now at least.

“fine, i’m getting this answer out of you later,” you huff as you stand in front of your room’s closed door. he leans closer, reaching behind your torso and twisting the doorknob open for you. he’s so close you can smell the lingering scent of his shampoo and body wash.

“sweet dreams, [name],” he whispers quietly, smiling as he pushes the door open behind you and leaving you standing in a stunned silence.

since when was zayne so suave? you had no idea. but you were not going to stay up all night wondering what the answer to that was.

as time went on, you and zayne got closer. it was natural, of course since you are living together. but now you’re spending more time with him, rather than just rotting in your room in your despair. he often is able to lure you out with a game of kitty cards and from there, conversation just flows naturally now.

after pressing him for more answers one day, it seemed that as children zayne was very fond of you. he thought you to be more mature than lily, and caleb — who would oftentimes be the one to entertain lily and her childlike, rambunctious wonders. he liked that. you two were in the same boat when it came to tending to caleb and lily since they were younger.

and he only ever spoke positively of you when he talked about those times. there’s an odd look on his face whenever he did, too. as if he could remember all those things as clear as day, when to you, it’s all kind of blurry.

a lot of conversations looked like:

“you really don’t remember scraping your knee on the pavement so hard, you needed to be comforted for 20 minutes?”

“are you sure that was me, zayne? that sounds too much like lily,”

“monkey see, monkey do,”

“hey!!”

him telling you a story from childhood, you not remembering a single bit of it, then him poking fun at you and your younger self. you wish you knew what was so special about these moments that made him remember them so vividly, but you just chalked it up to his exceptional memory that you assumed he had. medical professional and all, he must have photographic memory…

“are you ready for work?” he asks, already waiting by the door for you. you’re grabbing your work bag and nod in response. he holds the door open for you, locking it behind you as well. then he’s clicking the car key to unlock the doors and driving the both of you to akso hospital. talks in the car are mainly you yapping about whatever is on your mind and zayne attentively listening.

that’s how he likes it, though. hearing you talk so animatedly and carefree before a long, tiring shift gives him an extra boost of energy. generally, too, he just much prefers listening to you go on tangent after tangent versus having to be the conversation starter.

like right now, as you talk with your hands, leaning on your seat in a way so that you’re more so facing him than the road. your seat belt is on, of course, but he still can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind.

“[name], sit properly, please,”

you adjust quickly, not letting his interruption stop your story time. he smiles at the simpleness of this new routine he has with you. he’s quite happy it’s all worked out to be like this, instead of possibly awkward.

it’s unfortunate what the circumstances which you got closer in were, but zayne doesn’t dwell on it further. thinking more of the future rather than the past, he just wishes it stays like this for as long as you need. selfishly, he finds you company to be the best he’s had around him in a long while.

the part where you told zayne that this arrangement would only last a week or two turned out to be an unintentional lie. to his relief and happiness, you had decided to semi-permanently move in. you didn’t haul all of your belongings from your house into his, but you did start leaving your clothes in the guest room drawer and bringing toiletries with you to keep in his bathroom. this was just the temporary solution until you found a unit that was close enough to the hospital and cheap enough for you to pay the rent there, as well as the bills that you were still responsible for at the house with lily and caleb.

lily was sad to hear your decision, but she supported you. it wasn’t like it was goodbye forever, anyway. you weren’t that far, too. if she really wanted and needed you, she would be on zayne’s front doorstep in thirty minutes by taking public transport.

the three of you were sat in a cafe, a shared favorite amongst you three, when you told her.

“so does caleb have any idea about it yet?” she asked after a beat of silence. the mention of his name made you nearly choke on your water. “sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you like that,” she watches with a bashful expression as zayne rubs up and down your back to comfort you from your coughing fit. “not that it’s really his business! i just got curious,”

“hm, have you two spoken one on one since that night?” zayne asks, eyes carefully scanning you once you stop coughing to ensure you’re okay.

“uhm, no, i haven’t told him, and no we haven’t talked,”

“you should probably tell him,” zayne murmurs, cutting into his food and wrinkling his nose when he sees a slice of carrots on his plate.

wordlessly, you move your fork over to his plate and take the vegetable, eating it as you answer, “i should tell him, but do i really have to?” your tone is almost a whine, but you’re just joking and teasing. lily giggles at it whilst zayne finds it anything but funny.

“should i accompany you when you tell him?” he asks in all seriousness.

you think about it for a moment, eating another slice of a carrot before shaking your head, “it’ll be fine, i imagine it’ll be quick,”

your heart still hurts thinking about everything he said to you that night, but you try to shake off those thoughts and feelings every time they creep up on you. you hate thinking about how much of what he said he meant, hate remembering the genuine pain in your chest that you felt in the moment. the embarrassment of it all.

zayne and lily notice your bout of silence, lily reaching across the table to hold your hand, “if you need me or zayne there tell us, okay? it’s not weak to ask for support,”

you smile weakly at her, squeezing her hand before letting go, “it’s okay, i’m a grown adult,”

“grown adult or not, facing the person who humiliated you is rather daunting of a task. perhaps, you should give him a taste of his own medicine,” zayne reasons, you assume to comfort you, when in reality you just sweatdrop at his blunt words. living and working with him though does make you somewhat used to it. as for lily, her jaw drops at zayne’s suggestion.

“zayne!” she cries out incredulously.

“what?” there’s a dumbfounded look on his face, so innocent and confused, which makes you break out into laughter.

your laugh being contangious to the both of them leaves them slowly easing into their own giggles. lily tries stiffling hers, but eventually she’s holding her stomach to ease the soreness. zayne’s lips quirk up in an open smile as he watches you laugh.

“for that one, i think zayne should treat us,”

“i hardly see how that correlates,” he shoots back instantly, a feeling of pride swell in his chest as you immediately laugh at his response. he likes being the one to make you laugh, he realizes. even if his dry humor doesn’t always land properly, he’s happy that you laugh quite often with him.

lily wipes the corner of her eyes, nodding in agreement with you, “i think that’s the perfect idea, oppa,”

“thank you for paying up, zaynie,” you tease, throwing your arm around his shoulder and pulling him in close. it’s awkward, seeing as his posture is still perfect while he sits and you are only the tiniest bit shorter than him. he is being forced to physically slouch to accommodate the height difference, all with a stoic look on his face in comparison to your very cheerful one.

it makes lily break out into laughter again at the sight.

needless to say, the lunch was a success and you all walked out of the restaurant feeling lighter.

“i’ll take you home,” you tell lily, following after her as she walks to the bus station.

she shakes her head, “no, i can’t let you do that! go home with zayne, [name],” she chides, sounding like a mom scolding their child. unfortunately for her, her tone is nothing but cute to you. so you ruffle her hair, look over your shoulder to wave bye to zayne, then hold her hand as you drag her towards the bus stop.

“hey! i said i’ll be alright,”

“i know you will, but i also needed to stop home to grab a set of scrubs anyway,” she rolls her eyes at your excuse, not sure if she should believe you or not. the two of you wait in silence for a couple of minutes before she finally speaks up.

“so, how do you feel after spending some time away from caleb?” her words are careful and slow, “any better? worse? do you hate him?”

you crack a smile at her rapid fire question, offering her a knowing look, “i think we both know me and hating caleb don’t really go in the same sentence,”

there’s a sad look in her eyes that you can very easily read, “don’t look at me like that,” you scold her, “c’mon, i’m gonna be fine.”

“how? how can you not just want to see him miserable after everything he said to you?”

you shrug your shoulders, “i don’t know, i just don’t. all i really feel towards him is,” a lot to say in such simple terms, honestly. you still harbor strong, strong, strong feelings of love and attachment to caleb, but your pride and self-respect are far too strong to make you grovel at his feet and wait for an explanation, or apology, “so much, but nothing at the same time.”

she nods in understanding, leaning on your arm as she looked ahead.

“i’m sorry, [name],” she says sincerely, “i don’t know what happened…but i feel like i’m responsible,”

immediately, you hold her shoulders and shake your head, “don’t say that, this is not your fault in any way and you do not owe me an apology,” your voice is stern, a familiar one you use only in moments of seriousness, “lily, none of this is your fault,”

“i wish i could change it, though. i wish caleb didn’t change so much,” her voice is shaky, “it’s wrong to say because caleb is caleb and maybe this is how he always was, always was meant to be, but still…i can’t help miss how things used to be. we all used to be so close and now, i hate how he’s turned out,”

you sigh, rubbing your thumb up and down her bicep as you squeeze her tight, “you don’t mean that, lily. you could never hate him, like how i could never hate him,”

she shakes her head, “your love is stronger than mine, [name]. because the only thing i feel towards him is hate, all those things he said to you, i don’t think i’d ever be able to forgive him. he tore us all apart,” her words sound like they’re coming from gritted teeth, “you are stronger and better than me, i can’t be as forgiving as you.”

you bite your lip, thinking of your next words carefully, “i really hope you never love someone as much as this, lily. because it hurts.” she sniffles at your confession, pressing further into your side, “it hurts so much. but i can’t find the will in me to hate him,” a weak and dry chuckle escapes your lips, “it’s so stupid because i’d hate anyone else that do something like this to me, to anybody i knew, i’d hate them. someone that embarassed me as much as he did, but i just can’t. not with caleb,”

“i know,” she comforts, squeezing your hand tight, “but at least this means a new chapter in your life, moving out and stuff. i know you won’t forget about me, so i’m not worried,” she manages to lighten the mood with a weak smile, “truthfully, in my opinion, he doesn’t deserve a bit of an explanation from you,”

you smile at her defensive words, finding it so endearing that she’s so protective of you and your pride.

“but you’re too kind to leave him in the dark,” she sighs.

you can only hum in response, forcing a smile once you see the bus arrive at your stop to pick you two up.

you wished that it could have been planned better. could have been orchestrated in a way where you knew everything you wanted to say, had the proper amount of confidence to say it, and then be done with it. like ripping the bandaid off.

but, of course, that doesn’t happen. instead, one of the days of the week you come back home to grab your other belongings, caleb is there and lily is not. it’s a more so “if not now, then when?” mixed in with the feeling that this opportunity shouldn’t be ignored.

so as he’s sitting in the living room, watching tv and ignoring you, you clear your throat for him to look at you.

“i’m moving out,” the words are blunt, but also misspoken, so you quickly follow up with, “well, i’m looking for a place and then i’m moving out. i’ll still be the one responsible for the bills and stuff, but…yeah, i just wanted to let you know,”

caleb’s expression is hard to read. you can’t even begin to theorize what he could be thinking because you feel like you don’t really know him anymore. he’s shut you out so well that you no longer could predict what he could say.

but you didn’t expect silence. you expected a scoff, a “who cares?” or any other snide remark. but instead you got silence.

you can’t help the crushing feeling of disappointment fill you, the feeling that he really, truly doesn’t care enough about you to even say anything. so you fill the silence, promising this was the last of it and you’d be out the door, “i’ll be out of your way now, just as you wanted, but i’ll still be here for you if you or lily need anything. just call or text me whenever, okay?”

more silence, but at least now he’s looking at you. his purple eyes are zeroed in on you and his eyebrow is furrowed and pinched together, lips in a thin line. if you had describe it objectively, you’d say he looks conflicted. but realistically, this was probably just him getting ready to amp up whatever insult he was going to direct to you.

so you turn away from his gaze and walk towards the door. except, you really can’t move your muscles after the first couple of steps. it’s as if the air around you is holding you hostage. you panic for a moment, struggling where you’re stuck before remembering the one thing that can cause this. caleb’s evol was stopping you from moving any closer to the door.

“you’re leaving? is that what you’re telling me?” his voice is now centimeters behind you and you barely have the strength to turn and look at him.

“caleb, stop your evol! this isn’t comfort-“

“you said you’re leaving?” he persists and you wince at the feeling of his hard grip around your wrist. he turns you to face him, still holding you still with his gravity, and forces you to back up in the wall behind you.

now you can see his face clearly. he’s angry, it seems. his eyes are dark, teeth gritted against each other and his shoulders are square and broad, as if he’s sizing you up to intimidate you.

“caleb, turn off your evol, now,” you muster up the strength in your voice to say that, but that was enough to get you breathless.

“why? so you can just walk out that door?” he laughs, a dry, humorless laugh. it’s almost like he’s mocking you.

if only you could really see inside of his head right now. you’d be more terrified than him simply mocking you. you’d be scared to see how fast his mind was racing, the crazy conclusions he was jumping to, the unethical solutions he was thinking of to keep you here. to make you stay.

“well, i need to go back to- caleb, just turn it off,” you’re getting restless now and annoyed. he’s throwing such a temper tantrum just to taunt you and you won’t take it anymore. you want nothing more than to leave.

while caleb will do everything in his power to make you stay.

“go back to where? this is your home.” his words throw you off, the stern tone he takes with you making you blink rapidly in confusion, “this is your home, this house is where you belong and where you will stay. where are you possibly going back to? some dingy, disgusting motel?”

why does he suddenly care? you tilt your head to the side, looking at him with an offended expression, “caleb, you don’t get to care now where i go. all that’s your business is that i need to go and i don’t want to be here anymore,”

“you’re not leaving! stop saying you’re going to leave!” he shouts and it throws you so off guard you flinch backwards, “you’re not leaving! okay?! i won’t let you leave, you’re not going anywhere. you belong here, you stay here, you don’t get to leave!”

he’s shouting now, voice booming and it feels like its rattling the walls around you.

“what is wrong with you?!” you shout back, trying to fight against his evol. just to push him away from you or something, anything to create distance between you two.

“what is wrong with me?!” he laughs as he repeats it, glaring at you, “no, no, no, what’s wrong with you?! why does you always want to leave, always want to fucking leave me?! what is wrong with you?”

“caleb, what the fuck are you talking about?! you literally told me two weeks ago you didn’t want me in your life anymore!”

“you’re not supposed to leave,” his voice is quiet now, as if he’s talking to himself as he shakes his head repeatedly ‘no’, “you’re supposed to come back home and stay here, you’re not supposed to leave. don’t leave…you’re not allowed,”

“i’m not allowed? what am i, you’re little brother or something? a little lost boy you have to watch over?”

for some reason that ticks him off even more because now he’s yelling again, “don’t say that! don’t! you’re not any of those things to me!”

“oh, you’re right, i’m nothing more than the dirt under your shoe, you’re right,” you sarcastically exclaim, trying your best to move beneath the pressure of his evol, “caleb, let me go home,”

“this is your home! where else is your home?!” something flickers in his eyes and a crazed look comes across his face, “who is it? what is it? tell me right now or i swear to fucking god,”

he’s now pressed against you, chest to chest as he begs for answers, repeating the same questions over and over. you avoid his face being close to yours by turning to the side and snarling, “why is that any of your business?”

“so there is someone? what is it? who is it? who is it?” he’s repeats once more, grabbing your cheek and forcing you to look at him, “tell me. who is it this time? who’s taking you from me again?”

this is the most erratic he’s been the entire night, and that’s saying something, “what? this time- caleb, what the fuck are you talking about? i’m not telling you anything,”

“i deserve to know,”

“uh, no, actually, you don’t!”

“i deserve to know who’s taking you from me again. who i need to go and fucking kill.”

“what are you talking about?!” you scream, genuinely being at a loss of words at what he had just said, “are you going insane or something?! what are you talking about, caleb?”

his face looks devoid of emotion, but he keeps talking with the same amount of passion and feeling, “you’re leaving me, again, to go back to someone else. you’re leaving me for someone else. tell me who it is and i’ll go kill them,” he repeats it as if he’s just reading off simple, boring current events.

“caleb, what has gotten into you? why, why are you…like this,” your questions is ragged and asked with such levels of venom it makes caleb visibly flinch.

then, he’s laughing, an empty laugh.

“why am i like this?” he pauses, tilting his head back and breathing in a deep breath, “you’re the one who did this to me. you’re the one who made me like this, you don’t get to ask why i am like this.” you blink in confusion, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“this is all your fault. if you hadn’t left, if you didn’t leave me here, all alone, none of this would be happening. you wouldn’t have to ask why am i like this — if you just stayed!” his voice is shaky now, “you left me first and i’ve been like this ever since. do you know what that does to a person? to see the one person you love and care about leave without even looking back? you didn’t even care you were leaving me to die. you didn’t even,” he pauses, breathing going ragged and now you’re genuinely concerned for his well being, “you didn’t even look back at me. you didn’t care, you were the one who left and you didn’t even care.”

now you’re speechless. what the hell was caleb talking about?

“you don’t even know what i’m talking about — that’s how little you care about me,” he accuses, pushing against you and forcing you to look into his eyes, which have now become teary, “you’re the reason i’m like this, [name]. you’re the reason why i won’t let you leave again. you don’t get to leave, don’t be so fucking selfish,”

“what the hell is wrong with you caleb!? you call me the meanest things, you say the most vile shit you could say to someone who cares about you — and now you’re calling me selfish on top of it, for what? for choosing to no longer be near you, just like you asked?! you asked for me to get out of this house, so i’m leaving! what does it matter to you-”

caleb falters and it looks as if he’s remembering everything he said to you. as if there’s flashes of memories going on in his mind.

“[name], please don’t leave,” as if a switch flipped in his head, his voice goes soft, “don’t leave me, please, please don’t leave. i’ll explain everything to you if you promise me to not leave,”

“i don’t want an explanation from you anymore, caleb,” you sneer, thinking his request insane and disrespectful, “you didn’t let me into your life for so long and now you’re begging me to stay, promising me an explanation? as if a singular explanation could justify how you’ve been treating me,”

“i’m not saying it will justify it, i just have to tell you, to make you see from my perspect-”

“caleb, i really don’t want to have this conversation with you. from what you’ve told me, you want nothing else to do with me anymore — i’m giving you that out, right now. i don’t want to hear it,” you’re surprised with your own steady voice, but you’re proud of yourself for speaking so steadily, so sternly. his evol finally loosens off of you and this makes you immediately push him away.

“don’t go, i’m begging you, [name], don’t go. don’t go,” his voice is shaky and his grip on your wrist is so tight it almost hurts. just as you were about to reach for the door, he had grabbed your hand. and after securing your wrist in his hold, he dropped to his knees and tugged hard, as if he was trying to weigh you down to the floor with him. “don’t go, i’ll tell you everything, please,”

“caleb, i’m not-”

“you left, for university. and you didn’t even think twice before leaving me here, you left me here alone. and i hated you for it. you left without any regret or remorse, you acted as if you didn’t even care when in reality you were scarring me. i hated you for that, hated that you so easily chose something else over me, when i would never do that to you,” his words were rushed, knowing that it was now or never, “we were inseparable and you didn’t even care that you would be so far from me, that’s why i’m so bitter and i can’t let you leave now. do you understand now? i can’t let you walk out that door,”

you blink, processing his words. he waits for a reaction, any reaction from you. waits for you to realize what memories he’s talking about, waits for you to tell him your side of the story. then finally, you take in a deep breath and say, “are you fucking kidding me, caleb?”

he flinches at your harsh tone, tightening his hold on you as he realizes you might actually leave now.

“you berated me, you humiliated me, you harassed me — for years! — just because i went to another university?! a university that i went to for the betterment of this entire house?! that school was one of the only schools that gave us scholarship money, it helped keep you guys afloat here and you’re telling me; you’re mad at me for choosing that place?!” you’re screaming now, a frantic look in your eyes. this was the entire reason caleb hated you for years, or supposedly hated you? “you chose to bully me and belittle me for years because you thought i didn’t care?! i had to choose that school, caleb, or else we would’ve been without a home, without a place to sleep.

“josephine’s money was running low — i had to take that university’s scholarship offer or else we all would’ve been fucked!”

“then why didn’t you tell me that?” he practically cries, tears glistening in his eyes as his lip trembles.

“you were just a kid, none of that was your business! if i had told you, you would have tried scraping together some money, god knows how, and i didn’t want to push that responsibility onto you!” you shout back, feeling so incredibly frustrated you couldn’t contain it in the mature way you usually would.

“josephine was running out of money?” he echoes, catching that detail, “you told me that her will was paying off our bills and would be able to for a long time?”

“yes, of course i’d lie about that to you! you were too young to know the truth! why do you think i started working at the hospital instead of getting my master’s degree?! we need money, you asshole, and i had to pick up extra shifts to not worry about you, how i was getting food onto our table, and how to keep this house as our own!” you try tugging your hand away, but caleb is holding onto it like it’s a lifeline, “every single decision i’ve made was for you and lily. i love you two too much and all i’ve gotten from you caleb was spite and hatred. you cannot expect me to care at all about the reasoning behind your behavior — all i know is that you treated me like shit for years, for no reason,”

“you never told me,” he brokenly whispered, nuzzling into your palm. he mimicked a dog begging for forgiveness, “you never told me, i would’ve helped and i would’ve understood,”

“would you have? because last i remembered, you said me picking up extra shifts and complaining about being tired made me weak and useless!”

“i would’ve helped!”

“it’s not about you not helping or not knowing, caleb! it’s about you being a dickhead for no reason!” your breathing is shaky and you work up the courage to say, “do you have any idea how it feels to hear the one person you love say how much they despise you?”

that makes caleb’s grip falter. his head snaps up to look at you, still on his knees in front of you, “what?”

“i loved you, caleb. so much. but i don’t think i love you enough to begin to even understand your whole reasoning behind this behavior. you hurt me in the worst ways possible, calling me clingy and useless. can you even imagine what that feels like, caleb?” you take a deep breath, “it’s as if lily told you she hated you and wished you stop trying to be in her life, if that’ll help you understand,”

caleb’s head tilts to the side, “how is this about lily? what do you mean you loved me? what do you mean by that, [name]?”

you scoff at his question, rubbing your free wrists to ease the tender flesh, “i don’t need to explain to yo-”

“i love you, too,” he confesses quickly, rushing his words to ensure you hear him and his confession.

you’re shocked, genuinely feeling as if your heart dropped to your stomach. he’s still nuzzling his face into your palm that he’s holding in an iron grip, looking up at you expectingly. he didn’t mean that, you tell yourself. it’s another sick way of his to hurt you.

“caleb, let me go,” you say, willing yourself to speak despite wanting to just vomit out your guts. this was so painful, more painful that you expected it to be. why was caleb so deadset on hurting you so much?

“no, no, i won’t let you-“

“caleb, please.”

“i won’t-“

“caleb, let me go.”

he hears the difference in your tone. there’s not even an ounce of emotion, no anger, no sadness, no begging. just monotone with a stoic look on your face.

“[name], i love-“

“caleb, stop it, i’m tired. please, just let me go,” you plead with him, voice and resolve weak as you can’t will yourself to speak any louder than this hushed tone.

“no, listen, i love you too that’s why i can’t let you go. i’ve loved you since we were children and that’s why you leaving hurt me so much, but now i understand, hyung. i understand and i’m not mad and i’ll stop being such an asshole and i’ll be better, please. just don’t leave again, please? this is your home, isn’t it? stay, please,” caleb’s words are rushed, fighting the urge to hug your legs to his chest to truly prevent you from running away. but, he thinks that his confession of his true emotions are enough. or, he hopes they are.

of course, it isn’t enough. his words just leave you looking even more devoid of emotions and tired than you were before this conversation started.

“caleb, please let me go,”

“no. hyung, please say something…i just, i can’t lose you again, please.”

“what do you want me to say? what? that i love you too?” your voice is still missing that anger that you wanted to convey, but you had no energy to. but the look in your eyes alone show the passion you have in setting caleb straight, “i’d be fucking lying, caleb. i don’t think i could love you the same way i did before. this is completely,” you shake your hand, finally being able to set yourself free and rushing backwards from him, “untrue, you don’t mean a single word right now. you’re just lying to get me to stay, a last ditch resort.”

“that’s not true! what can i do to make you see i mean it? tell me, [name], i will show you. i’m not lying, i mean it,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat as he holds you tight, “don’t leave me please, i’ll prove it to you, i’ll show you,”

“you’re going to show me? caleb, just let me go,” you sigh, shaking your hand out of his and finally feeling some relief to see that he actually let go, “you need to set yourself right before you can prove anything to me, caleb. i honestly am not interested in you doing any of that either, so i’m not promising you anything. i still care for you and i love-” you cut yourself off mid sentence, knocking your forehead with your closed fist to physically prevent yourself from slippning up. with a deep breath, you continue on, “i’ll take care of everything still, but it’d probably be best if we just left it at that,”

“left what?” his eyes look as if they’re shaking in worry and fear.

“just sort yourself out first, caleb.” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and moving to walk out, not turning back once to look at him.

a million thoughts were running through caleb’s mind. you were actually walking away from him and it sounded as if you had no intent in ever coming back. it’s just like before…but then he wondered, what if he made you stay this time? didn’t let you just up and leave like he did before when you were children?

he was stronger than you, his evol alone gave him an advantage. he could bring you into the house again, force that door shut and locked and make it so you’d have no escape. keep you here until you worked through all your differences.

but then he remembers that look on your face earlier, the sheer, utter disappointment on your face when you learned the truth. caleb hates disappointing you, but he hates seeing you walk away from him perhaps even more.

he couldn’t even form a proper coherent thought though because he noticed you were gone before he could have acted on any of his impulsive desires. he leaned forward, falling slowly onto the ground until his forehead was touching the wooden flooring.

he didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he does recall lily rushing to his side and forcing him up. he didn’t hear anything she was saying, but he could tell she was speaking to him.

“what happened? why were you on the floor?” she asks him, roughly dropping him onto the couch. as much as she wished she didn’t care about his wellbeing since she was so mad a him, it wasn’t in her nature to just leave him on the floor like that.

”did you know?”

“know what?”

“know that he’s leaving, did you know?” the words are hoarse and caleb is now hyper aware of how dry his throat feels.

a look of realization flashes on her face and now it all makes sense now. why he was so stationary on the floor earlier, weighing his body down as she tried moving him from his spot.

“yeah, i knew,” she didn’t bother saying anything more than that, watching him carefully.

“and you didn’t tell me?”

“caleb, respectfully, fuck you,” she said, going to walk away, rolling her eyes at his glare that was now fully directed at her.

“you didn’t tell me, lily. why didn’t you tell me?”

“why is it your business?”

“it’s my business!” he shouts so loud that it makes her jerk backwards in shock. that snaps her out of her stupor, throwing the pillow on the cushions at his face with no remorse and stomping off to her room. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me, lily?! why?!”

“caleb, shut up!” she shouts, going to her room and locking the door behind her. “as if you would’ve cared,”

“i care! i care more than you ever could!” he accuses her, banging his fist on the door to get her to open it, “where is he going? where is he staying now? is it some hotel? just give me a name and i’ll go and fix this all! it’ll be like before, when we were kids! don’t you want me to fix this?”

lily runs a hand over her face and goes to unlock her phone, opening her messenger app. she sends a quick text to zayne, not wanting to stress you out with this right now, and explains to him the situation. she warns him to be more careful now, worried that somehow caleb may put two and two together. just to be cautious of his surroundings and to not tell caleb too much about your current whereabouts.

“i know you know lily, just tell me, c’mon,” his voice is softer now, but she doesn’t give in. she just changes out of her outside clothes, goes to her bed and lays down, waiting for caleb to go away as she scrolls on her phone. she tries to not pay attention to his presence outside her door, but every now and then she hears the doorknob jiggle and she has to fight the urge to shout at him.

zayne looked at his phone screen with furrowed eyebrows, dropping it onto his desk after re-reading the texts a couple of times. he looks over at the schedule for his shift, noting down the fact that they were surprisingly overstaffed for the night. there was another surgeon that was working his area, along with their own team and the patients that were under his care were not high tonight.

he pocketed his phone, fixed his glasses and grabbed all of his belongings. he walked out of his office and made a beeline to yvonne.

“there is an emergency i must attend to, please tell the team i apologize for this, but i really must go,” yvonne didn’t even bother masking her shock. in all of her time working at the hospital, this was the first time zayne was early dismissing himself. of course, it was for an emergency, but that didn’t make it any less odd to see zayne walking away seven hours before his actual shift ended.

there would usually be repercussions done onto whoever was performing such reckless actions, but this was dr. zayne they were talking about. he was too good at his job and attendance for anyone to really say anything.

the doctor walked through the streets, a grocery bag hanging from his nimble fingers and swaying with each step he took. in the bag were a different assortment of items that had little to nothing in common with each other. it was your care package, zayne assuming you needed some support and food from them.

he arrived at his apartment and noticed how quiet it was. he sighed, discarding his jacket and shoes before going to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. he was already very clean and tidy, but living with you after a while, he noticed a certain quirk that you had.

you never set yourself to lay down in bed with your “outside” clothes on. even to just sit on the mattress was unheard of for you.

zayne picked up on this habit himself rather quickly because he agreed with the intention behind it and also because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to rest with you unless he did change. so he changed first, into his more casual, pajama-esque clothes and knocked on your door.

“[name]? can i come in?”

he heard a sniffle behind the door and he bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. you didn’t deserve to cry, no less due to whatever it is that caleb and you discussed.

“i don’t think i’d be good company right now, zayne,” you honestly tell him, voice somewhat shaky from the behind the door.

“nonsense,” he immediately says in return, “allow me to drop off these things i bought for you, then,”

you sigh, rubbing your sensitive, dried with tears eyes and walk towards the door. twisting the knob slowly, you see zayne standing there with a sad look on his face and a bag full of goodies for you.

“for you,” he holds the bag up to show you and steps into your room. he gently places them onto your table and frowns when he sees you not even have the energy to look into the bag, “do you want to talk about it? i can’t assure you i’d be the best fit for you to tell your feelings to since i don’t think i can offer much wisdom, but i am here for you.”

you look up at him with sad eyes, presenting a deflated and dejected figure that makes you seem smaller than you really are. he hates the sight of you like this, teary eyed, the tip of your nose red, your sleeves damp with tears. he hates to see you so heartbroken.

“no, i think i’ll be fine,” you decided after a moment of silence, “i think i can manage for the rest of the day. i’ll be fine by tomorrow morning,”

“why? do you have important plans tomorrow morning?” he asks, which you shake your head to, “then why do you insist you will be fine by tomorrow? there is no rush for you to force yourself to feel better. we can talk whenever you feel up for it,” zayne’s voice, opposite of yours, was stern and sounded confident.

his kind words make your bottom lip tremble, the utter sincerity already making your eyes tear up once again. he notices it and immediately begins fretting over your reaction, “i’m sorry, i did not mean to make you cry!”

“no, it’s not because of you zayne- well, it is, but they’re not bad tears,” you quickly explain, feeling bad to see him so worried about his wording.

he sighs, in what you assume is relief, as he speaks softly, “tell me about what is bothering you whenever you are ready, [name],” he speaks with authority, as if commanding you to at least listen to his words, “i don’t like seeing you sad,”

the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can think of reeling them back in, leaving both of you shocked at his sudden confession. he masks it better than you can, though, who looked up at him with your red eyes blown wide.

”that’s really kind of you, zayne,”

“it’s just the truth,” he settles on your bed, looking off to the side as he thinks about how he can make you feel better. if you didn’t want to let out your problems for him to listen to, he supposes distracting you and taking your mind off of the situation at hand could do you some good as well. “when we were kids, i didn’t like seeing you sad either,”

“you seem to remember so much from our childhood while i can’t remember anything,” your pout makes the corners of his lips upturn just the slightest.

“doctor’s memory,” he jokes, tapping the side of his temple with his pointer finger and smiling when he sees it gets you to grin ever so slightly. “when we were children, i found that whenever you got sad, there was almost always the same thing being the root of your sadness. either caleb or lily,”

your eyes watch him carefully as he reminisces on the details of it all, “they were — are — your entire world and i don’t blame you for being so emotionally invested in them,” he speaks carefully, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. but he wants to be honest with you, “the way caleb had a sway on your emotions then and now is hardly any different, but you can change that, [name]. back then, i never said anything because you were happy and it would only be moments of sadness. now, i can no longer bite my tongue. there must be something done to stop your tears from being wasted-” he cuts himself off, finding himself going on a tangent longer than he intended.

it’s silent for a moment and he almost wishes he could just up and walk out of the room right then and there to save himself from his embarrassment. until you chuckle softly and lean back into the pillows behind you.

“you remember a lottt more than i thought,” was the first thing you said, doing little to ease his anxiousness, “but, you’re right, i suppose. i care so much, maybe too much — as caleb said before, it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,”

“caring too much is not the issue,” zayne’s head shakes in disagreement, “it is the fact caleb has abused that care for many years, he expects kindness and special treatment from you despite doing nothing to return those same gestures to you. that is what makes this situation wrong,”

zayne defends you as passionately as if he were defending himself. his eyebrows are furrowed together, as if he is genuinely confused or very frustrated at the situation, hands palming at his knees as he tries to calm his evol from spiking, and his leg jittery the slightest bit as it bounces up and down from the floor.

“you are not the one at fault in this, [name]. i don’t know much about what you two exchanged or said, but i do know that much. there is nothing you could have done that would be considered wrong,” he comforts, looking at you so intensely it almost makes you break eye contact.

“thanks, zayne,” is all you can muster, genuinely speechless at the articulate way zayne defends you while also, shockingly, critiquing caleb rather brutally.

a part of you deep down already knew these things all along, but to hear someone else verbalize them had made you feel levels of validation you didn’t know were possible. the insecurities that caleb had planted in your mind regarding your “clingy” nature and “overbearing” attitude were still present, but to hear zayne speak so casually of that behavior and seemingly validate it definitely made you feel better.

“i’m glad i could be of any help,” he smiles softly at you before standing up, “please, indulge yourself in everything i had bought — it’s all for you,”

you look over at the bag on your table, nodding ever so slightly. “thank you again, i really appreciate it,”

”of course, don’t mention it.”

as the days gradually went by, you and zayne talked about everything that you and caleb had said to each other. to your surprise, instead of remaining as neutral as you expected him to , he was rather biased in your favor and even made several snide comments about caleb and his childish attitude. his expressions were a bit entertaining too, scowls and sneers whenever you mention caleb’s behavior. it was a little refreshing to see him so expressive.

the usual stoic and level-headed zayne was replaced with the best reactive listener, lending you all the support you had needed in youurtimes of vulnerability.

“just to clarify, he does not know you are living with me, right?” zayne asked you one day, in his office while you two were on your lunch break. assuming he was talking about caleb, you nodded your head in confirmation.

“i think it’d be best if he didn’t know,” you murmur, voice trailing off as you tried to imagine caleb finding out. he never really played well with zayne, ever since they were children. the doctor used to view him neutrally, but now he definitely shares his fair amount of distaste towards him. caleb very obviously never liked him.

“just wanted to make sure because yvonne just notified me that a, and i quote, very angry looking, muscular, tall, and handsome man is demanding i speak with him in the lobby, end quote. was just wondering how i should approach the situation is all,” he grabs one of his napkins to wipe his face, then stands up, making you immediately follow.

“if he’s out there, you do not have to talk to him,” you say in a stern voice, “zayne, this is the only chance we get at some peace and quiet in here, don’t you think we should spend the time winding down?”

“we have approximately twenty minutes left of our meal, i plan to make this a quick five. now, i’d ask you to stay here, but it’s unfair if you obey my orders whilst i disregard your own. just please, let me handle it. i’d rather he not focus on you and say something else absurd,” zayne requests, making you roll your eyes and open the door.

you weren’t just going to stand there and be silent if caleb tried to pull some disrespectful behavior, but you’ll try holding your tongue until that moment occurs. zayne rushes to walk in front of you, adjusting his white coat as he does so. he sees caleb before you, tall frame covering the man from your sight.

“where’s [name]?” caleb asks, seemingly not seeing as you followed behind zayne’s much taller figure.

“caleb, this is highly inappropriate,”

“zayne, just answer the question,” caleb groans, stepping forward as if he were trying to walk past zayne. but as he got closer he finally caught sight of your figure, a wide smile stretching across his face as he tried to get to you, “[name]!” he called to you cheerfully.

he was about to reach for you, but zayne had lifted his arms up and blocked him from doing so, “i thought i told you this was inappropriate,”

caleb’s violet eyes narrowed and he glared at zayne with no shame, “this is a really personal matter, dr. zayne,” he spits out the title like venom, “so i suggest you move out of my way and let me talk to him,”

“we have nothing to talk about,” at the sound of your voice, caleb looks like he almost physically goes weak in the knees. he turns to you like a puppy hearing their owner’s voice after a long time and if he had a tail, it’d be going a couple hundred miles an hour right now.

“[name], don’t say that. there’s so much we need to talk about. please?”

“as if i’d allow you to interrupt our work right now,” zayne emphasizes the word ‘work,’ reminding caleb just exactly where he is.

“i couldn’t give a shit if you were working, i need to talk to him. what is your problem, zayne? since when did you even care when i talk to [name]?”

“since it is now interrupting our work schedule,” zayne’s eyes narrow as well, “i care if it involves him regardless,”

caleb’s genuine smile was replaced with a sarcastic, mocking look on his face, “oh you care? well, if you care for your own well-being, then you’d get out of my way,” he goes to shoulder shove zayne out of the way, but the doctor reacts so fast it surprises you.

his hand, which was slightly icy now, lands on caleb’s shoulder and holds him still, “caleb, you have to leave. this is not the place you wish to act out in, our security will be called on you if you take a step further,”

“your security doesn’t scare me,” caleb attempts shaking off zayne’s grip, but it only makes the doctor tighten his hold.

“then i will personally deal with you,”

“oh, you definitely don’t scare me,” caleb turns to zayne, voice lowering so it was only audible to the doctor, “get your hand off of me before i make you a patient. i need to talk to [name] and i’m in no mood to deal with you right now,”

“and [name] so eagerly wishes to speak to you?” zayne’s snide remark is delivered with such harshness you almost flinch for caleb, “he does not want to speak to you,”

“you know what he wants?” caleb’s voice is dangerous now and the room begins to feel heavier, “remind me where were you in our childhood all the other times he needed somebody? were you there?”

”i would have been if i was not shut out,” zayne’s voice raises ever so slightly and that comment makes you tilt your head in confusion.

caleb’s teeth grit in frustration, “know your place,”

“my place is with [name]. you should know yours because i assure it is not with him and it is not here,”

that goads a physical reaction from caleb, who slams his forearm into zayne’s chest and forcefully pushes him into the wall, “what did you just say?”

yvonne is scrambling to call for security, her voice rushed and she gives them your guys’ current location and how they have to hurry. you rush to pry caleb off of zayne, but the doctor raises his hand and shakes his head to prevent you from interfering.

“you are nothing to him, you’re simply his boss. i’m the only person that deserves to say my place is with him. zayne, watch your tongue,” caleb’s words are almost hard to understand with how tight his jaw is clenched. “don’t make me-

“make you what? pin me to a wall and use your evol? you’ve already done that caleb, what more could you possibly want from this entire debacle?”

caleb’s dry laugh echoes in the tense environment, “oh, you don’t want to know what i wish i could do to you. for standing in my way, for not knowing your feeble significance, for stopping me from just talking to [name],” as caleb lists these things out, you feel yourself growing restless in being quiet and inactive.

so you move forward and place both hands on caleb’s shoulders and pull with all your strength to get him off of zayne. it works, pulling him back far enough that you can plant yourself in between him and zayne.

“caleb, security is going to come to escort you out soon and i suggest you collect yourself before they do. unless you wish for more severe measures to be done onto you,” your tone is curt and emotionless, caleb’s widely blown eyes watching you carefully as if he’s trying to memorize your face, mannerisms, and even your vocabulary.

as he watches you turn to zayne and quickly ask if he is alright, he feels his anger be almost pushed past a breaking point. since when did you two care at all for each other? he tries to chalk it up to your gracefully natural caring personality, but something about the way you so softly address zayne that makes him feel unsettled. your kind expression directed at zayne while you could spare him nothing but a stoic glare.

since when was this the way you were going to treat him? he thought a couple of days could have been enough for you to be open to talking to him. is there something he’s missing? why in the world did you suddenly care about zayne and if he was “okay”? what about him? because he’s not okay at all, not since you left him a couple of days ago. he hasn’t known peace since then. so why weren’t you checking up on him?

he feels his hatred for zayne grow every millisecond he watches you fret over him. that should be him who you were so carefully tending to, not zayne.

he can’t even say anything else that could be held liable against him because the uniforms of security guards cut into his vision. their words are muffled to his ears as he watches you guide zayne away, your hand grabbing the doctor’s icy ones with a concerned look on your face. caleb swears he sees red for a split second at your close contact.

something here wasn’t right.

as he was kicked out of the hospital, with little resistance from his end, he feels himself grow more and more focused on your guys’ closeness. you defended zayne, checked in on him, even went out of your way to touch him — while all he got was a glare and words that almost sounded robotic. this wasn’t right. caleb couldn’t accept this. he couldn’t sleep if this is the only thing racing through his mind.

so he put his good snooping stalking skills to use.

the cameras on the perimeter of the hospital were easy for him to gain access to. he’s done worse, anyway. he watches all the employee exits, clicking the one that he sees you and zayne walk out of and he nearly breaks something in his anger when he sees zayne open his car door for you, meanwhile you’re entering his car with a laidback, tired smile.

since when did zayne ever give you rides to and from work? how did that make sense? that never happened even when you were still living in this home of yours. not once did zayne ever step up to drop you off. this was completely unnatural.

caleb shivers at the sight of you climbing into zayne’s car. his mind was racing. was zayne even a safe driver? that car he was driving, caleb didn’t trust it. what was the level of safety that that car even had? it didn’t look safe. and even if it was. caleb did not trust zayne with your safety at all.

you were only safe with him.

it didn’t take caleb much more effort to follow the drive that you two were on. this was needed, anyway. he’d finally be able to find out where you were staying, he could drop by in the morning and fix this with you, a one-on-one conversation.

imagine the look on caleb’s face when he watched you and zayne both leave his car, walk up to an apartment complex’s entrance, take the elevator all the way up to where the private estates were, and then disappear behind the sleek door.

his face was stoic, emotionless as he breathed raggedly, uneven as he tried to control his anger. this was unacceptable. he wasn’t dumb or naive enough to come up with a childish excuse as to why this was happening, why you were brought to zayne’s home. he knew exactly why.

the room began shaking, books and notepads from caleb’s shelves and desks were levitating, sporadically falling and being tossed every which way. a ruckus was being made, loud enough it drew lily out of her room. she was yelling profanities at him for causing such a disturbance in the middle of the night, but then she saw it. the computer screen that had the cctv footage of that familiar hallway. she gulped and looked nervous, something caleb noticed immediately.

