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Not a single word powerful enough to emphasise how much love I have for this human, how proud I am of him, how much this person inspires me to be good and better, and how much he heals me.
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i feel like i just got STABBED 😭😭😭😭😭😭
hiiii! i really enjoy reading your niki aus!! if the request are open, is it possible to request a vernon or minghao x oc one-shot/short drabble based off of niki's song 'facebook friends'? i just heard it again and thought about them :((((
YOU ARE IN LUCK BCS I JUST SAW NIKI 😭 when i read this request I JUST KNEW WHAT TO DO but i'm still working on my angst writing skills but i hope you enjoy this one🥺
alsoooo for reqs, i am slowly working my way through them. it might take some time tho so just a heads up😅🤍
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)


You stare at the name on your email inbox, double-checking to make sure you read it correctly.
Xu Minghao.
Your fingers tighten around the edge of your desk as Jihyo leans over your shoulder. "No way," she whispers. "It’s him? The artist you've been trying to track down is him?"
It almost doesn’t feel real. The elusive, secretive artist whose work has been making waves in the industry—the one you’ve been assigned to collaborate with for the upcoming exhibit—is none other than the person you once thought might be your forever.
The one who slipped away from you like a dream fading in the morning light.And now, after years of silence, you have a meeting scheduled with him.
You exhale slowly, trying to push down the sudden wave of emotions threatening to rise. It's been years. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe you have. But there’s no denying that the name on your screen still has the power to shake you.
Jihyo nudges your shoulder. “Are you okay?”
You nod, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s true.
“I mean, what are the odds?” she says, still staring at the screen like it might change if she blinks enough times. “Are you gonna go?”
You give her a look. “Of course, I have to. It’s my job.”
“Yeah, but—” she pauses, studying you. “It’s him. You never really told me what happened between you two.”
You swallow, memories flashing through your mind—late-night conversations, whispered laughter, the way he used to look at you like you were the only person in the room. And then, the goodbye that came too soon.
“I don’t know,” you admit. “We just… lost each other.”
Jihyo hums, clearly not satisfied with that answer but choosing not to push. Instead, she gestures toward your laptop. “Well, whatever happened, you’re about to see him again. Are you ready for that?”
You glance at the email again, at the date and time of the meeting.
Ready or not, it’s happening.
The café you picked for the meeting is quiet, tucked away from the usual crowd. You arrived early, nerves buzzing under your skin, but you kept your posture composed. Professional. This is just work.
When Minghao walks in, the air seems to shift. He’s just as you remember—tall, effortlessly graceful, his presence commanding without trying. His dark eyes scan the space before they land on you.
“Hey,” he says simply, sliding into the seat across from you like this is the most casual thing in the world.
Like nothing ever happened.
Your grip tightens around your coffee cup. “Thanks for coming.”
He nods, leaning back slightly. “You were persistent.” There’s a ghost of amusement in his tone, but nothing more. No flicker of recognition beyond what’s expected. No acknowledgment of the past you once shared.
Jihyo, sitting beside you, clears her throat. “So, you two know each other?”
You hesitate. Minghao beats you to it.
“We used to.” His voice is light, indifferent. “It’s been a long time.”
That’s it. No warmth, no curiosity. Just a fact, stated and discarded.
Jihyo shoots you a glance, one eyebrow raised, but you can’t meet her eyes. Instead, you straighten your shoulders and force a professional tone. “Let’s talk about the exhibit.”
You pull out your tablet, tapping the screen to bring up the exhibit’s concept proposal. Your fingers are steady, your voice even as you start outlining the details, but you can feel Jihyo’s gaze flickering toward you every so often. She’s noticed. Of course, she has.
“This exhibit is designed to focus on themes of anonymity and identity,” you explain, keeping your tone neutral, professional. “Your work fits seamlessly with that concept. The way you obscure figures, distort reality—it makes the viewer question what’s real and what’s hidden beneath the surface.”
Minghao listens, his face unreadable. He nods slightly but doesn’t interrupt.
You glance up, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression gives away nothing. This version of him—cool, detached—feels foreign to you. The Minghao you knew was quiet but warm, his words sparse but meaningful. You remember the way his gaze used to linger, the way his laughter felt like a secret just for you.
But this man in front of you? He might as well be a stranger.
Still, you push through, keeping your voice steady.
“We’ll be dedicating an entire section to your work. Since you prefer anonymity, we can arrange for all communication to go through me directly—unless you’d like to be more involved in the curation process?”
Minghao tilts his head slightly, considering. “I trust your judgment.”
Something about the way he says it, so detached, makes something tighten in your chest.
“Then we’ll handle the layout and let you approve before finalizing. I’d also like to discuss any specific pieces you have in mind.”
Minghao hums, fingers lightly tapping against the table. “I’ll send over a selection tonight.”
And just like that, it’s all business. No hesitation, no awkwardness on his part. It’s like the years apart never happened. Like you never meant anything more than a fleeting acquaintance.
Jihyo clears her throat, leaning forward slightly. “So, Mr. Xu,” she says, feigning casual interest
“Minghao is fine”
“Right, sorry. Minghao, I heard you go way back, huh?”
You shoot her a sharp glance, but she ignores it.
Minghao, to your frustration, remains utterly unbothered. He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. We knew each other a long time ago.”
That’s it. No elaboration. No emotion.
“Minghao, we’d also like to arrange a preview event before the full opening—”
Jihyo leans back in her chair, clearly unimpressed with your deflection, but she lets it slide. For now.
The meeting continues, all smooth efficiency and professional formality. You and Minghao exchange words, but none of them are personal. Nothing slips through. Still, you can feel it. That undercurrent of something unresolved.
The office is quiet except for the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard as you work on the proposal layout. You’re determined to focus, to push past whatever lingering tension is still curling in your chest from the meeting. Minghao is just another artist, and this is just another exhibit. That’s all.
At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.
Then, from the corner of your eye, you see Jihyo.
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just slowly rolls her chair over to your desk. The wheels squeak slightly against the floor, making her approach all the more dramatic. You pretend not to notice.
She stops right beside you, hands folded in her lap. Waits.
You continue typing, expression neutral.
Jihyo exhales. “So…”
You keep typing.
She leans in. “Who was Minghao to you?”
You knew this was coming. You let out a slow breath, still focused on the screen. “An artist I’m working with.”
Jihyo makes a noise—a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, please.” She swivels her chair so she’s directly facing you. “I may not have known you when you two were a thing, but I know you now, and you were not normal back there.”
You sigh, finally looking at her. “Jihyo—”
She lifts a finger. “No. Don’t ‘Jihyo’ me. The tension at that table? I could taste it. And I don’t even know what flavor it was. Bitterness? Regret? Unresolved yearning?”
You groan, letting your head drop onto your desk. “Can we not?”
Jihyo pats your shoulder. “Oh, we absolutely can.” Then, after a pause, she adds, “But we won’t.”
You lift your head just enough to glare at her. “It was a long time ago.”
Jihyo tilts her head. “And yet, here we are.”
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because she’s right. You did react. You did feel something. And the fact that Minghao acted like nothing ever happened? That stung more than you’d like to admit.
Jihyo smirks, clearly seeing the conflict on your face. “Look, I’m just saying… If this were a movie, this would be the part where you two have a dramatic, emotionally charged confrontation in the rain.”
You deadpan. “We’re curating an art exhibit, not starring in a K-drama.”
Jihyo grins. “Yet.”
The exhibit venue is quiet when you arrive. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished floors. You exhale, taking in the open space, already visualizing how the pieces will be arranged.
You came alone on purpose.
After the meeting with Minghao, you needed a moment to clear your head. No distractions, no lingering stares, no best friend dramatically rolling her chair toward you demanding answers.
Just you and the work.
You move toward the center of the room, pulling out your tablet to review the layout. The space is perfect—high ceilings, just the right balance of natural and artificial light. The way the walls curve will complement Minghao’s pieces beautifully. You can already imagine the way his art will breathe life into the room.
You’re so focused that you don’t notice someone else entering. Minghao stands near the entrance, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the space before they land on you.
Your fingers tighten around your tablet. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
He shrugs slightly. “I wanted to see the space for myself.” His voice is calm, casual like running into each other is just another normal occurrence. Like you didn’t sit across from each other yesterday, pretending you were just two professionals who had never been anything else.
You nod, forcing yourself to mirror his indifference. “It’s a good venue. Your pieces will stand out here.”
Minghao steps further inside, gaze flickering over the walls, the lighting, the empty space waiting to be filled. “It suits the theme.”
There’s a beat of silence. You shift your weight slightly, debating whether to say something more, but Minghao speaks first.
“You always wanted to do this, didn’t you?”
You blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“This.” He gestures loosely around the venue. “Curating. Putting together exhibits. I remember you talking about it.”
You stare at him for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. He remembers?
You shake it off, nodding. “Yeah. I worked for it.”
Minghao hums in acknowledgment, stepping closer. “You’re good at it.”
It’s a simple statement, but something about it makes your breath hitch. You tell yourself it’s just the surprise of hearing him say it, not the warmth curling at the edges of your chest.
You clear your throat, shifting the conversation back. “We’ll need to finalize the layout soon. If you have any specific requirements for how your pieces should be displayed, now’s the time to bring them up.”
Minghao looks at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “I trust your judgment.”
It’s the second time he’s said that, and yet, it still feels different coming from him.
For a moment, the weight of the past lingers in the space between you. But then, Minghao turns, walking further into the venue, and just like that, the moment is gone.
You pull up the digital floor plan on your tablet, stepping to the center of the space as Minghao watches. “The main area will have the larger installations,” you begin, voice steady, professional. “We want visitors to be drawn in immediately, so we’re positioning the most visually striking pieces here.”
Minghao nods slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room, already visualizing it. “This section will be more intimate. It’s meant to slow people down, to make them pause and really engage with the work rather than just passing through.”
You continue walking, feeling yourself getting more absorbed in the details. You’re in your element now curating, shaping the experience, making sure every piece has a purpose.
Then, you stop in front of a particular section of the room.
There’s something about this space. The way the light falls, the way it feels slightly tucked away yet still open. You can see it. something important should go here. Something that holds weight. But for some reason, the words to explain it won’t come out the way you want them to.
You frown slightly, trying to find the right phrasing. “This part—there’s just something about it,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “It’s like… I don’t know, it feels different from the rest of the space, like it—”
You cut yourself off, frustrated, but before you can try again, Minghao speaks.
“I can see that.”
You turn to him. He’s looking at the space, his expression soft, thoughtful. Then, he smiles—small, barely there, but real.
“You’re right,” he says simply.
And just like that, you know he understands. Exactly what you meant, even when you couldn’t find the words.
After walking through the space, you decide to stop by the small café tucked inside the venue. You were planning on going alone just a quick coffee before heading back to finalize more details but Minghao follows.
You don’t say anything as you both order, and he doesn’t make a move to leave once you find a quiet corner to sit. It’s not awkward, exactly.
Just… unexpected.
Then, as you stir your drink absentmindedly, he asks,
“How have you been?”
You blink, looking up at him. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no underlying anger or resentment. Just a simple question, asked like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You hesitate for a moment before answering honestly. “I’ve been better.”
Minghao nods slightly, as if he expected that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for details. Just lets your words settle between you. For some reason, that makes it harder to breathe.