“you knew,” he growls, fists clenching at his sides and making the things in his room go even more haywire and move unpredictably through the air. he hasn’t lost control of his evol like this since he was a teenager. coincidentally, you were the cause of that episode as well.

lily immediately shook her head no, suspiciously too fast seeing as caleb didn’t say anything besides the single question.

“you didn’t tell me,” he continues on voice rough as he force the door to shut behind her and effectively trapping her in his room where his own emotional tornado was ripping through all of his belongings. “you knew that he was spending time with [name], living with him,” caleb cuts his own imaginative theories off to prevent himself from actually turning blood hungry, and attempts to move past that detail, “you knew and didn’t tell me? lily, be honest, do you even care for me fixing things with him? do you really just want me to not try fixing this?”

“you had your chance,” she shakily defends herself, but he’s not taking that as an answer so easily.

“i’m making another one,” he says curtly, “you are okay with him living with zayne, of all people?”

“zayne is better suited to take care of him more than you ever could!”

“no one is better for him that me! why does no one understand that?! you think he’s better, you think you’re better?!” caleb’s voice raises with no warning, making lily screw her eyes shut, “lily, you are lucky i think of you as my sister or else you’d be dead to me by now. dead.”

she can’t even bring herself to hide her relief when she feels the door slightly crack open behind her, swinging it open and immediately running away to her own. she is tempted to call you, notify you of how scary caleb’s behavior has turned. but just as she was about to ring you up, she thought about how much you already had on your plate.

she couldn’t afford to add more onto it, especially when you were already so stressed out about caleb to begin with. if she told you everything that happened just now, she’d be forcing you to deal with him when everything was still so fresh. that wasn’t something lily wanted to make you do.

so she’ll stay silent about it for now. but honestly, she doesn’t know how long she could possibly tolerate this aggressive behavior from caleb. the caleb that was once so sweet to her, and you, was seemingly long gone.

the only remedy was you.

caleb knows he shouldn’t be here. knows that it would only make you more angry and annoyed with him if you knew he was here. but he couldn’t help it. ever since he had found out you were now living with zayne, he had grown obsessive in constantly knowing what was going on between you two. he, unfortunately, could not gain access to the inside of zayne’s apartment. but he still was able to see the cameras at the entrance and exit of the apartment building. which is when he would time his departure from his house and go out to follow wherever you two were going, eyes trained on his phone screen as he walked to match your guys’ pace.

he felt sick every time he saw the two of you hang out so casually, so intimately. he learned that you and zayne enjoyed frequently cafes together, so long as there was a dessert menu for zayne.

that big man baby, caleb thought to himself.

you’d always order a drink to keep you energized while zayne got some sugary sweet treat. caleb hands balled into fists as he saw you two share your orders together, you taking bites from zayne’s spoon and zayne sipping directly from your cup. it actually made him feel sick to his stomach.

he watched zayne offer you your napkin, the tiniest smile on his face as he watched you carefully clean your messes up. that was supposed to be him, caleb was the only one meant to be this close to you. he wishes you could have just heard him out and understood his explanation, then you wouldn’t be so far out of reach from him and he wouldn’t be creepily watching you a couple of shops down as you now spent all your free time with zayne.

caleb hated zayne for taking that spot next to you which was meant to only be reserved for him.

after a couple of days of watching and seething where he sat, caleb decided to take the risk in texting you to ask you to talk. he was worried you would block him the instant he sent it, but was easily reminded of your level headed behavior and how that would be very unlike you when he saw that you texted him back hours later.

you agreed. lily offhandedly mentioned to you an episode caleb had that was rather intense and assuming the worst, which is what happened, you assumed that he had seriously scared her in that influx of emotions. that was enough for you to swallow down your current personal feelings and approach this conversation in respect of lily and her peace of mind. caleb’s behavior is inexcusable, especially so when it involves scaring lily.

“caleb, i only came back because we seriously need to talk about you and your behavior,” your voice is stern, that familiar tone you used to use on him when you two were younger. it was the first thing you said to him the moment he walked into the room. not even a simple greeting, he realizes with a devoid look in his eyes.

“do you want any water? anything to eat? i can make your-”

“just please, sit down,”

“you don’t want to talk in your bedroom? somewhere more comfortable?”

“you’re lucky i didn’t choose the restaurant down the street instead of the kitchen, so how about being a little more compliant?”

he didn’t respond to that, gulping and taking the seat at the dinner table that was across from where you were sitting. you followed soon after him, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning into the back of your chair.

��you need to quit taking your frustrations out on things around you. do you understand that you’re scaring lily? and if anything happens to her, anything that you do so much as give her a bad dream at night, i’ll take her away from this place — from you, and make it so you’d never be able to hurt her again,”

“i don’t mean to hurt her, or scare her,” caleb quickly cuts in, trying to make you understand — once again, “i just…get so frustrated sometimes. you’re not here anymore — even though you easily could just come back! — and i don’t know where else to put those feelings,”

you scoff, “right because before you’d just take it all out on me,” your eyebrows furrow and caleb feels hope bloom in his chest as he thinks he sees concern on your face, “caleb, why are you so frustrated? what is making you so angsty all the time? it’s been weeks since we last talked-”

“time doesn’t change anything, it only makes things worse,” he weakly chuckles, almost not believing that you really didn’t understand what your absence does to him. has he not already made it obvious how detrimental you not being here has been on his mental health? “i can’t do anything knowing that you hate me,”

your breath hitches and your demeanor shifts ever so slightly, “caleb, i don’t hate you. i never said that,”

he blinks at you, wide eyed and the smallest quirk on the ends of his mouth, “really?”

your outer expression hardens at his words, catching his tone immediately, “don’t. i thought we already established i was quite far from hating you. but we aren’t here to talk about that-”

“why can’t we?”

”i don’t want to,”

“well, i need to. i need to talk about it with you, [name].” caleb’s breathing is shaky as he hesitantly reaches across the table to hold your hand in his, fingers shaking as he does so, “i don’t understand, you have to make me understand. if you love me, i need to know why you don’t want to be with here, with me? we could be so happy,”

“because it’s not that easy, caleb,” you pull your hands away and caleb almost vocalizes something akin to a whine at the loss of contact, “i can’t just erase my memory of everything you’ve said to me these past couple of years. i love you, i’ve loved you for so long, which is why things can’t just go back to normal as you want them to.”

“if you love me, does seeing me hurt like this not hurt you?”

“don’t you dare try guilting me!”

“i’m not trying to! i’m trying to understand, help me understand,” his mouth gapes open and closed as he thinks about how to word his thoughts, “can’t you at least come home? i can’t stand being physically far from you. we don’t even need to talk or see each other whenever you’re too busy, i just can’t sleep well at night knowing you’re not in the next room over,”

“caleb,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, “we can’t just pretend that everything is fine and ignore it, which means i can’t just move back into my room. i think i still need space from you. we’re not even here to talk about us, we’re here to talk about you and how your behavior needs to stop,”

“i won’t stop until you come back,” his words are finite, the resolve in his eyes almost scaring you, “i’ll do anything to have you come back to me,”

”scaring and borderline threatening lily will do anything but make me come back,” you remind him, words icy as you hope they sting him where it’ll hurt.

“then how can i make you come back, let you know that i’ll change and be better? how can i prove that to you if you’re not even in the same building as me?” caleb’s love is best translated through physical touch and acts of service, both of which require you to be here in order for him to execute them.

you’re silent and it seems as if you’re genuinely thinking about an answer, which alone makes caleb excited to think he has a chance at winning you back into his arms.

“i’m not moving back in, not for a while at least. i’ve realized that i was limiting myself,” you say with finality, “caleb, i don’t want to be near you right now. i need you to understand that because i feel like, i tell you how i feel and everything is going in one ear and out the other,”

“please, don’t say that. i listen, i do! and i want to try making things better, but you won’t let me. why won’t you let me? why won’t you just come ho-”

“because things are going quite well for me right now! and i know that it’s selfish, but my entire life i’ve been nothing but selfless for you,” your words are unwavering and caleb physically deflates at your words and tone. you sound so excited, so excited talking about how well you’re doing without him. “zayne takes really good care of me, caleb. he’s really attentive and treats me well,”

caleb’s jaw sets into a tight clench, which you are unable to ignore, “and you can’t even be mad at him and how i prefer him right now, because he’s just treating me like a normal person would, how a kind person would. you didn’t treat me with a fraction of care in years that he has in weeks. so i hate to tell you this, but i prefer the company i have with zayne over staying there with you,”

you’re not even calling it your home anymore, caleb thinks with teary eyes. he listened to your ramble, trying his best to ignore the boiling anger and annoyance at how you were so passionately talking about zayne. instead, he tried actually listening to what you were saying and the criticism that followed. he was the one at fault, he understands that. but he just hates that you were relying on someone else as a crutch rather than wanting to come back home and work things out with him, living under the same roof again.

“but i am willing to see you more often so we can work this out. it’s hurting lily a lot, i think, to see us fighting and not talking to each other. and i feel like i need to remind you how your behavior in particular has been awful.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest with a frown on your face, “i’m busy with work most days, though, but whenever we have free time-”

”i’ll always be free for you, just call or text me,” caleb nods his head rapidly, not going to reject your proposition even though it is far from the solution he was hoping for. his hands are sweaty in his lap as this entire conversation sent him spiraling where he sat.

“will you stop being such a prick to lily now?” you ask, eyes glaring into his soul. but at least you were looking at him. he smiles softly, nodding his head in obedience. “apologize to her as well, a real sincere one.”

“i will, it wasn’t- i wasn’t thinking straight,” he admits, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about his past behavior. he was just so caught up in trying to reach you again, ensure you came home, he was willing to do that by any means. even if it meant hurting the one other person he held dear to his heart…it seems he has a habit of hurting the people he loves.

“okay, so,” your voice trails off for a couple moments before you finally stand up, “well, i’m gonna head out now,”

caleb is following after you, shooting up from his seat and reaching his hand out, “c’mon, no, stay for dinner at least, please. i haven’t cooked for you and lily in so long, please, just let me make us dinner,”

your eyebrows furrow and you back away, “i really would, caleb, but i promised i’d eat dinner with zayne tonight.”

he huffs in annoyance, “then just invite him, i don’t even care. just, can we please have dinner together tonight? he can be here if you really want him to be,” he can’t believe he’s even saying this right now, but he’s desperate. he really wants you to stay.

you think about it for a couple of moments before nodding in agreement, “i’ll go call him,”

“okay, perfect, let me see what we have in the fridge.” he leaves the living room and heads to the kitchen, the most genuine smile on his face in a long time. he already knows what you guys have to cook as well. it’s the ingredients to all your favorites. he’s been making your comfort meals to comfort himself the past couple of days, attempting to fill the void you left him with.

it was always a depressing sight as well. him sitting alone at the dinner table since lily would take her portion up to her room. he’d be alone, eating the food so slowly that it would usually end up going cold before he even realized it.

but now, his nights of going through that were closer to being done with. even if only just a little bit, you were giving him leeway in making this better, in fixing this situation. and then you two could maybe even be closer than you were before. his face blooms with heat as he thinks about what you two could become, beyond that bond you two shared before. something deeper.

he watches you talk calmly with zayne on the phone, a small smile on your face and his eyebrows furrow at the sight. he has to be patient, he repeats in his head like a mantra. if he is patient and works hard in regaining your trust, your love, your care! then one day, he’ll be the one on that receiving end of your sweet phone calls.

he just has to fight back his selfish desires, suffocate them down into the back of his mind. he’s determined to show you he can change, he can be that man that you need him to be, turn back into the man you love.

caleb is willing to do anything.

[molanran]

more theo angst!! please!!

The Once Brightest Star

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!Reader

Summary ; You, the kindest Gryffindor at Hogwarts, fall for Theodore Nott—unaware that he’s only dating you because of a cruel Slytherin bet. After four sweet, star-filled months, he breaks your heart in front of everyone. The smile that once lit up the castle fades, and as you fall apart, Theodore realizes too late that he truly loves you.

A/N ; try not to cry 😉. I swear to fucking merlin if this flops I'm killing myself, THIS FANFIC IS LITERALLY THE MOST CHAOTIC ONE. My Tumblr kept crashing, my shit wasn't saving and oh my god it was war.

Warnings ; Heavy angst, betrayal, public humiliation, emotional manipulation, mental health themes, and regret.

Word count; 6.1k+

| Part 2 — Part 3 | drabble

Theodore Nott had always been a mystery. Quiet, observant, charming when he wanted to be, but cruel when it suited him. And right now, he was seated in the Slytherin common room, legs crossed on a leather armchair as the firelight danced across his sharp features. Around him lounged the usual suspects—Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengass. They sat in a semicircle, all eyes focused on Theo, the air thick with amusement and cruel curiosity.

They were bored. And when the Slytherin elite were bored, it meant trouble for someone else.

“You know,” Mattheo began, twirling a silver coin between his fingers, “we haven’t had a proper laugh since Halloween. I’m starting to forget what entertainment feels like.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pansy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I laughed so hard when that Hufflepuff girl tripped over her own robes last week.”

“That wasn’t entertainment, Pans,” Blaise drawled, his voice like silk and sin. “That was just sad.”

“We need something juicy,” Astoria said, glancing at her manicured nails. “Something cruel.”

Lorenzo smirked. “How about Gryffindor’s sweetheart?”

All heads turned.

“You mean Y/N?” Draco asked, arching a brow. “The one who helped you clean up after you accidentally hexed yourself in Transfiguration?”

“Exactly,” Lorenzo said, grinning. “He’s so bloody kind it makes me sick.”

“He helped me too,” Blaise admitted with a smirk. “Carried my books to the infirmary when I got hit by a rogue Bludger. Didn’t even ask for anything in return.”

Mattheo leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “That’s it then. We ruin him.”

“Subtly,” Pansy added, smiling cruelly. “We’re Slytherins. Not brutes.”

“What do you have in mind?” Theodore asked, though his voice held more interest than caution.

Mattheo grinned like the devil himself. “A bet. You, Theo. You’re going to date him.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

“Because he already looks at you like you hung the stars,” Blaise said, chuckling. “You’re halfway there.”

“And you’ve got the charm,” Astoria added. “When you want to, anyway.”

Theodore stayed quiet for a moment, letting the idea settle.

“A hundred galleons from each of us,” Mattheo said smoothly. “All you have to do is date him. Four months. Then dump him—publicly.”

“In front of everyone,” Draco emphasized, voice tinged with excitement. “Make sure the whole school sees it.”

“That’ll break him,” Pansy said, practically purring.

“His friends will try to put him back together,” Astoria added, “but we’ll know he’s never going to be the same.”

Theodore looked into the fire, jaw tightening. One hundred galleons from each of them. That was six hundred galleons. Enough to make anyone pause. Enough to make even him consider it.

He thought of your smile—the way it made you look like you didn’t belong in the same world as the rest of them. Of how you always had something kind to say, even to those who sneered at you. Of how you held the door open for professors, offered help to Hufflepuffs with their potions, even greeted Slytherins with a gentle nod instead of fear or judgment.

“Four months?” Theodore asked.

“Four,” Mattheo confirmed.

“Then I’ll do it,” Theodore said, the words leaving his mouth cold and smooth.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Draco said, grinning wide.

And just like that, the countdown began.

You were sitting in the Astronomy Tower when it happened. Late evening, starlight dusting your skin as you scribbled notes in your parchment. A breeze blew through your robes, and you tilted your head back to admire the sky. The cold stone beneath you was oddly comforting, grounding you as your eyes scanned the stars like they were old friends.

“There you are,” a voice said behind you.

You turned, startled but quickly relaxing. “Theodore?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but gaze soft. “Mind if I join you?”

You smiled without hesitation. “Of course not.”

He walked over and sat beside you, his cloak brushing yours as he settled on the ledge. For a moment, the two of you said nothing. The only sounds were the distant hooting of an owl and the wind howling gently through the gaps in the stone.

Then you pointed toward the sky, eyes sparkling. “See that one? That’s Orion. He’s my favorite.”

Theodore tilted his head slightly, following your finger. “Why?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and spoke like you’d been waiting for someone to ask. “Because no matter where you are in the world, Orion’s always there. It doesn’t matter if you’re in England or the other side of the planet. He’s a constant.” Your voice softened. “I think that’s beautiful.”

He watched you, not the stars. The way your eyes reflected the constellations, the way your words carried a weight most people overlooked. You weren’t just looking at the sky. You were connected to it.

“You’re into all this space stuff, huh?” he said with a small smirk.

You grinned. “I love it. The stars, the planets, galaxies—do you know how long it takes for light from some of these stars to reach us?”

“No,” he replied truthfully.

“Hundreds of years,” you said. “Some of the stars we see? They’ve already died. We’re looking at ghosts in the sky.”

Theodore looked up, suddenly seeing it all a bit differently. “That’s… kind of haunting.”

You chuckled. “Isn’t it? But I think it’s comforting, too. Like, even after they’re gone, they still leave something behind. A trace of who they were. They don’t just disappear.”

He glanced sideways at you. “You talk about stars like they’re people.”

You shrugged. “Maybe they are. Maybe we all are. Bright for a while, then gone… but if we’re lucky, we leave something behind.”

A silence settled over you both again, this time warm.

Peaceful.

You turned your body to face him more. “What about you? Do you have a favorite constellation?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I stare at the sky often?”

You laughed. “Not really. But you should. It’s a good reminder that we’re small. And that some things are bigger than our problems.”

He hummed in response. “I guess I wouldn’t mind if you were teaching me.”

That made your cheeks burn. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the corner of your parchment. “Really?”

He leaned in a little closer. “Yeah. You're… interesting.”

You bit your bottom lip, then smiled, shyly. “I’d be happy to teach you. The stars have a lot to say if you just listen.”

As you returned your gaze to the sky, pointing out Cassiopeia with soft enthusiasm, Theodore only half-listened. The other half of him was watching you again—how your lips moved, how your hands danced in the air as you explained, how your eyes never lost that wonder.

And for just a second… he forgot about the bet.

You started waiting for him outside his classes, always with a soft smile and something sweet tucked in your hand—sometimes a chocolate frog, other times a sugar quill you’d saved from Honeydukes. You’d greet him like he was the only person in the corridor, eyes lighting up every time he met your gaze.

You shared your pumpkin pasties with him in the library, giggling when Madam Pince shushed you both for laughing too loud. You’d lean close as you showed him the notes you'd made for Astronomy, doodles of constellations dancing in the margins. He'd pretend not to notice how your hand always lingered near his, how your shoulder brushed his when you got excited explaining the moons of Jupiter.

You invited him to your late-night Astronomy sessions more and more, always at the top of the tower where the stars were clearest. And every time, he showed up. No matter how cold the wind was, no matter how tired he claimed to be, Theodore would appear with his hands shoved into his pockets and that unreadable look on his face—like he wasn’t sure if he belonged there… but he stayed anyway.

And slowly, your hand began brushing against his. At first accidental. Then deliberate. You started laughing softer around him, voice a little breathier, eyes a little shinier. You bit your lip when he stared too long, cheeks dusted pink whenever he complimented you—rare as it was.

You started hoping.

You introduced him to your friends when he passed by your table, and though Hermione watched him suspiciously and Ron narrowed his eyes, you always waved it off. “He’s not like the others,” you said more than once. “He’s… different.”

You even helped a few Slytherins who sneered at you in the halls, offered your hand when one tripped, walked another to the Hospital Wing when he’d gotten hexed during practice. You greeted Blaise when you passed him in the corridor, waved at Astoria during breakfast even if she never waved back, and offered Mattheo a chocolate frog once—which he took without a thank you, but you still smiled anyway.

And Theodore noticed.

He noticed everything.

“You’re too kind,” he told you one night, as you sat beside the lake. The moonlight shimmered on the surface, and your reflection glowed faintly beside his.

You looked up, confused. “Like what?”

“Good,” he said, quieter this time. “Even to people who don’t deserve it.”

You gave him that warm, unshakeable smile. “Because… no one deserves to be treated like they’re nothing. Not even the meanest ones. Everyone’s got something good inside them. Sometimes it just takes longer to show.”

Theodore stared at you, jaw tense. Something in his chest tightened—foreign and unwelcome. This wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to fall for him, not the other way around. You were supposed to be just another naive Gryffindor. Not someone he actually looked forward to seeing every night. Not someone who made his heart feel like it was on fire.

But your laugh stayed with him long after you left. So did the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the stars. So did the way you always remembered the tiniest things about him—even things he didn’t think mattered.

This was still just a game. Right?

Wasn’t it?

It was late—well past curfew—but that never stopped you. Especially not when the stars were this clear. You were already seated on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, legs swinging slightly over the edge, a thick wool scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. The wind was cold, but your heart was warm—because he was here. Just like always.

Theodore leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed and silent as usual. You didn’t mind. He rarely talked up here. That was your job.

“And that one right there,” you said, pointing upward with gloved fingers, “is Sirius. It’s the brightest star in the night sky—not a planet, not a reflection, an actual star. It’s about twenty-five times more luminous than the sun. Isn’t that insane?”

You looked at him, expecting a smirk, maybe a raised brow or some teasing comment. But instead, you were met with eyes so unreadable, they made your chest tighten.

Undeterred, you smiled and turned your attention back to the sky. “Stars are so dramatic, honestly. They burn themselves out just to shine. And when they die, they explode. Huge, fiery tantrums in space. Makes you wonder if the universe is just full of drama queens.”

That got a faint exhale of amusement from Theodore. You grinned at the sound and kept going.

“I think that’s why I love them so much. They’re loud in their silence. You look up and it’s peaceful, but the science behind them? It’s chaos. Energy and gas and gravity ripping them apart.” You leaned your head back until your hair brushed the stone. “It’s kind of beautiful, really. How something so far away can make you feel like you’re not alone.”

You went quiet then, eyes searching the constellations. Theodore watched you. Watched the way your smile softened when you looked at the sky, the way you hugged your knees in the cold, the way your breath curled in the night air like clouds.

He had come here tonight to play the part. Listen to you ramble about planets and stars like you always did. Maybe hold your hand. Maybe lean just a little closer so you’d fall a little harder.

But when you turned to him with that pure, trusting light in your eyes—the one that made him feel seen without even trying—his resolve crumbled.

You were still speaking, something about Orion’s Belt, when Theodore took a step forward. Then another.

You trailed off mid-sentence, confused, your brows knitting. “Theo?”

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you—really looked at you—like the stars weren’t even worth glancing at when you were here. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out.

His hand was cool against your skin as he gently cupped your cheek.

You froze.

His thumb brushed your jaw, and for once, you were the quiet one. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him.

And then—without warning, without fanfare—he kissed you.

His lips were soft and slow, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart thundering in your chest as you kissed him back. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was gentle.

The kind of kiss that says I see you. I hear you. I’m here.

When he pulled away, your eyes were wide and dazed. “W-What was that?” you whispered.

Theodore hesitated. He was supposed to lie. Say it was for fun, for practice, a joke, a dare. But none of those things left his mouth.

“I like you,” he said instead, his voice low, but honest.

You stared at him, eyes shining like the stars above. “You do?”

He nodded, brushing his thumb beneath your eye. “More than I expected to.”

And just like that, your world shifted.

You smiled—so big and bright and beautiful. “I’ve liked you for ages,” you admitted, cheeks flushed. “I just didn’t think you’d ever—”

“I do,” he interrupted softly. “I see you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched. “Then… will you be mine?”

He leaned in again, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah. I’m yours.”

And in your chest, a supernova of joy bloomed.

You didn’t know, of course, that the clock was already ticking. That the countdown had begun the moment he shook Mattheo’s hand.

All you knew was that Theodore Nott—cool, quiet, untouchable—was kissing you beneath the stars.

And for the first time in your life, you felt infinite.

It was strange, the way Theodore made everything feel like magic without ever casting a single spell.

You never expected it, really. You were the sweet Gryffindor who brought extra quills for your classmates, helped first-years find their classes, and got detention once because you refused to leave a Hufflepuff behind after they’d twisted their ankle on the moving staircase. You were the soft-spoken stargazer who waved to portraits and always left the Astronomy Tower a little warmer than you found it.

And Theodore Nott? Cold, composed, distant. A Slytherin with a stare so sharp it could cut glass, and a mouth that rarely moved unless it was to cast sarcasm or smoke. If anyone had told you a few months ago that he of all people would be watching the stars with you, you'd have laughed. But now?

Now he was the one tugging your scarf tighter when the wind bit too sharply. The one saving a seat for you at lunch—even at the Gryffindor table, when he thought no one was looking. The one who said your name like it was something secret.

Your dates weren’t grand or loud. They weren’t meant for show. They were quiet things—hidden smiles, fingers brushing beneath library tables, the sound of his laugh when you made some ridiculous astronomy pun that no one else would understand.

Like that late afternoon in the library.

You were supposed to be revising for Herbology, but you’d started doodling constellations in the margins of your notes. Theodore watched, lounging in the chair beside you, one hand resting beneath his chin.

“That one looks like a rat,” he said lazily.

You gasped. “That’s not a rat! That’s Scorpius! It’s one of the oldest constellations in the sky!”

He smirked. “Looks like a rodent with extra limbs.”

“You’re a menace,” you huffed, swatting his arm with your parchment.

He grabbed your wrist mid-swat and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a lazy kiss to your knuckles. “Mm. You’re dramatic when you're passionate. It’s kind of cute.”

You froze.

“I—I'm not dramatic!” you blurted.

Theodore only grinned, smug and soft all at once, and leaned back like he hadn’t just melted your brain with a single sentence.

────────────────

There was also that snowy Saturday in Hogsmeade. It had started out innocent—you just wanted to get a new astronomy journal and maybe a few peppermint candies. But somehow Theodore ended up holding your mittened hand, leading you through snow-covered cobblestones like he actually knew what he was doing.

“I swear the tea shop is this way,” he said, tugging you down a narrow alley that looked suspiciously abandoned.

“You said that three turns ago,” you teased, breath clouding in the cold air.

“Maybe I just want more time alone with you.”

That shut you up.

The shop, when you finally reached it, was small and tucked behind a row of bakeries. The inside was all fogged windows and velvet chairs, the scent of cinnamon and clove clinging to the air. The shopkeeper—a kind-eyed older woman—beamed when she saw Theodore.

“Haven’t seen you in ages, dear,” she said, passing him two steaming mugs. “This must be someone special.”

Theodore didn’t look at you. “He is.”

You nearly choked on your tea.

────────────────

Back in the castle, the sweetness didn’t stop. If anything, it bloomed.

He’d wait for you after class, leaning against the wall like some kind of gothic statue, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded—but when you appeared, his gaze softened.

He started showing up to Astronomy Club. He never answered a single question, never even looked at the night sky. He just sat beside you, letting his knee press against yours under the desk, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve.

“I like it when you talk about the stars,” he murmured once, just loud enough for you to hear. “You get this look. Like you’ve been touched by something ancient.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly poetic for you.”

“I have layers,” he said dryly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You did get used to it, though. The way he’d look at you when you were excited. The way he’d tug your scarf over your mouth and say it was 'so you’d shut up,' but his eyes always lingered a little too long. The way his thumb would brush your hand like he needed to remember how you felt.

And at night—always at night—you returned to your tower.

The Astronomy Tower had become yours. The castle was huge, full of secrets and dungeons and ghosts, but that little piece of sky belonged to just the two of you.

You’d bring blankets and stolen sweets from the kitchens. He’d bring silence and something steadier than starlight.

You’d talk for hours, your voice dancing through the night air.

“And those tiny dots in Orion’s Belt?” you said one night, pointing up at the cluster of stars. “Those are actually part of a nebula—the birthplace of stars. Literal nurseries in the cosmos.”

Theodore hummed, laying on his back with your head on his chest. “Nurseries in the sky… Sounds like a fairytale.”

“Maybe the universe is one big story.”

He didn’t answer right away.

You tilted your head. “What are you thinking about?”

He looked down at you, eyes tired and soft. “That I’m scared.”

Your brows furrowed. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this. Of being the reason that light in your eyes goes out.”

Your heart cracked open like a geode, glittering and aching all at once. You sat up slowly, cupping his face with your hands.

“You won’t ruin it, Theo.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know that. I just… I trust you.”

He exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.

You kissed him then—slow and sure, your thumb brushing along his cheek.

“I trust you,” you whispered again, as if it could protect you both.

And Theodore? He held you tighter.

Even though something inside him whispered that he didn’t deserve it.

────────────────

There were so many perfect moments that winter.

Like the time you were sitting on the Quidditch stands long after practice had ended. Snow was falling, light and gentle, and you were tucked under his cloak, sharing body heat.

You were talking about Saturn’s rings—how they weren’t solid, just ice and rock suspended in orbit.

“They only look solid from far away,” you said, tracing lines on his palm. “Up close, they’re just chaos. Fragments. Debris.”

“Sounds like me,” Theodore murmured.

You looked up. “What?”

“I look fine from far away,” he said. “But I’m a mess when you get close.”

You frowned and pressed your forehead to his. “You’re not a mess. You’re just… layered.”

He chuckled. “You always see the best in people.”

“Only the ones worth seeing.”

And that time, when he kissed you, it was with both hands cradling your face, like he was trying to memorize it. Like maybe he already knew he’d have to let go someday.

────────────────

He was falling in love with you.

And maybe… maybe you were already there.

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on you when you walked away. You didn’t know he’d stopped counting the galleons in his head weeks ago. That the whispers from his so-called friends were starting to grate, not amuse.

That the bet—the stupid, cruel bet—felt like a chain around his throat now.

But you loved him. Fully, fiercely, like a shooting star that refused to burn out.

And for a while, he let himself believe he could love you back forever.

Even if time was running out.

You woke up that morning with a smile on your face.

There was still a shimmer of stardust in your thoughts from the night before—wrapped in Theodore’s arms in the Astronomy Tower, your head on his shoulder, the constellations above whispering secrets only you could understand. You'd traced his knuckles with your thumb, whispering about the Kissing Stars and how they only align once every few years. He hadn’t said much, but he’d looked at you like you mattered.

Like you were his.

So you’d walked to the Great Hall with your chest light and your cheeks warm, clutching a folded piece of parchment with a scribbled drawing of the stars. You’d written his name in them. You were going to give it to him today—your little way of saying I love you, even if you hadn’t said it out loud yet.

When you stepped inside, the usual noise greeted you—students laughing, talking, eating. But something felt… off.

The Slytherin table was watching you.

No, waiting for you.

Blaise leaned into Draco’s ear, whispering something that made him choke on his pumpkin juice. Pansy was already giggling. Mattheo didn’t even pretend to hide his shit-eating grin. And Theodore—

Theodore sat there with his arms folded, cold eyes fixed on you like you were something disposable. Unrecognizable. The warmth was gone.

Still, you smiled and made your way over, ignoring the tension. “Theo, hey,” you said sweetly, gently bumping his arm as you sat beside him. “Guess what? I found another constellation last night—it looked like a fox! I named it after you—clever and charming and—”

“Stop talking.”

The words were quiet. Sharp.

You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”

“I said stop talking.” He turned to you fully, face devoid of anything tender. “Merlin, do you ever fucking shut up?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

A hush began to fall over the Great Hall.

Students slowed their chewing. Conversations dulled. Even the teachers seemed to sense something was about to happen.

“I—I was just telling you about the stars—”

“I don’t care about the stars,” he snapped. “Or your stupid constellations. I never did.”

Your face paled.

“Theo… what are you saying?”

He stood then, loud and deliberate, pushing back from the bench like you’d said something disgusting. “I’m saying I’m done pretending.”

Every table went silent.

He stepped in front of you, towering. Cold. Cruel.

“The only reason I ever gave you the time of day was because of a bet.” His voice was clear. Loud. Unapologetic. “Four months. That’s all you were. Four months, 600 galleons, and a joke.”

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even breathe.

Your whole body froze as the Slytherins behind him burst out laughing.

“Fucking finally!” Mattheo crowed. “I thought you were gonna crack and kiss his forehead again, lover boy.”

Draco howled. “Can you believe the idiot fell for it? I mean—stars? Really?”

“Oh, the way he blushed whenever Theo held his hand,” Astoria cooed mockingly. “He was practically wagging his tail.”

Theodore kept his eyes on you.

There was a flicker of regret. A shadow of guilt.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him from saying:

“You’re pathetic, Y/N.”

The words hit harder than any hex.

You flinched, visibly, the parchment slipping from your hand. It fluttered to the floor—your sketch of the stars and his name shining in them—forgotten.

Theodore kept going.

“You followed me around like a stray mutt. Always smiling. Always fucking talking about your precious constellations like I gave a damn. You thought I actually cared? That we were real?”

Your lips trembled. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

You wanted to scream. To cry. To ask him why.

Why?

Why he kissed you. Why he held you in the dark and let you dream. Why he made you believe you were enough.

Instead, all you whispered was, “I loved you.”

The laughter died.

Even the Slytherins blinked, some shifting uncomfortably.

Theodore faltered—but only for a moment. And that was the worst part.

He hesitated.

He had the chance to stop this. To take it back.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked you dead in the eyes and said, “Well, I never did.”

And just like that—your heart shattered.

Not like glass. Not like something quick or clean.

It broke slowly.

Painfully.

You felt it crack, piece by piece, like the universe was pulling every star you ever loved from the sky and crushing it in front of you.

Hermione was the first to stand.

“That’s enough!” she snapped, voice shaking with fury. “You—you monster!”

Ron and Harry were already moving, storming toward the Slytherin table, wands halfway drawn.

But you didn’t move.

You sat there, shaking, broken, and humiliated. The bright Gryffindor everyone adored—now just a ghost.

And then you stood.

Not because you wanted to.

Because you had to.

You walked away slowly, footsteps heavy, heart in ruins. You didn’t even look at him as you passed. You couldn’t. You were afraid if you saw his face again, you'd crumble completely.

You reached the doors just as Harry called out, “Y/N! Please—wait!”

Ron's voice cracked. “He’s not worth it! Please, come back!”

But you kept walking.

And when you were gone—truly gone—the Great Hall stayed quiet.

Theodore sat back down, but he didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. He looked at the parchment still lying on the floor.

His name.

In the stars.

And for the first time in years, he felt truly, utterly, alone.

Meanwhile, you ran.

Up the stairs. Past portraits that whispered in concern. Past a group of Hufflepuffs who stepped aside, mouths agape at the wreckage written on your face.

You didn’t stop until you reached the Astronomy Tower.

And there, with the cold wind biting your skin and your knees giving out beneath you, you finally collapsed.

Your cries echoed against the stone. The sky above, once your favorite comfort, felt like a cruel reminder. You looked up through blurry eyes, searching for the stars you loved so dearly.

But they didn’t shine the same anymore.

Not now.

Not after him.

It started with silence.

And not the peaceful kind—the kind that swells and settles like a storm cloud just before it breaks. You didn’t speak the next day. Or the day after that. You barely looked at anyone.

The once-bright boy who used to laugh at breakfast, pass out candy during study groups, and wave excitedly at professors even when he was late—was gone.

You weren’t you anymore.

And everyone noticed.

────────────────

Gryffindor Tower was tense.

Hermione watched you carefully from across the common room, her eyes darting every time you so much as moved. She tried to talk to you gently at first.

“Y/N, do you want to go over Charms together? You always help me with the incantation rhythm—”

You shook your head once.

“I’m fine.”

You weren’t.

Ron offered his last two Chocolate Frogs that night. The same boy who wouldn’t share with his own brothers.

“Mate,” he said softly, “come sit with us, yeah? We’ll throw on some music, Hermione’ll start arguing about Runes again, and we’ll forget the Slytherin git ever existed.”

But you just smiled.

That awful, empty, polite smile.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

You didn’t mean it.

And Harry—Harry sat with you in the common room one night, past midnight. He didn’t say much. Just sat nearby, watching you stare into the fire, unmoving.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“He never deserved you.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t cry.

You just blinked and whispered, “I should’ve known.”

That’s what broke Harry.

────────────────

It spread to the classrooms.

You, who once raised your hand for every question, who used to help the younger students find their assigned partners, who made Professor Sprout smile with your enthusiastic herbology notes—you stopped trying.

You still showed up. Still did your homework. Still got top marks.

But it was lifeless.

Mechanical.

Professor McGonagall asked you to stay after Transfiguration one morning. The room emptied around you, but you remained at your desk, eyes staring ahead.

She walked toward you slowly, her hands folded in front of her.

“Mr. L/N,” she said softly. “You’ve always been one of my brightest. One of Hogwarts’ brightest.”

You didn’t respond.

“I know heartbreak,” she continued, her voice a gentle tremble. “It leaves its mark. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You blinked up at her then. For a brief second, she swore she saw that old light flicker back in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Professor,” you said quietly.

And it shattered her.

She didn’t believe you. No one did.

But you were convincing.

Too convincing.

────────────────

The next day, Professor Sinistra stopped you after Astronomy class.

“Y/N,” she said softly, frowning, “you haven’t turned in your celestial chart. Are you… alright?”

You blinked.

"Oh,” you said. “I forgot.”

She stared at you for a long moment. “You’ve never forgotten before. Is everything okay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

But it was a lie. And she knew it.

She watched you leave the classroom, your shoulders hunched, the usual bounce in your step gone. Her heart ached for you.

She remembered you staying behind after class, excitedly rambling about star clusters and constellations, asking her questions she hadn’t even thought of. You were one of her brightest students.

Now, you didn’t even look at the sky.

────────────────

Even the portraits whispered.

They talked among themselves when you passed. That you were too quiet. That the cheerful Gryffindor had changed. One old witch in the Charms corridor even told her neighbor, “That one’s heartbroken, through and through. You can see it in the way he walks.”

And they were right.

You didn’t walk the same. You didn’t look the same.

No longer bouncing on your heels, waving at friends, or pointing excitedly to the sky. Now, you walked like your chest carried weights no one could see.

And at night?

You didn’t sleep.

You just laid there, eyes wide, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering how many stars had died since he said he never loved you.

────────────────

Theodore noticed.

Everywhere.

He noticed when you passed by without looking at him.

He noticed the way you no longer tucked that curl behind your ear nervously.

He noticed how your hands never fluttered when you talked—because you didn’t talk.

He noticed how Hermione flanked you in every class like a shield, and how Ron glared daggers at him from across every hallway. How Harry went from silently watching to outright refusing to let Theodore near you.

But the worst part?

Theodore didn’t fight it.

Because what could he say?

I was scared. I panicked. I really do love you now.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

He used to watch you from the other side of the Great Hall, hoping—wishing—you’d look up. That your eyes would find his like they always used to.

But they never did.

Even when the sun poured through the windows and caught your hair in that same golden glow it used to, you looked empty.

He’d broken you.

And you didn’t even hate him for it.

You just… erased him.

────────────────

The professors spoke behind closed doors.

Dumbledore watched you closely from his high table. He saw the way your smile never reached your eyes anymore. How you spoke in quiet syllables and barely touched your food.

Flitwick tried to lift your spirits with praise.

Sprout gave you extra cuttings to tend to in case it helped.

Hooch offered to teach you a new Quidditch maneuver—even though you weren’t on the team.

Even Snape, of all people, said your potion was “adequate” one day—because the look on your face when he used to insult your brewing was more alive than the one you wore now.

And McGonagall?

She pulled you aside again.

This time, she didn’t speak.

She just pulled you into a hug.

You didn’t hug her back.

But you didn’t pull away, either.

That was enough for her to cry once you left.

────────────────

And then came the first Hogsmeade trip.

You were invited by nearly every Gryffindor in the common room.

Neville asked gently. Dean said they’d buy your favorite sweets. Seamus promised a distraction, a new joke every minute. Hermione packed you a scarf, “just in case it’s cold.”

You said no.

You stayed behind.

Alone in the common room, watching the flames dance like stars falling from the sky. You didn’t need chocolate frogs. Or butterbeer. Or another attempt to feel something you couldn’t anymore.

You just needed to not exist for a little while.

────────────────

That night, long after curfew, long after the castle had gone quiet, you slipped out of the portrait hole like a ghost.

No one stopped you.

No one even saw you.

Not even the Fat Lady tried to ask where you were going.

You walked the halls slowly, your feet dragging slightly with every step, like gravity clung heavier to your bones these days. The flickering torches cast shadows on the stone walls, but you barely registered them. Your mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere four months ago.

Somewhere under the stars with his hand in yours.

The staircase to the Astronomy Tower groaned beneath your steps. Each echo bounced back at you, louder than expected, like the castle was trying to say something—Don’t go. Don’t break again.

But you kept climbing.

And then, finally, the door creaked open.

The cold hit you first. Sharp, biting wind brushing through your robes like needles. You shivered. You didn’t bring your scarf. You didn’t care.

You stepped out onto the platform, and the stars were… blinding.

Too many. Too bright.

They looked like glittering lies now.

You used to name them all.

You used to point to the constellations and tug on Theodore’s sleeve, whispering things like, “That one’s Cassiopeia. She was a queen, but vain. Got cursed for her pride.”

Or, “Orion always follows Artemis in the sky, like he’s still chasing her even after death.”

He used to smile at you when you talked like that. Sometimes he’d kiss your temple mid-ramble, just because he could.

You hated how easily you remembered that.

You stared up at the sky now, jaw tight, fists curled into your sleeves.

And then you whispered to no one—

“I don’t want to love you anymore.”

The words caught in the wind. Got carried off into the sky like a secret, like a curse.

But they weren’t true.

Because you did.

Even after everything.

Even now.

Your throat clenched.

And for the first time since that day in the Great Hall—

You cried.

Quiet, trembling sobs that echoed off the tower walls and dissolved into the night air. You sank to the floor, your face in your hands as if begging to the stars to take the ache away.

But they didn’t.

They just watched.

Silent.

Unforgiving.

And utterly, heartbreakingly distant.