Minghao watches you for a moment, fingers curled loosely around his cup. Then, in that quiet, thoughtful way of his, he says,
“You look good. More at peace.”
You freeze. Not because of the words themselves, but because of what he means.
He’s not just saying you look good. He’s talking about then. About the person you were when you left him. The version of you who didn’t know what to say, who let silence build walls between you both until there was no way back.
The wrong person at the right time.
You swallow, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I guess time does that.”
Minghao hums in response, gaze still steady, like he’s seeing through you rather than just looking. But he doesn’t say anything more.
You take a sip of your drink, staring down at the foam swirling in your cup. The air between you and Minghao isn’t heavy, but it isn’t entirely light either. It’s balanced on the edge of something unspoken. Something that neither of you seem willing to reach for.
Still, if he can acknowledge you, then you can do the same for him.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” you say, setting your cup down. “Your work is everywhere now. People are obsessed with figuring out the artist behind it all.”
Minghao exhales a small laugh, tilting his head slightly. “That wasn’t really the goal.”
You nod, because you know that. He never cared for fame, only the art itself. “Still. Congratulations.”
His eyes flicker to yours, and for a second, there’s something unreadable in his gaze. “Thanks.”
You lean back in your seat, studying him in a way you hadn’t let yourself before. He’s still him—still thoughtful, still composed—but there’s something different now. A certain ease in his presence.
“I always thought you’d make it,” you admit quietly. “Even back then.”
Minghao watches you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. You were never meant to be small. It was just a matter of time before people realized how good you are.”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something like surprise, something softer. He looks down at his cup, fingers tracing the rim. “You were the first person who ever said that to me.”
Your heart stumbles over itself for a moment. “I was?”
Minghao nods, gaze still on his drink. “Yeah.”
You sit with that for a moment, the weight of it settling between you. Back then, you were the one who saw it—the potential, the brilliance in him before the rest of the world did. You wonder if he remembers the late nights spent in quiet corners, sketchbooks spread out between you, his voice low as he talked about what he wanted to create.
You wonder if he remembers how much you believed in him.
Minghao lifts his head again, his gaze steady. “And you?” he asks. “Are you where you thought you’d be?”
The question catches you off guard.
You let out a slow breath, considering it. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I worked for this, and I love what I do. But… I don’t think I ever imagined it exactly like this.”
Minghao nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Then silence settles again, but this time, it doesn’t feel so sharp.
Maybe, after all these years, you’re both learning how to sit with unfinished conversations.
You don’t expect the call.
It’s late in the afternoon when your phone buzzes, Minghao’s name flashing across the screen. For a second, you just stare at it, debating whether to answer. But curiosity wins over hesitation, and you press the call button.
“I need to show you something,” he says, skipping the pleasantries.
You blink. “What?”
“My studio,” he says simply. “Come by if you can.”
And just like that, you’re standing outside his studio a few hours later, staring at the discreet entrance of a space you never expected to see. Minghao lets you in without a word, leading you through a warmly lit, open space that’s somehow both chaotic and meticulous. Canvases lean against the walls, paintbrushes sit in jars, and sketchbooks are stacked on nearly every surface.
It smells like paint, ink, and something distinctly him.
You take your time looking around, scanning the pieces scattered throughout the room. Some are finished, others half-done, waiting for something only Minghao knows. His style has evolved—bolder, more refined—but you can still see the traces of the artist you once knew.
Then your eyes land on something unexpected.
A random piece of paper, slightly worn at the edges, tucked between a few sketchbooks. And on it—
You.
A sketch, delicate and detailed, as if he had drawn it absentmindedly but with careful intent. The lines are softer than his usual work, more personal.
It looks like he made it a long time ago.
Your breath catches for just a second. You carefully pick up the paper, running your fingers over the edges. “This is…”
Minghao glances over, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t look surprised that you found it.
You look at him. “You kept this?”
He holds your gaze for a moment before shrugging. “It was never meant to be thrown away.”
There’s something in his voice—something quiet, something real—that makes your chest feel too tight. Minghao doesn’t acknowledge the sketch any further. No explanation, no lingering stares, no sentimental comments. Just a simple, indifferent shift in attention—like it was nothing at all. Like it wasn’t a quiet echo of something neither of you had spoken about in years.
Instead, he steps past you, gesturing toward a set of canvases against the wall. “These are the pieces I’m considering for the exhibit.” His tone is smooth, professional. As if the last few minutes never happened.
You exhale, steadying yourself before setting the sketch down carefully. If he wants to act like it wasn’t there, like it didn’t just pull you backward in time, then fine. Business as usual.
“I want this one in the main space,” Minghao says, tapping a particular canvas. It’s bold—strong lines, movement that commands attention. It’s exactly the kind of piece that pulls people in.
You nod. “It’ll work well as a centerpiece. We can adjust the lighting to enhance the depth here.” You gesture toward a section of the painting. “It should be the first thing people see when they enter.”
Minghao hums in agreement, moving on to the next one. He explains the intention behind each piece, his voice calm, collected. You listen, taking notes, asking the necessary questions. You keep your posture straight, your tone even. Like you’re just a curator working with an artist.
Like you didn’t just see a version of yourself from years ago, sketched on a piece of paper he never threw away.
You sit in the small office area of his studio, notebook open, pen moving as you jot down notes. Minghao sits across from you, leaning slightly against the desk, his arms folded as he explains his vision for the exhibit.
“This one should be near the entrance,” he says, tapping a photo of a piece. “It sets the tone.”
You nod, writing it down. “And the smaller installations?”
“Scattered,” he replies. “I want people to explore, not just walk through.”
You hum in understanding, scribbling another note. Your focus stays on the page, on the structure, on making sure everything is recorded properly.
Then—silence.
You don’t notice it at first, too absorbed in organizing his ideas into something tangible. But after a few beats, the quiet lingers, stretching between you like something waiting to be acknowledged.
You pause. Slowly, you look up.
Minghao is watching you.
His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it piercing. It’s just… thoughtful. His dark eyes steady, observant, like he’s studying something beyond the notes you’re taking.
You hold his gaze, but he doesn’t speak.
It’s the way he used to look at you—when you weren’t paying attention, when you were lost in thought. Back then, you had pretended not to notice. You wonder if you should do the same now.
Instead, you blink, shifting slightly in your seat. “…What?”
Minghao’s lips curve just slightly, something almost amused flickering across his face. Then, as if nothing happened, he looks back at the notes.
“Nothing,” he says smoothly.
And just like that, he continues as if he hadn’t just looked at you like that.
Jihyo orders the second round before you even finish your first. She gives you a knowing look over the rim of her glass, waiting, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The bar is loud enough that no one else is paying attention to your conversation, but not so loud that you have an excuse to avoid it.
You sigh, pressing your fingertips against your temple. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Jihyo leans forward, eyes glinting under the dim lights. “How about the part where you and the mysterious, elusive Minghao actually have history? Because I’m still recovering from that revelation.”
You exhale a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “We met in university.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We were… close.”
Jihyo raises a brow.
You roll your eyes. “Fine. We were together. Sort of.” You take a sip of your drink, letting the warmth settle in your chest before continuing. “It wasn’t like some grand, dramatic thing. One day, it was just… us. And it made sense.”
Jihyo watches you carefully, sipping her own drink. “And then?”
You grip your glass a little tighter. “And then one day, I left.”
She stills, waiting.
You swallow, staring at the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. “It wasn’t planned. Or maybe it was, but not in a way I let myself admit. One day, I was fine, we were fine. And then the next, I told myself it was too much. Too fast.” Your fingers trace the rim of your glass absently. “I convinced myself I needed space. That if I stepped away, I’d figure things out. And when I was ready, he’d still be there.”
Jihyo doesn’t say anything, just watching you carefully.
You let out a quiet laugh, but it’s hollow. “That was just me being selfish.”
There. You finally said it.
“I came back,” you continue, voice quieter now. “I thought—maybe I’d say something, maybe I’d fix it. But by then, he was gone. Really gone. And I couldn’t blame him for that.”
Jihyo exhales slowly. “Damn.”
You huff out a weak laugh. “Yeah.”
She tilts her head, eyes searching yours. “And now?”
Now.
Now, you’re a curator, standing across from him in a professional setting, acting like none of it ever happened. Now, he’s a well-known artist, more self-assured, more composed, as if the years that passed had only refined him.
Now, you sit here, trying to be happy for him. And you are.
But there are moments—like when he looked at you in his studio, like when he spoke about his art the way he always used to—when you wish you met now.
When you wish he met this version of you.
You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It doesn’t matter. He’s doing well. I’m happy for him.”
Jihyo gives you a long look, then sighs, taking another sip of her drink. “You can be happy for someone and still wish things were different.”
You close your eyes briefly, exhaling. “Yeah.”
Neither of you say anything for a while, just letting the weight of old memories and unfinished stories settle between you.
Then Jihyo knocks back the rest of her drink and slaps a hand on the table. “Okay, I love you, but that was depressing as hell. We need another round.”
You let out a real laugh this time, shaking your head. “Fine. One more.”
Jihyo grins. “Atta girl.”
And for now, that’s enough.
A few days later you go back to check the venue. With the event fast approaching you wanted to make sure everything is perfect.
The venue is quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of canvases and the soft hum of the overhead lights. It’s late—too late for the rest of the team to still be here—but you stayed behind, double-checking the placements, making sure everything looked just right.
Your footsteps echo lightly as you walk through the space, stopping in front of one particular painting.
It’s larger than you remember.
You know this piece. Or rather, you know the first version of it, the one that used to sit in Minghao’s dorm back in university. He had painted it late one night, the room dimly lit, colors swirling on the canvas as he worked in quiet concentration. You remembered watching him, sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, knees pulled to your chest.
A voice breaks through the stillness.
“I didn’t think you’d still remember that.”
You turn to see Minghao a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets. He isn’t surprised to see you here. Maybe he expected it.
Your lips curve slightly. “Of course I remember.” You glance back at the painting. “It’s right here.”
Minghao steps closer, stopping beside you. His gaze lingers on the canvas, something unreadable in his expression.
“This was the first piece I ever made public,” he says after a moment.
You blink, turning to him. “Really?”
He nods. “After you left, I thought about getting rid of it.” He exhales, tilting his head slightly. “But I couldn’t. So instead, I made it bigger. And when the time came to submit something for my first exhibit, I chose this.”
Something tightens in your chest.
You look up at him. His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it particularly wistful. He’s just… there. Present. Real.
And maybe that’s enough. Maybe some stories don’t need rewriting. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be undone, only understood.
You look back at the painting, taking in every stroke, every layer of color. It’s the same, but it’s different. Like you. Like him. Like everything that’s changed between you.
You swallow, voice quieter now. “So this was it. The start.”
Minghao nods, his voice just as soft. “Yeah.”
You don’t know what else to say.
The painting stretches before you, a silent testament to the history you share—one that neither of you ever really put into words. You keep your gaze on the painting, the familiar swirls of color pulling you back to a time when things were simpler—when you didn’t question what you meant to each other, when you just were.
Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why this?”
Minghao doesn’t answer right away. He stands beside you, hands still tucked in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he looks at the painting.
Then, after a long pause, he says, “Because I thought even if we parted ways we were still under the same stars.”
Your breath catches.
His voice is steady, like he isn’t saying something that shakes you. Like it’s just a simple truth. “And maybe,” he continues, softer now, “somewhere, on rare days… you think of me too.”