[molanran]

x : NO FEAR :*+ﾟ i wanna love you with no fear !

in which: itoshi rin rejected you, so why isn't he handling your avoidance well?

warnings: 5k wc, fluff with minor angst, jealous!rin, food cw, swearing, reo is reader's best friend, COLLEGE!AU, gn!reader, non-canon complaint

a/n: happy valentine's day !!! shoutout to @ryekoo for finally giving me inspo on what to do for the rin fic of my event - u rly saved my life <3

↳ 5K EVENT MASTERLIST ༉‧₊

you:i’m going to end you. <reo3: i’m too pretty to die ._. you: and you told me i was too pretty for itoshi rin to reject!?!?!?! <reo3: oh... <reo3: i’m sorry. <reo3: condolences fr.

with a disappointed sigh, you pocket your phone, decidedly ignoring the next few messages that reo sends as you wait for your bus. he owes you a million yen for the amount of grief and distress he’s currently putting you through, especially with the way he shattered all hopes you had with your love life.

well, hopes that you were stupid enough to feed into because this was itoshi rin you’re talking about; possibly the most standoffish, calculated, and devastatingly gorgeous man you’ve ever met in your life. yet, despite his detestable personality, you still found yourself falling hook, line, and sinker for the man, despite his insults, cold comments, and dismissive attitude.

maybe it’s masochism. 

now that you look back on it, rin’s rejection seemed almost inevitable. even if you lead yourself to hope with all the times you caught him staring at you, the prompt replies to your messages, and willingness to somewhat tolerate you during group projects, it was rather obvious that this would be the outcome to your heartfelt confession. 

‘i don’t see you like that’.

it’s cringeworthy simply thinking about it. now you’re going to have another memory that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.

recalling the expression he made after your confession; eyebrows scrunched and lips tugged into a slight frown, was traumatising enough for you to wish for the ground to swallow you whole. his face will plague you for an uncertain amount of time because today truly, was so very humbling.

the sight of your bus approaching your stop rouses you from the crevices of your thoughts and after you jump on and settle yourself into a seat in the relatively empty carriage, you bring your phone out to text reo again. he’d sent four messages since.

&lt;reo3: this doesn’t make any sense we all thought rin was into you &lt;reo3: like DOWN BAD into you<reo3: everyone on the team has literally made bets on you two <reo3: i’m sorry :c r u okay?  you: yeah. just gotta take the L and move on you: hey at least i’m free for valentines <reo3: LET’S GOOO we’re definitely doing something <reo3: i’ll be a better valentines than r*n you: you’re sexier too babes xoxo <reo3: duh!

maybe you’ll let reo see another day. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your university schedule was never the same after the ‘itoshi rin’ fiasco.

it was never an amazing schedule to begin with since a few classes were quite inconvenient, and there’s only so much to enjoy out of your seminars. the fun part about them was being able to sit beside rin and talk to him whenever you could without getting waved off, but since his heartless decline of your feelings, acting ‘buddy-buddy’ wouldn’t be acceptable. so you resorted to sit by yourself in a section of the space you’ve never really occupied before, busying yourself on your phone as students walked in to class.

despite the temptation to look at the door to see when rin would come in, you do not budge one bit, eyes glued to your phone screen (which had nothing entertaining on it). this meant that you couldn’t see the confusion on his face when he didn’t see you in your normal spot and how it merged further into a look of offence when he instead spots you across the room.

reluctantly taking his usual seat, rin’s gaze lingers on you, hoping to meet your eyes at least once. but upon your insistence to pretend your phone was more important than him, he sits down, practically flopping onto his chair with his backpack cushioning his fall. 

sitting here feels a little empty. rin can’t help but think how it used to be much better when you insisted on being next to him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

&lt;;reo3: you can come now rin isn’t here yet

you: kk b there soon

the trek across campus towards the university’s soccer field, although long, is harmless enough, especially since you were doing a favour for your best friend by bringing the soccer guards and water bottle that he left at your dorm. the harmful part was the looming threat of itoshi rin’s presence and your fear that you would encounter him on your way. 

all you needed to do was drop in quickly and leave. 

when you get to the field, nagi’s the one who sees you first from where he was lounging on the bleaches, changed in his soccer gear. 

“oh, y/n,” he mumbles, sitting up. “hello.”

“hey nagi. are you trying to nap before practice or something?” you ask.

“yeah.” 

“won’t that drain you though before practice starts? you’ve got like… five minutes.”

“still classified as a power nap. wanna collect a power up before startin’.”

amusing as ever, he is. “sure. hey, you know where reo is?”

“he’s changed, probably warming up with isagi and bachira and whoever else.”

“shouldn’t you be doing that too?”

“not until reo forces me to.”

as if on cue, a friendly and very familiar voice calls out nagi’s name and you’re delighted to see the purple-haired in question. you can finally give him his stupid stuff back; the ones you’ve been holding in your hands this entire time like an idiot.

“come on nagi!” reo exclaims, jogging over. a smile appears on his face when he sees you. “yo! y/n! thanks for bringing my things.”

“‘s not a problem. next time i’ll burn them so don’t leave them again,” you counter as the purple-haired takes his things from you with an eye roll. “i filled up your water bottle for you.” 

he places his things down before sitting beside nagi to put his guards on. “so considerate even whilst terrorising me.”

“of course.”

“seriously though, thank you for bringing my things.”

“not a problem. i’m gonna head back to my dorm to study so i’ll see you later. bye reo, bye nagi,” you wave at the two, fixing your backpack strap before turning around to leave the field, only to bump face-first into someone.

the apology that surfaces on your tongue quickly withers away when you lock eyes with a pair of steely, teal ones, partially hidden by strands of dark hair. he looks at you like he has something to say.

but you’re not ready to hear it. 

“uh, hi rin! gotta go!” you squeak before stepping to the side and running away, leaving rin to stare in bewilderment after you.

part of him has the urge to run after you. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<reo3: isagi’s invited a bunch of us to the on campus screening of spirited away

<reo3: wanna come?

you: ykw why not

you: not like i have essays to write

<reo3: FUCK THEM ESSAYS! 

you: YOU’RE RIGHT SPIRITED AWAY IS BETTER !

if you knew that this would lead you to be seated (uncomfortably) between reo and isagi, who acted as the only barrier between you and an-unnamed-man (rin), then perhaps you would’ve dedicated yourself to your essay rather than a fun opportunity to hang out with your friends. 

1500 words sounds better than having to pretend like there wasn’t an icy cold stare penetrating the back of your head every time you turned to talk to reo, or isagi trying to keep his interactions up with rin so the latter wouldn’t try to talk to you.

you owe isagi a vending machine drink after this because a ‘thank you’ will never suffice. 

it’s easy enough to forget about rin when the movie plays and isagi begins whispering little pieces of commentary to you from time to time, eliciting giggles from you that you try to suppress to not annoy those around you. however, each sound that slipped past your lips was enough to make the dark-haired boy scrunch his face in disgust, an ugly, green monster climbing up his throat when he catches a glimpse of how happy you seemed with someone that wasn’t him. it kills him to see how easily it is for you to just ignore him like your friendship never existed.

since the campus movie was scheduled during a cool but bearable, autumn dusk, you severely underestimated how cold the night would get. heating wasn’t the best in the gymnasium so the committee had instructed everyone to bring their own blankets and warm covers, yet in your haste, you couldn’t bring adequate layers.

so after a while of trying to warm yourself up and convincing yourself that you were warm enough with a measly sweatshirt, rin notices from the corner of his eye how you kept rubbing your arms. 

he doesn’t hesitate to take off the fleece jacket that he was wearing over his university jumper. sure, it will be significantly colder without his outer layer, but rin’s willing to suffer as long as you were okay (when has he ever been this considerate?), except he stops when he sees nagi handing you his very oversized jumper. you accept it with a gracious smile and the white-haired boy merely shrugs before going back to watching the film. rin, on the other hand, feels a cauldron of rage brewing within him.

the sight makes his chest twist, wringing him dry as he stares dejectedly at how snug you seem in someone else’s clothes. the green monster inside of rin bubbles in contempt, a being that makes him want to rip the hoodie off you and replace it with his own for you to wrap yourself up in. he wants you to be content with him- happy because of him, not because of another.

you confessed to him only two weeks ago- barely even two weeks ago, so how could you so easily forget about him and move on? pretend like his rejection didn’t shatter you and him when he saw a devastation like no other on your pretty face?

rin doesn’t know how much longer he can live like this. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the following tuesday, you’re already seated in your new spot for your seminar, busy setting up your laptop in preparation when rin walks in. you see him from the corner of your eye, backpack slung around his shoulder, hands tucked unassumingly in his pockets as all 185cm of him saunters towards the seats. however, when you notice that he bypasses his normal spot and walks even further out of your peripheral vision, alarms blare deafeningly in your head.

you freeze when you hear someone take the seat behind you.

there’s a hard gaze on the back of your head, one that roots you to your spot and wills you not to turn around.

sneaking out your phone from your bag, you hide it so that rin can’t see it from his angle. 

you: RIN IS SITTING BEHIND ME OH NO

you: terrible start to valentines day smh

<reo3: WHAT!??!!???!???! fr.

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I’M GOING TO DISINTEGRATE RIGHT NOW

<reo3: maybe *don’t* do that???? 

<reo3: WHY’S HE SITTING BEHIND YOU?????

you: FUCK IF I KNOW IT FEELS LIKE HE’S THROWING DAGGERS AT MY HEAD

<reo3: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

you: CRY???????????? IDFK???????????

you: oh fuck class is about to start

you: i’ll let you know if anything happens

<reo3: STAY SAFE 

you tuck your phone away with fear and dread looming over you, personified through the form of itoshi rin, who sits so indifferently behind you, head propped on his hand. you hear his pen click behind you and you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s taking out that stupid notebook of his since he preferred to take notes by hand. you want to turn around and rip said book into shreds.

as the professor starts the class, you try your best to shake rin out of your thoughts, wanting to leave him behind in the depths of your mind so you can concentrate on this damn elective. none of the notes you were typing onto your document made sense and it felt like everything the professor was saying went in one ear then out the other. curse rin for having this effect on you. 

at least you get to gossip with reo after this.

though your seminar was only 60 minutes, it might as well have been 60 years because of how significantly older you feel at the end of it. the weight of rin’s stare was heavy on your shoulders when you hurriedly grab your things and make a dash for the exit.

well. you try to make a dash for the exit because somehow, rin gained the ability to teleport and beat you there, grabbing your wrist unceremoniously before pulling you into the hallways. you fumble with your phone, hurriedly texting reo.

you: UHH MAYDAY I MGHT NEEE TO SKIP OUR PLANS

<reo3: WHAT’S HAPPENING?????

you: RIN IS DRSGGING ME SIMEWHERE IDK WHERE

you: MY LOCARION IS ON LIFE360

you: I LUV YOU STUPID WHORE

<reo3: WHDJFWIJAIDJFAWHAT THE FUCK????

“hey!” you exclaim, helplessly being pulled by rin’s long strides, shutting your phone off as you try to match his eagerness. he could at least be a little more considerate and lighten up that grip of his on your wrist. “rin- what? where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he responds gruffly.

your mind blanks despite the hurricane of questions that circulate your mind. how did you get here? is the delirium finally hitting you after countless sleepless nights? you stayed up until 2am last night to make valentine’s chocolates for your friends so maybe it’s the sugar and the sleep deprivation. 

as rin pulls you through the hallways, you think about how weird it is to allow him this close to you again- well, you didn’t exactly allow him, he kind of just… invaded your personal space. but after a whole week of not talking to him, responding dryly to his texts, avoiding your regular hangout spots, and overall pretending like he doesn’t exist, being exposed to his intimidating presence once more is… exhilarating? unreal? 

“wait, can we stop for a second?” you demand, breaking out of your funk when you step outside as if the harshness of the sun’s rays woke you up. “i’m so confused right now. where are we going?”

“we’re going to have lunch together at that café you’ve been wanting to try out,” he tells you with a serious expression, not breaking his usual aloof and stern personality. 

rin doesn’t give mixed messages: no, he gives messages that have completely been lost, fallen astray somewhere along the path of communication.

shifting your weight between your feet awkwardly, you tell him: “well, i kinda had valentine’s plans.”

his mask of coolness and uninterest cracks, exposing all the emotions he’s been withholding from surfacing for the past weeks; jealousy, envy, greed, they all manifest through the helpless scrunch of his face. “with who?” asks rin, tone a lot harsher than he had intended, matching the crease of his eyebrows and the frown he was wearing.

it’s the green monster in him talking.

if you were going out with someone else, someone new, rin’s not too sure what he’d do. determination and pettiness can only take a man so far before his resolve cracks and you have the power to crush his heart with a single stomp, extinguishing his flames in one, swift sweep. 

“with reo,” you confess. the dark-haired relaxes again, his face returning to a neutral expression.

“okay. ditch him then.” his audacity is baffling.

“i can’t just do that!” 

“why not?”

“cause that’s a shitty thing to do!” you say, before murmuring under your breath, “not that you’d know the first thing about being polite.” 

“i don’t care, it’s reo, you two hang out everyday. tell him to give me a turn.”

“you’re a horrible person, rin,” you murmur, ignoring the butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

he doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely eyeing you expectantly, waiting for your next step. huffing, you reluctantly take out your phone as a sign of surrender under his suffocating pressure, muttering complaints under your breath as you find reo’s contact - literally your most recent one, to send him a quick message. almost instantly, your best friend responds with a thumbs up paired with a smirk and you almost want to block him then and there. 

“done.”

“perfect,” rin goes to grab your hand again but you retract from him just in time. when you look up to meet his gaze once more, you see his unimpressed expression whilst he keeps his palm extended towards you expectantly.

“i don’t need your help walking places,” you grumble, not liking how fast your heart was racing.

he gestures to his open palm once more. “i know.”

after a moment of silence, you give in, hesitantly placing your hand in his. with a small grin, rin intertwines your fingers before pulling you to his side. without another word, he begins walking, leaving you to merely follow the brutally fast pace he’s set.

you must’ve looked ridiculous to other people. being dragged around by an 185 cm man, how humbling.

the place rin led you to was not too far from campus; a totally manageable distance for the two of you to remain in silence during the walk. you try to bypass the awkwardness of it all by focusing on other things, like how warm rin’s hand is and how you hope he doesn’t mind your sweaty hands. he seems to be content from what you’ve observed, happily walking beside you whilst sparing a few occasional glances over; ones that you pretend you don’t see whilst admiring the cityscape around you.

there are various valentine’s decorations hung up around the insides of the cafe that made you cringe slightly. although they were very cute, you feel humiliation climbing up your throat, serving as a reminder that you were currently spending a day of love and romance, or whatever, standing beside the very man who rejected you. 

this is the cruellest version of a sick joke.

“welcome!” a cheery voice greets, breaking you out of your thoughts. “table for two?” rin nods. “perfect! are you here for valentine’s day because couples get access to a special menu on top of our regular one.” 

when you open your mouth to reject her offer, rin beats you to it. “we’ll take the valentine’s menu.”

“okay, right this way,” the waitress guides you to an empty table for two that was right by the corner. the atmosphere of the place was cozy with various candles and statement pieces to really bring it together, but you have no time or brain space to appreciate the aesthetic of the café. 

it’s not until the waitress leaves that you speak up, utterly confused. “why’d you get the valentine’s menu, we-”

realisation hits you like a truck. 

“-are we on a date right now?”

rin’s unmoving, save for the purse of his lips as he stares at you. you feel a little foolish right now.

“yeah, we are,” he answers, curtly and concisely.

alarms are blaring in your head, the earth is tremoring below you, there are distant screams somewhere in the back of your mind and all you can manage out is a simple ‘oh’. 

“get what you want, i’ll-” rin begins before you abruptly cut him off.

“-no, hold on, i’m so confused right now,” you rub your temples, staring at the stupid valentine’s day menu decorated with pink and hearts and chocolates. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are we on a date?”

“because it’s valentine’s day?”

“well- i know that part,” you murmur under your breath. “it’s just, y’know, people celebrate this day when they like each other.” and not when one party is miserable because the other rejected them. 

“we do like each other though.”

there are no words to describe the shock you feel. really. not even an anvil dropping on your head could wake you up from whatever dream you are conjuring right now. 

“no, we don’t! i like you, you don’t like me.”

he looks away, the tips of his ears turning red. “that’s not true,” he murmurs, no louder than a whisper, yet your jaw drops all the same at his confession. “i do like you.”

“a week ago you didn’t!” 

“a week ago i wasn’t ready to get into a… relationship… or whatever.”

“oh,” you fix the strap of your bag, feeling slightly awkward. “and you’re ready now all of a sudden?”

“yeah.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“the fuck? why?” 

“you don’t really seem like the type of guy to turn around on yourself like this. what changed?”

rin won’t ever tell you about how much he missed you during these two weeks and how it was his jealousy and greediness that spurred him to act on his feelings. instead, he simply slides the menu to you, pointing to a milkshake-‘lover’s brew’, and since the menu was decorated with pictures on the side, you could see what the concoction consisted of. whipped cream, heart sprinkles, topped with a caramel heart and fairy floss. 

“the milkshake?” you ask, trailing off towards the end. “you hate sweet things and this especially looks like it could give you diabetes.”

the dark-haired shrugs. “so? i thought you’d like it.” 

“sure, but it is kinda pricey for a milkshake.”

he shrugs again, putting his elbows on the table which causes his sleeves of his turtleneck to roll down a little, exposing the shiny silver of his, no doubt expensive, watch. “i’ll pay for us, it’s fine.”

“hold on-”

“i’m paying. end of argument.” 

it’s an offer you can’t really reject. being a university student and all, funds are limited, so wherever you can, you want to avoid withdrawing money out of your account. that said, it doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about draining rin’s, but with how long you’ve been friends, you know that once he’s set his mind to something, it’s hard to change it.

“if you insist,” you grumble, straightening up your spine as you awkwardly fiddle with your shirt. you feel so scrutinised under his gaze, even as you reach for the jug of water and pour two cups of water. “what else should we get?”

the waitress then comes around to take your orders and when she’s gone, conversation flows easily, reverting back to how things were between the two of you (to rin’s relief). he listens as you talk animatedly about the unfortunate series of events you had with your professor the other day, how cute your encounter with the campus dogs were, and the really unfortunate run-in you had with a guy from your shared tutorial classes.

(the dark-haired boy makes a face when you mention another man’s name before his usual face of indifference melts back in.)

“here’s your milkshake,” the waitress says, placing the drink in the middle of the table before walking away, “you guys are really cute by the way.”

“thanks,” rin says calmly, a stark contrast to your flustered reaction.

two straws stick out from the milkshake and when you put one in your mouth, you almost choke when rin takes the other one, causing your noses to bump in the middle. the look he gives you is nothing short of mischievous before pulling away, a knowing smirk playing along his lips. 

“ew. that is really sweet,” he mutters before leaning back, crossing his arms. 

“yeah,” you cough. “it is really sweet.”

recovering from your embarrassment, the rest of lunch goes by quite seamlessly. he goes to pay for everything with a confident tap of his card, causing you to stand awkwardly behind him, keeping all complaints to yourself as it goes through. thanking the waitress, you leave the café hand-in-hand once more. 

“thanks again for paying,” you repeat and rin gives a hum of acknowledgement whilst you two walk aimlessly on the path. “what do you want to do now?”

“i don’t know. do you have anything you want to do?”

“i might have an idea.”

leading him in the direction of a nearby store that just opened recently, you come to a stop in front of a shop that had neon-lights illuminating its inside and claw machines filled with adorable plushies lining along the walls. 

glancing at him, there’s a glimmer of amusement in rin’s eyes as his lips turn upwards into a small smirk. “really?” he asks, looking over at you.

“really. this’ll be fun!” you promise before walking in, the dark-haired following suit as you stop in front of a token-purchasing machine. 

from the corner of your eye, you can see him taking out his wallet already and you immediately put your hand on your wrist, ceasing his movement.

with just one glance, a whole conversation passes between you two. “if you pay for me i will sock you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” he deadpans, quirking a brow before pressing the ‘20 tokens = $19’ button on the machine, “but i’m paying.”

then the sound of his card meeting the reader and the transaction being approved rings through the air, followed by the deafening noise of coins clashing against metal. the look he gives you is nothing short of proud. 

“come on babe, bet you won’t be able to get any prizes,” challenges rin as he brushes past you, the pet name causing your stomach to churn as insults rest on your tongue, offended by his declaration.

he’s gracious enough to give you half of the coins, allowing you to play four games each. you only manage to win on one of them and even then, you were astonished at your own achievements, excitedly grabbing the plushie and hugging the stuffed toy to your chest protectively. rin, on the other hand, comes back to you with two in both hands and the gawk you let out was completely against your will.

“how did you do that?” you ask, a little stupified at the sight (it was kinda hot though). although at this point, you shouldn’t really question how itoshi rin works since he takes the meaning of ‘march to the beat of your own drum’ to a whole other level. 

instead of answering, he hands them over to you and you have no choice but to take them, your arms now overloaded with three stuffed toys. 

before you can even open your mouth to ask if he broke into the machines, your phone buzzes with a notification and the second you open it, you’re met with a familiar ‘⚠️bereal’ banner, one that makes you excited over the impeccable timing. rin raises an eyebrow at your sudden surprise.

“bereal! quick, pose!” you demand and rin obeys, raising a peace sign with a slight smile before the camera turns around to you and the many stuffed toys you’re cuddling. 

how adorable you are might just kill him. 

the dark-haired shakes the thought away before taking out his phone, instructing you to smile. you pose for the photo, hugging all the plushies closely to your chest whilst rin gives his usual deadpan stare into the camera. he then gives you his phone to check if it was okay to post and when you approve, you press the ‘post >’ button for him.

shutting off his phone for him, it’s at the same time that the bereal notification pops up again, this time detailing how one of his friends had posted but that’s not what caught your attention.

it’s a certain photo that made your heart thump loudly in its ribcage.

“am i your lockscreen?” you ask, pride and flattery swelling in your stomach, manifesting through the warmth of your cheeks. 

the slight widening of his eyes give you all the answers you need. “you weren’t supposed to see that.” 

nothing could stop the slow grin from erupting on your expression. it’s ridiculous to say so, but it almost feels like a weight is being lifted from your chest, the pains of the last few weeks erasing themselves completely with this one detail. 

that’s how you know rin was meant for you.

“out of all pictures of me, you chose this one?” you question, gesturing to the selfie that you once sent him during your study sessions. your hair was messy, there was a semi-crazed look in your eyes, but at least the moisturising lip gloss you had reapplied then made you look somewhat put together. 

looking at his phone once more, you feel a little warm.

“i like it,” he mutters shyly, unable to look you in the eye. despite his embarrassment, his statement fills you with endless relief, providing gratification for your relationship with rin that you didn’t know you needed. 

though you’ve been friends with him for quite some time now, you feel as though you don’t really recognise the man in front of you. past perceptions you’ve had of him has now been shattered by his flustered gaze, the relentless blush coating his cheeks, and the uncharacteristic way he slumps, as if defending himself from any judgement you might throw at him. 

luckily for him, that’s not what you’re interested in doing.

unlocking your phone, you hand it to him. “take a matching selfie so i can make it my lock screen too.”

at least you have all the time in the world to get to know him all over again.

(rin will never tell you that he only has been active on bereal so he could see what you were up to. except it backfired every time because instead of satisfying how desperately he was longing for you during your two weeks of no contact, it only made him want you more. he wanted to be there with you through your intense study sessions, he wanted to be going on walks with you, he wanted to be there with you when you were watching one more episode of your favourite tv show before going to bed, he just wanted to be there with you.

now he has all the time to make sure he is.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[@y/n’s BeReal]

@ karasu69: @fruityninjaotoya YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS 　　→ @fruitninjaotoya: Shut your micropenis up

@ yocchan: Y/N WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS 　　→ @ nagixxxxxxxxxxxxx: ratio 　　→ @ yocchan: DON’T RATIO ME RN

@monsterbachira: omg are y’all 😍❤️😍 rn 　　→ @y/n: wut. 　　→ @itshrin: Yes 　　→ @monsterbachira: y/n rin is actually a good kisser 　　→ @y/n: thanks for letting me know meguru! 　　→ @itshrin: i’m going to end you. 

@bbgreo: i’m glad y’all had fun but no itoshi rin on our platonic date pls! 　　→ @y/n: would never dream of it luv <3 　　→ @itshrin: Sleep with one eye open, Reo 　　→ @y/n: that’s my best friend :( 　　→ @itshrin: You don’t need him 　　→ @y/n: reo and i are one you can’t separate us 　　→ @itshrin: Ok fine 😒 　　→ @bbgreo: yay! 　　→ @y/n: yay!

<reo3: told you you were too pretty to reject xx

[molanran]

Renjun vs The Dream Fencing Club🤺🤺🤺

Bonus:

[molanran]

platonic fics are literally top tier <3

you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader 

⇢   synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢   word count: 5.6k ⇢   trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences! 

⇢   a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng​ and @dearyongs​‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢   taglist: @hunjins​ @ahgase55g7​ @mmoondance​ @notnctu​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @yeoshwa​ @infnteen​ @neonun-au​ @luvlala​ @neo-shitty​ @yutacrush​ @ethaeriyeol​ @fairyinaflowercrown​ @in-my-neofeelings​ @dreamieofu​

Keep reading

[molanran]

✑ lee heeseung was fine. at least, that’s what everyone thought until one morning his ex girlfriend walked through the school gates with his best friend on her arm. deciding he wasn’t quite over her, he turns to you for help and you agree without hesitation. little does he know, you’d do just about anything to get him to look at you the way you look at him.

pairing: heeseung x gn reader, side beomgyu x ryujin (for the plot), sungchan (nct), sumin (stayc) word count: 14.2k… whew simptivites genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst, high school au, fake dating au, hurt and comfort warnings: pining, swearing, my humor, food mention, slight mental health talk, just high school kids thinking with their hearts instead of their brains, somewhat proofread

— submission for the beautiful wounds collab hosted by @moonsclover​ <3 please go and check out the other works by all these amazing writers! feedback appreciated :)

“heeseung,” sungchan hisses. “whatever you do, don’t look behind you.” 

lee heeseung looks up, confused as to what his friend was talking about because as far as he’s concerned, they were just talking about how he had just hit a new rank on league. “what?” he asks, doe eyes going wide. when he goes to turn his head, sungchan hurriedly tries to grab ahold of heeseungs shoulders to stop him, but fails. “what are you talking abo—?” 

the rest of his sentence falls short in his throat at what he sees walking through the doors of the school. it’s shin ryujin, his ex girlfriend that was just his girlfriend three weeks ago, hanging off the arm of choi beomgyu, his best friend since the fifth grade. when did this happen? how did this happen? just a few nights ago, ryujin was calling him and leaving voicemails practically begging that he take her back despite the mutual agreement to breakup. he said no, of course, feeling like the relationship between the two had already run its course. even if her voice cracking over the other end of the line pulled at his heart, he knew it was best for the both of them. heeseung had nothing left to offer ryujin and ryujin had nothing left to offer heeseung and that was fine. he was fine.

so why was he sweating? why did he want to punch beomgyu right in the face when he whispered something in ryujin’s ear that made her laugh? 

“oh” he deadpans, turning back to grab his books from his locker that they were both standing in front of. “it’s fine, we’re broken up. this is fine. I’m fine, sungchan.” at the last syllable of his friends name, he slammed his locker door shut for emphasis. 

sungchan blinks at the loud noise, letting out a breath. “well you better be fine,” he hums and pretends to busy himself on his phone. “because they’re coming this way.” 

just then, heeseung feels a tap on his shoulder and goes rigid. “hey, heeseung” calls beomgyu. “got a minute?” 

turning around, heeseung plasters his best smile on his face and hopes that it doesn’t look like he’s absolutely constipated. or hating his life. “oh hey!” he cheers (fake). “what’s up?” 

“I hope there’s no hard feelings,” beomgyu mumbles, scratching his neck. “you know, since ryujin and I are trying things out.” 

“no, no” heeseung assures, feeling his fest clench at his sides. “no hard feelings here. ryujin and I aren’t together after all.” 

ryujin’s face contorts to a frown, looking down at heeseungs fists that are clenching and unclenching. “then why do you look like you’re about to punch someone, hee?” at the sound of her voice and the use of his nickname, heeseungs smile falls. looking to his ex, he gazes into her eyes. he’s searching for a sign, anything that will let him know that this was just a prank. but alas, there’s nothing but his sad, sad reflection. 

“nah,” heeseung says, monotoned. he’s still looking at ryujin, who’s just staring back at him in confusion. “it’s fine, I wish you guys the best.” with that, heeseung turns to walk away with heavy steps. sungchan rushes after his friend, but he’s brushed off with a mumble that he’s fine. 

he keeps walking through the halls, no idea where he’s going but just filled with the need that he needs to get away from the two people at the front of the school. it’s when he reaches the old wing of the school, that’s not used anymore save for a few classes due to the renovations that they’re going through. he stomps back and forth, pacing up and down because how could they both do this to him? despite his calm exterior back there, lee heeseung was hurt at the thought of his best friend secretly pining after his girl while they were together and not saying a thing. did he plan to go after her the minute they broke up? was beomgyu really his best friend? did ryujin really love him the way he thought? 

Keep reading

[molanran]

Hop - Loser Like Me

This is an older fic that I’m just now cross-posting from my Wattpad.

Summary: He was never able to win against his rivals, and he didn't become the champion. He couldn't live up to his older brother's name. He wasn't all that special, he thought. So, why would Hop ever think that you would ever glance at him? You were that sweet, lovable person that worked day in and day out to help better the lives of rescued pokémon. Surely, you wouldn't be interested in a loser like him.

Genre: Fluff + light angst

Pairing: Hop X Rescuer!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Content Warnings: | Hop’s self-deprecating thoughts | Fear of rejection | Mentions of abused pokemon | Swearing | Reader gets slapped once (not by Hop) | Slow burn kinda | Both Hop and Reader are depicted as adults. |

Word Count: 14,741

Sonia's lab was awfully quiet. At least, that's what Hop thought as he was the only person present in the building. Sonia was out, she had the urge to get out and do a bit of fieldwork for a change. Hop's Dubwool had fallen asleep near his desk quite some time ago.

Hop was seated at his desk, scribbling down various notes about pokémon and the Dynamax phenomenon. Even if he had been studying by Sonia's side for three years now, he still had a lot to learn and discover. There were so many pokémon out there, and there was new knowledge to be gained from them practically every day.

Behind him, the Dynamax readings showed stability, thankfully. Nothing had been out of the ordinary for a long time, but Hop and Sonia had the habit of keeping a close eye on them. Their slight paranoia was understandable due to the damage caused by the actions of Rose and the royal brothers.

Hop's foot tapped away as he wrote, he twirled his pen every so often. Even though Hop had matured quite a bit over the years, sitting still for long periods was still not his forté.

As he finished jotting down the final words of his report, he gathered up all of the sheets to place them in a neat pile. With a sigh, he leaned back to stretch his sore muscles, he had been hunched over his desk for a good amount of time, so it was much needed. Hop let out a small yelp as his computer chair nearly fell back from the pressure he was applying.

Once he stabilized himself, he reached for his Rotom Phone, turning it on so that he could tune into some live battles. He still had a bit of work to do, but he figured that he could take a small break.

He blinked once he saw footage of his best friend in battle. Hop had almost forgotten that today was Victor's exhibition match. Nonetheless, he smiled as he began to watch it.

Victor was battling Bede, and both men were giving it their all. Seeing those two battle it out on the pitch brought back memories from his own gym challenge. After all, the three had been the biggest rivals throughout their journeys.

Victor was a fantastic champion, and perhaps even better than Leon was, Hop thought. Even today, Hop couldn't believe how powerful his childhood friend was, and it seemed as though his strength grew with every passing day.

Victor wasn't just a strong battler, he was inspirational and a good man. He didn't care much about having many sponsors, nor did he go out of his way to partake in interviews. He often donated his prize money to people in need, and he was exceptionally humble.

Even Bede had matured into a decent man. Now the full-time gym leader of Ballonlea, he was a force to be reckoned with for challengers. Although he still kept a facade of toughness, Hop couldn't deny that Bede was much more polite than before. Even if Bede and Hop had never gotten along, Hop thought that it was great that Bede had found his place in the world.

Hop took a glance at his sleeping Dubwool, reaching down to stroke his coat softly. It dawned on him that it's been quite a while since he had battled someone because he was so focused on his studies to become a respectable professor. He hoped that his pokémon weren't too bored with his decision to lessen pokémon battling to focus on research.

However, they seemed to have accepted his choice of career, as did his friends and relatives. Even though being a professor was far from being his original dream, he thought it was fun.

All his life, Hop had wanted to be the champion. He wanted to prove to the region that he was just as good, possibly better than his brother. But that didn't happen, Victor got there first.

He continued to watch Victor's battle on his phone, completely immersed in the confident and enthusiastic energy that Victor displayed. Victor still had five pokémon standing, while Bede was on his last two.

"It's no wonder you became champion, mate," Hop chuckled to himself.

No wonder indeed. Three years later, and Hop had accepted that he never stood a chance of being champion. Not when he was up against Victor. Hop had never been able to defeat Victor, and he always felt like he was lightyears behind his dear friend.

Even today, he felt underwhelming compared to everyone around him. It felt as though his friends, rivals and family were all achieving great success and making names for themselves while he was constantly scribbling notes and watching wild pokémon.

Hop sighed, shaking his head in annoyance at his own thoughts. He knew better than to think so negatively, but the quiet atmosphere of the lab seemed to be the perfect setting to overthink life itself.

He shook his head once more, smiling to himself as a way to convince himself that everything was fine. He was usually so bubbly and energetic, for crying out loud! He loved doing research. It was his new passion, and that's what was important.

Hop grinned as Victor's battle came to a close, ending in a victory for his best friend. Though the outcome didn't surprise him, Hop mentally congratulated him.

As he turned off his phone to get back to work, the door to the lab opened. He didn't fully pay any mind to it as it was most likely Sonia since she was to return around these hours.

"H-Hello? Is there anyone?" A meek voice timidly sounded.

Hop's gaze lifted. That was most definitely not Sonia. He got up from his chair and smoothed his lab coat before heading to the entrance of the lab.

There stood a young, short-haired girl who looked to be more or less ten-years-old. She shyly fiddled with her sweater's sleeves as her gaze was fixated to the ground.

Hop blinked but quickly shook off his surprise to smile at the youngling. "Hi, there! What brings you here?"

"W-Well... is Professor Sonia here? I'm supposed to get my first pokémon today," she said.

Now that Hop thought about it, he did remember Sonia saying something about a girl coming to get her starter today. He had completely forgotten about that.

He looked around nervously, Sonia had most likely lost track of time. It happened to her often whenever she was really into her work, and he really couldn't blame her.

He scratched the back of his head. "R-Right! You must be Annabelle, yeah?"

The little girl nodded in response with a soft smile.

"So, er, the thing is that Sonia isn't here right now..." he said.

Annabelle's smile faltered a bit. "Oh... that's okay. I'll come back. I'm sorry for bothering you," she said.

Hop cringed at the dejected look she had, and before she could turn around and leave, he stopped her.

"Hey, wait! I can give you your pokémon, you don't have to come back later," he said before he could stop himself.

Surely, Sonia wouldn't mind if he took matters into his own hands, right? After all, he felt too bad at the thought of making her wait, he knew all too well just how exciting it was to get your very first pokémon.

"Really? Oh, thank you so much!" She said enthusiastically.

Hop chuckled and motioned her to follow him. "Well, come along. Let's have you meet the little fellows!"

She did as told and followed Hop. He then headed to a shelf where three pokéballs sat. He grabbed them and turned back to Annabelle.

As he called out the pokémon, three familiar faces excitedly made their entrance. Hop couldn't help but smile as the nostalgia hit him as he watched the Grookey, Scorbunny and Sobble all pose adorably.

Annabelle seemed absolutely enamoured with them as well as she cooed at their cuteness.

Hop nodded to himself, it was time for him to put his knowledge to good use. This would be a good way for him to evaluate his performance as a future professor.

"Sobble is just about the most gentle Water-type pokémon out there! It can be pretty sensitive and timid, but don't let that fool you, Sobble is a master of camouflage and silent attacks. It never fails to aim for an opponent's weak spot! She's a little girl!" Hop explained.

Sobble wiggled her fin as she covered her cheeks to hide a little blush. It sounded like she was giggling.

"Scorbunny is a very energetic Fire-type! It's always raring to go and up for a good fight. It's a very confident pokémon who will always do its best to impress and protect its trainer! This little guy is a boy," Hop continued.

Sorbunny bounced in the air, pumping his little paw with a wink. He was trying to showboat a little.

"And lastly, we have the Grass-type, Grookey! It's a very peaceful pokémon with a good sense of leadership. It's a very speedy pokémon that can get quite immersed in battles. This one is a boy!" He concluded.

Grookey wagged his tail, chirping happily with a bright smile as he bounced up and down. He grabbed his stick to tap a little beat onto the tile floor.

"So, which one will you take? Choose wisely. This will be your most trusted partner who will stick by your side throughout your journey no matter what," Hop said.

Annabelle's gaze flicked between the three pokémon, but not for long as she had her eyes set on the little Grookey.

"They're all so cute, but I decided that I wanted a Grookey ages ago!" She said as she crouched to the pokémon's height.

"Would you like to travel with me?" She asked, holding out her hand.

Grookey nodded excitedly as he put his little paws onto her hand. Annabelle giggled at the pokémon's cuteness.

Hop grinned. "Grookey, huh? A great choice. It was the pokémon that I chose to travel with along with Wooloo when I first started."

Annabelle giggled softly, picking up her new Grookey in her arms. "I know. That's why I wanted one, Mr. Hop!"

Hop blinked in surprise as he registered what the young girl had said. "I- Really?"

"Yeah! I always watched your battles with my mummy when you did your gym challenge. You were my favourite trainer, and I want to be just as good as you!" She said.

Hop was at a loss for words. Not only did this child know who he was, but she was admitting that she favoured him as a trainer. He didn't think this could even be a reality. He wasn't that special, he knew that for a fact. Sure, he made it through his gym challenge, but he had always been in both Victor and Leon's shadows, and, in his opinion, rightfully so.

His friends, brother and rivals all outshined him by so much. He didn't have their strength, he knew that as he could never beat a single one of them. Not even once. Hop had since accepted that he was destined to be the weakest person of his entourage.

He definitely felt happiness at knowing that someone thought so highly of him, yet he couldn't help but listen to the little voice at the back of his mind, saying that this sweet girl was making the worst mistake of her life by idolizing such a loser.

Hop chuckled nervously as he scratched at his hair. "A-Ah! Well, I appreciate that, but I'm not that gr-"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Sonia made her frantic appearance into the lab, huffing slightly to catch her breath.

"I am so sorry! I got sidetracked and didn't see time fly!" She said.

Annabelle shook her head. "It's okay, Professor Sonia. Professor Hop gave me a pokémon!" She said as she snuggled her Grookey.

"But I'm not a prof-"

"I can see that!" Sonia chuckled. "Annabelle, dear, what do you say we equip that Rotom Phone of yours with a Pokédex?" She continued.

"Please!" She said, handing Sonia her phone.

"Alright. Hop, why don't you go get some Pokéballs for her while I set this up?" Sonia asked.

Hop nodded. "Of course."

As Hop distanced himself to rummage through some drawers for Pokéballs, Sonia explained to Annabelle the Pokédex's functions. It was just like she had done when he and Victor had first started their journeys.

He found five Pokéballs to get the young girl started on her team, so he headed back to the duo and handed Annabelle the catching devices.

"Here you go. They'll help you get started on your team," he said.

When she took the balls from Hop, he reached into his pocket to grab another one. "Here. This is your Grookey's Pokéball."

"Thank you very much for everything!" She said as she took her starter's Pokéball.

Hop shook his head. "It's our pleasure! Now, get out there and meet tons of pokémon! But remember to stay safe and have fun," he said.

"I will! Thanks again, you two!" She said before exiting the lab with her Grookey still in her arms.

When Annabelle left, Hop sighed in relief, happy that everything went smoothly. He then turned to Sonia, laughing nervously.

"S-Sorry, Professor. I hope you don't mind that I took care of things. I didn't want to make her wait too long, and I didn't know when you would be back," he said.

Sonia shook her head. "No, no, don't worry a thing. I'm glad you did, and by the looks of it, you handled that really well. Proper job!" She said with a grin.

"Thank you... I did my best," Hop said, relieved that he didn't mess anything up.

Sonia glanced at the desk where a large pile of notes sat before turning back to Hop. "Would you like to switch places with me? Arceus knows how much you hate sitting still."

"Yeah, I'll take you up on that. Fieldwork is my favourite kind of work!" He laughed.