You blink, staring at the painting but not really seeing it anymore.
Because the thing is...
he’s right.
There were days, rare but sharp, when your mind drifted to him. When a passing song or a quiet night sky would remind you of a version of yourself you hadn’t spoken to in years. A version that had loved him, once. A version that had left.
You exhale slowly. “I did.” A pause. “I do.”
Minghao doesn’t react right away. But then, almost imperceptibly, his lips curve—just slightly, just enough for you to notice.
Neither of you say anything for a while. You just stand there, in the quiet of the venue, looking at a piece of art that holds more history than either of you are willing to say out loud.
Then, finally, Minghao shifts. “Come on,” he murmurs, glancing toward the exit. “You shouldn’t stay here this late. I’ll walk you out.”
You hesitate, just for a second. Then you nod.
But as you follow him out, you glance back one last time—at the painting, at the stars you once saw in it.
And you wonder how many times you’ve looked up at the same sky, thinking of him without realizing he was doing the same.
The event is a success.
People linger in front of Minghao’s pieces, murmuring their admiration, pointing out the details, the emotions woven into every brushstroke. Critics and collectors alike speak highly of his work, and you hear words like breathtaking and transcendent float through the air as you move through the crowd.
And yet, he’s not here.
You knew he wouldn’t be. Minghao had always been private, letting his work speak for him rather than stepping into the spotlight himself. But still, as the evening progresses and the venue slowly empties, you find yourself glancing at the entrance, wondering.
When the crowd finally dies down and most of the guests have gone, you take a quiet moment to breathe.
Then the door opens.
You turn
And there he is.
Minghao walks in without ceremony, effortlessly slipping into the space that had been dedicated to him all night. He looks around briefly, taking it all in, before his gaze finds you.
And in his hands a bouquet of flowers.
You blink, caught off guard. “You bought me flowers?”
His lips curve into something close to a smile. “It seemed fitting.”
You accept them hesitantly, fingers brushing over the petals. They’re simple, elegant not overly extravagant, but thoughtful. Like him.
He exhales, looking around at his own work before settling his gaze back on you. “It turned out even better than I imagined.”
You nod. “People loved it.”
Minghao hums, glancing at one of the paintings. Then, after a beat, he says, “Thank you.”
You look up at him, tilting your head. “For what?”
His expression softens. “Because you were the first person who ever believed in me.”
Something catches in your throat.
You think back to university, to late nights spent watching him paint, to the way you had always known—even back then—that he had something special. That the world would recognize it one day.
“I just saw what was already there,” you say quietly.
Minghao holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a small breath. “Still.”
You don’t say anything else. You just stand there, surrounded by his art, by his success, by the quiet weight of everything that has led to this moment. And this time, there’s no regret. Just something warmer, something steady. Something that feels a little like peace.
You glance down at the flowers in your hands, fingers brushing over the petals. The colors are soft, warm—not unlike the way this moment feels. When you look back up at Minghao, he’s already watching you. Not expectantly, not searching.
Just seeing you. The way he always has.
“I’m glad we met again,” you say, voice quieter now.
Minghao’s gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t ask what you mean, doesn’t press for something deeper. Maybe because he already knows. You’re content to meet this version of him. And you’re happy he got to see this version of you too.
Minghao exhales softly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nods, just once. “Me too.”
Minghao reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He hesitates for just a second before extending it toward you. You take it carefully, unfolding it with steady hands.
And there it is—the original sketch of his first painting. The one you used to watch him work on in that tiny university dorm, the one that reminded you of the stars. The one that started everything.
You trace the faded lines with your fingertips, feeling the weight of time in every stroke.
Minghao exhales, tilting his head slightly. “It’s fitting that you have it.”
You look up at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “You were the first person who saw something in it. In me.” A small pause, then, softer—“It should be yours.”
Something in your chest tightens—not with regret, not with longing, but with something steadier, something like understanding.
You fold the paper carefully, holding it close. “Thank you.”
Minghao doesn’t say anything else. He just gives you a small, knowing smile before turning back to look at his own paintings. The pieces of himself that the world finally sees.
And as you stand there, with the past in your hands and the present settling around you, you realize—this is closure.
And it’s enough.
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how long before we fall in love - choi seungcheol imagine
the way i was smiling, throwing air punches when i wrote this. pure 100% fluff coming your way!!!🥺😭🤭 (my head screaming SANA GETS NYO KO as i write this)
you can follow me on x, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(photos not mine, credits to rightful owner)



You’re nursing the last of your drink, ice clinking against the glass as you swirl it with deliberate disinterest, hoping the guy beside you gets the hint. He doesn't. His hand lingers too close to your elbow, and every laugh he exhales smells like beer and desperation.
You've already tried subtle. You even lied about having a boyfriend — twice. Still, he leans in with that rehearsed smirk like he's the one doing you a favor.
You scan the room, fast. Desperation breeds boldness, and tonight, you’re emboldened.
Then you see him.
He’s impossible to miss. Seated at the far end of the bar, broad shoulders framed in black, head dipped low as he nurses something amber in a short glass. He looks like he belongs somewhere darker, quieter. Maybe someplace where men don’t smile, only nod.
You’re not even sure how your legs carry you there, but in three long strides, you’re beside him, heart skittering in your chest like it knows you’ve made a gamble. He glances up, and for a second, you're sure this was a mistake but there's no time for second-guessing.
“Hey, babe,” you say, and your voice barely wavers. “Sorry I took so long.”
His eyes narrow a fraction, and for one charged second, silence stretches between you like a fuse waiting to be lit.
Then his expression shifts. It's subtle, the faintest curl of his mouth, a spark of recognition in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“There you are,” he says, low and even, like the words were always meant for you. He slips an arm around your waist with a kind of confidence that feels too natural, too smooth.
You think you’ve pulled it off — until a voice slices through the act.
“Seungcheol,” she purrs. She’s suddenly there, close enough that you feel the static of her presence before you even see her. “You weren’t gonna introduce me to your little friend?”
You tense, barely hiding the wince. The stranger, Seungcheol, doesn’t move his arm.
His voice is calm, even, as if this happens all the time. “Not now, Jiwon”
“But babe—”
He doesn’t even look at her. “And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me that”
Something in his tone makes her falter. She huffs, audibly, but walks away with a forced flick of her hair.
You glance up at him, parting your lips to apologize, but he cuts you off before you can speak.
“You okay?” he murmurs, just for you and you don’t know why but you believe him. You nod.
He leans in just a little, just enough that the warmth of him slips past your skin. “You want me to make sure he stays away?”
And god help you, you say yes.
Seungcheol shifts in his seat, gaze sharp now, trained somewhere over your shoulder. You don’t even have to turn to know the persistent guy’s still hovering. You can feel the weight of him, orbiting.
“Stay close,” Seungcheol says, barely more than a breath against your ear. It shouldn’t send a chill down your spine, but it does.
He stands in one smooth motion, hand still warm against your lower back as he guides you forwar. You catch the guy’s expression the moment he sees who you’re with now. The faux confidence drains from his face in real-time, replaced by something caught between confusion and an almost primal, involuntary instinct to back off.
“Problem?” Seungcheol asks him. He’s not loud. Doesn’t need to be. There’s something in the way he holds himself, loose and deadly, like a predator who doesn’t have to growl to be heard.
The guy lifts his hands in weak surrender. “Nah, man. Just talking.”
“You were done talking when she walked away.”
It’s not a threat. It’s a statement. Inevitable. Irrefutable.
The guy backs off, muttering something that doesn’t sound like an apology, but it doesn’t matter. He’s gone. You exhale for the first time in what feels like minutes.
Seungcheol turns to you again, and just like that, the sharpness in him softens—no less intense, but different now. He looks at you like he’s cataloging something he doesn’t quite understand yet.
“You okay?” he asks again, but this time the question feels more layered. Not just are you safe, but what made you need someone like me?
You nod, slower this time. “Yeah. Thanks. That was… I didn’t expect you to actually go along with it.”
He shrugs. “You looked like you needed out.”
There’s a beat of silence, then—
“You wanna sit?” he asks, gesturing to his now-vacant seat. “I won’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”
It’s deadpan. Almost. You glance at him and find the smallest glint of mischief tucked in the dark of his eyes.
You sit. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s something else entirely but you get the distinct feeling your night just shifted on an axis you didn’t see coming.
You’ve barely settled into the seat beside him when you feel the disturbance before you see it. She’s back. Jiwon. Her heels click soft and calculated across the floor, posture loose but eyes laser-focused on Seungcheol. She doesn't bother with you, not really.
She stops at his other side, voice syrupy. “Thought I’d grab you that drink you like,” she says, holding it out like a peace offering. Like she’s done this before and won.
But Seungcheol doesn’t even glance at the glass. He doesn’t blink.
“I’m good here,” he says, calm as still water. “With my girl.”
It hits with the kind of weight that lands sharp but quiet. No performance, no dramatic pause. Just absolute certainty, smooth as silk and impossible to argue with.
You blink. My girl?
Then, as if on cue, he leans in—closer than he’s been all night. His hand brushes against your thigh under the bar, casual but unmistakable. The space between you disappears, and suddenly, all you can see is him.
The edge of his mouth tilts just slightly, a private smirk made only for you.
“I help you,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, just for your ears. “You help me.”
Like a switch, you slip into the role. No hesitation. No breath to second-guess.
You lean in until you’re practically folded into his side, your shoulder brushing his chest, the scent of him filling your senses like a hit of something you’re not supposed to want.
Your fingers find his thigh beneath the bar, light but deliberate, and when you turn your head to face her, your expression is sugar-laced steel.
“Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company,” you say, voice sweet enough to rot, “but we’re good now.”
Jiwon stiffens. You see it in the tight pull of her jaw, the way her hand curls around the untouched glass like she might throw it but she doesn’t say anything. Not really. Just a scoff, quiet and bitter, before she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd again.
The moment she’s gone, Seungcheol exhales a laugh. Low. Quiet. Almost impressed.
“Well damn,” he says, tilting his head to look at you properly. “Didn’t think you had that in you.”
You arch a brow. “What, the spine or the spite?”
His grin widens, lazy and wolfish. “Both.”
You should pull away. You should return to your drink, your solitude, the night you had before this turned into something else entirely.
But you don’t.
Because now, you’re curious—and curiosity is a dangerous thing when someone like Seungcheol is involved. He smirks again, but there’s something different behind it then he leans down, slow enough to feel deliberate, and you feel it:
The brush of his lips against your bare shoulder.
Barely there. Barely anything. But it sets off a fire low in your belly, a spark you weren’t expecting and definitely weren’t prepared for. Your breath catches, and you turn your head to say something but you’re interrupted.
“Yo, Choi!” a voice calls out, casual and easy, and you look up just as two guys approach the table.
They’re both tall, well-dressed, and annoyingly attractive in that infuriating way that only works because they know it. The one with the long and cat-like grin lifts his brows as he takes in the scene. Your hand still on Seungcheol’s thigh, your body tucked into his side, his lips a breath away from your skin.
“Are we interrupting?” the long haired one asks
Seungcheol doesn’t move away. If anything, his arm tightens slightly around you. “If I say yes, will you go away”
The other one—gentler-looking, nudges his friend. “Jeonghan, stop being an ass. Hi,” he says, this time to you. “I’m Joshua. You?”