Fresh air was definitely needed at the moment. Hopefully, it would help him keep his mind at ease from the negativity that has been plaguing him recently.

~~~~~~

"Thank you for having me over, Magnolia. I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced," you said.

Having decided to take a well-deserved break from work, you dropped by Magnolia's home for a visit. You found her company to be warm and homely, which was something you loved, especially when you needed to sit back and relax.

You sat in Magnolia's plant room on one of the comfortable loveseats as the older woman prepared cups of the finest tea she had in her kitchen. The scenery of her home, particularly the room you were in, had you feeling at peace.

Perched atop your head was your beloved Frosmoth. She could get quite heavy, so she made sure to not put her full weight on you. She absolutely refused to be left home alone today, no matter how much you protested. Thankfully, Magnolia didn't mind the presence of the larger moth pokémon, as she was very well-behaved.

Magnolia stepped into the room, a tray in hand and a warm smile upon her features. "Nonsense, dear. You're welcomed in my home at any moment. I don't get to see you nearly as often as I'd like," she said as she set the tea down.

You thanked her as she handed you a cup. "I know, and I'm sorry about that. I feel bad, trust me."

"Don't. It's to be expected with the kind of work you do, and I fully understand. Just know that you're always welcomed to knock on my door should you need anything," she said as she sat across from you.

You smiled. "Thank you. It's nice to have someone I can trust living nearby."

"Of course! You're practically family at this point!" She said, laughing softly.

You truly appreciated it. Your work required your constant presence at home, so you didn't have much time to go out of your way to make close friends, much less someone you could trust. Magnolia was such an understanding and patient woman, and she knew that you didn't mean anything ill by not dropping by all the time. You had your duties, and she accepted that. She was well aware that you cared even if you weren't always around, and for that, you were thankful.

"Speaking of which..." Magnolia started as she set her cup down, "... my granddaughter should be coming over shortly with her assistant."

"O-Oh! Should I leave then? I wouldn't want to be a bother," you said.

"Don't even get that idea. Sonia will be thrilled to see you, you know she adores you!" Magnolia said.

You chuckled at the woman's light scolding. "You're right. It's been a while since I've seen her, or that she's dropped by my place. She's pretty busy now, huh? Being a full-time professor and all."

"She certainly is, though she loves her work. It seems that journeying through Galar a second time was what she needed to discover her true passion," Magnolia said, fondness for her granddaughter could be heard in her voice.

"Sometimes, I think of having another journey myself, but I think I made the right call with the path I ended up taking," you said.

Magnolia nodded in agreement. "Absolutely! What was your original goal again?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I wanted to be a gym leader of all things."

"Oh, that's right! You know, you're absolutely phenomenal at taking care of pokémon that I just can't even fathom the idea of you as a gym leader," she playfully teased.

"I know, right? Plans change, but that's okay!" You said.

You shivered when you felt your Frosmoth blow a faint gust of frigid air onto you in an attempt to get your attention.

"Are you hungry, Dumpling?" You asked, chuckling at her behaviour.

She let out a small cry in confirmation. So, you reached into your bag, which rested at your feet, and pulled out a plastic container that held Dumpling's favourite food. You held the container right in front of her, letting her sniff it out. Once she did, she happily chowed down.

As you fed your Frosmoth, you heard the front door open, followed by the familiar voice of Sonia.

"Hellooo! I'm here, and I brought Hop!" She called out.

Magnolia smiled. "We're in here, dear!"

"We?" Sonia said as she stepped into the room in which you were seated. Once she saw you, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Heya, Sonia!" You said with a bright smile.

"(Y/N), no way! How are you, stranger?" She asked, laughing.

You got up from your seat so that you could give your friend a hug. Dumpling flew off of your head to let you do so.

"I'm doing great! It's been a while, huh?" You said, letting go of her.

"No kidding. I mean, you're a hermit!" She teased.

You rolled her eyes. "Pft. It's not just me. Aren't you always buried in piles of research?" You shot back.

"You got me there," she chuckled. She turned to her grandmother. "You didn't tell me that (Y/N) would be here!"

Magnolia chuckled. "Ah... I wanted to keep it a surprise."

Sonia's eyes then landed on Dumpling. "And you've got Dumpling with you! She looks great!"

Sonia gently approached the pokémon and held out her hand in front of her. Dumpling sniffed her hand, and once she recognized Sonia's scent, she squealed happily and nuzzled her hand.

"Hey, you remember me!" Sonia said as she patted the affectionate moth.

"Of course, she does!" You said.

At that moment, someone cleared their throat. When you glanced at the doorway, you saw who you assumed to be Sonia's assistant.

He had an award-winning smile as he scratched the back of his head in a slightly nervous manner. Though he didn't seem much younger than you, he was pretty tall, more or less six feet. His hair was a lovely shade of purple, which fit rather nicely with his bright, yellow eyes. You were sure you recognized him from somewhere.

Letting go of Dumpling, Sonia clapped her hands together as she headed to her assistant's side.

"Right, you've never met. (Y/N), meet Hop. He's my assistant. Hop, this is (Y/N). They’re a good friend of mine!" She said, introducing the two of you.

Hop grinned at you, holding out his hand for you to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You took his hand. "Right back at you, Hop!"

And then, it clicked.

"Hey, you're the former champion's little brother, right? You were in the challenge, like, three years ago?" You asked.

Hop blinked, a glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes for a second. "Yeah, actually. You're spot on."

He certainly was not expecting for this stranger to know who he was. Maybe it wouldn't have surprised him if someone recognized him three years ago when he had finished his challenge, but now, he had convinced himself that practically everyone in Galar had forgotten about his existence.

Sonia raised a brow, which made you roll your eyes. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I like to watch the gym battles whenever I have the chance."

Magnolia spoke up. "Hey, now. What are you all standing around for? Why don't you younglings sit down while I go make some more tea? Perhaps some snacks as well?" She said as she stood up.

The three of you nodded in agreement. Hop and Sonia sat next to each other. Before you sat down, you scratched Dumpling's belly and gently guided her to you so she could perch herself atop your head once more.

Hop tilted his head in slight confusion at your interaction with the pokémon, but he didn't question it any further. At least, he tried. He couldn't help but analyze your Frosmoth, blame it on the researcher in him. As he looked at her, he noticed something off about her eyes. A Frosmoth's eyes were usually a deep blue, but yours were somewhat cloudy.

"Is your Frosmoth blind?" He blurted before he could stop himself.

He mentally cringed, hoping that he didn't seem too nosy or impolite by asking such a thing. However, you smiled at him, features clear of any kind of offence.

"She is, actually!" You said, reaching up to pat Dumpling's head.

"(Y/N) takes care of a lot of disabled and injured pokémon. They run their own sanctuary!" Sonia intervened.

At that, Hop's eyes practically lit up with wonder. "Seriously? Wow, that's amazing!"

You chuckled with a light hue of pink coating your cheeks. "Yeah, I do! It's not far from here, actually. Just a few kilometres behind Magnolia's house, there's my house and my sanctuary."

"Wait... really? I didn't even know that there was anything past Magnolia's house," he said, surprised.

"Yeah... it's pretty easy to miss, but that was kind of the point of picking that particular spot. It's just me and the pokémon with little to no disturbances, which is just what these pokémon need," you explained.

Hop nodded at your explanation. He then leaned forward, nearly slamming his hands onto the coffee table excitedly.

"So, what kind of pokémon do you have there?" He asked, eyes shining with interest.

Sonia chuckled, tapping at his shoulder. "Whoa. Simmer down there, Hop."

Hop immediately retracted as he was made aware of his little burst of excitement. He scratched the back of his head, blushing in embarrassment. He felt like a total child.

"S-Sorry about that. I got carried away," he said.

You laughed, waving him off. "No, no, it's totally fine! If anything, I'm glad that you're so interested!"

Taking care of rescued pokémon was your biggest passion, and you had sworn to dedicate yourself to making a difference for pokémon who were in need of a second chance at life. It was your favourite topic to discuss, and meeting people who seemed so excited to hear you speak about your work and experiences was something that made you beyond ecstatic.

You had to be honest with yourself: you were sometimes afraid that people would get bored or annoyed with you since you could never shut up about your sanctuary. You had the habit of always swerving your conversations towards it, and you really couldn't help it.

So, that's why you got along so well with women like Magnolia and Sonia. They were professors, researchers, and they loved to hear about your experiences regarding the pokémon you helped. You could always have great conversations with them.

You knew for a fact that Hop was highly passionate about pokémon. It showed when you watched his battles back then. And to want to become a professor, it took a lot of dedication and love towards these creatures. You were sure that you would get along great with him.

"You see, there are quite a few pokémon that are in my care. They all have their own story, and they are all unique. Every single one of them has a place in my heart, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for them. They're my number one priority in life," you gushed.

Your eyes then widened, and you chuckled nervously as you noticed that you were rambling.

"Ah... sorry. Here I go again, just talking my mouth off," you apologized.

"Wha-? Why are you apologizing?" Hop asked.

Before you could answer, Sonia chimed in. "They're a dummy, that's why. They think that they’ll annoy us if they talk too much about their sanctuary."

"Oh, come on! That's rubbish!" Hop exclaimed. "Can you tell me how you met your Frosmoth... Dumbo, was that it?" He continued.

You chuckled at the way Hop had managed to butcher her name. "It's Dumpling, and I'd be happy to!"

"It wasn't super out of the ordinary, but I met her right outside Circhester when she was just a tiny hatchling Snom, and when I say tiny, I mean it. She was smaller than any other Snom I had seen before, even for a baby. I guessed that she was the runt out of her siblings," you started.

"Oh! That explains why she seems smaller than the typical Frosmoth," he said. "R-Right, carry on!" He quickly added as he noticed that he had accidentally cut you off.

"She was still near her nest when I found her, but her family was nowhere to be seen. The thing that caught my eye, though, was that she was really unstable. She had a hard time walking without bumping into things. I was curious, so I managed to approach her, and she seemed to panic once she sensed that something was approaching, but she was turning in all sorts of directions, and she didn't seem to know where to look," you continued.

"And that's when you understood that she was blind," Hop said, making you nod.

"Yeah. I kept calm and talked to her in a gentle voice. I was really trying to reassure her that everything was alright. When she calmed down, she let me pet her and even pick her up eventually. I tried looking around the route for her family, but I couldn't find them. I guessed that the mother left her behind because she was the weakest, less likely to survive of the hatchings," you said.

You scratched Dumpling's cheek, causing her to nuzzle your hand with a soft, melodic cry sounding from her.

"I just kind of, you know, took her in. I mean... I just couldn't leave her out there. I don't think I would have been able to forgive myself if I left a vulnerable baby out there, you know?" You finished.

Hop grinned. "You should pat yourself on the back, mate! I mean, you gave her a chance, and she looks like she appreciates it a lot."

At Hop's words, Dumpling happily fluttered her wings, little snowflakes emitting from her as she did so.

"O-Oh... it was just the right thing to do!" You said.

"(Y/N), give yourself more credit. A lot of people wouldn't have had the same heart of gold that you had in that situation. It's not everyone who would have wanted to take so much time in helping and caring for an 'imperfect' pokémon," Sonia said, making Hop nod in agreement.

It might have been the first time he's met you, but Hop could immediately say that you were a great person. Lovable, even. His mind raced as he felt that he would love to get to know you some more. You had such a warm and inviting presence that practically pulled him to you.

As you were speaking, he could only find himself being completely pulled into a state of immersion at your words. He certainly didn't miss the way your eyes practically shined with life when you spoke about your meeting with Dumpling. You had so much emotion in your voice, and he found it to be absolutely endearing.

Of course, he knew that his desire to get to know you was most likely one-sided and merely wishful thinking on his part. After all, Hop knew that he wasn't very impressive. He was just an assistant who hasn't done anything remarkable. Surely, you wouldn't spare him a minute.

"Say, Hop," you started, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"How about you come over to my place for a visit whenever you have some free time? I could show you around the sanctuary if you're interested!" You offered.

Sonia nudged him. "You should take her up on that offer. You'll love it, I swear! It's so pretty at her place," She said.

"You really mean that?" He asked.

"Of course!" You said.

Hop was caught off guard by your offer. He didn't expect you to invite a nobody like him to your precious sanctuary. He really hoped that he wouldn't be a waste of time to you.

Still, he couldn't help but grin wildly as he practically bounced in his seat. "That would be amazing! Thanks a bunch, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed.

"Please, it's my pleasure!" You said with a smile. "Would you hand me your phone? I'll give you my phone number so you can text me whenever you want to come over!" You said.

"O-Oh! Right!" Hop said with a light blush.

He pulled out his phone and opened up a new contact page before handing it to you. Hop was definitely surprised, it wasn't everyday that a woman offered him her phone number.

"Alright. Here you go!" You said, handing him back his phone.

"I'm pretty much always at my place, so come on over anytime, honestly. Just let me know so that I don't miss when you ring the doorbell since I'm often outside!" You said.

"Gotcha. Thanks a bunch for the opportunity, (Y/N)," he grinned.

You smiled. Hop's smile and enthusiasm was contagious. You hoped that he would go through with your offer. Hop was precisely the kind of person you wanted to share your work and passion with.

~~~~~~

To: (Y/N) 

12:08 P.M

- Hiya! It's Hop, Sonia's assistant from the other day. I have some free time, and I was hoping to maybe come and visit you, maybe?

From: (Y/N) 

12:11 PM

- Hop, hey! I've been waiting for you to hit me up! I'd love for you to visit. Come on over. I can't wait to show you around!

To: (Y/N) 

12:11 PM

- Great! I'm on my way, like, right now. Is that cool with you?

From: (Y/N) 

12:12 PM

- Of course. See you in a bit!

Hop couldn't help the huge, dorky grin on his face as he hurried along the nearly hidden path behind Magnolia's house that led to your sanctuary.

He was beyond excited to get a feel for the kind of life you had as a pokémon rescuer. Plus, he had to be honest with himself: he was excited to see you again. 

He was definitely relieved that you meant it when you had offered him to visit, he had almost expected for your words to be hollow. He wouldn't have blamed you, you probably had better things to do than waste your precious time on him. Still, he was grateful.

And he couldn't help but re-read your messages. Especially the 'I've been waiting for you to hit me up.' It was simple, yet he couldn't deny that it made him feel like he was desirable, like you actually might be interested in his company.

The path to your home was rather bumpy. There were quite a few rocks and branches along the way. He had to slow down a bit as he kept tripping over the various debris on the road. You had really picked one hell of a spot for your sanctuary.

When he finally managed to navigate the narrow path of debris and trees, he came to a gorgeous clearing. There, he saw what was most likely your home, which was situated between a large fenced off area and a berry garden. 

He could already see many trees planted inside the fence, and there seemed to be a second building connected to the area, most likely an indoor area for the pokémon.

Hop grinned as he accelerated towards your house, completely hyped now that he was there and about to experience something entirely new to him.

Your home was a rather small, white farmhouse. It seemed that there were two stories to your home, and there was a small porch with an outdoor swing on it. It looked cozy, and for some reason, it was exactly the kind of house that he would think someone with a rescue would have.

Now at your front door, his hand froze midair as he was about to ring your doorbell. He mentally groaned, was he seriously having second thoughts about everything? 

It's not that he didn't want to visit you. If anything, nothing could make him any happier than visiting you at the moment. What if he was going to slow you down in your work? Hop didn't want you to put your whole day on hold just for him. 

He knew that you had told him that he could drop in anytime, but what if he had caught you at a bad time, and you were simply too nice to turn him away? The more he thought about it, the more he felt like a nuisance.

"Get it together, mate. You're here to have fun and get to know a sweet person better. That's all there is to it," Hop whispered to himself, attempting to calm his nerves.

When he finally rang the doorbell, he immediately heard frantic shuffling coming from inside your house. Barely a few seconds had passed, and you had already opened the door, greeting him with a big grin. You were holding a little Sobble in your arms, one of its front legs was bandaged.

Hop couldn't help but be surprised at the speed you had just displayed. Had you really been waiting for him to such a point? The thought was quickly lost, though. You most likely weren't. At least, not for someone as uninteresting as he was.

"Hop! I'm so glad you came by!" You said, stepping out of your home.

"I'm glad to be here! You're absolutely sure that this okay with you, right? I wouldn't want to be a bother," Hop asked.

He regretted asking as he wanted to keep the outing positive, but he really couldn't help sliding that question in. 

"Don't be silly. Really, I'm happy you're here," you said.

When your tone was laced with such sincerity, Hop couldn't help but grin at you. Perhaps, you truly would enjoy his company.

"Ah... wait. You've got a few leaves in your hair," you said.

You reached your hand to his hair, gently brushing it and causing Hop to slightly squeak in surprise. You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. It was pretty cute.

"Yeah. I... well, I smashed into a few branches on my way here. I was so hyped that I could barely slow down and look where I was going," Hop admitted.

"Hey, it still happens to me!" You chuckled. 

When you were done brushing the debris out of Hop's hair, you shut the door of your home. 

"Well? Ready?" You asked as you beckoned him to follow you. "Front gate's just this way."

Hop nodded excitedly as he walked by your side. His gaze went to the Sobble that you were still holding.

"So, who's this little fellow?" He asked.

"I call him Dizzy!" You said.

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah... he has a neurological disorder that affects his balance and cognition. He's not super stable on his feet and took a bit of a tumble today. Nothing too drastic, though, just a little scrape!" You explained.

"Whoa, alright. Is it curable, the disorder? S-Sorry if it sounds stupid, I've just never met a pokémon with a neurological problem," Hop asked.

"Not stupid at all. You won't know unless you ask. It can't be cured. It's genetic, and it's there to stay. Unfortunately, Dizzy has the worst level of it, so he has to take medication every day, or else he could get seizures," you said.

Hop frowned at that. "That's... poor thing."

You rubbed Dizzy's head, making him purr in delight. "Yeah... but he's been great!"

You came to a stop so that you could open the main gate of your rescue, holding it out for Hop to go first. You followed after him, shutting the gate afterwards.

"Flygon?" You called out once you were in the perimeter.

Almost instantly, a Flygon dived from the sky, landing right in front of you and Hop. Poor Hop nearly squealed in surprise at the large dragon, especially since it was glaring right at him.

"Hey, hey, ease up! Hop's a friend, he's good!" You cooed, which seemed to calm him.

"Could you take him back to the water area, please?" You asked, handing him the oblivious Sobble.

With a happy cry of his name, the dragon nodded and took to the skies in the direction of the area you had told him.

"You okay there, Hop?" You asked, chuckling at the look on his face.

He quickly shook his head. "Y-Yeah! I just didn't expect you to have a big Flygon around," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah... Flygon's a big help around here!" You said.

"That's pretty sweet."

You nodded in agreement before clasping your hands together. "Now, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" You said enthusiastically.

Barely into your rescue, and it was already bustling with life. Beautiful, healthy plants, flowers and trees bloomed all over the area. It was rather grassy, except for the main pathway. 

Hootoots, Rookidees and Corvisquires were perched atop the branches. Hop could also make out a Leafeon peacefully sleeping in a shaded area. A Galvantula was carefully working on a burrow inside of a cavity in the base of a tree. Its web looked like a work of art.

There were even some berry trees, and a sweet Flapple was knocking ripe berries out of the tree so that a duo of Appletun could snack on them. 

Where large patches of flowers laid, there was a group of Gossifleurs, Eldegoss, Cottonees and Whimsicotts hanging together. Combees, Cutiflies and Ribombees happily twirled around the flowers. 

Hop had to freeze in his steps to let a trio of Nickit, Purrloin and Yamper pass as they seemed to be playing a game of chase with each other.

Your place was gorgeous and immaculate. He felt like he was in a pokémon research lab; only this was a much more natural environment.

"Look at all of 'em..." Hop said, eyes shining in absolute wonder.

You couldn't help but giggle at how cute Hop looked. He was truly in his element. 

"There's even more of them too! Some might be hiding, and others are in other areas," you said with a small yet proud smirk.

"Bloody hell... this is so cool!" He said. "So, do these pokémon all belong to you?" He asked.

"Not necessarily. Some are still wild pokémon, but they happen to be in my care," you said.

As the two of you kept walking along the path, Hop noticed that there was a lack of human presence in your area. Not a single person other than the two of you was in sight.

"Do.... do you run this all by yourself, (Y/N)?" Hop asked incredulously.

"Well... yes," you said, scratching the back of your head.

"How?! Taking care of pokémon with particular needs can't be an easy feat!" Hop said, mouth agape.

You laughed. "It's definitely something, but knowing that I'm helping pokémon in need, the fatigue is worth it."

"You don't have a single employee? Not even one?" Hop asked, still barely believing it.

"Nope. The closest thing that I have to employees is my team of pokémon that I raised during the gym challenge. I have some stationed in each area of the rescue, so if there are any problems, they'll come to me. I also have my Flygon, who keeps an eye on things from the sky during day time, and my Gengar is on night patrol!" You explained.

"Wow, mate, you sure have a handle on things," he smiled.

And then it hit him. "Wait, you were in the challenge?" He asked.

"Yeah! I wasn't doing it the same year as you though. I didn't get to the end... I met Dumpling, and I was so focused on helping her out that I just, you know, dropped out. But I'm happy I-"

You were cut off by the happy barking of your Growlithe, who was running as fast as she could towards you.

You smiled and crouched to her level, patting her fur as she rapidly and excitedly wagged her tail all the while snuggling you.

"Nubby, my little girl! How are you doing?" You cooed.

Alright. Hop had to compose himself for a few seconds as he nearly melted into a puddle of feelings at the sound of your adorable baby voice.

The more he spoke to you, the more he realized just how incredible you were. Boy, did he feel blessed that you even considered giving him a second of your precious time.

You were leagues above him in so many ways. The two of you had started off the same way: you had both started your lives as mere challengers. You didn't even finish yours, yet you still had managed to become someone. You had a goal, and you were accomplishing incredible things. Meanwhile, Hop had completed his challenge, but he was still utter rubbish who had not managed to do anything impressive of his life.

Your presence, Hop loved it more and more as the minutes went by. But he knew that he didn't deserve it. You shouldn't be associating with a loser like him.

He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts, pronto. It was then that he noticed that the Growlithe was missing her right front leg. Only a little nub remained, which was probably why you referred to her as Nubby.

"So, who's this girl?" He asked.

"This is Nubby! Her leg had to be amputated because she had severe trauma where she suffered from too many fractures to the point where it was unfixable," you explained.

Hop crouched down as well, cringing slightly at the thought. "I'm kind of scared to ask what happened to her..." he added, extending his hand.

At that, Nubby bounced to Hop's hand, sniffing it before barking happily once again.

"Yeah... let's just say that her previous owner wasn't a very nice person," you said, a bitter frown on your face as you recalled the memories.

"That's absolute rubbish. How could someone treat a pokémon so poorly?" Hop said.

Nubby began to lick and nuzzle Hop's hand as she wanted some head pats, which is precisely what he did.

"Aw... but you're such a good girl. You didn't deserve that," he cooed.

"She really likes you, Hop! You're a natural with pokémon," You said, laughing softly.

"You think?" He asked with a big grin. His heart practically soared at the compliment.

"Duh! Why wouldn't I?" You said.

"I mean... I've never been a great trainer like my brother or Victor, and I can barely consider myself a professor. I still have a lot to learn, you know?" He said.

Hop instantly cringed as the words left his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to remain positive for the day. After all, he's been adoring every second with you. Yet, Hop couldn't help but let his feelings pour a bit. You just gave him that sentiment of trust that made him want to confide in you.

But, he felt absolutely silly at having unloaded his negativity on you. You didn't deserve to have his self-pity on your shoulders.

However, you just sent him a soft smile before crawling to his side and gently putting your hand on his shoulder. The touch had his stomach fluttering.

"Give yourself more credit, Hop. While Victor was completely destroying everyone, you were the only trainer to give him a run for his money. And you already know so much about pokémon, so imagine in a few years how much of an amazing professor you'll be," you said.

"I-" Hop stuttered, unable to express himself as he felt his face heat up. "Geez, (Y/N), thanks... you're too kind," he said.

"I'm just being factual," you said, grinning at him before standing up.

"Heya, Nubby? I have to finish the tour. Come find me later, and we'll play, okay?" You said.

She barked and nodded. She licked him one last time before pulling away from Hop.  She then bounced off to play with other pokémon.

You extended your hand to Hop, which he took and let you pull him up from the ground. Hop's mind ran wild as he noticed that you had not let go of his hand as you led him through your rescue. You were so casual about it.

As you brought him to the next area, his eyes widened at the gorgeous scenery—a large pond surrounded by rocks, shrubs and trees. There was even a little trickling waterfall. Aquatic plants were surfacing, and the stones had natural moss growing on them.

The little Sobble from earlier seemed like he was having a blast floating on top of a Lotad's head. Little Pyukumukus were chilling on the edges of the rocks, and many fish pokémon happily splashed about. Even non-water type pokémon were running around the area.

"So? What do you think?" You asked.

"What do I think? Mate, it's amazing! If I were a pokémon, I'd never want to leave. How'd you even manage all of this?" He asked, absolutely stunned.

"With a lot of work. My family and I all pitched in to build, landscape and plant everything," you said.

"Bloody hell. You definitely succeeded!" Hop said.

Off in the distance, he saw a more rocky and sandy area. Larvitars were rolling around in the sand. A Sizzlipede and Helioptile were sunbathing on rocks. Hop could also see a large group of Salandits.

"Whoa, you've got a lot of Salandits," he commented.

"Yeah... they tend to be a pretty common pokémon in the rescue," you said.

"Is it because of the Salazzles? I'm pretty sure some Salazzles are pretty ruthless with Salandits. You know, taking all their food and stuff," Hop said.

You grinned. "You're actually spot on, Hop! See? You do know your stuff!"

He blushed again, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. Hop was definitely happy that you were complimenting him. It was a nice, refreshing change from his usual intrusive thoughts.

"They're all males, and they've been starved to the point of near-death because of overly dominant Salazzles. Nature can be just as cruel as humans at times," you said.

You sat down in the shade of a tree. Hop followed, sitting next to you.

"Definitely. But they seem really ha- huh? Is that a shiny Salandit," he asked with wide eyes.

You followed his gaze, and you smiled once you saw the sweet Salandit that he was referring to. The little guy was watching you from afar, yet he made no moves to come to you.

"It is... that would be Blizzard," you said. "Blizzard, sweetie, come over here," you called out.

Blizzard flinched, but he complied. However, he was taking slow, shaky steps, and his posture was excessively nervous, which didn't go unnoticed by Hop.

"Hey... what's wrong with the fellow?" He asked.

"Oh... well, he's petrified of anyone who isn't me," you said.

"O-Oh... maybe I should leave, then? I wouldn't want to cause problems," he said.

You shook your head. "Don't be silly, Hop. You're allowed to stay."

"Can I ask why he's so nervous with people?" Hop asked.

You nodded, sighing at the horrible story. "I happened to be in the area when it all went down, releasing some pokémon who were fit to go back in the wild. A shiny hunter had been looking for a shiny Salandit for months to add to his 'collection.' When he finally found Blizzard, he was outraged that he found a male since they're incapable of evolving. In his fit of rage, the hunter yelled at Blizzard, calling him a worthless piece of shit and kicked him so hard against a rock the poor thing's skull cracked."

"What the hell?!" Hop nearly yelled. 

"I know..." you said.

Blizzard had finally crawled to your hand. He sniffed your hand before rubbing his head against your hand. Hop noticed a few scars on top of the Salandit's head. 

"He seems so sweet," Hop said.

You nodded as you scooped Blizzard into your arms and your lap. He curled up into a bundle, really cuddling up to you as much as he could.

"Hey... thanks again for letting me come here, I mean, look at this place! It's amazing! I could just sit here and watch the pokémon all day," Hop said enthusiastically.

"Well, why don't you drop by more often?" You proposed.

"R-Really? I mean, I'd love to. B-But I wouldn't want to be a bother!" He stuttered, voice laced with surprise.

"Oh, come on! I really enjoyed your company today. It's so nice to have someone as enthusiastic and passionate as you around. Plus, wouldn't it be good for your research? To come here and all?" You said.

"I.... you have a point. I had fun today too, and well, you know..." he said, trailing off near the end as his cheeks erupted in a cherry hue.

Hop was adorable, and you meant it when you said that you'd like to have him over more often. You hoped he would as you definitely had an interest in him blossoming within you.

~~~~~~

Hop never expected that a visit to Magnolia's home would make him meet someone like you. Someone he felt at peace and ease with, someone who he sought out their company.

He kept telling himself that he shouldn't be such a burden by dropping in on you so often, but he couldn't help it.

He went to see you whenever possible, and he lived for the moments where he did. Hop was always so mesmerized by all of the pokémon you took care of. You brought so much to his research, even Sonia had noticed.

And today was another day where he was racing down to your home to see you again.

Getting to your place, he immediately saw you on the porch, sitting on your little swing. As he got closer, he noticed that you were holding two little Dreepys. Next to you was Blizzard, who was snuggling against your thigh.

Hop also saw two bottles and blankets placed onto the table next to the swing. You were probably in the midst of caring for the little ones.

You heard footsteps approaching you. Lifting your head, you saw Hop heading your way, a perfect smile upon his face as he waved at you.

"Heya, Hoppers! Come sit with me, you've got to meet these little cuties," you called out.

Upon realizing that Hop was here, the Salandit that had been cuddling you scurried off of the swing to hide behind your feet and under the swing.

Hop frowned at that. Most of the pokémon had gotten used to his presence, and they all let him play and pet them. But it wasn't the case for Blizzard. The poor thing was still terrified of Hop. Not that Hop blamed him.

"Shoot, sorry. I didn't mean to scare him off," Hop apologized, sitting next to you.

You waved off his apology. "It's fine. He'll come around eventually."

"When did you get Dreepys, (Y/N)?" He asked.

"Just the other day. Aren't they cute?" You gushed as you wiggled your fingers at the little ones, causing them to squeal happily.

"They're tiny. Babies?" Hop said.

"Yeah... they're practically newborns. Their mum passed away. Someone contacted me the other day saying that he found the babies near their mum's body," you explained.

Hop frowned. "Poor things. I wonder what happened to the mum."

"I'm not sure. The Dragapult didn't seem to have any wounds, so she may have been sick," you said.

"So, are you going to keep them until they're old enough to fend for themselves? Like what mother Dragapults do?" Hop said.

You smiled. "That's the plan! Unless they decide that they want to stay."

Suddenly, the duo of babies was trying to nibble at your fingers, causing you to retract them before you got chomped.

"They're probably hungry. Why don't we feed them?" You said.

"We? But-" 

Hop was interrupted as you handed him one of the hungry babies. It wiggled its paws excitedly in Hop's arms.

"A-Are you sure, (Y/N)? Maybe you're better off handling things. I don't want to mess anything up," Hop said with an undertone of nervousness.

You couldn't help but frown. This was a recurring problem with Hop. You had noticed that he seemed to think rather lowly of himself ever since you first met him at Magnolia's. At the time, you had brushed off his behaviour as pure nervousness, but you were most definitely wrong. 

Hop put everyone around him on the highest pedestal while he put himself down. He was constantly doubting his abilities and brushing off his accomplishments as if they were nothing. Every so often, he would make pessimistic comments about himself.

His low self-esteem was heartbreaking to you. You thought that Hop was great, and you wished that he could see himself the way you saw him.

"This isn't the first time you've helped me feed a pokémon from the sanctuary, you'll be fine!" You reassured him.

"I- well, alright then," Hop said.

You grabbed the bottles from the table and handed one to Hop. You shook your bottle and held it out to the baby Dreepy who immediately latched onto it.

"Don't tip the bottle too much, so the Dreepy doesn't drink too fast and choke. That's all there is to it!" You said.

Hop stared at you as you fed the baby dragon with a small blush colouring his face. You looked so cute when you took care of pokémon. Your passion and love for what you did really surfaced, and it was so sweet.

The Dreepy that Hop was holding nudged him, wanting food as well. Hop mumbled a small apology to the pokémon for making him wait.

So, Hop copied what you were doing to feed the baby. Hop had never fed a baby dragon before, so this was a pleasant experience.

Your Dreepy was already done eating, and he let out a big yawn. You set the bottle down and grabbed one of the blankets, wrapping him in a little bundle.

"It helps them feel more secure. They usually spend a lot of time in their mother's catapults at this age, so they like being bundled up," you explained.

"You'd make a good parent," Hop blurted, which he instantly regretted.

His blush worsened as he processed the idiotic and embarrassing thing he had just said. What the hell was wrong with him? How in Arceus' name did he come to the conclusion that that was an appropriate thing to say?

"I-I mean I- never mind! J-Just pretend that you didn't hear that!" Hop said, embarrassed.

But, all you did was grin at him. "You really think so?"

He blinked, surprised that you weren't mad or uncomfortable. "Well... yes," he admitted.

You nodded, still smiling. You glanced at his lap and noticed that the baby Dreepy was finished eating and had fallen asleep all curled up in his lap.

"And... you'd definitely be a great dad," you said, winking at him as you held out the other blanket.

Hop's mind practically stopped functioning at your reply, and he would most likely have a heart attack if this kept up.

He grabbed the blanket, and although his hands were a little shaky from what had just transpired, he managed to wrap it around the Dreepy.

"See? You did really well with the Dreepy! Thanks for giving me a hand," you said.

"I-It's my pleasure- huh?" 

Hop paused as he noticed that Blizzard was starting to poke his head out from underneath the swing. The Salandit was looking straight at Hop and tilting his head. He seemed to be intrigued in Hop.

Hop smiled. "Heya, lil' buddy."

You grinned at the scene. Although Blizzard wasn't making any moves to come to Hop, he was starting to recognize Hop as a good person, which was a good thing.

Hop leaned down, holding his hand out to Blizzard. Blizzard continued to stare at Hop's hand, but he ultimately decided to back away a little and hold onto your leg.

"Still not passed the 'no touchy' boundaries, huh? It's alright, take your time," Hop said, sitting upright.

"If anything, I think Blizzard likes you. He's never even tried to make eye contact with others," you said.

"Really?"

"Yeah! He must sense that you're absolutely amazing!" You said.

Hop blushed. "I- thanks, (Y/N)"

Hop never expected that a visit to Magnolia's home would make him meet someone like you. Someone he would end up crushing on, even if he knew that you would never glance at him in that way.

~~~~~~

"Hello? Sonia? Hop?" You called out, entering the research lab.

Hop, who was putting away some books on the second story, turned around at the sound of your voice. He grinned when he saw you.

"(Y/N)! Whatcha doing here?" He asked, heading down the stairs.

You hugged him, which he immediately reciprocated. Thankfully for him, you couldn't see the dorky, lovesick smile plastered on his face when you did.

"I was actually dropping off some rare berries by Sonia's request. You know how much she loves making curry," you said, waving a bag around.

Hop took your bag to place it onto the desk for Sonia to grab whenever she came back to the lab. 

He looked back at you, playfully pouting. "Aw... you didn't come here to see me?"

"Well, it might have been an excuse to come and see you," you winked.

You were just joking around, he knew that. You had to be, there was no way you actually meant that. Even if he knew not to put much thought into it, he couldn't help but hang onto the slight sliver of hope that there was some underlying flirtatious message in your comment. 

"But, er, do you mind if I stay with you a bit?" You asked. "I'll leave if you're busy, though," you added.

Hop practically lit up at your desire to stay with him, and he hoped that he didn't seem like such a dork. 

"No, no, I'd be happy for you to stay. I was getting kind of bored any- hey... are you alright?" Hop interrupted himself, smile faltering a bit when he noticed that you looked exhausted.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Perfectly fine," you said.

You mentally cursed yourself for not covering up your fatigued state better. You were completely drained, and that was a big fact, a fact that you tried to push away as best as you could. 

You knew that you needed to rest, yet you were so stubborn and strict with yourself that you continued to work and work until you looked and felt like a wreck. It made you so happy to make your pokémon happy that you had managed to convince yourself that your own health wasn't as crucial as their wellbeing.

The last few days and nights were particularly rough with the baby Dreepys getting up a few times per night. Plus, you had gotten a difficult Toxtricity who was pulled from a sadistic owner. The pokémon was missing an eye, and scars littered his entire body. He was exceptionally aggressive and defensive, and you had spent a lot of time and energy on him to try to ease him up a bit. There was progress, but the rehabilitation would be long.

You had hoped that it would have gone unnoticed by Hop. He was already struggling with his own self-esteem issues, and you didn't want him to worry about you. You wanted him to take care of himself first and foremost. To hell with the state you brought upon yourself.

But, you knew that he wouldn't let it slide. Hop was just as stubborn as you were.

"Have you been sleeping all that well at all, (Y/N)?" He asked.

"Yes!" You said enthusiastically, though your voice cracked as you felt your head pound from how tired you were.

"You should sit down," Hop insisted, gently taking your hand in his to drag you to the couch.

"I swear, I'm fine, Hop," you protested, even though it was apparent that you were lying as you made no effort to stop Hop from sitting you down.

"(Y/N), we both know that's rubbish. I mean, you can barely keep your eyes open," Hop said.

"I... I guess you're right," you sighed, rubbing your eyes and forehead.

Hop put his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. "Take it easy on yourself, you poor thing."

You nodded, barely having the energy to even speak properly.

Feeling a bit bolder, Hop wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you closer against him. You immediately responded by laying your head on his chest, making him blush at the unexpected action.

"You don't mind, yeah? You're kinda comfy," you said.

"I-It's fine," Hop squeaked.

His heart raced a mile a minute, which you could probably hear. Still, he managed to bring his hand up to your head to run it through your soft hair. He swore that you practically purred at the contact.

"I might fall asleep if you keep doing that," you mumbled.

He chuckled. "Guess I'll keep at it then."

And that's exactly what happened. After a few minutes of innocent cuddling, you had ultimately passed out on him. You seemed so peaceful that Hop didn't bother moving from his spot.

It was also because he enjoyed having you so close to him.

He figured that this was the closest thing to more intimate physical contact he would get with you. So, he wasn't complaining. But he kept telling himself that it was just a coincidence that you happened to fall asleep on him, that it didn't make him special. 

As Hop kept playing with your hair, Sonia had walked into the lab, and the first thing she saw was you and Hop cuddled up against one another.

She stared for a few seconds before smirking. "Well, isn't that just adorable?" She teased.

"It's... not what it looks like," Hop defended rather poorly, cheeks beginning to heat up.

"Oh, right, pardon me. You totally aren't cuddling with (Y/N)," she winked.

"They... they were just really tired and ended up passing out... on me," he said, mumbling the last part.

"I mean... it's not like you're complaining, right?" Sonia said.

"Sonia..." Hop warned.

She ignored him. "Like, you're crazy for them, so it must be a dream come true!"

Hop huffed, red-faced in embarrassment. "Your berries are on the desk..."

"You're not getting out of this that easily," she said.

Hop sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine. No, I don't mind having them like this. Far from it, actually."

Sonia giggled, heading over to the bag of berries. "So, when do you plan on asking them out on an actual date?" She said, rummaging through the bag.

He shrugged. "Not now... or ever."

Sonia turned around, looking at Hop questionably. "Why?"

Hop shrugged again, a sad smile overtaking him. "We're just friends, and that's all we'll be. I know they’ll never like me the way I do, so why risk ruining everything, you know?"

"What makes you say that, Hop?" She asked.

"They just... won't. B-But that's fine!" He said, not wanting to pour his feelings of insecurity to Sonia.

She frowned. "Right... well, you should give it a chance. If anything, I've never seen (Y/N) come to the lab as often as this ever since they met you. I think you've got a good chance."

Hop nodded. However, Sonia's words practically went over his head. He would rather endure a one-sided crush than face the reality of rejection. He was convinced that that's what you would do should he try to say anything about his feelings.

Why would you like him? Hop couldn't find a single reason why you would, and it did shatter his heart to pieces.

Even if he would die to have the chance of calling himself your boyfriend, the shattering feeling of rejection and ruining your friendship weren't things Hop wanted to go through.

~~~~~~

Hop was visiting you once more, and he was giving you a hand in handing out food for all of the pokémon. Really, he couldn't have asked for a better way to spend his days; spending time with you, helping you, taking care of pokémon and learning new things.

He was outdoors, near the water and sandy areas of the rescue. You weren't too far from him. He could see you through some trees sitting at a fair distance from your Toxtricity. He could hear you talking about random little things as a tactic to get the pokémon used to your presence.

Glancing at you, he smiled at how determined you looked to get Toxtricity to trust again. There was a small difference in behaviour that was noticeable. The pokémon no longer tried to attack you on sight.

He placed various dishes down for the pokémon that were hanging near the water area, and from the corner of his eye, he saw the little Sobble lose his balance, which had the lizard nearly slip off the rocks.

Hop rushed over to Dizzy, catching him before he could fall and hurt himself. 

"Heya, you've gotta be more careful, mate. You don't want to get hurt again, huh?" He lightly scolded.

Dizzy, still in Hop's arms, tilted his head innocently, not understanding what was going on. Hop chuckled at that and patted Dizzy's head, making him purr in delight.

"Everything alright, Hoppers?" You called out from the trees.

"All good! Just Dizzy being, well, dizzy," Hop replied.

"You sure are a handful, aren't you?" He said to Dizzy. "Not that you mean it, or anything."

Hop set the Sobble back down onto the ground, near all the other pokémon so that he could eat. It was one big, happy family, and all of the pokémon of the area always pitched in to keep an eye on the Sobble whenever possible.

Turning around, Hop blinked in surprise as saw the shiny Salandit slowly crawling over to him. However, Blizzard immediately froze in his tracks when he noticed that Hop saw him.

Hop crouched, holding his hand out. "You have nothing to be afraid of. Trust me, please?"

To his absolute bafflement, Blizzard took more steps forward. They were slow and shaky, but he was approaching Hop nonetheless.

And then, the Salandit sniffed Hop's hand. Going a bit further, Hop rubbed the underside of Blizzard's chin, which he responded by nuzzling Hop's hand, happily wagging his tail.

"See? I'm not so bad, right?" Hop said, making Blizzard nod in agreement.

"Can I help you, sir?" 

Hop stopped petting Blizzard at the sound of your voice, immediately on alert. The tone of your voice sounded very wary, and rightfully so as there was an unknown man in front of you.

You stared at the new presence with caution. Your sanctuary wasn't open to the public, so this man was trespassing.

You didn't like the way that he was looking at you, glaring at you and scanning you with a sneer. He was making you slightly uncomfortable, but you kept your cool. If anything happened that you didn't like, both your Flygon and Hop would be by your side.

And you had a feeling that Hop was keeping an eye on you in the distance. You had noticed how he had started becoming a little protective of you. It was especially noticeable when he scolded you about taking poor care of yourself.

As the man wasn't responding, you spoke up again. "If you don't have any particular business with me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is private property."

"I've got business with you," he said.

"And that would be..?" You pressed.

"You the bitch who's got my Toxtricity?" He asked.

Your eyes widened. The Toxtricity you had gotten just two weeks ago, this was his previous owner. From the corner of your eye, you saw the pokémon in question flinch. You were, suddenly, feeling very bitter.

"Oh... you mean the Toxtricity that's covered in scars and burn marks? The one that's missing an eye?" You said.

He smirked. "Yeah. That one. I'm here to pick it up. Just hand it over to me, and we ain't gon' have any problems."

"I don't think so," you said, taking a step back as the man stepped forward.

The air felt heavy as the man kept a glare etched on you. He was tall and rather buff. If he had no issues harming his own pokémon for nothing more than sick pleasure, then what would stop him from hurting you?

"I'm not gonna say it again. Hand the fucking thing over if you don't wanna end up like it," he said.

That was enough for Hop.

"Is there a problem?" Hop said as he stepped to your side.

The intruder chuckled, his tone was full of mockery. "This fuckin' stick is your bodyguard? How cute."

"I swear, mate, leave them alone," Hop nearly growled, taking a step forward so he could be in front of you.

"What the fuck do you expect to do- oh... there you are," the man said, glancing off to the side and noticing Toxtricity.

Toxtricity growled at the man, though you could clearly see the poor thing shaking in absolute fear. 

In mockery, the man chuckled and took a few steps towards the panicked pokémon, causing you to panic a bit.

"No! Don't even think of getting close to him," you yelled.

You tried to hurry to Toxtricity before he could, but before you could, the man had smacked you hard enough for you to plunge to the ground.

This caused your Flygon to dive from the sky, snarling at the man as he shielded both you and Toxtricity. As for Hop, utterly furious, he had decided to release one of his most prized pokémon to come to your aid. That's how the intruder found himself sandwiched between a furious Flygon and a powerful Zacian.

"Zacian, Flygon, pin him down! Make sure that this worthless piece of rubbish can't escape," Hop ordered.

The two pokémon were more than happy to comply, the man never stood a chance as Flygon whacked the man with his tail, causing him to fly to Zacian's side where the legendary wolf kept a paw on him to prevent him from escaping. It looked beyond painful, but Hop didn't care.

"Keep him in place, Zacian," Hop said.

Even with the aching pain you felt, you couldn't help but stare at the legendary pokémon in wonder. You knew that Hop had Zacian by his side, but you had never seen it. And looking at it in person, obeying Hop's commands without a single protest was terrific. Hop was truly a great trainer that deserved every ounce of recognition, but you had never doubted that. Not once.

With that, Hop raced to your side, wasting no time in hugging you tightly before helping you back up on your feet.

"(Y/N)! Are you okay? Shit, that's gonna leave a bruise," he said, analyzing your injury.

"I-I'll be-"

"Shit... I'm so sorry I let that happen," he continued, not letting you speak.

"Hop, it's not-"

"Oh fuck... how could I let that happen to you?"

"Hop..."

"I'm so stupid. I should have reacted sooner. What was I thinking?"

You hugged him tightly, catching him off guard and causing him to finally cease his frantic, pessimistic comments about himself.

"I'm glad you stepped in when you did. If you hadn't, who knows what would have happened to Toxtricity and me. Thank you," you said.

"B-But... you got hurt," Hop muttered, voice cracking slightly.

"It'll heal. It's not your fault. You're a hero, for all I care," you said, pulling away with a smile.

"I... I'm glad you think so," he said.

He turned back to glare at the piece of shit, still struggling underneath his Zacian's weight. 

"Go inside and clean yourself up. Get a bag of ice, sit down and decompress, okay? I'll call the police so they can come to pick up the trash. I'll stay here until they arrive," he said, turning back to you.

"Okay. Thank you. But... can you, you know, come inside with me after? I don't want to be alone after what happened," you said, cheeks heating a bit.

Hop felt his heart skip a few beats at the fact that you were seeking comfort in him.

He nodded. "Anything for you," he said, smiling nervously at his choice of words, but you didn't seem to mind.

As you distanced yourself from the scene, you couldn't help but smile despite it all. You were so thankful that Hop was there for you, and you knew that you could trust him with everything. He was wonderful.