You give your name, and Jeonghan grins like you just told him a secret. “Cute. She’s cute.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. He just takes a sip from his drink but there’s something in the way his thumb traces idle circles against your hip that says plenty.
“You’re not usually the type to play house, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan adds, sliding into the seat across from you both. “What’s this, new leaf?”
“Maybe I like what I’m playing with,” Seungcheol says, and his voice is so calm, so unapologetic, that for a second, even you forget this started as pretend.
Joshua raises a brow but doesn’t push it. He just smiles a little, as if he already sees where this is going before either of you do. And when you feel Seungcheol’s hand settle more firmly against your thigh, like he’s staking a claim in front of his friends.
A few drinks later, your head’s pleasantly light, the warmth of alcohol and laughter still lingering in your chest. Jeonghan and Joshua had finally wandered off to harass someone else, leaving you and Seungcheol alone again, though somehow the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s alive.
You glance at your phone, blinking at the time. Late.
You push your glass away and sigh, “Alright, I should probably call it. Before I start thinking karaoke’s a good idea.”
Seungcheol chuckles, low and easy. “You’d make a great bad decision at karaoke.”
You shoot him a look, but you’re smiling. “I’m not drunk enough to embarrass myself like that.”
“Pity. I’d pay good money to hear you scream-sing something tragic.”
You snort. “You’re not even pretending to be nice.”
He tilts his head, mock thoughtful. “Did I ever pretend?”
You open your mouth to fire back something snarky, but the moment shifts. Just slightly. Just enough.
You glance toward the exit, suddenly uneasy. The weight of earlier brushes the edge of your thoughts, and now that the buzz is wearing down, the memory of that guy—the lingering stare, the way he didn’t get the hint—sticks.
Seungcheol notices. Of course he does. His eyes sharpen, but his voice stays light.
“Want me to walk you out?”
You hesitate then nod. “Actually… would it be weird if I asked you to drive me home?”
His brows rise just a touch but he doesn’t hesitate. “Not weird,” he says. “I was hoping you'd ask.”
You raise a brow, teasing. “You were hoping?”
“I mean, you’re kind of glued to me tonight,” he says, smirking as he stands, grabbing his jacket. “Thought I’d return the favor.”
You follow him out, the air outside cooler than expected. He opens the passenger door like it’s instinct—like he’s done this for you a hundred times already—and when you slide in, he leans down just enough that your eyes meet.
“You trust me to drive you home?” he asks, voice lower now, a touch more serious, but still laced with that lazy confidence.
You look up at him through your lashes, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Should I?”
And just like that, the door shuts with a soft click and your pulse doesn’t quite settle the whole ride home. When he slides into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life beneath his hands, you glance sideways at him, half-joking, half-not, voice just a little too casual.
“I’m not gonna end up in a true crime documentary, right?”
He smirks without looking at you, eyes on the road as he pulls out of the lot. “Nah. Too much paperwork.”
You laugh, but he doesn’t stop there.
“If I was gonna murder you, I wouldn’t have bought you drinks first. That’s just inefficient.”
You raise a brow. “Wow. Comforting.”
He glances over at you, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift, his voice a bit softer now
“I mean, you approached me. Technically, this is your villain origin story.”
You feign scandal. “So I lured you in.”
“Exactly. Innocent-looking girl at a bar, bold enough to lie her way into my lap? Yeah, you’re the dangerous one here.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin tugging at your lips. “You think I’m innocent-looking?”
He cuts his eyes toward you, a slow once-over that makes the air between you crackle.
“I think you’re a lot of things,” he says. “But innocent? Not buying it.”
And just like that, the car gets a little quieter. Not uncomfortable. Just… charged.
And you wonder, as the streetlights blur past the windows, what you’ve really gotten yourself into tonight.
“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise, a slow smirk curling at your lips. “So you’ve got me all figured out already?”
He glances over, and this time he doesn’t hide the smile.
“Didn’t say that,” he replies smoothly. “I said I’m not buying the innocent act. Big difference.”
You hum, dragging your gaze out the window like you're not grinning.
“Maybe I’m just mysterious,” you tease. “Hard to read. Dangerous, even.”
He snorts. “You’re definitely dangerous.”
“Yeah?” you ask, turning back to him, playful but edged with something more. “Afraid I’ll break your heart?”
He laughs once but then his eyes flick over to you, and it’s different now. He’s not smiling anymore, not quite. His voice drops, soft but steady.
“Nah,” he murmurs, “I’m enjoying this too much.”
You don’t answer right away, and neither does he. The quiet stretches, dense with something neither of you name. But when his hand brushes yours over the center console—barely there, just a question—you don’t pull away.
“And you?” he says, voice quiet, like he’s easing into something he actually wants the answer to. “How come, out of everyone there… you suddenly let yourself strut my way?”
“I don’t know,” you say at first, then pause. “You just looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t ask questions.”
He huffs a laugh, amused. “You were banking on me being cooperative?”
“I was banking on you being scary enough to make the other guy piss himself.”
“And I was.”
You grin despite yourself. “So humble.”
He finally turns to look at you fully, eyes dark but curious, a faint crease in his brow like he’s studying you a little deeper now.
“But that’s not it,” he says. “Not really.”
You tilt your head. “No?”
“No. You could’ve gone to the bartender. The bouncer. Your friends, if you had any there. But you came to me.”
You’re quiet for a beat too long, because—yeah. He’s right.
So you shrug, pretending it’s simple when it’s not. “Guess I like walking toward the fire sometimes.”
He laughs again, deeper this time, but there’s something thoughtful behind it.
“Then lucky for you,” he murmurs, eyes still on you, “I don’t burn easy.”
And your heart? Yeah. It skips. Hard.
=
The next morning, Seungcheol walks into the office ten minutes late with zero regrets and exactly one iced Americano in hand, looking irritatingly composed for someone who got maybe four hours of sleep.