~~~~~~

You stared at yourself in your bedroom mirror, nodding confidently as you felt that you looked presentable. Although you weren't really going for an extravagant look, you looked cute.

There had always been chemistry between you and Hop. Being with him felt natural and right; you had practically instantly clicked. Over the months, your interest in Hop grew and grew until you could confidently say that you had fallen in love with him.

And so, after much consideration and hyping yourself up, you had decided that you would take it upon yourself to make a romantic move on Hop. You were going to ask him on a little date.

You exited your house to head to Wedgehurst, a giddy and warm feeling surfacing. If Hop accepted, you would be the happiest person in Galar.

It's been so long since you've dated anyone, and although you hadn't been actively looking for a significant other, you were happy that you happened to meet Hop.

Hop was the kind of man you'd love to date. He was such a bundle of energy, passion and ambition, which made him stand out from other people you've met. He was such a sweetheart with you, and he obviously cared a lot for you. What more could you ask for?

When you were in front of the lab, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You were excited, but nervous. You nodded to yourself, it was now or never. Entering the lab, you saw Hop lazing on the lab's couch, watching something on his Rotom Phone. You heard some rummaging noises coming from the back of the lab, most likely Sonia.

Hop lifted his gaze, grinning when he saw you heading his way. He set his phone down.

"(Y/N)! Hi! What brings you here?" Hop asked, still grinning.

"Well, I... I'm not bothering you, right?" You asked as feeble attempt to take your time in asking him out.

"Pft. When do you ever bother me?" Hop said.

"Okay. Good, that's good," you said, already feeling your cheeks heat up.

You came here, feeling so confident in yourself, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it, only to transform into a moron when you were in front of Hop.

"Hey... you feeling alright? Are you sick or something?" Hop asked, concern lacing his voice.

"No, no, I'm cool. I just-" you took a deep breath. "You see... there's this really nice café in Turrfield, and well, would you like to go with me?" You finally asked.

Hop blinked, visibly processing your words before blushing madly. "Wait. Are you... are you asking me on a date," he asked, completely shocked.

You giggled. "Well, yes!"

Hop couldn't believe it. Why were you asking him on a date? Of all people that you could choose, you were going for the most significant failure the region had ever seen.

Hop had been pining for you for so long now, but he had convinced himself that this scenario was improbable, impossible, even. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right?

But, you weren't the type of person to do such a thing, to play with someone's feelings. You were better than that.

And that was the problem: you were too good for him. You deserved better, and he knew it. Hop accepted it.

Meanwhile, your heart was practically pounding out of your chest as you waited for Hop's answer. His silence was making you beyond nervous.

Hop shook his head and cleared his throat. "I... I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'll have to say no."

Your heart shattered in millions of pieces at that. 

"O-Oh..." was all you managed to say.

Hop cringed at the dejected look you had. He didn't mean to hurt you, but hopefully, this would push you to seek someone better than him.

Or maybe it was a ridiculous thought that he was regretting. He regretted it so much, but he couldn't seem to voice his actual feelings. He was so deep in his low self-esteem.

You nodded, averting your gaze from Hop's. "Right. Yeah. That's totally fine!" You said, trying to remain positive, but it was more than evident that your enthusiasm was fake.

"(Y/N), I-" 

"It's fine, really! You don't have to explain yourself. You have every right not to want to go on a date with me," you said, voice quivering.

Hop didn't say anything. There was nothing more that he desired than go out with you. Why couldn't he say anything?

"I'm gonna go now, okay? I'll go do... stuff. I'll see you, right?" You said, already backing away.

Hop bit his lip. "Yeah..."

And you were out the door quicker than you could have imagined. Feelings of humiliation, frustration and heartbreak were taking over you, and you didn't want to stick around for anyone to see your tears.

Hop stared at the door, running his hands through his hair in absolute horror at what he had just done. He initially thought that this was going to be the best option to keep you from dating an absolute nobody, but he was processing what a colossal mistake that was.

Hop hated seeing you upset, he always wanted to see your eyes shine with life. Now, he had never seen you so broken, and he was the cause of it. That stung on so many levels.

"I outta smack you right now. What in the world was that about, Hop?" Sonia exclaimed, stomping over to him.

"I-"

Sonia interrupted him. "No, you know what? I don't even want to hear your excuses. I thought you liked them!"

"I do like them!" Hop said, flinching at Sonia's tone with him.

"Then, why did you reject them? I don't get it, Hop. They obviously like you!"

"But..."

"No! You are going to take the day off, and you are going to go see your friend, whose heart you just split, and talk things out with them," Sonia ordered.

Hop bit his lip and nodded. Sonia was right, he fucked up, and he needed to make up for his mistake. He needed to open up to you.

Weren't you, after all, the best person that he could pour his heart to? Weren't you the sweetest, most open-minded and trustworthy person he knew and fell in love with?

~~~~~~

Sitting on your living room couch, your Frosmoth cuddled up to you as you cried your heart out. She was trying to make you feel better, and you appreciated her efforts, even if you both knew that your heartbreak wouldn't cure with little cuddles.

You glanced at your front door as someone knocked on it. You ignored it at first, not having the energy to get up, but you eventually caved in as the knocking became more frantic.

You reluctantly stood up, and when you opened up the door, Hop was there, looking as guilty as ever. His eyes seemed glossy, seemingly about to cry himself. You contemplated slamming the door in his face, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that to Hop.

"(Y/N). Can... can I come in?" He asked softly.

You nodded, sidestepping to let him in. The two of you remained silent for what seemed to be an eternity. The air was tense.

Suddenly, Hop tightly wrapped his arms around you, placing your head against his chest. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt little droplets streaming down your skin.

"I'm... damn it. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he muttered. "I'm such an idiot. I just- I didn't want to hurt you like that. I'm the worst."

"I told you, Hop. It's okay if you don't want to go out with me. I'm not forcing you," you whispered.

He pulled away from you, keeping his hands on your shoulders. "But I do want to go out with you."

"Wha-? But you said-"

"I know what I said, and I lied through my teeth," he admitted.

"Why? If you wanted to, then why did you reject me?" You asked, genuinely confused.

"It's going to sound stupid, and it really is, b-but I..." he said, trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You took his hand in yours. "Here, let's sit," you said as you guided him to the couch.

You didn't let go of his hand when you sat down, hoping to give him a bit of comfort. You weren't as upset as you were just a few minutes ago, though you were confused and wanted answers.

"I said no because I thought you would be better off with someone else," he admitted.

"Someone else? Why would you think that?" You asked, completely flabbergasted.

"(Y/N), I- damn it. I'm nothing special! You could do so much better than a failure like me. You deserve the best, and I'm not that. I'm talentless rubbish."

Your jaw nearly dropped. It wasn't uncommon for Hop to make small, negative comments about himself, but this was the first time you've heard him degrade himself to such an extent.

"I wanted to be a legend, to surpass my brother and become the champion, but my friend was better than me. Everyone throughout my entire journey was better than me. Everyone is still better than me."

"Hop-"

"I haven't accomplished anything, there's nothing to set me apart from others. I figured that the right thing to do was to spare you from the embarrassment that would come with dating Galar's biggest loser..." he squeezed your hand, "... but it would destroy me to see you with someone else, even if I know that you deserve the world. The world that I can't provide."

More tears streamed down his cheeks as all of his darkest thoughts finally came out of him. It was heartbreaking to see Hop in such a state, to voice what he thought of himself. 

You thought none of the things he had just said, and you thought that you had made it obvious over all the time you've spent together. You were always there to give him reassurance, to hype him up when he didn't believe in himself. Hop looked so broken and lost like he didn't know what else to do or think. You couldn't believe that he thought so lowly of himself to the point where he felt that he didn't deserve anything good happening to him.

"Hop, sweetheart, look at me," you said. "How could you even have the audacity to say all these horrible things about yourself?"

"It's the tru-"

"No. You think you're a failure because you didn't become a champion? Please. I don't care that you didn't win. Don't you like what you're doing right now?"

"Yes..."

"There! That's all that matters. And for the record, you're phenomenal at what you do. You have so much knowledge about pokémon, and you're a natural with them. I should know, I see the way you are at the sanctuary. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: imagine just how amazing you're going to be as a professor in the future when you're already that good."

Hop wiped at his tears a bit. "You... really think I'm doing okay?"

You smiled. "More than okay! You think you're talentless, that you haven't accomplished anything and that you're not unique? Bullshit. Say that to the Zacian, who chose you as one of the heroes. Say that to Victor, who has a hard time standing against you in battle when no one else can. Say that to the insane amount of progress you've made to become a professor. Heck, you might just become one of the youngest professors!"

"(Y/N)... I- you really think that of me?" He asked, hope lacing his tone.

You nodded, rubbing soothing circles on his hand with your thumb. "Yes, and I really like you, Hop. Without even looking at what you've accomplished, I still like you. You could be the most ordinary person, and I'd still like you. You get what I'm saying? I'm attracted to you as a person for all of your amazing qualities and your adorable quirks. I like you because I feel a connection between us, and I just feel comfortable with you."

Hop chuckled, his bright smile returning to him as he blushed madly. He pulled you into a hug, and you immediately clung onto him.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I needed to talk to someone about this, and I just- thank you. I like you too, a lot. So, so much," he said. He pulled away from you. "So.. about that date?"

You laughed softly, leaning in to plant a small kiss to the corner of his lips. That alone made Hop's mind go blank as he chuckled with a smitten look on his face.

Maybe he wasn't Galar's ultimate winner, but why should he care when he already had everything he needed and wanted? Hop would be damned to let a gem such as yourself go, so he'd be selfish just this once and keep you for himself.

Not that you seemed to mind.

[molanran]

teddy bear ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ | n.jm

synopsis: struggling with recurring nightmares, jeno suggests an app called "teddy bear," a sleep bot designed to offer comfort. over the course of a few nights, the bot’s messages start to feel increasingly familiar and seem to echo the warmth and understanding of someone who knows you deeply. as you connect with the bot, you uncover a touching secret that ultimately helps you find the peace you've been searching for.

pairing: na jaemin x gn!reader feat. lee jeno & lee donghyuck

genre: one-shot social media au, fluff, comfort

authors note: hehe ive been working on this for awhile now and its finally done!!! just a note, timestamps for tweets matter! i hope you enjoy!!! :] reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated and feel free to send thoughts in my asks!!

[molanran]

Do you have any recommendations for an enhypen x male reader? i’m so obsessed with your stories

First of all tysm, I'm glad you're enjoying my shenanigans <3

Unfortunately, there is not much smau enhypen xmale reader content on here and I don't know any finished ones but here are some I enjoyed

love is an artform by solarnomoon

summary: you’re an artist, with no clear discipline, so you dabble in all kinds of art. heeseung, on the other hand, is a well-known model, who gained popularity from his singing and his looks. you thought you guys were worlds apart, but after seeing you in class, he seemed to take an interest in you…

pretty boy! by rshmra

summary: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

boyfriend material by clouddd-hannn

summary: It seems you've totally messed up when you uploaded a picture of your "lover" in your Twitter post and your "lover" happens to be a famous band member.

As for written ones here is one I liked:

you and I by luvkyu (1.3k words)

summary: jungwon doesn't like how much affection his boyfriend receives from the rest of enhypen.

I honestly spend much more time on ao3 looking through ship tags (jaywon, sunsun, heejake and the like), if you'd like recs on that lmk <3

[molanran]

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“God, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kim Kyeyoung «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that.”

“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”

“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.

Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

His role model.

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. But only sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It really fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I’ll genuinely commit homicide if I have to do all this again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[molanran]

because you love me ― smt.

pairing ⇢ seok matthew x gn!reader 

genre ⇢ fluff, slight angst in the beginning, right person wrong time, idol!au

warnings ⇢ i wrote this in between studying for exams so soz if there’s any major mistakes i didn’t catch!!

word count ⇢ 3.8k (oops)

synopsis ⇢ you live with the regret of letting go the boy you loved for his dream, but you wanted to see him at least one last time. (part 1)

within the year after he left, you found it hard to adjust to a life where you couldn’t text him any time of the day, see him whenever you pleased, or hear his voice (even if only through the phone). it was difficult adjusting to a life that didn’t have him in it. 

whenever you saw something eye-catching, your immediate reaction was to share it with him through a picture. however, every time you were met with the last messages he sent you, reminding you that he was in korea living his dream. 

you couldn’t even bring yourself to delete the message thread, which would likely diminish the urge to send him everything after a couple of times of seeing the nonexistence of the thread. it was the last thing you had of him, of the relationship you two had built since you were young, since you were both too immature to understand you had taken your love for granted. 

it seemed life wanted to push your pain on you more, offering you an opportunity to study in korea exactly one year from his departure. you were baffled when you received the email, initially thinking it was just another spam email from when you imputed your address into various sites. it was the perfect program for you to study your interest, way better than the one you were currently in. 

still, would it really be worth moving all the way to korea, to the place where your first love was pursuing his dreams? it had been a year, a long year of you trying to get over everything. you had almost closed the wound you left yourself with when you asked him to leave you, but were you willing to open it up again?

it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, all of those around you told you to take that chance and to not let an ex keep you from it. though their words were confirming, you hated how their encouragement was analogous to one commonly given to someone who had gotten out of a toxic relationship. 

you always found yourself correcting them when they worded it in that manner, reminding them that matthew was nothing less than perfect for you. it only hurt you because you couldn’t be with him even though you two loved each other so much, so much that he was willing to give up his dream for you. 

in the end what pushed you to take the opportunity was the conversation you had just a year prior. 

“if i had gotten an opportunity to travel far away for a program of the thing i was most passionate about, what would you tell me?”

“i would tell you to take that opportunity.”

it would be hypocritical for you to do this, have him be the one holding you back from your dream when you had sacrificed it all to tell him to follow his. 

and so, you accepted it, allowing for you to once again be in the same country as the one you loved. 

while in korea, you debated getting into contact with matthew again but decided against it for the better. for one, you didn’t even know how you would find contact with him again, but you also didn’t want to be a distraction to him again. from the moment you two parted, you promised to continue supporting him but only in the background. you didn’t need to involve yourself in his life anymore. you just hoped some sign would show you he was doing well. 

and that sign came from one of your roommates, the one who would shove the latest news of the kpop industry down the rest of your roommates’ throats. in all honesty, you filtered out most of the things she said on her tangents. 

that was until the topic of the conversation became the upcoming mnet survival show, boys planet. she had huddled all four of you in the kitchen one evening to share about her latest obsession, even compiling all 98 boys onto a slideshow with nothing but their names and some pictures. 

you found it ridiculous how she could be so deep in a survival show that hadn’t even started yet with limited information granted day by day. that was why you, once again, tuned her out while she gushed over everything. 

that was until she introduced one trainee, the name that left her lips almost leaving you in near cardiac arrest. “seok matthew.” 

you eyes immediately darted upward. staring directly at the picture on screen. it was really him, the boy you once–no–the boy you still loved. it was surreal, and a part of you didn’t want to move on from it. 

as your roommate moved on, you stopped her, “wait! go back.” 

a smirk came upon your roommate’s face, knowing she had you hooked. “so you like seok matthew? he’s from canada, like you, so maybe the vibe that’s what draws you in.” 

if only she knew the true history you had, but you didn’t want to reveal that just yet. it was unnecessary to mention. “yeah, can you show me more about him?” 

so, as you promised, you would be always supporting matthew in the background throughout his journey to be an idol. you would start with having him be your pick from day 1. 

as the show aired, you preached to everyone you came in contact with about voting for matthew. whenever you could, you would ask the new person you came in contact with to download the app on their phone to vote for him. you wanted to do whatever it took to make sure matthew was able to debut. you had to make sure he knew his efforts and sacrifices were worth it. 

in those months, you were very diligent in staying up to date with the latest content while not falling behind in your studies, something even you were surprised about as you typically prioritized the former. 

your roommate, however, was ecstatic to finally have someone to share her obsessions with. she would update you with the newest content, texting it to you as soon as new videos or photos were posted. she was way further deep down the rabbit hole than you were, so you weren’t surprised she would always stumble upon random predebut videos spread of the boys. 

that was why you weren’t completely caught off guard when she came stomping into your room one day, one of the days you actually were trying to study instead of trying to keep up with how matthew was doing on boys planet. 

“YOU!” she exclaimed as she slammed open your door, leaving you with a smudge on your notes. you groaned, turning around to give her a glare. 

she was still diligent in showing you her fascinating discovery as if you weren’t studying for an important exam. you knew no amount of convincing would make her leave you alone until she got out what she wanted. 

as expected, it was another one of the predebut videos floating around twitter. “and?” you asked, already going back to look at the slides your professor provided. 

“THAT’S YOU!” 

with such proclamation, you dropped your pencil, hearing it fall to the floor. you finally put full focus on the video, and lo and behold, it was you, you and matthew in one of the dance performances done back at your dance studio. well, now your secret was out. 

“oh yeah, that is me,” you tried to brush off, even though you were freaking out that so many people had seen that leaked video. 

“and you didn’t tell me? that you know seok matthew! all this time i thought you were just a fan really interested. you…you know him!” 

you plugged your ear to block her squealing. a damaged eardrum was definitely not what you needed. “yeah because i knew you’d react like that. it’s not like it’s something special. we just danced together. we were…friends.” 

your heart felt stabbed when you said those words. friends. you and matthew were more than just friends. you were soulmates. both of you knew that, but now it didn’t matter. no one needed to know the two of you had something. it was for safety, both of his idol image and for you in case he had any crazy fans. 

“then, you need to go to the finale,” she insisted, “he needs to see you and know you’ve been supporting him!” 

now, here was the conversation you weren’t ready for. you weren’t even sure if you were ready to see him again. if you met eyes with him, would you just break down crying? would you be happy for him? 

you had already thought about going to one of the previous mission showcases, but you chickened out last minute, worrying about all the hypotheticals. this would be your last chance, but you didn’t even know if you should take it. 

“i don’t know about that,” you mumbled, averting your gaze away from her. 

“c’mon! you have to! you are the matthew supporter. everyone i’ve met on campus is voting for matthew because of you. he needs to know how supportive you’ve been of him. what more to show that then coming to it yourself?” 

“but i might not get in. what’s the point? there’s so many people who want to go,” you commented. 

she rolled her eyes at you. “well, if you continue to have that attitude, how are you going to get in. i am not going to stop bothering you until you at least try to get in.” 

“i have an exam to–” 

“i said. i’m not leaving until you at least try to sign up to get a spot.” 

you sighed in defeat. once she had her mind set, there was no changing it. if you wanted to have study time you were going to have to do what she asked. so you did, pulling up the form to fill out. even if you had done it all for her to leave, you didn’t really expect anything out of it. 

well, surprise! you were going to the boy’s planet finale. 

oh it was packed. crowds lined up outside the venue for the finale, you began to feel like backing out. being squished amongst other fans was definitely not how you wanted to spend your evening, especially if you were probably going to be far from the stage. sure, it was amazing regardless to see how far matthew had come, but a part of you also wanted to have your own moment with him, one where you could look him in the eye with a look to tell him how proud you were. 

everyone wanted that, to be able to be near the stage so they could be known by their pick. that was why there had already been hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people by the time you got there. 

the line was endless, and the only thing you were grateful for was the amount of people selling slogans and fans for the boys. you had planned to make your own custom sign for the finale, but due to many unforeseen situations, you didn’t have the time to do so. at least with the amount of people waiting out of the venue you were able to hold a cloth slogan in your hand. 

you thought it was adorable, his name printed across it on one side and a picture of him during “say my name” on the other. it was just the thing you needed to keep as a memory of this day, probably hanging it up in your room after the showcase. 

you checked the time on your phone, realizing there were still many hours until the doors were to open. how were you going to kill time in this long line? social media. social media was the only answer for someone like you who was standing alone without a companion to converse with. 

you found yourself so immersed on your social media feed that you didn’t realize the two familiar people approaching you, only noticing them when one grabbed onto your shoulder. 

over your shoulder, you were met with two very familiar faces, ones that you haven’t seen for nearly two years. “i thought that was you!” she exclaimed. 

you gave her a smile before relaxing your shoulders for a hug. “it’s been too long, yaebin.” 

making sure to acknowledge the other person, you immediately nodded your head into a half-bow. “mo–” you paused, realizing it wasn’t as appropriate to call her that anymore considering you were not in a relationship with matthew. you also didn’t want to stir up any rumors considering how many people were around, so you quickly corrected yourself, “auntie, i hope you have been doing well.” 

she gave you a reassuring smile before leaning in, “you can always call me mom. i will always consider you a part of our family.”

it was warming to know that she still considered you that way, even when you were no longer “formally” affiliated with them. you always loved matthew’s family, and you were glad they still loved you after all these years. 

“so, you’re here to support matthew, right?” 

you gave an excited nod, “i really wanted to come out here to see him perform. after all, i’ve always just wanted to support him. thai is the least i can do.” 

“do you want to stand with us?” 

“what.” 

stand…with matthew’s family…in the section designated for people the trainees were close to. that would mean you had to face him once and for all, but were you ready to do that? 

“you should come with us. you’ll get to see him!” 

shaking your head, you were unsure about how to react to such an opportunity. mixed signals went off all over your head. “i don’t think that’s the best idea. is that even allowed?” 

“well, i’ll find a way. i’m making sure you get up there with us. if anything is going to motivate matthew to do well today, it’s going to be seeing you.” 

with a response like that, how could you refuse?

you nervously stood amongst the rest of the close friends and family of the finalists. luckily, there was actually space for you to move around and breathe, so you weren’t hyperventilating from your nerves. you just…didn’t know how to feel about it all. 

what were you going to do now? there was a guaranteed chance he would see you, so there was no more running away. you were going to see matthew after nearly two years of your breakup. 

it felt so unreal. you thought his text about you two crossing paths again would be something for the distant future, not in a mere two years time. maybe it really was fate pulling you two back together. 

actually. there was no maybe. it was for certain. 

you knew that as soon as you saw him again, his figure prominent amongst the rest of the boys. there was no other person who could draw your attention like seok matthew. 

and then he spotted his family, waving excitedly to both of them. 

his sister strenuously wove back, but she also made sure to bring attention to you who was standing a couple of feet away from them. she pointed in your direction, urging him to look over. 

and so he did. that was the first time you two made eye contact again. you could tell he was surprised, his eyes widening and his mouth agape. 

you tried to put on a smile because you were happy, but the tears came out first. you were just too happy that you cried. this was really him. the one you loved so dearly. the one who so dearly loved you. 

even while on stage and televised, he still tried to calm you down. oh how he was the perfect man. still, they wouldn’t stop, so you motioned for him to not worry about you as you hid behind your slogan, letting all the tears fall out. that way, you wouldn’t have the energy left to cry later on in the showcase. 

oh but you were so wrong. 

you thought you had run your eyes dry after your first reunion, but you were proven wrong during the debut lineup announcement. 

you held tightly onto your slogan as you anticipated the remainder of the members' announcements. 

“seok matthew!” 

all at once, your legs gave out upon hearing his name, falling directly onto your knees as a pool of tears began to form around you. he…really did it. the boy you let go two years ago for his dream was able to achieve it! the pain you endured through that first year, the pain you still felt in these moments, they weren’t for nothing. 

you wouldn’t say it was worth it because it wasn’t. that empty feeling, that hole in your heart for the past two years, you would not even wish it upon your worst enemy. however, seeing how much he shined on that stage, even when he was profusely crying, made it almost seem worth it. 

almost. 

your eyes found the reserves of tears you had been holding back, all of them coming out at once in a mixture of sadness and joy. the sounds of everyone screaming was blocked out in your brain, allowing yourself to pretend you were sobbing in your own world. you were only taken out of it by a hand on your back, asking if you were okay. 

you were not okay. 

even you were unsure how you managed to stop crying. you thought you never would, but you somehow forced yourself to. 

anxiously, you were now waiting with matthew’s family, his sister insisting you come with them to see him backstage. this time, you weren’t hesitant to take her offer. you needed to see him and tell him how proud you were. 

you bit your lip, staring at the door as the rest of the families were, waiting for the contestants to walk through to meet with their loved ones. 

there they came. a crowd of boys funneled through the door, all of them coming directly to their families. you spotted him right away, his fluffy hair being the largest indicator for you. 

and for the first time, you called out to him. “matthew!” 

upon hearing your voice, his eyes darted around the room, trying to find you. when he did, it was a matter of steps before you two were face-to-face again, nearly two years after you two parted ways. 

for a few seconds, you two only stared at one another, pausing right before you could make contact. he looked at you like you were the most sacred on the planet, eyes glimmering as he wondered if this was all real, if you were really in front of him in flesh. 

he was the first to break silence as he placed his hands on your shoulders, as if he needed confirmation that you were real. “you. you’re here.” 

you laughed, surprised the normally expressive boy was at a lost of words. you only nodded. “yeah, i was debating on coming. i’ve always thought of trying to go to one of the mission stages, but never did in the end. one of my roommates convinced me to try, so here i am.” 

“you live in korea now?” 

again, you nodded. “i moved about a year ago for a great program opportunity, but i was scared to get in contact with you. i really missed you, so i thought it would only open up more wounds than needed. you also needed to work without distractions. i mean, look at you now!” 

he shook his head. he always seemed to be shaking his head to your claims. he did it two years ago, and he did it now. “what?” 

before he spoke, he moved his hands from your shoulders to take your own into his. you could feel how clammy they were from nervousness but also the tremble they had. you looked up at him, the concern evident in your eyes. 

he looked like he was about to cry. “you should have tried to reach me.” 

your eyebrows furrowed. what was he talking about? 

“you, you could never be a distraction to me. it was actually you who kept me going these past years. there were so many times where i wanted to give up, but then i remembered everything you told me before i left, about how much you loved me, the love that made you willing to let go of all we had. 

you were so strong, so i wanted to be strong for you. it was really hard for me to be so far away from you and my family, but i always thought about you. because you love me, i was able to push through the hard times. because you love me, i was willing to continue during the times of uncertainty whether i debuted or not. because you love me, i was able to make it. i wanted to make it, so i could fulfill the promise i made to you, the one where we’d meet once we both were closer to achieving our dreams. it’s because you love me, that i can see you here again today.” 

this was a moment all too familiar, a speech to proclaim love. you now understood how he must have felt two years ago when you did the same. 

your eyes threatened to spill more tears, but you didn’t want to erupt into a sobbing fit again, not while this was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life, the moment you were reunited with him. still, no matter how hard you tried, a few stray ones came through. 

they were promptly wiped way by matthew’s thumbs in an attempt to calm you down. “shhh,” he consoled, “it’s okay i’m here. no need to cry.” 

you pulled away from his touch, trying to gather yourself. you looked up towards the light to force yourself to put the tears away. you tried to respond, but everything came out in small blurbs due to the circulating emotions. “i’m sorry…it just feels so unreal to me. that we can see each other again.” 

“does this mean we can love each other again?” he quickly asked. 

and that was when your eyes moved from the light to his face, anticipation written all over it. you smiled at him. 

“i don’t think we can love again if we never stopped loving in the first place.” 

his smile mirrored your own as he stepped forward, finally closing the gap between your bodies. he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace as if his life depended on it. 

after all, he didn’t want you to let go again. 

[molanran]

friends to lovers with jake … very long btw ..

pairing. bff idol!jake x non idol!yn ( gn!reader. )

synopsis. jake and yn have been best friends before enhypen debuted, as yn watched their one and only best friend live his dream, they started to notice one of jake’s bandmates, but jake does not like that yn’s attention is on someone else.

genre. fluff, bad humor, friends to lovers, confession, loser jake, um jake is very dumb here, kms jokes, swearing, smau / texting.

featuring. enhypen members, intak of p1h && ningning of aespa.

💌 — requests are open !!

FINISHED !!

💭 — i made this while on writers block and it was actually fun to make, if you have any requests, pls send them my way cuz i wanna do this again 😭 sorry its so long, i didnt want to make multiple parts. but i hope you enjoyed this anyway !! ty for reading. <3

kinda proof read, but i tend to miss things, so if theres a spelling error or anything, js ignore </3

tags : @enhaas @starchasing-cryptid @lavendersloane @academiq

idea by @wnyngz :3. tysm darling !!

[molanran]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[molanran]

Prom King

SYNOPSIS:

Y/n and their best friend Intak made a bucket list to make their final year of high school absolutely perfect. Although Y/n’s list of to-dos is now complete, Intak has just one more thing to tick off - win prom king. All is well, until they hear a certain Kim Sunoo is also running.

PAIRING: sunoo x gn!reader

GENRE: nonidol!au, highschool!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn (they hate each other for most of it) fluff, crack, ft P1harmony Intak, Itzy Yuna, Le Sserafim Kazuha, Ateez Seonghwa, Stray Kids Minho, TXT Beomgyu, Enhypen Jay

WORD COUNT: 18.2k

FRIDAY - 21 DAYS TILL PROM:

“Bestie!”

Part of Y/n regrets teaching Intak internet slang. The amount of “slays” and “side eyes” heard each day would draw any sane person to their limit. But they suppose the goofy smile on his face makes up for the near insanity. Just.

Y/n and Intak have been friends since middle school after he accidentally made them cry because their team lost dodgeball. One apology and a shared popsicle later, they were inseparable. Now, all these years have passed and he’s still the same 12 year old boy from back then, stealing their pens and waking up early just to carpool to school (he claims Y/n’s car’s a.c is better, but really he just wants to spend time with them.)

“You literally saw me an hour ago.” Intak can’t help but roll his eyes at his friend’s words, pulling Y/n into a side hug nonetheless. “That’s like… a whole 60 minutes.” He groans, causing Y/n to sigh. “Oh no! Poor little Intak… how are you gonna survive when we go to university? Or even worse, when we have actual jobs?” Intak lets out a laugh, attempting to brush his hair out of his face. “Bold of you to assume I’m not attached to your hip for life.”

Intak has always been clingy - or better yet, loyal. Once he opens himself up to someone, he attaches himself wholeheartedly to that person. It’s one of his many dog-like qualities that make him so easy to be around - so easy to adore. Stressing over homework? Intak will lend his mostly wrong answers. Crying over an ex? Intak’s over within minutes with movies and ice cream. Y/n feels very lucky to have someone like him in their life.

A lot of people at their school assume that the two are dating, which is honestly laughable to them. Obviously to an outsider, this sort of affection may seem a little odd but with Y/n and Intak it’s just natural. Their relationship is anything but romantic. Besides, Intak is just so… Intak.

“You know, I feel bad for your future wife.” Y/n sighs as they walk with Intak to their next class. The boy turns around to look at them confused, Y/n mentally cursing at his long legs as they struggle to keep up with his speed. “Why? She’ll love you too. We can be a cute little trio!” Intak gushes. “And be a third wheel for the rest of my life? No thank you.”

The rest of the day speeds by quickly and before they know it, the final bell rings, dismissing the students for the day. Students rush to get out of their seats but are immediately stopped by their teacher, Mr Lee.

“Before you run off, don’t forget you have your final presentations due next week. Try to meet up with your buddy over the weekend if you can.” A class of groans erupts at the teacher’s words - bar Intak and Y/n, who look at each other with a smirk. Pros of being partnered with your best friend.

“Oh, and the list of contenders for prom king and queen is up by the gym. Voting starts next week and remember you can only vote once so… yada yada no one’s listening. You’re dismissed.”

Before Y/n can even finish packing up their books, Intak grabs their hand and pulls them out of the classroom. “What the hell Intak? My car is that way!” Y/n groans as he pulls them through the halls, not so gracefully bumping into a few people along the way.

As they eventually come to a stop, Y/n realises that he has taken them to the gym. “Look, there’s my name!” Intak gushes, pointing at the bold Hwang Intak that’s written on the paper. Y/n smiles lovingly at their friends happiness but can’t help the gentle roll of the eyes that follows. “Did you just take me here to brag about running for prom king?” “No, I’m here to check out the competition.”

At the beginning of the year, Intak and Y/n each wrote a “bucket list” containing the things they wanted to achieve in their final year of high school. It was full of simple things, like having perfect yearbook photos, joining certain clubs, etc. Y/n ticked off their final one just last week, after they had finally gotten an A on Mr Park's “unbeatable assignment” they’d heard upperclassmen complaining about for years. Intak however, has just one more thing on his list. Win prom king.

Intak’s eyes vigorously scan over the list before his shoulders seem to deflate. “What’s wrong?” Y/n asks, immediately squeezing in next to him in order to see the list as well. Their eyes quickly scan the names before landing on the one right at the bottom… Kim Sunoo. “Well… there goes my bucket list.” Intak laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Sunoo has always been Intak’s rival of sorts. It all started years ago, when the two took the same dance class. Intak and Sunoo were each other’s biggest competition. When it came down to Sunoo’s fluid and flexible dance style versus Intak’s bold and precise one - Sunoo almost always came out on top. Intak was good, sure. But Sunoo had a natural charm to him that Intak just couldn’t compete with. The same thing happened throughout school, when they both decided to join the drama club. Intak once again, was in second place - constantly losing roles and opportunities to Sunoo. 

Finally, high school came around and Intak managed to find something he really shined in, which was soccer. Not only did he really enjoy it, but there was also no Sunoo around to steal his spotlight. That was until Sunoo joined the cheerleading team and once again, the spotlight became shared.

“Come on, I’ve got practice but I can walk you to your car.” Intak attempts to pull Y/n away from the list but they stay put - anger practically dripping from their body. “That selfish asshole.” Y/n scoffs, aggressively poking his name, as if proving a point. God, even his handwriting is annoying. “He’s already the captain of the cheer team, the lead in the school play, has nearly perfect grades and is on the student council. He just needs to have this too? Can’t stand someone else having the spotlight for one fucking night?”

Y/n is fuming. It’s no secret that they aren’t the most fond of Sunoo, especially due to what he put Intak through over the years. This is just the icing on top of the “reasons to hate Kim Sunoo” cake.

“Hey, it’s alright. I don’t care that much anyway.” Intak attempts to calm his friend, finally managing to pull them back the direction they came. “You wouldn’t have put it on your list if you didn’t care, Intak.” Y/n sighs. “Well yeah but I’m up against Sunoo! I’m not gonna win so there’s no point in making a big deal of it.” Intak mumbles. Y/n can tell that he’s disappointed. For whatever reason, winning prom king is really important to Intak. So in that moment, they mentally promise to do whatever it takes to make it happen.

MONDAY - 18 DAYS TILL PROM:

Intak doesn’t hate people. No matter what they do or say to him, he just can’t bring himself to do it. Y/n however, isn’t anywhere as nice as Intak. So they hate people for him. This is evident on their face as they make their way towards Sunoo’s desk as soon as class is over.

“We need to talk.”

Sunoo looks up from his book at the sudden presence, and his eyes light up with mischief as they lock with Y/n’s.

“Y/n! To what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice drips with sarcasm as he lays his chin in his palm, looking up at Y/n with a smirk. Violence is never the answer but god, does Y/n want to punch him right now. “Oh cut the crap Sunoo.”

Sunoo knows all about Y/n’s hate for him. And although he swears he’s done nothing to deserve it, he certainly isn’t opposed to biting back. What’s the harm in dishing out the same treatment? Besides, Y/n looks extremely cute when they’re mad.

“You know, you look so pretty when you smile, Y/n. It’s a shame I only see you when you’re scowling.” Sunoo teases, bringing his finger up to gently poke at the furrow between Y/n’s brows - causing them to push it away almost immediately. “Stop being such an ass and I’d have something to smile about.”

Sunoo can’t help but laugh at Y/n’s meaningless jab, only making them even angrier. “Why the hell did you sign up for prom king?” They spit, almost as if the words were venomous. Sunoo can’t help the confused expression that makes its way across his face. They’re upset over that?

“I don’t know, Yuna signed me up without telling me.” Sunoo shrugs nonchalantly. This answer only adds fuel to the fire that is Y/n’s anger. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Do you even care about being prom king?” They scoff, causing Sunoo to shrug once more. “I think the whole thing is stupid to be honest.” He says. “Great! Drop out.” And with that, Y/n swiftly turns on their heel and walks out of the classroom.

The silence however is short-lived as Sunoo jogs up behind them. “Why the hell would I drop out?” He asks, causing Y/n to roll their eyes. “You said it yourself, you don’t care about it. And yet you running for prom king directly stops other people from having a chance.” Y/n states. Now it’s Sunoo’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re acting like it’s a scholarship or something. It’s just a dumb plastic crown-” “-WOULD IT KILL YOU TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE FOR ONCE?” Y/n yells, cutting off his sentence.

“Kim Sunoo! Y/N L/N! Why aren’t you two in class?” Mr Lee pokes his head out from his classroom, looking at the two with a scowl on his face. “And what is so important that you need to yell in the halls?” He continues. Y/n looks at the ground sheepishly, mumbling an apology. “I want to see the both of you in my classroom at the end of the day, now get to class.” Mr Lee scolds.

Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Kim Sunoo across from a visibly frustrated Mr Lee is not exactly how Y/n saw their afternoon going. Intak waits nervously outside the classroom, pressing his ear against the door in hopes to hear what his best friend is in trouble for now.

“It’s not just today’s stunt that I’m upset with. You two have a knack for… disturbing the peace whenever you’re together. And honestly, it’s doing my head in.” Mr Lee sighs. “Now we obviously don’t expect all of our students to get along perfectly, you’re human beings after all. But is it too much to ask for you both to be civil about it? Or at least wait to scream at each other after school hours?” He continues. “No offence sir, but I would rather jump in front of a moving bus than see Sunoo after school hours.” Y/n says, causing Sunoo to scoff. “It’s after school right now, dummy.” Sunoo rolls his eyes. Mr Lee sighs once again, sensing that an argument is about to start.

“This is what I mean. When I don’t get along with someone, I go out of my way not to see them. It seems you two go out of your way to fight.” Y/n and Sunoo both mumble out apologies. 

“I’ve been talking to some of your other teachers and we all agree that something should be done about this. So, we’ve decided to sign you up with the community centre down the street. They needed new volunteers and it’s the perfect opportunity for you two to put this weird feud to rest and make some real change. And, it’ll look good when applying for college, which is a nice bonus.”

Y/n and Sunoo look at Mr Lee as if he’s just told them the worst news imaginable. In some way, he has. “Look Mr Lee, I’m all for helping the community and all but can’t Intak and I do it?” Y/n asks, causing Sunoo to roll his eyes. “That defeats the whole purpose if you do it with him.” He scowls. “I don’t want to hear any fuss about this. It’ll be two days a week, after school Thursdays and Sundays. And if I hear that either of you are acting up I’ll have no choice but to strip away your senior benefits - which means no senior trip and no prom.”

If Y/n hated Mr Lee a minute ago, those words that just came out of his mouth made them love him again. Poor guy doesn’t know that he’s just given Y/n a great idea… Sunoo can’t run for prom king if he’s been kicked out of the whole event. All Y/n needs to do is find a way to get Sunoo in trouble at this community centre without getting themself involved.

THURSDAY - 15 DAYS TILL PROM:

Waiting outside the community centre in the scorching heat is not how Y/n planned to spend their afternoon. And with no sign of Sunoo, their anger starts to boil up - much like the temperature outside.

Just as they’re about to give up and tell Mr Lee that Sunoo was a no-show, a familiar car pulls up in the carpark and none other than Kim Sunoo steps out.

“You have some nerve. I’ve been waiting for like 10 minutes!” Y/n scowls, causing Sunoo to furrow his brows. “What time were we supposed to get here?” He asks. This only frustrates Y/n more. He doesn’t even respect them enough to value their time?

“God, you really are selfish. The email said 3:30.” Y/n pulls out their phone to back up their point with the email, only for their face to fall. “3:45 babe.” Sunoo smirks, watching as Y/n’s face heats up in embarrassment. They were sure it said 3:30. “Were you just so excited to see me that you came early?” He asks, making Y/n scoff - avoiding eye contact. “You wish! I was just… showing my dedication to… y’know, serving the community and… stuff.”

For the first time in what seems like forever, Y/n feels small under Sunoo’s gaze. They are so used to butting heads, always having a snarky remark or point to make. It seems that this interaction has somehow managed to knock Y/n off their pedestal - at least a little.

“I’m sure you standing out here has done so much for the community. Now, I don’t know about you but I’m gonna go inside.” Sunoo says, playfully ruffling Y/n’s hair before entering the building. Y/n scoffs out a few insults before fixing their hair and following suit.

Inside the building is a lot cooler than outside, the cold air conditioning a stark contrast to the outdoor heat. The two stand awkwardly in the front reception, watching as the person behind the desk talks on the phone.

“Wait, I’ve got people. Go complain to someone else.” The person says before abruptly hanging up, his irritated expression flipping to an almost scary smile. “Hi! How can I help you?” He asks. Sunoo nudges Y/n, who rolls their eyes before speaking up. “We’re here for the volunteer thing.” Y/n says, glancing down at the name tag that reads Minho - with a small cat face drawn next to it.

“Cool, what department?” He asks, typing something on his computer. “Uh… what?” Y/n asks, causing Minho to let out an exaggerated groan, spinning in his chair for added effect. “What department are you in? It’ll be on the sign up email.” He clarifies. Sunoo scrambles to check the email from Mr Lee, not seeing anything about a department. He shows Minho the email, causing his eyes to light up. “Oh! You’re the trouble kids?” He asks, turning his attention back to the computer momentarily. “I wouldn’t say that…” Y/n mumbles, causing Minho to laugh slightly. “It’s not a dig at character, trust me. Nothing wrong with a little rule breaking.” He winks. “Don’t tell your teachers I told you that.” He adds before standing.

“Looks like you’ll be doing a little bit of everything. I’ll throw you in with Seonghwa at first, that way you can come to me when you actually know what you’re doing.” Minho says, unlocking a backdoor before gesturing for the two to follow.

Minho leads them down a nicely lit hallway, pointing out different rooms and doors as they go. “Since we mainly do goods distribution here, we’re split into department’s so it’s easier to manage. You’ve got Seonghwa for kids - so that’s everything from toys, baby products, anything else children need. Then Beomgyu is in grocery. That’s just your basic food items. And then finally I’m on clothes and pet stuff.”

After his little introduction, he stops at a door before loudly knocking, causing Sunoo and Y/n to jump slightly. The door quickly opens and the head of a man who looks around Minho’s age pokes out. “Fresh meat.” Minho jokes, gesturing to the two students. “I told you to stop calling them that! And you wonder why people say you’re scary.” Seonghwa sighs, opening the door fully. “I’ll take it from here. You can go back to your phone call.” He continues.

Minho bids his goodbyes before walking back off down the hall. “Don’t let him scare you. He’s secretly a big softie.” Seonghwa says. “Anyway, I’m Seonghwa. I run the kids department here. I’m guessing you’re Y/n and Sunoo?” He asks, causing the two to nod silently.

Seonghwa looks at the two suspiciously. “Are you sure the school sent the right kids? Your teacher said you’re at each other’s throats 24/7.” He asks. “I’m sure Y/n will start something soon.” Sunoo mumbles, causing Y/n’s eye to twitch. They bite their tongue however, if they want this plan of getting Sunoo in trouble to work then they’ll have to make sure they’re on Seonghwa’s good side. “I’m sure we can put our differences aside for this. Especially since it’s helping the community.” Y/n says, causing Sunoo to roll his eyes at their words. “I hope so. It’s amazing what can happen to a bond when you do something like this. You should’ve seen Minho and Beomgyu when they first started.” Seonghwa says. “Right, I guess I’ll give you a tour of the department.” He continues before walking them down the hall to the storage room.

FRIDAY - 14 DAYS TILL PROM:

“And we barely even argued! Which is weird.” Y/n exclaims, after reciting their experience at the community centre. Intak hums, shoving some of his lunch in his mouth. “Maybe you two are finally getting along.” He says nonchalantly. “Oh please, I’ll never get along with someone like him.” Y/n scoffs, causing Intak to roll his eyes. 

“I still don’t get why you hate him so much. You guys are more similar than you think.” He points out, causing Y/n to gasp. “First of all, never say that to me again. And second of all, he made your childhood miserable! Of course I’d hate him.” Y/n states matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t say he made it miserable. I’m already insufferable as it is, imagine how big my ego would be if I never lost anything! Plus, it’s not like he beat me on purpose. That’s just how stuff goes sometimes…” Intak rambles. The two lock eyes for a moment and for a second Intak thinks his little speech got through to Y/n. “I’m still gonna hate him.” Y/n shrugs, causing Intak to sigh.

SUNDAY - 12 DAYS TILL PROM:

By the time Sunday rolls around, the fact that Y/n will have to spend all day with Sunoo finally settles in. Sure, they’ll have loads of stuff to do to hopefully keep them busy, but that won’t change the fact that he’s there. His presence alone is enough to frustrate Y/n.

“Sunday’s are pretty busy since it’s the one of days we hand everything out. So we have both delivery trucks picking stuff up and individual people. I’ll probably keep you two on sorting for now, just so I don’t overwhelm you too much.” Seonghwa says, making Sunoo and Y/n nod. “We do grocery on a separate day from clothes, kids and pets because of the amount of stock. So Beomgyu will be wandering around if you need any help and can’t find me. He’s only a few years older than you guys so I think you will get along well. You can always ask other volunteers too if you’re stuck.” With that, Seonghwa dismisses the two.

“Why the hell would you do it that way?”

“Babe, Seonghwa literally said there’s more than one way to do it.”

“Stop calling me babe! And if he saw what you were doing, he’d change his mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The sound of Y/n and Sunoo’s argument fills the sorting room. It all started with Sunoo deciding he was going to stack the lego boxes upright rather than laying them flat. His thinking being that it takes up less room and leaves space for other things. Y/n however, insists that laying them flat leaves plenty of room for things to go on top - as well as making the container easier to close. Both are technically correct, but that’s not an acceptable answer to them.

As the two continue to argue, Sunoo yanks the box of lego out of Y/n’s hands - causing it to fall, splitting open and scattering lego pieces all over the floor. “Oh you’re so fucked.” Y/n laughs, causing Sunoo to complain about how they started the argument.

“Who the hell is screaming in here?” A voice asks. The two turn around to see Beomgyu standing in the doorway, his eyes lighting up as he sees them. “Oh hey trouble. I should’ve guessed it was you two.” He says, his gaze then falls to the lego all over the floor. “Oh shit.”

Sunoo and Y/n quickly try to pass the blame onto each other, causing Beomgyu to wave them off. “No offence, but I don’t give a shit who started it. Let’s just pick it all up before someone stands on it. Stepping on lego might as well be a torture method.” He says, crouching down to grab the broken box.

He notices the quiet atmosphere in the room and awkwardly laughs. “Don’t get scared now, this kinda stuff happens sometimes. If it makes you feel any better, Seonghwa takes home the faulty ones to add to his collection.” He says. The thought of Seonghwa at home surrounded by lego sets makes Y/n and Sunoo laugh slightly.

“Just… try not to do this sort of stuff when you’re in my department, okay? Spilled lego is a lot easier to handle than food.” The two nod as Beomgyu places the box on the counter. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. Maybe try to be a little… quieter with the next argument.” He winks before leaving the room.

MONDAY - 11 DAYS TILL PROM:

“So… how was Sunday?” Yuna teases, causing Sunoo to look at her with an unimpressed expression. “Oh shut up.” He mumbles, causing her to stifle a laugh.

“I just feel bad for Y/n.” Kazuha says. “Being forced to spend time with Sunoo would be hell for anyone, but especially them.” Sunoo rolls his eyes at his friend, flipping her off before turning his attention back to his food. “Zuha’s right, you’re gonna drive them insane.” Yuna says. “Hey! They do the same to me!” Sunoo complains, causing Yuna to roll her eyes. “Well yeah, but they do it because they actually don’t like you. You do it because you’re trying to live out some weird enemies to lovers fanfic trope.” She points out. “True, not sure why you thought that would work.” Kazuha jumps in. “We get it, I’m a dumb guy who doesn’t know how to communicate my feelings. You’ve said this all before.” Sunoo dismisses.

“Just saying… maybe if you, I don’t know… spoke to them like normal people do to their crush.” Yuna shrugs. “Cause that works out so great for you two.” Sunoo deadpans. “You’re bitter because you know we’re right.” Kazuha teases, causing Sunoo to roll his eyes again.

TUESDAY - 10 DAYS TILL PROM:

Speak to them like a normal person. The thought has been running through Sunoo’s mind ever since lunch yesterday. Given the nature of his and Y/n’s relationship (if you could even call it that), he never even considered talking to them normally to be an option. But as he spots them walking down the hallway as school comes to an end, he figures what better time to start than now?

“Y/n!” Sunoo calls out, jogging through the halls to catch up to them. “Go away.” Y/n replies. “Oh come on babe, would it kill you to give me two seconds of your attention?” Sunoo asks, grabbing Y/n’s wrist. “Let go of me.” Y/n snarls, despite making no effort to pull away. Sunoo chooses to ignore their request, opting to teasingly pull them closer. “I wanna show you something.” He smirks, causing Y/n to roll their eyes. They quickly pull their arm out of his grip, folding their arms securely across their chest. “Well make it quick, I’m going to watch Intak’s practice.” Y/n mumbles.

Sunoo rolls his eyes at the mention of Intak but chooses not to comment. “One of my neighbours was talking to my mum about a care package she got. Apparently she’s signed up with the community centre. My mum sent me a photo.” Sunoo says, grabbing his phone and showing the picture to Y/n.

On his phone, is a picture of one of the boxes they packed on Sunday. This one is one of Y/n’s (you can tell from the way the lego box is placed). Y/n’s eyes light up at the photo, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sunoo. “She said her sons were super excited when it arrived. They made the lego set together almost immediately.” He says, swiping to show a photo of the completed lego set.

“Oh my god! That’s so cool!” Y/n exclaims, leaning closer to get a better view of the photo. Sunoo attempts to ignore the way his heart skips at the gentle pressure of Y/n’s shoulder brushing against his. “I know right? Obviously it’s nice to make a difference but… actually seeing it is just… it’s awesome.” Sunoo says, causing Y/n to nod enthusiastically.

It goes silent for a second as Y/n suddenly notices how far they were leaning into him, immediately stepping back. Sunoo can almost see the invisible wall being built between them as Y/n puts their guard back up - the sight causing Sunoo to frown slightly. “I uh… thanks for showing me that. I’ll see you on Thursday.” Y/n mumbles awkwardly before walking off down the hall.

THURSDAY - 8 DAYS TILL PROM:

With prom just over a week away, Y/n can feel their plans of getting Sunoo kicked out slowly start to slip through their fingers. Turns out, trying to get Sunoo in trouble whilst staying out of trouble themself is a difficult task. It’s not like they can just start an argument like usual, and Sunoo’s unfortunately not the type of person to easily fall for sabotage.

“Hey trouble!” Minho exclaims as the two walk into the community centre. “Are you ever gonna stop calling us that?” Sunoo asks, causing Minho to laugh at the slight pout on his lips. “Stop breaking Lego sets and maybe I will.” He teases. The two teens visibly tense at his words, causing Minho to only laugh harder. “I’m just messing with you, shit happens. But do that in my department and neither of you will reach adulthood.”

He’s joking. It’s a joke. But the downright evil smirk on his lips almost makes it seem like it’s not…

“Anyway, this week is your last week in the kid’s section so try to make the most of it. We’ll rotate you every two weeks so you get used to all of the departments, then you can pick which one to volunteer in for the rest of the program.” Minho explains. “Oh! And before I forget!” He adds, aggressively wheeling his chair towards a cabinet - pulling something out of one of the drawers before wheeling back to the two.

“Your very own name badges! I didn’t draw anything on them since we don’t know what departments you’ll be in but we can always add to them later.” Minho says, handing a name badge to each of the students. “The drawing is for the different departments? I just thought you really liked cats.” Sunoo shrugged. “While that’s also true, they have a professional meaning too. Cat because I run the pet department.” Minho states. “But don’t you also run the clothes department?” Y/n asks, causing Minho to sigh. “That’s just temporary. Used to be run by this dude called Jay but he… took an early flight. If you get what I mean.”

“He means an actual flight.” A voice interrupts the conversation. The three turn around to see Seonghwa standing in the doorway. “Jay went back to America to be with his family. You really need to stop telling people he died, dude.” Seonghwa clarifies, earning an eye roll from Minho. “He’s dead to me.” Minho mumbles, causing Seonghwa to scoff. “Anyway, I’ll get these two out of your hair. That lady from Goodwill is supposed to be dropping stuff off in an hour so try not to ignore her when she gets here.” Seonghwa says. Minho waves him off nonchalantly before going back to whatever it is he does on his computer.

As the three walk back towards the storage area, Sunoo takes note of the little drawing of a lego block on Seonghwa’s name tag. He nudges Y/n gently - subtly pointing it out to them, earning a gentle smile and quiet giggle in return.

“Since you’ve already mastered packing boxes, I figure I’d let you unload and organize today. All these boxes came from a delivery truck yesterday. You’ve just got to unpack them and put them on the right shelves. Easy?” Seonghwa asks, earning affirmed nods from the two. “Great, if the three of us work hard it should only take us an hour or two. Then we can go over some stock checks and maybe do some more packing if there’s time.”

There's not a lot to argue about when you're busy working. Especially when the two are working with Seonghwa - someone they absolutely don't want to annoy. But it's a weird feeling for Y/n, practically spending hours on end with Sunoo yet not even muttering an insult.

“Okay, that’s us.” Seonghwa announces suddenly, causing the two students to look up at him confused. “But we still have a few orders to pack?” Y/n questions, causing Seonghwa to wave them off. “I’ll finish these later - we get in trouble for keeping you after hours.”

The two collect their things and go to leave but get stopped by Minho and Beomgyu, who are chatting about something in the reception area. “Woah woah, where are you two running off to?” Minho asks. “Uh… home?” Y/n asks, causing Minho to narrow his eyes at them. “You got a ride?” He asks accusingly. “I drove.” Sunoo nods, before the attention shifts to Y/n. “Oh, uh I caught the bus.” Y/n admits. Minho sighs at their words, rummaging through one of his desk draws before pulling out a set of keys.

“Beomgyu will drop you off.” He says, placing the keys in Beomgyu’s hands. “Have you seen the state my department is in? I don’t have time to play uber driver.” Beomgyu argues. “So you’d prefer our little Y/n here to catch the bus at this time of night?” Minho argues. “Why don’t you drop them off?” Beomgyu asks, placing the keys back in Minho’s hand. “I’ve got a very important business call and Seonghwa will kick my ass if I miss it.” Minho shrugs.

“Well, I’m sure Sunoo can drop them off.” Beomgyu suggests, turning his attention back to Sunoo. “Uh… I guess I could-” “-Really, it’s fine. It’s only like a 10 minute bus ride.” Y/n clarifies,  earning a death glare from both Minho and Beomgyu. 

“Y/n, if you get on that bus and get kidnapped and murdered, I will personally study witchcraft and bring you back to life just to kill you again myself.” Y/n’s eyes widen at Minho’s words, causing Beomgyu to awkwardly chuckle. “What he means is, we don’t feel comfortable with you taking the bus alone and strongly advise you to get a ride with Sunoo.” Beomgyu reasons.

The thought of spending any amount of time alone with Sunoo makes Y/n want to pull the hair out of their scalp. But they suppose it is better than potentially getting kidnapped. And Minho and Beomgyu don’t seem like the type of people to budge on this sort of thing. So Y/n reluctantly agrees, and Minho makes sure to walk the two to the carpark and personally watch them drive away - for extra precautions.

The car ride is silent and awkward. Despite the lack of arguing that has been going on between the two, it is blatantly obvious that there is still a massive wall placed between them.

Sunoo doesn’t know what to do to break the tension. Does he just let the two sit in silence? Does he try to talk about his day? Does he turn the radio on? Deciding a conversation is probably the best way to go, he lets out a shaky breath before mumbling:

“So, how are you liking the community centre?”

With the silence that follows his words, he almost thinks that Y/n didn’t hear him. Either that, or they hate him so much that they’d rather ignore him than have one conversation. Considering it’s dead silent, the latter unfortunately seems like the more likely option. Sunoo’s thoughts however, are cut short when Y/n replies:

“It’s more fun than I thought it would be… and the guys are really nice.” Sunoo nods at their words, letting out a small hum of agreement. “I was a little scared of Minho at first.” He admits, his attempt at potentially lightening the mood successfully landing, as Y/n lets out a small, breathy laugh.

"Yeah… I don't think I've heard someone affectionately threaten murder so much before." Y/n jokes. They're still turned away from Sunoo, opting to stare out the window in order to avoid looking at him. But at least they're joking now. It's progress.

"What happened to your car, by the way?" Sunoo asks curiously. Y/n sends him a confused look, causing him to elaborate. "I mean… don't you usually drive Intak to school everyday? Why didn't you drive here?"

Y/n let's out a scoff, looking back out the window. "The idiot tried to cook a pizza on the dashboard. Some bullshit about it being the hottest day of the year. He saw it on tiktok." Sunoo's face scrunches up, mumbling a small ew. "Apparently it'll take a while to clean, too. I think melted cheese got into the radio or something." Y/n shrugs.

"Does that mean you'll need a ride on Sunday too?" Sunoo asks without thinking. He internally face-palms as Y/n visibly tenses up at his words. God, why does he have to be so stupid?

"Uh… Intak should be free on Sunday…" Y/n mumbles. Sunoo has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. A habit, he likes to claim - opting to ignore the tiny amount of jealousy boiling in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the other man's name. Of course Intak would be the one to take them. The two are practically joined at the hip.

The car is silent for the rest of the drive, with the two only mumbling short goodbyes as Sunoo pulls up to Y/n's house. He chooses to stay, watching as they walk up the driveway and into the building. Y/n doesn't look back.

SUNDAY - 5 DAYS TILL PROM:

“Oh, how's the plan going?” Intak asks suddenly, as he pulls into the community centre parking lot. "Huh?" Y/n asks confused - causing Intak to deadpan at them. "Your whole thing of getting Sunoo to drop out of being prom king. It's on Friday." He clarifies.

Oh right. That plan. Y/n honestly forgot all about it, especially after the awkward interaction they had in Sunoo's car on Thursday.

"I haven't made much progress." Y/n sighs. "Because you're making progress in other areas?" Intak asks, a small smirk spreading across his face. "Don't think I haven't noticed the tension at school, and different from the old tension." He adds, earning an eye roll from Y/n. "I think you need to get your eyes checked." Y/n retorts, ruffling Intak's hair before grabbing their stuff and getting out of the car.

"You're picking me up tonight, right?" Y/n asks. "No, I'm gonna abandon you." Intak deadpans. Y/n gives him an annoyed look, making him laugh. "I'll text you when I get here." He says, causing Y/n to wave him off. "No need, I can spot your shitty car from a mile away." Intak goes to reply but Y/n shuts the car door- making sure to slam it for added effect.

As Intak goes to drive off, he winds down his window. "Have a fun day at work my Pookie Pie!! I love you." He calls, blowing a dramatic kiss to add some flare. Y/n rolls their eyes, flipping him off before entering the building.

Sunoo is already there, signing in at the front desk with Minho and Seonghwa. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Y/n." Seonghwa says, earning a scoff from Sunoo. "Yeah, a shitty one. Where was he the other night?" Minho grumbles. "He was busy with soccer practice. And uh… he's not my boyfriend." Y/n says, awkwardly scratching the back of their neck. "Might as well be." Sunoo mumbles bitterly, his comment not going unnoticed by Minho and Seonghwa, who both mumble short apologies for the mistake.

The two share a knowing look before Seonghwa claps his hands, gaining the attention of the two teens. "Right, since today is your last day in my department we'll just focus on practising what you already know. And later on, Beomgyu will give you a tour of his department so you can get straight into things next week."

Minho watches as Seonghwa gets the two to work, immediately going to find Beomgyu and explain to him what the heck just happened.

There is something wrong with Sunoo - that much is clear. He and Y/n aren’t friends of course, but there hasn’t been this much tension between the two since they started volunteering. Y/n doesn’t understand what went wrong?

As Sunoo ignores their question for the umpteenth time, Y/n finally feels themself snap. They grab the box of toys out of his hand, shoving it back on the shelf before crossing their arms across their chest - effectively cornering him in the storage room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/n whisper-yells, not wanting to gain the attention of Seonghwa. “What’s wrong with me? You just ripped a box out of my hands?” Sunoo rolls his eyes. “Because you’re ignoring me!”

It’s stupid, Y/n knows. They’ve spent their entire high school career wishing for the day that Sunoo would start ignoring them. But now that it’s here, they hate it.

“And why do you care? We aren’t friends, Y/n. Even if I try to talk to you, you just go right back to running off with Intak every chance you get.”

And then it clicks. Everything always goes back to Intak.

“Oh my god, Sunoo. This is all about Intak? He’s my best friend, dumbass. And your stupid grudge with him doesn’t change that.” Y/n is fuming, and their volume is no longer at the front of their mind. Sunoo scoffs, pushing past Y/n and picking up the box once again. “I think you’re the dumbass, Y/n. Because everyone but you can tell that you and Intak are not best friends.”

Before he can get back to work however, Y/n catches up and shoves his shoulder - causing the box of toys to fall to the floor. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” Y/n scowls, earning another eye roll from Sunoo. “I’m not the one in love with my best friend.” “People can be just friends, Sunoo! You of all people should know that!”

Y/n knows they are yelling, but they don't really care. In fact, they hope that the entire building can hear every word they’re saying; maybe then Sunoo will understand how ridiculous he is being. Even if they were in love with Intak, which is so far from the truth, what the hell does it matter to Kim Sunoo?

“No one says shit about you and Kazuha. Or you and Yuna. How is this any different? Do you get like this when they talk to other people, or am I just special?”

Of course you’re special Sunoo wants to scream. But he holds back - knowing better than to dump all his emotions onto Y/n. Especially now that they’re this worked up.

“Are you two finished?” A calm voice breaks through the tension, and both teens snap their heads to look at the figure. Seonghwa stands leaning against the doorway, his face expressionless as he looks at the two.

It’s as if they’d seen a ghost, and Seonghwa has to hold back his laugh at this. Remembering that he is, in fact the grown up in this situation - he takes a deep breath before ushering towards his office. “Come on, let’s all have a little chat, shall we?”

Seonghwa is scary when he’s mad. Minho and Beomgyu would be too, if they weren’t spending their time trying to hold back their giggles. They can’t help it though - not with Y/n and Sunoo sitting there like two children being scolded by their parents.

“I have tried my best to not… interfere with the relationship between you two. Simply because it is none of my business. But when you are in our building, you must obey our standards, and whatever that was back there is certainly not the type of behaviour we like to see.” Seonghwa states, his voice clear and stern. “Isn’t that right, guys?” He adds, turning to the other two adults in the room - who clearly were not paying attention.

“Uh… yeah.” Beomgyu replies, his voice cracking slightly. This finally sets Minho off, his fit of laughter soon turning into a safety hazard as he begins to choke on his own saliva. Seonghwa can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips, watching in mild disappointment as Beomgyu pats Minho’s back in an attempt to help clear his throat.

“Anyway, we think it will be best to separate the two of you for a little bit, until the hostility goes down. Sunoo, you’ll spend the rest of the day with Minho and Y/n, you’re with Beomgyu. I’ll continue where you left off in kids.” Seonghwa says.

“Wait, so you can’t deal with them so you just pass them onto us?” Beomgyu asks, offended. “Be grateful you’re not getting both of them.” Minho rolls his eyes, letting out a yelp as Beomgyu pinches his side.

It’s weird to see them talk so openly about the two, as if they aren’t sitting in the very same room. Y/n can’t bring themself to look away from Seonghwa, a strong sense of guilt building up in the pit of their stomach. He looks stressed, and Y/n can’t shake the feeling that they’re a major factor.

“Well… is there anything you two would like to say before I send you off?” Seonghwa asks, the attention in the room turning back towards the two teens. Y/n gulps under the gaze, glancing at Sunoo from the corner of their eye - who is avoiding eye contact all together. The two mumble quiet apologies, which almost go unnoticed by the others. Seonghwa sighs once more, gesturing for everyone to leave his office.

MONDAY - 4 DAYS TILL PROM:

“You look like someone died.” Kazuha states, dropping her food tray on the table and effectively snapping Sunoo out of his thoughts. “His relationship with Y/n did.” Yuna snickers, letting out a shriek as Sunoo’s empty milk carton flies towards her head. “Resorting to violence, now? No wonder Y/n doesn’t like you.” Yuna teases, throwing the milk carton back towards him.

“Wait, what happened with Y/n?” Kazuha asks. Sunoo sighs in response, picking at his food. “Nothing, I just fucked everything up… like always.” The response earns some eye rolls from the girls. “Stop acting like a pick me and explain what happened. Or I’ll go ask Y/n myself.” Kazuha threatens, although her words are all bluff.

Sunoo lets out another sigh, deciding there’s no use trying to argue with his friends. “I got jealous of Intak and said some… things. Y/n got mad, for obvious reasons and now we’re not talking.” He doesn’t even need to look up at his friends to tell that they are rolling their eyes at him.

“You are one of the dumbest people alive.” Yuna scoffs. “I know.” Sunoo whines, resting his head in his hands. “What did you actually say to Y/n?” Kazuha sighs, mentally putting on her couples counsellor hat. Sunoo hesitates, knowing he’s about to get ripped into by the girls. “I said that there’s no point in us being friends if they’re just going to run off with Intak every chance they get… and that it’s obvious their relationship is more than that.”

The table is silent for a few moments as Sunoo’s words set in. “You are the reason I hate men.” Yuna groans. “No literally, do you realise how hypocritical that is?” Kazuha asks. “Obviously but I was angry and just said whatever came to mind.” Sunoo frowns.

The girls give each other a look before turning back to Sunoo, who continues to wallow in his self-pity. Sighing, Kazuha moves to sit next to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to be honest and tell Y/n how you really feel about them.” She says, causing Sunoo’s head to shoot up from it’s position on the table. “Be honest?” He asks with wide eyes. “Yes, Sunoo. If you tell Y/n that you said that because you were jealous and you like them then maybe they’ll actually give you a shot. It’s a much better plan than whatever the hell you’ve been doing this entire time.” Yuna points out. “And if they reject you, at least you tried.” Kazuha attempts to reassure, only to be met with glares from her two friends. “Way to boost my confidence.” Sunoo mumbles, picking up a spoonful of his lunch.

THURSDAY - 1 DAY TILL PROM:

“So… I heard you’ve got prom tomorrow?” Beomgyu asks, trying to break the ice. He hasn’t been alone with Y/n before so he’s not entirely sure what to say. Judging by Y/n’s groan at his words - he definitely said the wrong thing.

“Not looking forward to it?” He adds. “Since Sunoo will be there, no, I’m not.” Y/n mumbles, trying to turn their attention to the box of cans they are currently unpacking. They have nothing against Beomgyu, he’s sweet and all but god, does he not know how to take a hint. 

“What happened between you two, by the way? I know you never got along but something must’ve happened to cause such a fight.” Beomgyu pries. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” Y/n sighs. Being met with silence, they think that Beomgyu has finally given up. Until he speaks again:

“You know, I heard that hating someone uses almost as much passion as loving them.”

This causes Y/n to choke on the air in their lungs, looking at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “I’m not lying! Hate sex is apparently really good… not that I would know, of course.” Y/n chooses not to pry at Beomgyu’s blatant confession and instead raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you really recommending hate sex to a highschooler?” They ask, causing Beomgyu to wave them off nonchalantly. “It’s an example, Y/nnie. I’m just saying that hate can be a confusing emotion. Sometimes you think you hate someone, when really you like them and just don’t know how to express it.” “That sounds pretty toxic.” Beomgyu waves them off again. “Just trust me. I know a lot about this stuff.”

“So… how are things going with Y/n?” Minho asks, his sudden words causing Sunoo to look at him with wide eyes. “I… huh?” Sunoo asks, confused. Minho rolls his eyes at this. “I’m not an idiot, I see the way you look at them. And judging by the way they treat you, they do not feel the same. So what’s the plan?”

Sunoo is overwhelmed by the sudden topic. “Uh… give up and go home?” He mumbles. This was not the answer that Minho wanted, judging by the look on his face. “I would slap you right now if Seonghwa wouldn’t fire me for it.” Minho threatens. “Listen, as someone who is basically an expert at this whole hate to love thing - I’m going to give you some advice.” He continues, placing a hand on Sunoo’s shoulder. 

“You need to be obvious enough with the flirting that they can pick up on it but subtle enough that they think you’re just trying to annoy them. Then, when the tension gets high enough, you go full on flirt-mode. Catch them by surprise and reveal your feelings while their guard is down. And if you’re too scared to talk, just kiss them. Works like a charm.”

Sunoo looks at him skeptically, causing Minho to roll his eyes. “You think I’m joking? Beomgyu would tell you the same thing.” His words are very clearly alluding to something but Sunoo chooses to ignore them. “What if they just end up hating me even more?” He asks - his words causing Minho to let out an annoyed groan. “Then you suck it up and move on. If you open up about your feelings and they don’t accept it, then they’re not the right person for you. Was I this clueless when I was a teenager?” Noticing Sunoo’s hesitation, Minho continues. “Look, you’re a nice guy and you seem to really care about Y/n. I’m sure they only hate you because of some petty bullshit and not because you’re a terrible person. Have confidence in yourself!”

Sunoo nods affirmingly at Minho’s words. Have confidence in yourself.

FRIDAY - PROM NIGHT:

“Can I look yet?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

“Still no.”

“...”

“Intak, I swear to god, if you open your damn eyes…”

“I won’t!”

Y/n rolls their eyes at their best friend, looking themself over once more in the mirror. Once they’re happy with the completed outfit, they turn towards Intak - who’s stood in the middle of their bedroom with his hands covering his eyes.

“Okay… you can look now.”

As soon as the words leave Y/n’s lips, Intak’s hands are flying away from his face. His eyes fall on Y/n’s outfit as they stand awkwardly in front of him. “Woah… is it wrong for me to say you look hot?” Intak laughs, letting out a scream when Y/n hits his shoulder. “Hey! Don’t crinkle the suit!” He whines, earning an eye roll from Y/n. “Then don’t say cringy shit.”

“I’m serious though, you look great. Everyone’s gonna go crazy when they see you.” Intak compliments, causing Y/n to scoff. “Yeah, right. If I look so good, why am I taking you as my date?” Intak frowns at this. “You’re the one who turned down my idea of you and Sunoo going together.” He points out. “Yeah, cause that would literally be considered a form of torture.” Now it’s Intak’s turn to roll his eyes at Y/n’s exaggeration. “You’re just pissed that you guys fought. It would’ve been a great way to make up, you know?”

“Can we not talk about Sunoo right now?” Y/n asks, almost desperately. Intak narrows his eyes for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But as soon as this thing is over, you’re explaining what the hell happened with you two.”

Prom - the supposed “best night” of a high schooler’s life. The glitz and the glam. Food, drinks, music. It’s everything a teenager could wish for.

As Y/n and Intak walk into the school gym, they look around in awe at the decor. “You know, this turned out a lot better than I expected.” Y/n comments, causing Intak to nod in agreement. “I know, right? It barely smells like feet in here.” He jokes, letting out a pained noise when Y/n jabs him in the side. “So… are we going to the dancefloor first or the snack table?” Intak asks, causing Y/n to look at him with a blank expression. “Snack table it is.” He adds, laughing as Y/n aggressively pulls him towards the assortment of foods.

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom!” Y/n mumbles, their voice slightly muffled due to the music. Intak sends them a thumbs up, letting them know he got the message. After a few moments, Intak feels a sudden presence behind him and turns around to see Sunoo standing there.

“Looking for Y/n?” He asks, causing Sunoo’s eyes to widen slightly. “Uh… yeah. I thought they’d be with you.” He mumbles. “Bathroom.” Intak shrugs, earning a slight nod from Sunoo. Intak gestures for him to take a seat and Sunoo hesitates for a moment before sitting down.

“How did you know I was looking for Y/n?” Sunoo asks, causing Intak to shrug. “Well, you weren’t coming to hang out with me.” He jokes, earning an awkward laugh from Sunoo. “Are you still upset about… you know?” Sunoo asks. “Oh, god no. I got over that like, freshman year.” Intak says, waving him off. “Oh. Okay, well… I feel like I should apologise anyway. I wasn’t like… trying to compete with you or anything.” Sunoo says, causing Intak to laugh. “It’s all good, like I said, I forgave you ages ago. Y/n on the other hand…” Intak trails off, causing Sunoo’s eyes to widen.

Everything finally seems to fall into place. Y/n hates Sunoo because of what happened with him and Intak? He supposes it does make sense; they are best friends after all. But if Intak is over it, then why isn’t Y/n?

“Can I be honest about something?” Sunoo asks, causing Intak to look at him confused. “As long as you don’t confess your undying love for me. You’re cute but not really my type.” He jokes, making Sunoo laugh so hard he almost falls out of his chair. “Trust me, you’re not my type either.” He responds, causing Intak to scoff in feigned offence. “You know what? Maybe I do still hate you.” Intak pouts. He keeps the act up for a few moments before returning back to his smiley self, gesturing for Sunoo to go on.

“This is gonna sound really weird but… whenever I see you and Y/n, I can’t help but feel jealous. Like, you guys are so in tune with each other and… you’re close with them in a way that I can only dream of. I don’t know… guess it made me unknowingly hate you which probably added to why Y/n hates me.” Sunoo rants. Intak’s face doesn’t give much away, as he stares forward with furrowed brows. For a moment, Sunoo thinks he’s said something wrong.

“Y/n’s a complicated person. They like it when people are open and honest, but hate being open and honest themself. They’re also super stubborn… you probably already know that. They hate admitting when they’re wrong but really admire it when others do.” Intak says. Sunoo looks at him confused, not entirely sure what he’s trying to say. 

“Y/n’s basically a hypocrite, who looks for people that do and say the things they refuse to. That’s why we’re so close, we balance each other out. You, however, are more like Y/n, which is why I think you guys butt heads. You both want to be more open but your stubbornness gets in the way and you argue. I think that’s the difference between me with Y/n and you with Y/n.” Intak points out.

Sunoo’s face screws up at Intak’s words as he lets out a dry laugh. “Doesn’t sound like me and Y/n are a good match, then.” He mumbles. “I think you can understand Y/n a lot better than I do. Sometimes they do things and I just don’t get why. But if you and Y/n are going to be friends… or more, one of you will have to adjust a little. And judging by this conversation we’re having, it looks like you’re trying to.” Intak says, a genuine smile on his lips.

Sunoo is in awe. He’s never felt so called out yet reassured at the same time. “Where the hell did you learn to give advice like that?” He asks, shocked. Intak laughs slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “I watch a lot of couples therapy programs. It’s a guilty pleasure.” He mumbles. Just as Sunoo is about to ask what shows, the two are interrupted by Intak’s phone going off. He looks at the screen to see Y/n calling, immediately answering and putting them on speaker.

“Intak! You have to come outside and see this dog. It’s wearing a little bow tie!” Y/n exclaims, happily. “Outside? I thought you were in the bathroom?” Intak asks. “I move quickly. Now hurry up!” Y/n ushers, continuing to rave on about the dog as Intak waves goodbye to Sunoo.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have you all to the dance floor to announce this year’s Prom King and Queen.”

Y/n is probably feeling more nervous than Intak - judging by the way they’re squeezing his hand. “I think you’re gonna break my knuckles.” Intak leans down to whisper, causing Y/n to roll their eyes. “Shut up.” They whisper back.

Has the principal's intro speech always been this long? No one asked about how proud you are of all the contestants, they just want to hear who won. After what feels like literal hours of talking, the drumroll begins to play throughout the gym.

“And the winner of Be Lift High’s Prom King is…”

.

.

.

.

.

“Hwang Intak!”

Y/n is probably more excited than Intak, too - judging by the way they practically scream in his ear. Intak grins widely as Y/n shakes him back and forth, receiving a few pats on the back and whoops from the crowd around them. Snapping out of his shock, Intak gently pulls away from Y/n’s grip and walks up to the stage to be crowned.

Despite Intak walking away, Y/n immediately feels another presence beside them. They turn to see Sunoo standing there, watching fondly as Intak accepts the crown. Y/n attempts to ignore him, turning their attention back to Intak. Despite this, Sunoo had already felt Y/n’s eyes on him and gently nudges their side to get their attention.

“He looks really happy.” Sunoo points out. His statement earns an eye roll from Y/n, who immediately turns to him with a smirk. “Jealous you didn’t win?” They asks snarkily, causing Sunoo to laugh slightly. It’s not the sarcastic laugh he usually does around Y/n. It’s a small, genuine laugh. “No, he deserves it.” Sunoo smiles before turning his attention back to the stage, where Intak is about to start his acceptance speech.

The smirk on Yn’s face immediately drops as they take in Sunoo’s words. Sure, he doesn’t have to be jealous… but Y/n at least expected a snarky comeback. Why is he smiling like he and Intak are friends?

“You look really good by the way.” Sunoo says, not taking his eyes off the stage. Y/n immediately scans his face for any signs of sarcasm or teasing. None. Awkwardly coughing, Y/n turns away from Sunoo and back towards the stage. They mumble a quiet shut up but the subtle blush that spreads across their cheeks shows they didn’t hate the compliment.

“And we’ll now announce Be Lift High’s Prom Queen…. Nakamura Kazuha!”

“Fuck yeah!” Yuna screams, immediately covering her mouth when she realised the rest of the crowd hadn’t started yet. She mumbles a few apologies before pushing Kazuha towards the stage.

With Kazuha now joining Intak on the stage, Yuna squeezes herself between Sunoo and Y/n - slinging her arms around both of their shoulders. “Do you think anyone heard me swear?” She jokes, causing Sunoo and Y/n to laugh. “Judging by the way Mr Kim is currently glaring into our souls, I’d say yeah.” Sunoo says.

The trio watch in amusement as Intak shuffles aside for Kazuha to give her speech, her sending him an awkward yet genuine smile. “They’re kinda cute, don’t you think?” Yuna asks, causing Y/n to scoff. “Oh please, she’s way too good for him.” They laugh. “I don’t know, Zuha’s taste in guys is…” Sunoo trails off. “Questionable.” Yuna finishes for him. Y/n shoots the two a confused look but chooses not to ask further questions.

“So, what were you and Sunoo talking about when I was on stage?” Intak asks as he and Y/n slow dance together. “Oh god, don’t remind me. Weirdest conversation we’ve ever had.” Y/n rolls their eyes, causing Intak’s to lighten up with interest. “Come on, spill the tea.” He says, laughing as Y/n physically cringes at his choice of words.

“I don’t know, it was just weird. Like, he was saying how you deserved to win and when I tried to tease him about it, he just didn’t react. And then he said I looked good… without being sarcastic!” Y/n rants, earning an eye roll from Intak. “You call that a weird conversation?” He asks. “Well yeah, it is for people who hate each other.” Y/n huffs.

“Y/n… you don’t seriously think Sunoo hates you, do you?” Intak’s question causes Y/n to look up at him, a confused expression painted across their face. “Uh… have you seen the way he acts around me? We’re like… constantly at each other’s throats.” Y/n points out. “Yeah, and who starts almost all of those arguments?” Intak asks.

Y/n falls silent for a moment as they think back to all their arguments with Sunoo. Sure… they’re often the one that takes it from teasing to yelling but… that doesn’t make Sunoo completely innocent.

“I think you should apologise to him.” Y/n’s eyes practically fall out of their skull as the words slip past Intak’s lips. “I think that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.” Intak raises a brow at Y/n, almost in a challenging way. “Y/n… you know how much I love you but as your best friend, it’s my job to tell you when you’re being stupid… and this whole beef you’ve got with Sunoo is stupid… maybe if you start seeing him as a person rather than as some annoyance in your life, you’ll start to recognise that.” Intak says, finally, before dropping the topic.

Y/n pouts slightly as they mull over Intak’s words over and over again… he’s right. Y/n hates it when he’s right.

THURSDAY - 6 DAYS AFTER PROM:

I think you should apologise to him.

Those words have been repeating in Y/n’s brain all week. It’s very rare for a piece of Intak’s advice to stick with them for this long - usually he just says a few quotes he stole from Twitter and hopes it does the trick. It doesn’t. 

Walking into the community centre, Y/n is surprised to see an unknown man sitting behind the desk instead of the usual Minho. As soon as he hears the door open, the man looks up and sends a small smile to Y/n.

“Uh… hi?” Y/n asks, walking up to the desk, puzzled. “Hey. You’re one of the volunteers, right? Y/n?” The man asks, causing Y/n to nod quietly. Their eyes quickly flicker down to his nametag - reading the name Jay along with a small drawing of some shoes. Jay? As in, the guy who used to work here?

“I thought you were in America?” Y/n asks, causing Jay’s eyes to widen slightly. “Oh… I was, yeah. But now I’m back.” He shrugs, passing Y/n the name tag box. Their eyebrows furrow slightly when they see that both Minho and Beomgyu’s name tags are still there. Just as they’re about to ask, they get interrupted by the door opening.

“Sorry I’m late, the coach tried to have an extra cheer practice.” Sunoo says as he walks into the building. He stops in his tracks when he spots Jay behind the desk. “Who are you?” He asks, bluntly. “Jay, and you must be Sunoo.” Jay says. Sunoo glances at Y/n, as if to ask what is happening. Y/n just offers a confused shrug back.

“Okay, as you can probably tell, I’m not Minho. Something happened and he had to take the day off which means, obviously, Beomgyu had too as well.” Jay says. Y/n and Sunoo aren’t sure why that’s obvious but they choose not to question it. “Because we’re down two people, things are going to look a bit different today. We can’t have you both in departments by yourself because, no offence but you’re not fully trusted to be left alone yet. Seonghwa’s still in kids, but he’ll also be checking on you two in grocery. I’ll take care of clothes and pets myself.” Jay says, earning affirmative nods from Sunoo and Y/n. “Cool, Beomgyu should’ve left you a note of what he wants done today but if you need any help, just ask me or Seonghwa.”

Beomgyu’s “note” turned out to be the computer password so they could access todays food pack orders along with the words “fuck things up and I’ll kill you” scribbled at the bottom. Not extremely helpful but Y/n expected nothing less.

“So we just… put the stuff on the list in a box?” Sunoo asks, making Y/n realise that he hasn’t actually worked in grocery yet. “Oh… yeah. We print off the order ticket, grab everything that's on it and put them in a box, stick the ticket on the top and then tick the packed button on the computer… it’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it, and everything’s labelled so you shouldn’t have any trouble.” Y/n rambles, quickly demonstrating how things work.

The two quickly get to work, in complete silence. It’s a little awkward. This is the first time Y/n has actually seen Sunoo since prom, other than quickly passing each other in the halls, and the first time that they’ve worked with him in the community centre since their fight.

I think you should apologise to him.

Groaning slightly, Y/n turns their attention back to the order they’re currently working on. The last thing they need right now is Intak’s stupid face in their brain, trying to convince them to apologise.

“Hey, Y/n? Can you come check this for me?” Sunoo suddenly calls, snapping Y/n out of their thoughts. “Uh... yeah, one sec.” Y/n replies, putting the finishing touches on their order before walking over to where Sunoo is working.

They find him in the produce section, looking puzzled. “Everything okay?” Y/n asks, causing Sunoo to jump slightly at their sudden presence. “Oranges and mandarins are the same thing, right?” Sunoo asks, causing Y/n to giggle slightly. “Um… no. Mandarins are little and come in pieces that you peel off, oranges are big and you need to cut them.” Y/n says, causing Sunoo to nod. “We only have oranges, then,” He says, turning to look at Y/n. “And I need mandarins.”

Sighing, Y/n does a quick scan around the produce section. There are in fact, no mandarins. “We’ll have to check the back storage.” Y/n says, walking towards the door to find Seonghwa. “You coming? I can’t carry a bulk box of fruit by myself.” Y/n says, causing Sunoo to immediately follow them.

Once the two grab the key from Seonghwa, they make their way to the back storage room, where all the unneeded products are kept. It’s weird being in here again. Last time the two were in this room, they were screaming at each other. Walking past the kids and pet sections, they finally find themselves in the grocery area.

“Over there.” Y/n points in the direction of the fruits, going to walk towards them. They realise that Sunoo is oddly quiet and turn around to look at him. “Are you okay?” Y/n asks. It’s silent for a few more moments before Sunoo blurts out two words Y/n never thought they’d hear him say.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n doesn’t know how to respond. It seems that even Sunoo is a little taken aback by his words, judging by his wide-eyed expression. “Um… what?” Y/n laughs awkwardly. Where was this coming from?

“I’m sorry for… everything, really. I’ve been giving you hell for years for basically nothing. I was just jealous of you and Intak and I took it out on you when I should’ve just-” “-Are you kidding me?” Y/n asks suddenly, interrupting Sunoo’s words. “I’ve been thinking about apologising to you all week and you beat me to it?” They continue, causing Sunoo to look at them confused. “It’s not a competition…” Sunoo laughs awkwardly. “But I’ve hated you for years because of something you did unknowingly as a kid… and you didn’t even do it to me! Why the hell are you the one apologising?” Y/n asks, a small pout to their lips. Sunoo can’t help but look at them endearingly… are they really upset that he apologised before they could?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n asks, causing Sunoo to laugh slightly. “Sorry, you’re just really cute.” He says, causing their eyes to widen. A pink blush immediately spreads across their cheeks, earning a slight smirk from Sunoo. “Shut up.” Y/n mumbles, avoiding eye contact. 

“Would you feel better if I took my apology back?” Sunoo asks, half jokingly. Y/n pauses to think for a moment before silently nodding, causing Sunoo to break out into a toothy grin. “Okay, then… I'll take it back.” He says, his words causing Y/n to look up at him again. They bite their lip nervously as he quietly waits for them to speak.

“Okay so like… I’m sorry for being a bitch and hating you for something you didn’t do. It was really childish of me and I hope that we can be friends… maybe.” Y/n rambles, their eyes nervously flickering from Sunoo’s to various parts of the room. Sunoo smiles at their nervousness, his heart swelling slightly at their words. “It’s okay… when I found out you didn’t like me I started purposefully annoying you. If you can’t tell, I think you’re cute when you’re mad.” Sunoo says, the pink blush on Y/n’s cheeks turning darker with each compliment. “Stop calling me that…” Y/n mumbles.

“You don’t like when I call you cute?”

“Hate it.”

“Your blush says otherwise, babe.”

“Shut up!”

“So… are you just gonna ignore the fact that I said I was jealous of you and Intak?” Sunoo asks, causing Y/n to look at him confused. “Why?” Y/n asks. “Because I like you and I hated that he was close with you in ways I couldn’t be… thought he had a better chance with you than I did.” Sunoo mumbles, causing Y/n to scoff slightly. “Oh please, Intak wouldn’t have a chance with me if he was the last man on earth.” Y/n says, choosing to ignore the part where Sunoo said he likes them.

“What about me?” Sunoo asks, stepping forward slightly to minimise the gap between them. “Uh… what about you?” Y/n asks, attempting to step back but getting stopped by the shelf behind them. “Would I have a chance?” Sunoo asks, continuing his steps until he is directly in front of Y/n, their back pressed up against the shelves. “Um… if you were the last man on earth, you mean? I guess, I don’t know. I don’t even think I’d survive long enough for us to be the last people on earth. Especially if it was like a zombie apocalypse or something, I’d probably die super… early.” Y/n rambles, the last words trailing off as Sunoo gently grips their chin, lifting it slightly so they’re making direct eye contact.

“I mean now, Y/n. Would I have a chance with you now?” Sunoo asks, his grip on Y/n’s chin stopping them from looking away. Y/n’s breath seems to get caught in their throat as they see Sunoo’s eyes flicker down to their lips. “I don’t know…” Y/n breathes out.

Their mind feels fuzzy. Up until about a week ago, they don’t think they’d ever had a positive thought about Sunoo. And now here they are, trapped between his body and a shelf, as he confesses that he likes them? Y/n has no idea how to process this new information.

“Are you guys okay in here?” A sudden voice calls out, causing Y/n to immediately push Sunoo away from them. They shut down the part of their brain that immediately misses his touch and peek behind the shelf to see Jay looking around the room for them. “We’re fine! Just took a while finding what we needed.” Sunoo calls out, going to grab one side of the mandarin crate. Taking note of Y/n’s slightly dazed expression, Sunoo can’t help but laugh slightly. “Actually, do you mind helping us carry this? Y/n’s a bit out of it.” Sunoo calls out again, sending a teasing wink to Y/n who immediately scowls at him. Guess that his feelings for them won’t change the constant teasing.

“I saw you drove today, your car’s fixed?” Sunoo asks as the two walk out of the community centre. “Yeah, it is. Which reminds me that I need to get Intak to pay me back.” Y/n says, taking a mental note. “Well, if you ever need a ride again, just know my passenger seat is always free for you.” Sunoo says, his words causing Y/n to blush slightly. They mumble a small thanks, causing Sunoo to smile endearingly. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sunoo says, causing Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow. “School, babe.” Sunoo clarifies, making Y/n’s mouth fall into a small “oh”. Sunoo shakes his head with a gentle smile, ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately. “Have a good night, Y/n.” He says before going to get into his car, waiting until Y/n has gotten in theirs and drives off before he leaves as well.

FRIDAY - 7 DAYS AFTER PROM:

“I told you so!”

Y/n reaches over to cover Intak’s mouth with their hand, shushing him as they look around the classroom. Thankfully, everyone else is busy with their own conversations to be listening in on theirs. Intak licks their hand, causing them to immediately pull away with a disgusted look. “You’re so gross.” Y/n mumbles, wiping their hand on Inak’s shirt sleeve. “I don’t care, you and Sunoo are getting together, I was finally right about something.” Intak teases, earning an eye roll from Y/n. “We’re not getting together, he likes me. There’s a difference.” “But you like him too!” Intak urges. “And how the hell do you know that?” Y/n asks, defensively. “Because we’re besties! I can basically read your mind at this point.” Y/n looks at him with a blank expression, clearly not believing his reasoning. “Plus you’re blushing, which is kind of a dead give away.”

Y/n throws their pen at Intak, who only pokes out his tongue in retaliation. He is right - they both know it. Which is what makes the whole situation more frustrating. Being confronted with the fact that you might like someone when you’ve spent years thinking you hate them is not a fun feeling. Y/n can’t help but think back to the conversation they had with Beomgyu last week. Sometimes you think you hate someone, when really you like them and just don’t know how to express it. God… did everyone see it but Y/n?

Obviously, they always knew that Sunoo was attractive (although they’d never admit it). And yeah, maybe a small part of them did secretly enjoy having Sunoo’s attention - good or bad. But does that really mean that they like him? Like, want to go on dates and hold hands and kiss and post cute couple pictures with cheesy captions to annoy their friends kind of like? Surely not…

…

Okay, maybe.

But liking Kim Sunoo and wanting to date Kim Sunoo are two completely different things. You can like someone and leave it at that - a hypothetical crush with no real drive to transition into an actual relationship. Just someone to watch from afar and dream about until you either get over them or fall for someone else. That is exactly what Y/n plans to do with this whole crush thing. Sunoo, unfortunately, is not making this easy.

“Y/n!”

The sudden call of their name causes Y/n to jump slightly. That doesn’t sound like Intak. And Y/n doesn’t speak to any other men at school because, why would they? Which means it has to be…

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” Sunoo asks once he’s finally caught up to Y/n. They look like a deer caught in headlights, looking directly into the eyes of the one person they’ve spent all day avoiding.

Y/n is almost too distracted by the situation to process the words coming out of Sunoo’s mouth. He’s been looking for them? That should not make their heart flutter the way that it does.

“Where have you been?” Sunoo asks, his follow-up question finally breaking through the thoughts that are overflowing Y/n’s brain. “Oh, you know… around.” Y/n attempts to play it off, aimlessly waving their hand to appear as nonchalant as possible. Sunoo doesn’t buy it for a second, looking at Y/n with raised eyebrows. “Okay… well, I was wondering if you were busy this afternoon?” Sunoo asks. “This afternoon? There’s a game on.” Y/n says, causing Sunoo to chuckle slightly. “I know. I’m a cheerleader, remember? I was meaning before the game.”

They always get paninis with Intak before his games - something he claims gives him good luck. Despite this, Y/n can practically hear Intak screaming at them to say no, they’re not busy, and they’d love to spend the afternoon with Sunoo. But some part of them is holding back, scared of getting too close to Sunoo.

Sunoo notices Y/n’s hesitation and his face falls slightly, though he immediately covers it with an understanding smile. “Intak?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Y/n nods slowly, an overwhelming feeling of guilt washing over them. Why did feelings have to be so confusing?

Sunoo goes to walk away but Y/n suddenly calls out, their voice leaving their body before they even have time to comprehend the words. “You can come,” Sunoo stops in his tracks, turning around to look at Y/n once more. “If you want.” They add.

It’s silent for a moment before Sunoo smiles - not the sad one from before, a genuine smile. “Sure… how about I bring Yuna and Kazhua, too?” He asks. Sunoo’s not an idiot, he can tell how uncomfortable Y/n is in his presence. If he wants things to work out with them, he needs to give them time to get comfortable. If that means bringing their entire friend group on what he wanted to be a date, then so be it.

“I’d like that.” Y/n smiles.

“So uh… where are we going?” Yuna asks, curiously. Her grip tightens on Kazuha’s arm as the trio walk down the street. “That cheap Italian place down by the library.” Sunoo says, his words immediately causing Kazuha’s face to screw up. “Who gets Itallian before a game? Isn’t that more of a post-game meal?” She asks. Sunoo shrugs. “Apparently Intak needs his good-luck panini before every game and I’m not really in the mood to argue with our star player.”

“He plays like that because of a panini?” Kazuha asks, shocked. “It’s not the panini, idiot. It’s the fact that it’s his lucky food… think of it like manifesting.” Yuna explains. “But with paninis.”

Thankfully, the restaurant isn’t too far away from the school. It’s likely why Y/n and Intak started going. As soon as the group walks up to the little building, squished between the public library and a laundromat, Sunoo realises that it’s not as bad as he thought. Freshly painted with what looks to be a handmade sign hung carefully above the door and intricately decorated on the interior.

Stepping inside, the group’s eyes immediately land on Y/n and Intak. They’re the only customers in the restaurant, so it’s impossible to miss Intak’s wide smile and over-exaggerated wave.

“Wait, this place is so cute!” Kazuha exclaims, immediately going to sit down with Y/n and Intak. “How long have you two been gatekeeping this?” She continues, pointing her finger accusingly between Y/n and Intak. Y/n immediately raises their hands in surrender. “Ask Intak, he’s the one who didn’t want anyone stealing his luck.”

Intak’s eyes widen at Y/n’s statement. “Hey! Don’t turn this on me!” He exclaims, his face heating up slightly as the group laughs. “It’s okay, the golden boy just didn’t want anyone stealing his precious spot. No biggie.” Yuna teases, patting Intak’s shoulder with feigned sympathy as she moves to sit down as well - pushing Sunoo to sit in the spot next to Y/n before sliding in after him.

Sunoo attempts to keep some distance between himself and Y/n so as to not make them uncomfortable. Yuna doesn’t seem to get the message though, sliding into the booth and pressing Sunoo right into Y/n’s personal bubble. They don’t seem to mind though - judging by the subtle blush creeping up their neck and gentle smile on their lips.

“Is now a bad time to say that I’ve never had a panini before?” Yuna asks. ‘Oh god, don’t make him start.” Y/n mumbles. Their words fall on deaf ears, as Intak begins to ramble about paninis and all the amazing combinations you can have. Y/n zones out of the conversation, aimlessly flicking through the menu instead. 

“What do you recommend?” Sunoo asks, quietly. Y/n looks up at him with a raised brow. “Don’t trust Intak’s recommendations?” Y/n asks, jokingly. Their words cause Sunoo to chuckle quietly. “More like, I want to have your favourite.” Sunoo mumbles, playfully winking when Y/n’s face flushes.

This is going to be a long night.

“Oh, shit. What time do we have to be there tonight?” Yuna asks, pulling out her phone to check the time. “Practice starts at 5, game at 6. I’ve only told you, like, 4 times today.” Sunoo says, a not-so-subtle roll of his eyes earning him a slap on the arm. “Thanks, Kim Sunoo. Where would I be without you?” Yuna replies snarkily. “Not the game, that’s for sure.”

“Are you coming early too, Y/n?” Kazuha asks, finishing off the last bite of her panini. “I always do. Intak forces me to watch him practice.” Y/n says. “It’s not forcing! You can say no…” Intak pouts. “If I say no you get like this, which is not as cute as you think it is.” Y/n laughs, causing Intak’s mouth to drop in offence. “I am so cute! You’re just blind, clearly.”

“Maybe this time you can watch our cheer practice, instead.” Yuna suggests, “I know a certain someone would love that.” She continues, a little quieter so only Y/n and Sunoo can hear her. Y/n’s face heats up at the implication behind Yuna’s words as Sunoo nudges her in the side, his face telling her to knock it off.

“Or just watch boring Intak, whatever you want.” She finishes with a shug. “Since when was it International Bully Intak Day?” Intak asks, sulkily taking a bite of his (third) panini.

Intak gets pouty when Y/n doesn’t pay attention during his practice and games. Y/n has made that mistake far too many times, and now makes sure to keep their eyes on the field at all times. Why is tonight so much more difficult? Kim Sunoo… that’s why…

Y/n never really watched the cheerleaders before. Like they said, Intak got pouty. But tonight, their gaze can’t help but slowly drift to where Sunoo stands. They jump slightly as Sunoo tosses one of the smaller girls in the air, lifting her up like she’s nothing and catching her with equal ease.

He must be pretty strong.

Y/n immediately shakes the thought out of their head, looking back at the field. The game has long started since now, the bleachers filling up with loud, enthusiastic supporters all there to watch their team win. Intak’s on fire, as usual. The crowd roars with every point he scores, expecting nothing less from their school’s star player.

As Y/n fixates their full attention onto their best friend, they hardly notice Sunoo walking over to where they’re sat. Sunoo smiles down at Y/n, finding their concentration cute before playfully ruffling their hair.

“So, we’re pretending you weren’t literally staring me down a minute ago?” He asks, his words and action causing Y/n’s attention to immediately flicker to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n mumbles, swatting his hand away before fixing their now ruined hair. “Course you don’t, babe.” Sunoo replies, messing up Y/n’s hair once more before taking a seat next to them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the field… you know… cheering?” Y/n asks, trying to make it seem like they’re annoyed by his presence. Y/n’s never been an actor though and Sunoo can read right through them. “You expect me to cheer for the whole game? That’s so tiring.” Sunoo frowns. “I should get to have a good time, too.” He adds, sending a playful smile to Y/n.

That’s how Y/n and Sunoo ended up watching the game together. With every scored point, everyone around them got more enthusiastic - their excited movements pushing Y/n and Sunoo closer together. Neither of them minded, though.

Sunoo suddenly lets out a groan when he spots Yuna calling him back onto the field. “I have to go back.” He mumbles, looking at Y/n apologetically. “It’s okay… go do your thing.” Y/n smiles. Sunoo can’t help the way his smile mimics Y/n’s, even the tiniest bit of their happiness is contagious to him. God… they’re so pretty. Before he can even realise what he’s doing, Sunoo leans in to press a quick kiss against Y/n’s cheek, ruffling their hair once more as he stands before running back to the field, yelling about how he’ll “be back.”

Y/n sits there, stunned, for a moment. Did that really just happen? Did Sunoo just kiss them? They bring a hand up to gently press against the spot where Sunoo’s lips just were. The skin burns slightly at the touch, likely from the ever growing blush that seems to be constant whenever Sunoo’s around. It takes Y/n a handful of seconds to snap out of the fluttery trance Sunoo’s kiss put them in - and he didn’t even kiss them on the lips! This crush really is going to be the end of Y/n…

“WE WON!”

Intak’s yell could probably be heard from the other side of town. But Y/n doesn’t care, as they run happily into his open embrace. Every win for Intak is like the first; it’s only fair that Y/n matches his enthusiasm.

“You did so good, Takie.” Y/n says, giving Intak a loving squeeze before pulling away. Kazuha is next, running to give Intak a hug - much to the surprise of the rest of the group. “Guess we’re all hugging Intak.” Yuna shrugs, running up to him as well - making sure to grab Y/n on the way and pull them into the, now group hug.

Sunoo watches the group with an amused smile on his face. “Bring it in, bro.” Intak winks, making Sunoo laugh slightly. “Okay, bro.” Sunoo says teasingly, before joining the hug as well - making sure to take a position next to Y/n.

“Why are we hugging?” Y/n asks. “Because I did so amazingly that you guys just wanted to show how much you love me?” Intak asks, hopefully. “Whatever you say, buddy.” Yuna laughs.

Pulling away from the impromptu group hug, Y/n can’t help the way their eyes naturally drift to Sunoo, who was already looking at them. The rest of the group immediately notice their two friends, Yuna giving Kazuha a knowing nudge.

“Hey, Intak. Didn’t you need to show me and Yuna that… thing?” Kazuha asks, suspiciously. Intak’s face lights up at this. He loves this game. “Oh, that’s right! I almost forgot. I’ll go show you now. Just you, me and Yuna.” Intak says. Sunoo has to stop himself from physically face palming at the performance. “I think they get the hint.” Yuna laughs, grabbing the two by the arm and pulling them away from Y/n and Sunoo.

“Well that wasn’t suspicious at all.” Sunoo jokes. “What would he even have in his car to show them?” Y/n laughs, looking back in the direction the three went, only to spot them not-so-subtly crouched behind the bleachers. “They’re watching us.” Y/n mumbles. “Of course they are.”

Silence falls between the two as Sunoo appears to have a sudden wave of nerves wash over him. Y/n looks up at him with slight concern - Sunoo doesn’t normally get nervous. “Look… I just wanted to say that I had a really good time with you today… it’s nice to just hang out without working… or yelling at each other.” Sunoo starts, causing Y/n to laugh slightly. “We do yell at each other quite a bit.” They agree. “That’s not stopping, by the way. If you do dumb shit I will call you out on it.” Y/n playfully warns, causing Sunoo to laugh. “Oh, 100%. Just like how I’m going to keep purposefully getting on your nerves.” Sunoo teases.

Due to the conversation taking a playful turn, Sunoo’s nerves start to subside. “Look, I know this is all very sudden for you so I don’t expect an answer straight away but, I was wondering if you wanted to-” 

“-yes.”

Sunoo’s eye brows furrow slightly at Y/n cutting him off. “Would you let me say it?” He asks, teasingly, causing Y/n to laugh. “Sorry, I got excited… keep going.” Y/n urges him to continue, looking at him with a playful smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date… with me… and not our friends, this time.” Sunoo asks, smiling gently.

Y/n can’t stop the giddy feeling that’s building up in their stomach. It’s almost like they want to start jumping around, they’re so restless. Never in their entire life would they have thought that they would have these feelings about Kim Sunoo… guess the heart works in mysterious ways.

Y/n nods enthusiastically, jumping to pull Sunoo into a tight hug. “This is new.” Sunoo comments, hugging back nonetheless. “Sorry, I’m just weirdly excited and I didn’t know how to say it in words.” Y/n mumbles against Sunoo’s shoulder. “Don’t apologise… I could definitely get used to this.” Sunoo says, tightening his grip around Y/n’s waist.

The two stand there for a few seconds, trapped in their own little bubble. Their precious moment is soon interrupted by the hushed whispers of their friends, who still haven’t left their hiding spot. Sunoo pulls away with a groan, shooting a fake glare towards the others. “Okay… let’s go get those idiots.” He says, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to pull them in the direction of the rest of the group.

“So, just so we’re being clear… our next date is gonna be with our friends, too?”

“Without, Y/n. Without.”

“Sorry without… Yuna and Kazuha, but Intak is coming.”

“Bring Intak and you’re not getting a second date.”

“I’m just teasing. Besides, I doubt you can stay away from me after this.”

“You know what? I’m starting to regret confessing to you.”

As the two playfully bicker back and forth, Yuna, Kazuha and Intak notice them coming over and decide to leave their hiding spot. “So the lovebirds finally got together, huh?” Yuna asks, earning eyerolls from Y/n and Sunoo. “Nothing’s official yet so don’t jinx it.” Sunoo warns, causing Yuna to look at him with a teasing smile. “So I shouldn’t talk about how you’re madly in love with Y/n and it’s taken you literally years to-” Yuna’s ramble gets cut off by Sunoo charging at her, causing her to end her sentence early with a loud squeal.

“Zuha, help!” Yuna exclaims as she attempts to run away from Sunoo. As the three friends laugh and chase each other around the now empty field, Y/n feels the sudden presence of Intak resting his chin on the top of their head.

“You look really happy.” He comments, the simple words causing Y/n’s smile to spread even further across their face. “I am.” They reply. “Sunoo’s cool… he’ll treat you well.” Intak mumbles, yawning slightly due to it getting later. Y/n snorts slightly at his words, playfully elbowing him in the stomach. “Why are you acting like my dad?” They ask, earning a shrug from their best friend. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

SUNDAY - 9 DAYS AFTER PROM:

Walking into the community centre feels a lot different on this particular day compared to all the previous times. Perhaps it’s due to the fluttery feeling in Y/n’s chest at the thought of seeing Sunoo again. They haven’t seen him since Friday night, where they agreed to go on a date. They did, however, text throughout most of yesterday.

Minho is back in his position at the front desk, with Jay, Beomgyu and Seonghwa in various other parts of the reception area. Sunoo also stands in the reception area, signing in for the day.

“Y/n, come and clear this up for me.” Minho says as soon as Y/n makes their way through the sliding glass doors. Their eyebrows furrow slightly but oblige nonetheless, not wanting to piss of Minho this early in the day.

“This kid says that you and Sunoo didn’t argue at all last week.” Minho scoffs, pointing accusingly at Jay, who holds his hands up in defence. “I honestly didn’t even know they were the problem kids until like, 2 hours into the shift.” Jay argues. “We didn’t argue.” Y/n shrugs, causing all the adults to look at them in shock. Sunoo tries to hold back his smile as he finishes signing in, unfortunately not going unnoticed by Beomgyu.

“Did something happen between you two?” Beomgyu asks with a smirk on his face, throwing his arm over Sunoo’s shoulder and shaking him a few times. “Beomgyu, that’s none of our business.” Seonghwa attempts to scold. “I see blushing.” Minho teases, pointing at Y/n’s face. “Let’s just get to work, are we going back to the old schedule?” Y/n asks, turning their attention fully to Seonghwa. He almost looks startled by Y/n’s question. “Can I trust you two to work together properly?” He asks, looking at both Y/n and Sunoo suspiciously. The teens quickly nod. “Okay… we’ll go back to the old schedule. You two will be in with Beomgyu today and then you’ll start fresh with Jay in clothes next week.”

“Okay but like… you guys are dating now, right?” Beomgyu asks as he walks into the food storage room, a large box of bread in his hand. Y/n and Sunoo look at each other, both questioning his words. That’s not even something they’re sure of. They agreed to go on a date… does that mean they are dating?

Beomgyu notices the confusion and chuckles slightly. “We’re not labelling it, huh? I remember those days.” He smiles, placing the box on the table. “Just try not to let it get in the way of your work… no matter how hard that might be.” Beomgyu says, almost as if he’s speaking from personal experience.

WEDNESDAY - 12 DAYS AFTER PROM:

Going on a date with Sunoo is exciting and terrifying at the same time. Everything is changing… they went from spending all of their time with Intak, to suddenly being in a friend group with Intak, Sunoo, Yuna and Kazuha. What if this thing with Sunoo doesn’t actually work out? Their friend groups have already basically intertwined and Intak seems to really enjoy having the others around. The last thing Y/n wants is to ruin it for him. They really like Sunoo, too. This needs to work out.

“Stop worrying about shit that isn't going to happen." Intak playfully scolds, softly hitting Y/n over the head with his book. The act immediately snaps Y/n out of their thoughts, making them look up at Intak with a small pout. "You didn't have to hit me." They mumble. "Yes, I did. You've been like this all day. Your date tonight's gonna go fine. I don't get why you're so worried." Intak says. "I'm just scared that I'll mess everything up." Y/n frowns, shaking their head in their hands in an attempt to silence their negative thoughts.

"You didn't mess it up when you literally hated him… how could you mess it up now that you like him?" Y/n struggles to argue with Intak's logic. They know that their insecurities are irrational and yet there's still this tiny part of their brain, shouting about how terribly this is all going to go.

"Well, no time to be insecure, here he comes." Intak says, gesturing over Y/n's shoulder before walking off.

The sudden presence of an arm around their shoulder causes y/n's entire body to relax. They know it's Sunoo; it always is.

"Where's he going?" Sunoo asks. "You scared him off." Y/n jokes back, causing Sunoo to laugh slightly. "Hey! I'm not even remotely threatening, thank you." He argues, pinching Y/n's shoulder. Strange how as soon as Y/n is in the presence of Sunoo, all their negative thoughts from before seem to mysteriously vanish.

"Are you all good with going right now? Or did you want to head home first?" Sunoo asks. "Well I didn't bring my car today and my ride just abandoned me so, I guess now works." Y/n shrugs.

Dinner and a movie - the most timeless first date. There's enough time at dinner to talk and get to know each other whilst also being able to just ignore each other during the movie if the dinner part doesn't go to plan. Y/n and Sunoo don't exactly have to get to know each other, though. It's more just getting to know this new side of each other.

So far on the date, Y/n has learnt that Sunoo is quite the gentleman. They're not sure if he's just pulling out all the stops because they're on a date or if he usually treats his partners like this but the chivalry is spot on. Letting y/n choose the restaurant, holding open the door, pulling out their chair, the works.

"You know," Sunoo starts, pointing a fry in Y/n's direction. "You never actually told me that you like me." Y/n rolls their eyes at his statement. "Yes Sunoo, I agreed to go on a date with you because I don't like you." They reply sarcastically. Sunoo holds his hands up in defence. "Is it wrong for me to want to know how my date feels about me?" Sunoo asks teasingly. Y/n's heart flutters at the word date but they try to ignore it. "When you're only asking because you want to hear me say it, yes."

Sunoo looks at Y/n expectantly, making them sigh. "Fine… I really like you, Sunoo." Y/n says, the genuine tone in their voice makes Sunoo smile brightly. "I really like you, too." He replies. Y/n grumbles something about him being stupid, which makes Sunoo laugh before turning back to his food.

"Okay, they didn't have any mint chocolate left which is… honestly criminal, but they had your favourite so I just got two of them." Sunoo says, happily handing Y/n an ice cream cone. "How did you know cookie dough is my favourite?" Y/n asks suspiciously. They have had many conversations with Sunoo, none of which involved anything they liked.

"You always bring those little cookie snack bars to the community centre… so I just took a guess." He shrugs. Y/n's eyes narrow at Sunoo. "What else do you know about me?" They ask, making him laugh slightly. "I'm very observant, so, a lot. You'll find out eventually." Sunoo winks, causing Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow.

Once the two find their seats, Sunoo pulls out the rest of the snacks that he had snuck into the theatre (why would he buy a bag of lollies for $6 when he could get the same ones at the grocery store for $2.50?) Y/n’s eyes widen as Sunoo lays out the snacks he had brought, each one being one of Y/n’s favourites.

“Okay, you’re messing with me now. You asked Intak for help, didn’t you?” Y/n asks, skeptically. “I swear, I didn’t.” Sunoo says, only confusing Y/n further. “Then how did you know to get me all of this? Y/n asks, their eyes shining in awe as they look at Sunoo. “Y/n… I’ve liked you for… almost 2 years now? It’d be weirder if I didn’t know about these kinds of things.” Y/n’s eyes widen at Sunoo’s words. It’s as if all the air has been knocked out of their lungs. “You’ve liked me for two years?” Y/n asks, almost in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?” They ask, going to hit Sunoo’s shoulder but Sunoo catches their hand instead, holding it gently in his. “Be honest, Y/n. Would you have liked me back 2 years ago?” He asks. Y/n falls silent. They both know the answer to that. “I don’t know what to say.” Y/n mumbles. Sunoo smiles, reaching over with his other hand to ruffle their hair. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Their hands stay intertwined throughout the entire movie. It just feels right, the coolness of his skin contrasting against Y/n’s warmth. The way they each tighten their grip whenever a particularly tense scene plays or how Sunoo’s thumb gently grazes over Y/n’s knuckles when a sad one does. Neither wants to let go. Even when the movie comes to an end, the lights in the theatre turn on and everyone starts getting out of their seats, their hands stay intertwined.

“Okay, turn right at the next street.”

“No, the one after that.”

“There’s like this big tree, remember? That’s the one.”

“You missed the turn off.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re really bad at giving directions?” Sunoo laughs, as he does yet another u-turn. “Why do you think I’m usually the one driving? I don’t give directions, I take them.” Y/n grumbles. “We’re going to your house, Y/n. Surely, you know how to get there.” Sunoo laughs. “I’ve never been this way so I don’t know the names of anything.” Y/n argues. “Babe… use google maps.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Y/n finally pulls out their phone and types their address into google maps. “There, since I’m clearly no help.” Y/n pouts, shoving their phone on the dashboard. Sunoo can’t help but smile affectionately as he watches Y/n sulk. He reaches over to playfully pull at their cheek, causing them to swat his hand away. “You’re so cute.” Sunoo coos, laughing at the way Y/n’s face immediately turns a dark shade of pink. They mumble a quiet shut up reaching forward to link their hands with one of his, once again.

By the time Sunoo pulls up outside of Y/n’s house, they’re no longer sulking. Sunoo puts the car in park, taking off his seatbelt before turning to Y/n with a smile. “I had a really nice time tonight.” He says, reaching forward to take hold of Y/n’s hands. “Me too.” Y/n smiles. “And I’d like to do this more… a lot more.” Sunoo says. “Me too.” Y/n laughs, feeling overwhelmed with the amount of affection they feel towards the boy in front of them.

“Can I be your boyfriend, Y/n?”

Time in the car seems to stop just as those words left Sunoo’s lips. Kim Sunoo… as Y/n’s boyfriend? Months ago, Y/n would’ve thought that to be one of the worst things to happen to them. A form of torture… they’d probably say. But now… as they sit in Sunoo’s car, their hands intertwined with his, after one of the best first dates they’ve ever been on… they can think of nothing they want more.

Well… maybe they can think of one thing they want more. As their eyes flicker down to Sunoo’s lips, Y/n can’t help the overwhelming thoughts of how they would feel pressed against their own. Sunoo seems to notice, with the way the corners of his mouth turn up into a slight smirk. Is he licking his lips subconsciously? Or is he trying to drive Y/n even crazier than they already feel?

Y/n realises they haven’t answered Sunoo’s question. With their mind racing a mile a minute, they don’t even know what to say. Y/n’s brain flashes back to what Sunoo said earlier in the night… You don’t have to say anything.

Y/n decides to communicate their thoughts through their actions, not trusting their brain or voice to formulate a better response. With a simple nod of the head, Y/n slowly leans in, their eyes fluttering closed as they finally feel Sunoo’s plush lips against their own.

Y/n hasn’t kissed enough people to know what makes the perfect kiss but they reckon this one comes pretty close. They were never one for cliches, but the sparks, the butterflies, everything’s there. Everything’s right.

Maybe Intak was right (this seems to be a pattern recently.) As their lips dance together, Y/n can’t help but think that nothing with Sunoo could go wrong. They know it’s unrealistic, that all good relationships run into problems along the way, but that’s for future Y/n and future Sunoo to worry about. Right now, they can just relax in their ignorant bliss.

THE END

[molanran]

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & university/college rom :D 

warnings/content. 4.1k+ wc | soccer team captain!reo (giggles) | mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunken state | public kissing (don’t ask) | minimal proofread | me and my poor attempt of banter

in which: last night left you with three hazy memories — a dare, a kiss, and the name reo mikage

If college has managed to drill one thing into your head, it’s the gospel of abstaining from weekday drinking. After all, who in their right mind willingly marches to class with a pounding headache? Certainly not you.

But if there’s also one thing college didn't prepare you for, that is ignoring that one advice it drilled into you, and the golden rule of never, ever going against your own wisdom. 

If it did, then maybe you wouldn’t find yourself seated at the table of your kitchen dorm, your elbows resting heavily on its surface and your hands cradling your throbbing head, with your fingers pressed against your temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pounding sensation that is making you feel like it’s your last day on earth.

And to add a splash of more chaos to the mix, you feel like your headache intensified by tenfold at the absurdity of what your roommate just told you.

“I did fucking what now?”

“You kissed Reo at the party last night! Reo freaking Mikage!”

Yup, it’s definitely your last day on earth.

“ —and we squealed so loud! We never thought you had it in you to pull shit like that!” 

Well, you didn’t either.

“Hold on, talk slowly! I kissed him?!” 

Furrowing your brows, you attempt to process the bombshell your roommate just dropped on you. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot what happened last night!”

To say that your roommate did a poor job of filling you in on what atrocity happened last night is an understatement. The only thing you managed to register from the weirdly sequenced story were two things: kiss and Reo. 

And from there, the memories of last night came rushing back to you. 

Fucking hell.

You are damned, no doubt. Of all people, it had to be Reo Mikage. Are you even allowed to say that name so casually, even in your mind? That name drips gold and glory in every letter. He’s probably the richest guy on campus, the most famous (for sure), and on top of that, he’s the captain of the goddamn soccer team. Talk about a boring and plain college life he’s living. 

And to kiss that said man in a party for a dare? You’re doomed. You’re done for. You did the worst thing imaginable. 

You should’ve known better that nothing good comes out of college parties and dumb drinking games.

You made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, that you admit. But this one probably takes the top spot.

And it all started innocently enough – with a dare. 

The kind of dare that only seems like a great idea after a few too many shots. You had been the reigning champion of beer pong for as long as you could remember, and your friends decided it was high time to knock you down a peg. The stakes were set: a dare for a dare, and you were handed the ultimatum. Win the game or face the consequences.

But as fate would have it, your well-practiced skills crumbled under the pressure, and you found yourself facing the ultimate punishment—eight shots of tequila, back-to-back, in quick succession. 

Under typical circumstances, you could easily handle that quantity, but regular situations don't account for having a crucial presentation the following day. Eight shots? It's a nightmare, considering you've reached your limit.

And so, you found yourself stumbling through the crowd with only one goal in mind: redemption.

Or maybe it was the tequila that whispered that goal into your ear, urging you to prove yourself. It was hard to tell. 

And in that hazy state, your eyes had locked onto a figure that seemed to glow amidst the dim lights of the party. Reo Mikage, a name that resonated through campus like a melody, stood there, his presence magnetic and his smile dangerously alluring.

Without much thought, you approached the poseur table he was located at.

“Are you single?” you asked him the second you got close enough for him to hear. Fortunately, he wasn't surrounded by his usual crowd.

Now, what happened to ‘hello’? To ‘are you having fun?’ That question is too straightforward for a conversation starter, isn't it? 

“Yeah? Yes, I mean.” Reo replied, confusion evident in his tone.

“Okay good, listen.” Stepping closer, you caught him off guard, and he instinctively took a step back. His movement prompted a questioning look from you, tinged with a hint of concern because it was one step, yet he backed away for three. Little did you know, your proximity was affecting him more than the alcohol he'd consumed.

Undeterred and tequila-fueled, you continued. “I really don't want to drink those abominations in liquid form my friends dared me, so may you find it in your good heart to let me kiss the shit out of you so I’m saved.”

What the hell did he just hear? “Kiss the shit out of me…?”

“Yeah.” So, he heard you right. He’s not making it up. Good, he thinks.

“What do I get in return?”

“Lunch? My treat.” 

Did you just offer a multimillionaire heir a lunch and promise it's on you? At this point, you're not drunk — you're certifiably crazy.

“Hmm, sounds good. Alright, please do show me how the shit out of me can be kissed by you.”

In the face of his agreement, you rolled your eyes at his mocking tone. But there was no time for second-guessing; this was your moment.

Grasping the front of his shirt, you tugged him closer. You saw how his eyes widened at what you did before it broke out to a boyish grin. A breath passed, and then — the two of you collided.

In the electrified space between heartbeats, your lips found each other hungrily. His breath mingled with yours, a shared exchange of anticipation as your mouths moved in sync, exploring each other with an urgency that defied logic.

The taste of tequila still lingered, a faint reminder of the daring choice that had led you here. But it was the heat, the fervor, that consumed you both. Your bodies pressed together, the proximity sparking flames of need that danced through your veins.

His fingers found purchase at your waist, the touch igniting a trail of sensation that sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and a moan rose out of your throat as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth, a delicious tug that blurred the lines between who was kissing whom.

You pulled back from the kiss first, and a protest almost climbed Reo’s throat. But he knew better than to step in unwarranted, instead, he settled with savoring the image of your flushed state. Even in these neon blaring lights, Reo could discern your state with your heavy panting. Was it because of the alcohol? Or him? He hopes it’s the latter.

“That was… fuck. Thank your friends for the dare for me, yeah?”

And that’s how it all ended — with a kiss far from innocent.

Now here you are, nursing a splitting headache as you trudged across campus, textbooks clutched to your chest, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's debauchery. The taste of regret was heavy on your tongue—not just from the hangover, but from the events that led up to it.

In your slightly inebriated mind, the plan made sense. Kiss the hottest guy at the party, and you'd show your friends that you were up to the challenge. It was akin to hitting two birds with one stone: escaping the impending liquor onslaught and salvaging your pride. 

At the time, it sounded good – sounded like a winning strategy. But now? You want to bang your head against the wall for even thinking it made sense. And you’d do it if it weren’t for your phone buzzing in your pocket interrupting your self-loathing.

Last night for Reo was enchanting, to say the least. 

It was like a spark in the darkness, an unexpected surge of joy that he found himself smirking at the memory, reliving the sensation of your lips in his.

Last night might have been the spark, but it wasn't where it all began for Reo. 

Before you approached him at the party, he remembered you from freshman year. It was hard not to—especially when he recalled the exact moment. He perfectly remembers how you looked him dead in the eye and quipped,“Why waste your time on that sport if your aim is as off as a blindfolded archer? The goal's over there, genius. Not me.” after his supposed goal went astray and hit you in the back.

Well, he took that personally— word for word. And within a year, he had risen to become the best player on the team.

Now add that memory to the daring kiss you shared last night? There was no way Reo would be forgetting you anytime soon. He was now on a mission to make sure that you remembered him as vividly as he remembered you.

Good thing you owe him lunch, and an even better thing that he spotted you just now on a bench near the field he was on. He chuckled to himself at the coincidence, he wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. 

Reo, with his pragmatic and business-oriented mindset, was perhaps one of the last people on earth to put faith in notions like fate. But maybe he can make an exception to that philosophy if it’s you. 

Because right now, this whole thing felt like a mischievous wink from the cosmos, giving Reo a shot at something he had only dared to imagine. Wasting no more chances, he pulled out his phone.

[Today, 8:32 AM]

Is this Y/N?  This is Reo, by the way.

From his vantage point, he saw you reach for your phone immediately after he hit send. The widening of your eyes and the hint of surprise as you read his message didn't go unnoticed.

Cute. Peering down to his phone, he snorted with laughter at your response.

y/n: No. You’ve got the wrong number. [8:33 AM] Your friend confirmed it’s yours, though :P [8:33 AM] Also, I can see you typing. [8:34 AM]

Your eyes immediately scanned the whole field in search of the possible source of your college life’s impending doom. After a few seconds of looking with furrowed brows and a crinkled nose, there – you saw him, with his head slightly cocked to the side and his arms crossed over his chest, grinning at your display of reaction to his messages.

Your searching eyes transformed into bewilderment the instant he stood up, making his way toward you. Realizing that the two of you couldn’t be seen together under any circumstances to avoid igniting unnecessary gossip, your fingers danced over the screen of your phone, rapidly firing off messages that inundated his notifications.

y/n: what do you need are you trying to approach me stop right there stop walking!!!! everyone's looking i swear to god [8:37 AM]

Your frantic typing, however, seemed to make no impact. As if on a mission, Reo continued walking closer to you with the most annoyingly confident grin on his lips. His gaze was locked onto you, unwavering and undeterred.

Even from the distance that separates you two, you could make out what he was wearing. And you were damn sure, it was the sluttiest piece of clothing a man could wear.

The divine must really have its favorites, it seems. Because while you looked like hell had taken up residence on your head from last night’s festivities, he looked too sinful for a sunny morning in his compression shirt. 

No one should look that damn good at 8 AM—it's practically criminal and a slap in the face to regular college students like you.

As Reo closed the distance between you, you could practically feel the weight of all those curious eyes fixated on the scene. Were they looking at him? You? Or both? The thought alone made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Hi.” 

Hi? You’re hyperventilating from the attention the two of you are getting and he quips a hi? 

“What do you need?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady amid the prying gazes of onlookers.

Reo's grin remained stubbornly intact, seemingly oblivious to the audience around you. “I’m here to collect a favor you owe me!” he declared with an enthusiasm that felt almost out of place in this surreal moment.

He can’t be seriously asking you to buy him lunch, right? What does he even eat? A5 Wagyu steak? There’s no way your student budget can afford that.

“I don’t remember owing you anything.”

“Really? I’ll remind you then, you offered to buy me lunch last night before you grabbed my collar and kissed m–”

“Finish that sentence, and lunch is not the only thing you’ll get from me.”

Your threat hung heavy in the air, your words loaded with a blend of annoyance and embarrassment that had settled on your cheeks.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” and yet, ever undeterred from your hostility, Reo's voice took on a smug, teasing tone that matched the twinkle in his eye.

This guy. “You're a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

“No, I don't think I am,” he countered, “And I also don't think that's how you should speak to someone who, and I quote, found it in their good heart to kiss you and save you from eight shots of tequila, though.”

Reo was on a mission, that much was clear. And quoting your exact words from last night seemed to be one of his tactics to ensure you remembered him and that kiss you shared. 

And lucky him, it looks like it’s working like a charm in which the telltale warmth in your cheeks revealed. Unfortunately for you, your simmering frustration combined with a throbbing headache could either launch you into a one-way ticket to expulsion or earn you a potential criminal record.

May the universe and all the saints grant you patience, because the overwhelming urge to wipe that damn grin off his face is slowly overtaking your senses.

You glanced at your watch, calculating whether you had enough time to wrap up your presentation before considering lunch. “Fine. Text me the location,” you conceded, your tone reluctantly agreeable. “I have a presentation to do first. I'll meet you there before noon.”

It might turn out to be a questionable financial decision to let him choose the lunch spot, but you were sticking to your word. You still owed him, after all.

“Sure. Good luck on your presentation. I’m sure you’ll devour the shit out of it.” 

His playful tone, quoting your own words again back at you, made your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and flustered embarrassment.

Reo, on the other hand, seems like he’s having the time of his life with your reactions.

Someone can’t wait for lunch time, it seems. And clearly, that’s not you but a certain purple-haired.

If anyone were to observe Reo in this moment, they might easily mistake his fidgeting for the anxious prelude to a first Tinder meet up. Of course, that would be utterly absurd, considering he was simply awaiting someone's arrival, who happened to owe him a wholesome meal.

The little bell above the restaurant's entrance jingled, drawing Reo's attention like a magnet. 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk in, much to his surprise. Seemingly fresh and put-together now, you appeared quite different from the disarrayed figure he had spotted on the field earlier. 

Your smile, which now adorned your face as you exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, seemed to hint that your presentation had gone well, and perhaps the remnants of last night’s headache were subsiding.

Casually dressed yet carrying an air of understated confidence, you navigated the room with ease. His eyes followed you as you moved, taking in the subtle sway of your hair, the way your lips curved into polite smiles for familiar faces. He observed this scene unfolding before him, almost as if he were watching a scene from one of those romcom movies.

When your gaze finally settled on him, Reo could feel the heat making its way to his neck that he hoped his collar was hiding well.

The moment you settled into your seat, you wasted no time in addressing the metaphorical elephant in the room. “I’m sorry I put you in that position last night,” you blurted out.

Conversation starters were not your strong suit, Reo noted with an inward chuckle. Last night's shameless question was understandable, given the influence of alcohol, but in the clear light of day, your choice of conversation openers left much to be desired.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smile of reassurance. He raised his left hand to catch the waiter's attention, subtly signaling for the menu. “Glad it was me, actually,” he mumbled more to himself than to you, his own unfiltered thought taking him by surprise.

“What?”

“What?”

Before you could even attempt to untangle the verbal knot, the waiter arrived with the menus, saving Reo from any further explanations. He observed as the waiter acknowledged you, a smile exchanged between you two. It seemed you were a regular here, and he found himself intrigued by yet another layer of your personality.

“You know him?” Reo inquired, nodding toward the departing waiter.

“Oh, I'm a regular here. It's my favorite place,” you explained with a hint of fondness.

“What are the chances? It's mine too.” 

Your eyes narrowed in playful disbelief, seemingly not buying the idea of someone like Reo enjoying a meal at a diner like this. “You?”

You admit you were surprised when he texted you of this place being his choice of dining. You were totally gearing up for him to suggest some fancy French or Italian joint where you'd need to take out a loan just to cover the bill. After all, people like him should be dining on caviar and foie gras. But then he texted you this choice, and maybe he's more down-to-earth than you thought. Or maybe he just knows where the good food is. It's hard to believe either, though.

Challenged, Reo insisted, “Yes. Me.”

“Alright, what are you having then? I’m ordering their famous pesto pasta—surely you know what that is, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Of course, I do.” Reo was basically lying through his teeth, at this point. But he couldn’t back down from his claim. And what? Admit that it's his first time here and the only reason he chose this was because he often sees you eating here? Not a chance.

“Why don’t you order for us then?”

With no turning back, he quipped, “Sure thing,” before signaling for a server. He sensed your amused gaze on him, and a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“We’ll have two orders of your pesto pasta, please.”

“Uhm sir, we don’t serve pasta here.”

You let out a laugh, and Reo swears he could almost hear the birds chirping in the background.

Maybe a bit of embarrassment was a fair trade for that sound, he mused.

Lunch, for you, was not so bad and not quite the disaster you initially imagined.

Not until, out of nowhere, Reo brought up your embarrassing escapade from last night, “Was it because of that incident in freshman year that you approached me last night?”

“Freshman year?” you echoed, momentarily thrown off track. “Did we ever have a class together? Because I genuinely can't picture myself willingly signing up for economics or any finance-related course.”

“No, we didn't share any classes. And what's wrong with those courses? They're actually quite enjoyable.”

Yeah, if your idea of fun is spending hours deciphering graphs and balancing budgets. Enjoyable if you think that analyzing the stock market is the pinnacle of excitement.

“I don’t remember you from freshman year, though.” you admitted.

Reo's disbelief was palpable as he leaned back in his chair, a smug grin settling in. “You told me I suck at soccer a couple of years ago. Ring any bells? It was on the field.”

“I did fucking what now again?” You briefly questioned your past choices – or the lack of recollection thereof. Were you perpetually in a tipsy daze during your time at university? How could you miss every brash choice you made? Your brazen mouth could indeed get you into unforeseen trouble one day, that much is very clear.

“And here I was, thinking you kissed me on that dare as payback for me accidentally hitting you with a soccer ball.” Reo chuckled at your surprise, leaning back further.

“No,” you retorted, shaking your head slightly. “I did it because the dare was to kiss someone we found hot at the party.”

Oh. “So you think I’m hot?”

“My drunk self sure did.”

“Well, and what does your sober self think now?”

Clearly, this banter was a game both of you were more than willing to play. With a pointed gaze, you focused on Reo, a slow grin tugging at your lips. The effect on Reo was almost instantaneous—his throat cleared awkwardly, and his confident grin faltering.

“My sober self thinks my drunk self is absolutely right.” 

You infused the word ‘absolutely’ with a nonchalant drawl, noting the flush creeping up Reo’s cheeks. His composure seemed to waver, and he hastily reached for his drink, downing it within seconds. 

Satisfied that you managed to wipe his confident grin, you pressed on, “Are you blushing?”

“No,” Reo responded a bit too quickly, his voice a tad higher than usual. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You chuckled at his flimsy excuse, your eyes catching the telltale shade of red tinting his ears and neck. Reo is easy to fluster as it is for him to do so, you noted. “Let’s get out of here, let me just pay.” 

Just as you were about to signal a waiter, Reo halted you with his words, “It’s done.”

“Done?”

“I gave them my card before you arrived.”

What the fuck. “But the favor…”

Reo's smirk reappeared, a gleam of triumph in those amethyst orbs. “Looks like you still owe me a date.”

“A lunch,” you corrected him, but Reo shrugged nonchalantly, a playful ‘same thing’ expression on his face.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mimicked your tone, “Let me walk you to your next class.” He offered, rising from his seat as you did.

“Thank you, but absolutely no.”

“Why not?” 

Reo must be really oblivious to his fame, it seems. “Just because. Also, don’t you have practice?”

“I do, but ten more minutes with you sounds better.” 

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to charm you. “Are you slacking off, captain? Looks like my freshman self was right about your soccer skills after all.”

“I’m not slacking off, I just know my priorities.” and there it was again, that grin and that stare. Whether it was the tequila or just him, Reo really had a way of pulling you into his orbit.

Bashful, and at a loss for better retorts, you looked away. “Next time.”

“So there’s a next time, then?” he innocently asks, clearly fishing for another affirmation.

“Next time, I’m paying.” 

“Got that.” Reo mindlessly agreed. He’s just happy there’s a next time, honestly. “Let me walk you out, at least.”

Both of you left the restaurant, walking side by side in companionable silence. After a few moments, you decided to break the quietude that had settled between you.

“I guess we're parting ways here,” you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of finality.

Reo’s disappointment was evident, though he tried to mask it. “Sure. Thank you for the meal.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “What are you thanking me for? You paid for it.”

“Let me rephrase it then, thank you for introducing me to this place. I’ve clearly been missing out,” he beams.

“You're welcome, Mr. Fine Dining.”

As you walked a few steps ahead of Reo, you turned your head to look back at him, seemingly remembering something to tell him. “Oh, by the way,” you start, a teasing smile making its way to your lips, “I’m glad it was you too.”

With that, you took one last glance at his starstruck expression before parting ways, leaving him with a lingering smile.

Maybe something good does come out of stupid college parties and dumb drinking games – in the form of someone with enchanting smiles and magnetic purple eyes, that is.

And now, for sure, with or without the tequila haze, there’s not a single chance you’re forgetting Reo Mikage anytime soon. 

note. he makes me ill ( i love him very much and this is purely self-indulgent because i need him like air).

[molanran]

Okay but miscommunication trope is only super yummy when there’s a happy ending. Liiiike reader thinking they’re getting kicked out of their relationship in the fruity four, they’re not wanted anymore, maybe even bring replaced (ie with someone like Chrissy), and so every little sarcastic quip or ignoring is seen by them as the others not loving them anymore 🥺. Until one day it all comes crumbling down and I can’t decide with is more angsty, you breaking down telling the others they don’t love you anymore, or you trying to be brave by announcing you’re leaving and the fours hearts just dropping as they try to scramble to convince you to stay and why?! Why are you leaving!?!?! Please! But of course, happy ending when everything’s properly explained and angel is reassured they could never all fall out of love with them ❤️

oh.......miscommunication trope, you say? >:)

(cws: fruity four, gn!angelface, jealousy, post-s4, PTSD, huge miscommunication trope, domestic arguing, you have a tattoo + kinda shitty parents + bad home life, chrissy's a jealousy target, breakups, jopper appearance, you're childhood friends with jonathan, mentions of grief, an almost car crash, very mild head trauma, crying, angst with a happy ending--stick with me angels!)

Sometimes you wish Chrissy would just disappear. Just--poof--and she'd be gone.

It's awful of you to think, but you can't help it. She's just always around, ever since her breakup with Jason she's been by the house much more frequently. You were happy for her at first, because you liked her up until then, and she's always been nice to you. Plus, your partners saved her life back when all that crazy stuff with the Upside Down happened, an event you weren't privy to until after the fact, when you started dating them.

But she's always on Eddie, always chatting him up, always giggling at his attempts to cheer her up, and now she's attracted the attention of your other partners too. They're good friends, and that's good, but....why can you not shake this feeling that there's something more going on? That the arm touches over his jacket and the inside jokes aren't as friendly and harmless as they want you to think?

It's worse than that, though. The honeymoon phase is clearly over--cause all four of them just brush off your concerns, insisting that you're overreacting or just not addressing them at all. So you haven't been piping up when a joke hurts your feelings, and you've bitten your tongue when one of them has to reschedule something you've planned, and it's gotten to the point that they've wondered why you're so quiet all of a sudden. Why would they care? You think with a sour feeling in the back of your throat, rubbing the tattoo on your arm that Eddie gave you and wondering if that was just practice for someone else. You're not oblivious to the way Chrissy is slowly being invited into gatherings and dinners with everyone.....just like you were in the beginning. And after an especially heated fight with both Eddie and Robin, the worst one you've ever gotten into in your entire relationship, he got so pissed off that he just told you not to come to the dinner they had planned, and they'd take someone who actually wanted to go.

That was a couple days ago, and the air in the house has been strained for nobody else but you. You're equally as hurt by Eddie yelling at you as Robin silently going along with it, even though you slammed your bedroom door in her face when she tried to follow you, and waited until Eddie tugged her along to leave before you allowed yourself to cry. You're sick of the feeling that none of them really care for you, that you've been demoted to a piece of furniture in the house, because they've clearly lost interest. And they don't care when your things start disappearing from the house, when the clothes in your closet start dwindling, leaving behind nothing but the ones they've bought for you--no, they'd rather moon over Chrissy fucking Cunningham, and you've just taken all you think your heart can handle.

"I'm going out!" You call into the house from the front door, without any of their four voices responding. When you sigh, turn, and step out to turn the corner of the house, though, you bump right into one of them.

"Oh! Hey, baby." Steve steps back and readjusts the paper bag full of groceries he's got his arm around, keys halfway tucked into his pocket. "Where you off to?"

"Um....just, uh, gonna go visit my parents." You weren't really expecting him to pry, with how in your head you've been lately. But you're not gonna relent just cause one of the people who promised he'd love you forever, yet somehow can't be fucked enough to find the time to even watch a movie with you, asked you a question that remotely shows an ounce of concern.

"Your parents?" He blinks, shifting again to rest the bag on his hip. "You sure?"

That tone is so irritating. You used to love that almost parental sense of duty, the desire of his to know every detail of every problem so he can solve it. But now, you just feel suffocated, even though you're more distant from all of them now than you've ever been. "What, I'm not allowed to see my family?"

"Hey, that's not what I said! hold on," He moves to put the groceries inside, but you wave him off and start walking past him, your tone clearly frustrated as you encourage him to just forget it. But, in a tizzy, Steve hurriedly sets the bag down on the ground and runs to catch up with you, his hand descending on your arm only to be swatted away--but not for long, when he grabs it again and grips it tighter as he turns you to face him. "Jesus, wait! What's the big fuss? Did I do something?"

"Let me go, Steve." You refuse to look him in the eyes, but you can't break his grip. Why can't he just let it go, so it's less painful? "I don't wanna drag this out."

"Drag what out?" Finally, it dawns on him as his eyes dart from the keys clenched in your hand to the windows of your car parked in the driveway, boxes clearly piled up in the trunk and in the backseat that none of them seemed to notice you moving.

".....So that's it? You're breaking up with us?" Steve says it with disbelief, like he's expecting you to say something or anything different. It's almost a little satisfying when you respond in the way he never could have expected, even though he should've by now. Even though it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it comes up.

"You know what? Yes. That's exactly it." You finally wrench your arm out of his grip, and each of those words sting as they come out, but you won't cry, you refuse to cry in front of Steve today. "I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never coming back to Hawkins again."

"Why?"

"Ask your new girlfriend."

"Who? Wait--Chrissy?" He shakes his head, and what comes out next is more cruel than you wanted to be--but he just won't get it, it won't happen unless you make them realize why they don't want you anymore.

"Wow, the jock has a brain! Well done, Stevie." He grimaces at once, and god, you wish it would all stuff itself back into your throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being such a-"

"I know you're in love with her, Steve! For fuck's sakes, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" You shout into the broken silence of the front lawn, wishing from the deepest reaches of your heart that this could all just be a horrible nightmare. Not reality. You don't want to be facing those big, soft eyes of Steve staring back at you in shock and pain, so you just turn your head and hope he doesn't see how much you're shaking.

"I get it, okay?! She's prettier than me, and nicer, and she doesn't have my fucking issues--and you guys clearly like her. It's like I don't even exist when she's around." You move aside to gesture towards your car, keys clutched in your hand so they won't fall or get taken from you, because you know Steve is reckless when he's upset. "None of you even noticed I was packing. Nancy fucking helped me put a box in yesterday."

Just then, both your heads turn at the sound of a car approaching--and just in time, you realize it's Eddie, his van's tires crunching the gravel of the long driveway as he pulls up to a stop beside your car. And lo and behold, sitting in the front seat with a smile on her face is her. Chrissy waves to you through the window, and as if your heart isn't in the process of shattering into shards that dig into your lungs, you raise your hand to acknowledge her back. You turn back to look at Steve one last time. Memorizing his face, because you know you won't ever see him again, as you take a few steps backward and hand him your parting words.

"Don't break her heart, Steve. It sucks."

With that, and with nothing but confliction reflecting back at you on his face, you turn on your heels and make your way around your car, bidding Eddie and Chrissy a stiff goodbye as they get out of the van and you get into your car. You reverse, roll back out of the driveway, and shift gears to start puttering down the road. And as soon as the house is out of your rearview mirror, that's when you feel those tears spilling out that won't stop until well after you pass the Leaving Hawkins sign on the side of the road.

A week into your new start in the city, you haven't gotten any more closure than when you left.

Living with your aunt isn't great, but it's something. The apartment is small, and you still haven't found a new job--you did call the Palace to inform them that you were quitting, though, to which you were greeted with nothing but indifference as you left a message on the answering machine. Figures that nobody in that town would miss me, you think, but you can't dwell on it for too long, because then you'll start thinking of them and it'll have you sobbing into your pillow again. Even worse is that you can't even fully express your pain to your family, your aunt, anybody--because they'll all think you're a freak, and it won't be surprising that your "relationship" ended so badly. You don't even really speak to your parents or your family in the first place, so you can't expect them to show you any sympathy. In fact, if they said anything to you, it would probably be that you should be glad it's over so you can live a normal life.

You don't want normal. You want your Robin talking your ear off about something gross for hours, you want Eddie burping into your ear and laughing, you want Nancy falling asleep on top of you and drooling on your chest, and Steve--you want Steve to come over while you're both on your breaks, talking with his mouth full and stealing bits of your lunch while kissing you in between each bite. You want that love back, you want it so badly it hurts, it hurts your heart every time something reminds you of them.

Maybe that's the worst part. That they don't want that anymore, they want someone that can share those memories with of that terrible tragedy, who knows how they feel and relates to those nightmares that wake them up in a cold sweat, who they can compare scars with and laugh with now that it's all over. They want someone scarred but beautiful, someone perfect, and you can never be that way no matter how hard you try. It explains why you haven't gotten a single phone call, or a letter, or anything since you left, and that treatment extends into your second week in Indy and right into the third. But it doesn't get any less painful, even when you get a job at a convenience store around the corner to busy yourself and help with the rent. Nor when you try going on a date or two, just to spend the whole dinner staring off into space as they talk and wondering what the people you loved are doing right now.

While you're behind the counter at work, your thoughts often drift back to that house by Maple Drive. The path around the back that leads into the woods, where Eddie would take you out for a smoke and to watch the stars for awhile--always with a walkie on hand, just in case, as Steve used to say. The pool that often sits empty, and sometimes you'd look out the window to see Nancy lifting up the cover on it to peek underneath, before breathing a visible sigh of relief and briskly walking away. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, creeping out the sliding glass door in her pajamas. And you remember that bed you often shared with Robin, who gets so clingy when she sleeps....and you wonder if she's sharing it with Chrissy now, if the cheerleader you always thought was such a nice girl is occupying the spot you thought would be yours forever.

Your brow furrows as you stock Camels on the shelf behind the counter, sliding each one into the perfect spot but feeling an itch of irritation when they don't line up. Is Eddie holding her right now? Is he coming up behind her every morning, and nuzzling his nose into her cheek as she stirs milk into her coffee? Is Nancy cuddling her and chatting her up about whatever project she has going on right now? Is Steve picking up her bag, and insisting she let her boyfriend hold the heavy stuff while she sits and looks pretty? They probably are. And they're probably much happier doing it with her, than they ever were with you.

Something thuds on the counter behind you, and you sigh without a sound as the gruff voice at your back asks for a pack while you're at it. Your fist squeezes around the box you've got in hand, and when you turn on your heels to toss it on to the tabletop and reach for the scanner, your eyes widen, and so do the ones on the moustached man that's towering in front of you with a petite woman at his side.

"Hop?"

You breathe out the name, trying to regain yourself as quick as you can--you're pretty used to keeping your tears back now, adjusted to having a straight face so nobody will pry or prod for your feelings. The former sheriff of your hometown that you used to duck out of sight from, laughing and hiding your goods with Eddie right behind you, is standing at your counter with a shocked expression, along with Joyce Byers who seems just as surprised to see you here. And with little else you can think of, you clear your throat and try to crack that tense silence.

"Uh...so, you two on vacation, or someth-"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Hopper cuts you off, hands bracing the edge of the counter as he looks you up and down, the two glass bottles of Coke getting shoved aside by him to fall over and roll across the counter as he reaches across the barrier to grab your arm. Without much struggle, because you have no clue what's going on, you allow the older man to yank your wrist up and turn it over, Joyce hurriedly pushing up your sleeve with her gaze pinned to your skin, like she's desperately searching for something that has nothing to do with your confused questions spilling out on top of each other.

When they've finally uncovered that patch of skin they were looking for, the two of them share a look between themselves, before finally looking back up to acknowledge how baffled and worried you are. It isn't until you scan down to see what they found that the pieces start coming together, the black ink of the tattoo Eddie gave you when you first started dating peeking out at you. It's just a thin, mid-sized black circle on your inner forearm, with five points reaching outward like a sun. But the detail of it has always enchanted you, Eddie's diligent stare as he inked it into your skin burned into your mind. You've considered getting it covered since then, but....you can't bring yourself to do it yet.

"I'll call it in," Hopper says cryptically, stepping back and turning away to bring out the walkie from his belt and start mumbling into it. In the meanwhile, you're left with his partner, and the lady you've practically grown up with since she babysat you a long time ago. You often forget that time, when you and Jonathan would run around her backyard with sticks and rocks to try and build your own castle, while his baby brother watched from the stairs and giggled at your antics. You were so young, and so carefree, it seemed....but it was a happy time, one of few before you met those four.

"Honey, you're alright?" Joyce's voice quivers, anxious for the answer, but you nod as soon as her question registers because you hate to see her like this.

"Ye...Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She circles round the counter, coming right in for a hug that you return without question. The squeeze is tight, like a mother's embrace upon returning home from a long time away, and you instantly feel a pinch of guilt for neglecting to include her in your plan to leave Hawkins. Now that you think about it, you really didn't tell anyone, except....

"-Kid, relax, we're coming there. No, do not get in your car, sit your ass down so you're there when we get back! Jesus," Hop gets more animated as he talks over the channel, and your hug splits as your head swivels towards the sound of a familiar voice through the static. Steve.

"Are they there? Let me talk to them! Please, Hopper, let me hear their voice-"

It's so frantic, desperate. The first time you've heard one of their voices in what feels like your whole life, and you have to struggle not to cave, bringing a shaky hand up over your mouth as you whisper a "What's going on?" to Joyce. And with your ears perked up, you can distinguish the background noise in the transmission--there are three other distinct voices, talking just as fearfully amongst themselves as they also try to get through to Hop. Nancy, Eddie, and Robin, each with as much indignation as Steve, who must be holding the other walkie.

"We're coming down right now, kid. Just try to calm down in the meantime." With that, Hopper shuts the antenna and gestures for you to follow him, the sweet woman at your side holding your arm as you obey him, like she's afraid you'll vanish if she lets go. You're led out of the light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead to Hop's truck parked by the curb--you at least have the sense to fumble with your keys and lock the front door before you leave--you let him open the door and sit yourself in the backseat, and shakily buckle yourself in as they get in front with promises to explain everything. Still struck dumb with shock to the point that it hasn't really registered that you just left work in the middle of your shift.

But you get an idea of what's happening when you turn your head, and catch a glimpse of a scattered stack of papers on the seat beside you out of your peripheral. Tentatively, as Hop starts up the ignition, your fingers brush over one of the nearest pages--and when you lift it up to survey it closer, the two of them notice you and share another sobering look between them. What's staring back at you is undeniably, unmistakably, a missing person's ad. And the picture is one you recognize immediately, because it's yours. Your photo, details of your last sighting, a description of your tattoo, a list of things for people to look out for....

"You really worried everyone back home, kid."

Suddenly, a bitterness rises up inside you, and the paper crumples slightly as you realize what's really happening. "I'm fine. I just...decided to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, well, maybe tell your roommates that, first."

"Hop-"

"They didn't care! I told Steve anyways, so what's the big fucking deal?" Even though Joyce flinches at you raising your voice, you can't be quiet right now. Anger is something you've been almost too numb to endure these last few weeks, but now you could just put your fist straight through Hopper's window--they put up such a fuss for what? To drag you back to that shitty inbred town in the sticks, just to make sure they didn't want you in the first place? It's bullshit.

"They sure as shit care!" Hop shouts right back, casting his signature scowl over his shoulder as he drives through semi-empty streets. It's so late, and so dark, it's unlikely there'll even be many pedestrians. "Do you realize how many times Nancy Wheeler has shown up on my doorstep, begging me to go on another search and rescue for you?! They're worried sick!"

"Why?"

There's silence for awhile, very tense silence, before you repeat your question that says much more than just that one word.

"....Because they thought you were gone. They thought you were there."

There. That's what he means--the other world, the Upside Down. The place you've never seen, only heard horror stories about and snatches of descriptions of when you comforted one of them during a night terror. The missing people, the murders, the experiments....they're all so hard to believe, but then again, you can't deny Will's remarkable return from the dead or Barbara Holland's coverup death, both of which you've been close enough to to know that there's no way they're just elaborate lies.

So they were worried you had died. That your disappearance wasn't of your own volition. They're going to be in for an unfortunate surprise, but by the tightly shut locks on Hopper's truck doors, you know there's no getting out of this until he brings you right back to drop you in their laps.

"We came here to look for you. Your mom finally told us you had an aunt in the city." Joyce offers you another piece to the puzzle, but your mind is still stuck on the fact that your ex-partners seemed so desperate over the walkie. They....they wouldn't want you to die, but that doesn't mean they want you. Figures that your parents would make it more difficult for two of the only people that even remotely have any concern for you too, they're probably profiting off all that glorious attention of having a missing child.

"I have a life here, now. I don't want to go back." Lies. You know it's all lies.

"Listen, kid, whatever happened with your friends, I promise it's not worth throwing in the towel. You've gotta see things through." Clearly it's not worth an argument, you'd rather save your energy at this point. You're gonna need plenty to face that hard conversation you know is coming, when you're gonna have to confirm to them directly that you're moving on. No more running away, or hiding from the problem. You have to face it.

"You don't know anything about me, or them."

The already long drive drags on even longer in the silence that follows, and you make a mental note to call your aunt when they get you back to Hawkins, so she doesn't freak out when she comes home to an empty apartment. You can imagine your manager's gonna call and cuss you out before firing you for leaving the store unattended, too, and you groan and let your head hit the seat behind you. Now you're gonna have to find another job, gonna have to explain to your aunt what you did....or maybe she won't even notice your absence, not until someone makes a fuss about it.

Your mind is left racing with so many thoughts and worries that the scenery passes by without note, the moon barely shining any light on the landscape, like it's all one huge plain with little dots for buildings and trees. Like one big hellscape, but it's numb and frozen over with nothing left but a mocking echo of the world that's no longer here. You don't even really recognize your surroundings until a couple hours have passed, and the Welcome To Hawkins sign zips by and has you sitting up in your seat. Just as you pass it, though, you think you see the glimmer of another set of headlights, a rarity on these quiet streets--and then your whole world shifts violently.

"Shit!" Hop curses as he swerves suddenly, and Joyce shrieks as you all nearly careen off the road and into the ditch, your head cracking against the window and bouncing off for you to clutch at it in pain. A groan is all you can get out when he calls back to you, the dizzy feeling making you a little sick, but as you lift your head and the truck rolls to a stop, you spot the culprit of that downright suicidal speed driving that nearly caused a head-on collision.

Your heart is pierced with a deep chill immediately. You'd recognize that van anywhere, and that curly mane of hair as the driver stumbles out his door even moreso. He's not hurt, just dazed--and for the moment, your brain doesn't immediately go to the question of why you should even care. As he stands there in the road, in the dark, Eddie's form is lit up by the headlights still shining without a flicker, but he doesn't flinch even when it must be glaring directly into his eyes, just holds a hand up to block it out. And when they meet yours as you lean over the console to see him, he doesn't wait a second, hurrying around the passenger's side of the truck to fumble for the handle of your door. With a click, and the light above you switching on as a beeping starts to emit from the vehicle, Eddie's suddenly cramming himself into the backseat with you--and there's tears already wetting his cheeks as he grabs you in a hug, gasping in a shaky lungful of breath like he's shocked he's really touching you. Crying and mumbling into your hair, Eddie buckles when you squeeze him back, falling victim to that desire in the deepest part of your soul that just wanted to hold him again.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it baby, I didn't--everything I said, I swear, I was being such a fucking moron-" He starts babbling from nowhere, and his voice itself is a comfort, having not heard it next to your ear for so long that it aches now.

"Eddie-"

"You're mine, okay?! You're my everything!" He cries, burying his face even deeper into your neck and inhaling whatever scent he can get. You're stunned into staying limp, letting his hands grab and squeeze at you wherever they land--his curly hair tickles your cheek and sticks to it, and that sensation alone drags tears up to the surface, only allowing them to spill when you hear him whispering those croaked pleas of "I love you, I love you, I love you" until you're crying right along with him. It's been so long since you heard it, you'd started believing it was never really true.

It takes minutes that feel like hours for you to both calm down enough to look at each other, your face cradled in Eddie's rough hands as he sniffles and murmurs a "You're so beautiful" so innocently sincere, that it instantly makes you wish you had never left. He smiles, and the world that seems so dark grows a little brighter around you. You're not even privy to the looks Joyce and Hopper are giving each other in the front seat, clearly a little surprised at the passion you two share that nobody else has ever seen. But they know. And when Eddie starts pulling you out of your seat with the promise to take you back, Hop only reminds him to drive safely before he allows you two to shut the truck's door and circle round the vehicle with Eddie's arm clinging to your waist. The air hits you, cool and dry, just like it always is in Hawkins. And when he opens your door for you and waits for you to clamber in, before getting in on the other side and fumbling contently with his keys, you're not sure you really know what to expect. He briefly elaborates that he'd gotten worried, and that he's just glad he spotted Hop's truck before he'd sped all the way out of Hawkins and missed you--but it doesn't last, because soon he's grabbing your thigh and sighing out a breath of relief.

"We'll talk about everything when we get home. For now, I just want to hold you." Eddie offers his hand to you, giving it a grateful squeeze when you slip yours into it and interlace your fingers together.

They'll all hate me for real, this time.

That's exactly how the drive goes, Eddie's shoulders relaxed even as he steers with one hand, and navigates while stealing glances over at you with relief written all over his face, and brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles every so often. But he's just one. The other three....your heart sinks as you run over that last conversation you had with Steve, the way you'd ignored Robin completely, and how you pretended everything was absolutely fine with Nancy up until the moment you left. And it somehow dawns on you only then--they thought you were gone, that you had been taken to the Upside Down, and your heart sinks as you watch the trees pass by in clusters while that dread creeps closer down the road that's so familiar.

Not even the comforting warmth of Eddie's hand could drive that thought out of your mind, even less so when he turns and you hit that patch of gravel that leads up the driveway. He'll stop soon, and you'll be facing the music....and when Eddie shifts into park, you sort of float from your seat to the walkway where you threw your feelings back into Steve's face, and up towards the front door that Eddie opens for you before you cross the threshold into the house. It does feel like home, and you don't want to lose it right on the welcome mat, so you blink away any tears that threaten to spill before you quietly follow him into the living room.

Three heads turn to look your way, too inundated in conversation around the coffee table to hear the door opening, but that stops the second their eyes land on you. Steve and Robin are the ones sitting closest to where you stand, but Nancy's the one that makes her way to you first, her lower lip already quivering enough to break into a sob as she crosses the patch of carpet to throw her arms around you. She's strong enough to grip you tight enough to hurt, but too weak to keep herself on her feet, and you end up sinking to the floor with her as your name floods out of her lungs on repeat, getting louder and louder and louder until she's wailing. You could swear the walls rattle with the volume she cries at, completely coming apart in your arms like you've never seen her do before.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" She shouts, yet her voice is like a child's, wobbling and whiny and so miserably pitiful that it pains you even to listen to it, especially when she's clutching you so close to her body--so afraid that you won't be there when she pulls away, so she refuses to. You don't have any right to cry when she's so distraught, but with your head over her shoulder, the other two watch your lips curve downwards and your eyes screw shut into a flood of tears that won't stop easily.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm okay." You whimper, burying your face into her curls until your lips brush her jawline, and she shudders into each gentle, praiseworthy kiss that you press there. Up until her sobs subside, and she breaths a sigh of relief that you can feel from her chest against yours, each one sinking and rising into each other as you breathe along with her. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

She shakes her head, and finally pulls herself back to look at you, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks when she gets a good look at you. Nancy touches your face, thumbs away your own tears--and you know she's not just looking at you, but the girl she lost so long ago, whose smile she sees in yours on those days she misses her the most dearly. "I never wanted you more when I thought you weren't coming back," She whispers back. "How could I not want you? I love you."

The kiss she lays upon your lips is breathtaking, shaking and sweet and just....everything. Everything you missed and craved like air and water and life.

You're already halfway into her embrace when she laughs out that half-hearted joke, walking back with you a couple steps when you throw yourself into it. And she squeezes you so tight, so hard, the kisses a flurry of needy, fluttering touches all over your face until she somehow finds your lips--and when she does, she makes that last one a kiss you won't shake off for days, the feeling tingling your lips even when she pulls away. Still rubbing that spot on your back that she knows is sensitive, Robin grips you in an even harder hug that nearly cracks your spine, and whispers into your ear: "I'm so happy you're here with me." before she kisses you one last time, last one, she swears, fingers crossed behind your back. But then, she takes notice to the man standing just a foot away--and she lets you go to turn you around, her fingertips grazing your arms as you finally face him.

"Yeah, she, uh....she cried, like, every night," Even as Robin says it and breaks the quiet, she herself is rubbing tears from her cheeks, trying to keep that smile going as you stand and Nancy loosens her hold. She moves aside for Eddie to lay his hands on her shoulders from behind, and keep her steady on her feet. "So did Steve. I told you he cries when we watch Princess Bride!"

"I-I....I didn't mean it, Steve. I never...I've never thought you were dumb." Your voice comes out as a whimper, fingers fiddling with each other as you endure that big, brown, wide-eyed stare.

"I know." He breathes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to move, he's antsy, but he won't take another step. "I know, baby."

"Can I hug you?" Steve just nods, but his lip quivers and his features gain that pathetic, sad puppy look, because he was hoping and praying you would say those very words. Your heart soars as he meets your step forward and flings his strong arms tight around your body, crushing you with his huge stature but never loosening up. He instantly brings his hand up to cradle your head against his chest, kissing the crown of it with so much firmness that you know he's reaffirming you're really standing in front of him again.

"I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've slashed your damn tires." He chuckles along with you at the lighthearted crack at breaking the tension, until he chokes up again into a sob. "Nobody could ever replace you. And I swear, I'll never break your heart again."

Steve holds you for a long time, squeezing you and kissing you and brushing strands of hair from your eyes to just look at you, surveying the face of the love he feared he'd never get to cherish again. It's a long time coming, and when he's done, there are three other warm bodies in the room that need attention from the sweet thing they've been killing themselves over these last few weeks.

From there, they catch you up with what had happened in your absence. Steve had walked off to clear his head after you left, and hadn't returned until late in the day--burst through the front door during an unusually quiet dinner and sent them all into a panic, when he realized you really had left and you weren't coming back. The four of them had jumped into action to split up and look for you, Nancy contacted your parents and other family while Steve and Robin tried to find some hint of your whereabouts in the house, cracking open your drawers and notes and realizing how much of your stuff was missing. Meanwhile, Eddie had driven in circles round Hawkins and the outer city limits, trying to find any trace of your car in the dark with the help of passing streetlights.

When those attempts had failed after stretching out into the next day to mid-afternoon, and with your very unhelpful parents insisting they had no idea where you could've gone, that's when your partners had started printing out missing person's flyers and put in an official report with the sheriff's office. And, seemingly having forgotten that you were really the only one who ever checked the voicemail at work, your message tendering your resignation had been errantly erased by your manager--worrying them even further when they questioned him, because if you were really planning on moving away like you said, how could you not tell your employer? It wasn't like you. Their fears had only gotten stronger from there.

The worst had yet to come, though. Because when your car had been found on the side of the road way out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from Hawkins and completely destroyed, the four of them had reached the point of no return. The plates had been torn off, but it was your exact make and model of car, and what were they supposed to believe? That it was just coincidence? That's what Hopper had tried to reassure them with, tried to insist that plenty of cars get found gutted out in the bush, but they couldn't be convinced that it was just some freak happenstance and delude themselves to think that you were fine and dandy somewhere else. The same thing had happened to Max's stepbrother, and they all knew how that had ended.

So started the search parties, the nights spent staying up and studying maps by lamplight, the microwave meals in place of home cooking and sleeping in shifts by the phone, waiting and hoping for some kind of clue to your whereabouts to appear. Finding you had become more important than eating, proper sleep, showering, or attention paid to anything aside from looking towards the horizon to see if you would magically walk back into their lives.

And all that time, you had believed nothing but that they couldn't care less where you were, or what you were doing. When in reality, they could think of nothing but you. That was what had led Eddie to nearly crash into you as you re-entered Hawkins, having been pacing the living room for those long hours after Hop's call until he just couldn't take it anymore--despite the other three trying to stop him, he had dashed out to his van and peeled out of the driveway like a lunatic, just for the slightest chance that he might be there when you needed help. It was so stupid, so reckless, and you'll remember that moment he came rushing around the side of the truck to get to you forever.

Despite them reassuring you about Chrissy, too, when the tears have dried--promising you she's nothing but a friend, and they would have no problems limiting her interaction with all of you from now on--you wave it away, smiling off your stupidity and letting them know that it's fine. You were just being dumb, acting crazy, but you're fine now. And Eddie's eyes narrow at that.

"You're not crazy." He murmurs absentmindedly, and says nothing more until he can slip away from your reunion, and reach the phone in the kitchen. While you're busy dealing with your other partner's crippling absence of affection, he taps his blunt nails into each button, numbly dialing the number he's memorized until the ringing starts and stops.

"Hey, Chris. Angel's back home."

"Oh, that's great! Oh...Eddie, I'm so happy for you. You must be relieved-"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen, no hard feelings, but....you're my friend, so I'm just gonna be straight. Don't come by the house anymore."

"I--what? Really? I....Eddie, I'm sorry, if I did something to upset you-"

"No, no, nothing you did. Well, not really. But I know how you feel, Chris, and I can't really ignore it anymore." He swallows deeply, and sucks on his teeth as he tries to think of some better way to say it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel the same. I never have, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that might change."

"......So that's it?"

"That's it. We can still be friends, but we need space for awhile first, and I'm not gonna ignore you flirting with me anymore. I'm in love and it's not gonna change. Sorry."

"Can we at least talk about it, Eddie? Please? I'd rather talk this out in person."

"No. Bye, Chrissy."

He thuds the phone back on the receiver just a little too hard, and brings his hand up to rub at his neck and try and get the ache out. That didn't feel good, having to confront one of his very few friends with a truth he just wanted to ignore--but the sick feeling he has now can't even compare to how he felt when you were away, and it's an easy decision to make in that regard. He'd take you over her any day. It's a bit of a guilty feeling, but he knows it's the truth even if it hurts Chrissy's feelings, and he's happy even so.

"....Yeah, I missed you real bad, sweetheart. Don't you ever think I wouldn't....or else you are crazy."

"Eddie?" You call out from the living room, and following that sweet voice to its source, he feels himself light up at the sight of you settled back into the couch. Legs tucked up in Robin's lap, halfway into Steve and Nancy's, looking so comfortable and cute as you look up at him. You're where you belong. He's so distracted by the glee and relief of having you home, he didn't even realize how quiet it had been between you all until he came right back from his task. You say nothing more, just hold your arms out to him--and when he gets close enough, you capture him with those pretty eyes of yours, and melt away any ill feeling as you pull him into your chest.

[molanran]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.