He’s barely set his cup down when Jeonghan’s voice sings from across the room.
“Well, well, well—if it isn’t Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships strolling in like a man who definitely didn’t go straight home last night.”
Joshua looks up from his laptop, raising a brow with a barely contained smirk. “So… who was she?”
Seungcheol doesn’t answer. Just pulls off his jacket and hangs it up with surgical precision, like he’s trying not to indulge them.
Which, of course, only makes them hungrier.
“C’mon, Cheol,” Jeonghan pushes, trailing him to his desk like a cat stalking something shiny. “You had her in your lap half the night. You don’t cuddle in public. I didn’t even know you could cuddle.”
“Technically,” Joshua adds, “I think she was in the driver’s seat.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Jeonghan nods. “She had you wrapped. It was… inspiring.”
Seungcheol exhales through his nose and finally turns around, arms folded, leaning against the edge of his desk like he’s humoring children.
“She was someone who needed help,” he says evenly. “That’s it.”
Jeonghan’s eyes glint. “So you just happened to keep your hand on her thigh all night out of… community service?”
Joshua’s tone is gentler, but no less pointed. “You looked comfortable. Not pretending-comfortable. Just… real.”
Seungcheol hesitates. He hates that they’re good at this. That they know how to read the cracks in his tone.
“She was easy to talk to,” he admits. “Didn’t play games. No agenda.”
Jeonghan fake gasps. “Wait. You liked her.”
He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it,” Joshua counters.
Jeonghan grins like he just won something. “What’s her name?”
Seungcheol smirks now, because this is the part he won’t give them. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
And when he turns back to his desk, his phone buzzes once.
A message from you.
You: So… if I walk into your office right now, am I gonna ruin your mysterious, emotionally unavailable persona?
He stares at it for a second, then smiles—small and private. Maybe he is in trouble. He stares at your text for a beat longer, thumb hovering over the keyboard like he’s weighing something heavier than the words.
Seungcheol: Only if you walk in looking like last night. My reputation wouldn’t survive it.
Seungcheol: Free for lunch? I’ll come to you.
He hits send before he can think better of it.
Across the room, Jeonghan is still dramatically theorizing about your identity, now halfway into a ridiculous monologue about you being an international art thief who seduced Seungcheol for corporate secrets.
He ignores it because right now, he’s more interested in seeing you again and if that means sneaking in an hour between meetings and pretending he’s not the kind of guy who clears his calendar for a woman he just met, then so be it.
A little past noon, your phone buzzes again. You’re mid-email, squinting at your screen, when the notification pops up.
Seungcheol: Outside. Come down. I brought bribes.
You blink. Bribes? What does that even mean? Curiosity wins out fast. You grab your phone, smooth your outfit and head down.
The moment you step out, you see him leaning against a sleek black car that absolutely screams expensive and unnecessary, sunglasses pushed up in his hair, holding a paper bag and two drinks.
Your brows lift. “So this is you not trying?”
He grins, looking annoyingly perfect for someone who probably woke up late and still somehow managed to make the pavement feel like a runway. “Told you. Bribes.”
You walk up slowly, eyeing the bag. “What is it?”
“Sandwiches. From that overpriced place near here. Hope you’re not one of those 'just salad' people.”
You narrow your eyes. “I contain multitudes.”
He chuckles, hands you your drink. “Good. You’ll need them to keep up.”
You gesture toward the car. “So, this your day job? Picking up women and showing off your mysterious wealth?”
He laughs genuinely, this time. “Would you believe me if I said I’m just a humble middle manager?”
You give him a long, skeptical once-over. “Not a chance.”
He opens the passenger door for you again like it's a habit. Like he already knows you’ll get in and you do. Because lunch with Choi Seungcheol? Yeah. That sounds like danger worth walking toward twice.
You slide into the passenger seat, you glance at him as he rounds the front of the car and settles into the driver’s seat again, placing the food carefully between you.
“Okay, so what is it that you actually do?” you ask, peeling open the sandwich wrapper, the scent already unfairly good.
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Management. Mostly.”
“That’s vague as hell.”
“Intentionally,” he says, shooting you a sideways glance. “You’ll find I’m very good at withholding.”
You snort. “Is that your way of saying you’re emotionally constipated?”
“No, that’s me saying I like keeping some cards close.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, swallows. “Makes things interesting.”
You hum, eyes narrowing just a touch. “So you’re not gonna tell me what your job actually is?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not yet. I kind of like that you don’t know.”
You blink. “Why?”
He turns toward you fully now, one arm draped over the back of your seat, eyes lazy and unreadable but focused—very focused—on you.
“Because if you knew,” he says slowly, “you might treat me differently.”
Something flickers behind his tone. Not arrogance. Something quieter. Something worn and for a second, you forget you're supposed to be teasing him.
You hold his gaze. “Then maybe I’d rather not know.”
He searches your face for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to flinch, waiting for that inevitable shift he’s used to seeing in people when they do find out. But you don’t.
You just take another bite of your sandwich and speak through your smirk.
“So, Mr. Vague Middle Manager, are all your dates catered and chauffeured?”
That draws a full laugh out of him—deep and unguarded.
“This a date now?” he throws back.
You shrug with exaggerated innocence. “You did bring food. And bribes. And you’re staring at me like you wanna ruin my whole week.”
He hums, low and amused, eyes dropping to your lips and staying there just a little too long.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, “if I wanted to ruin your week… you’d know.”
And just like that, your heart forgets how to beat steady.
Again.
The place he takes you to is tucked away on a quiet side street. nothing flashy, no fancy valet, no five-star pretensions. Just the warm, familiar smell of grilled meat and the faint sizzle of something delicious already hitting a hot pan.
You recognize it immediately. The kind of Korean spot that’s half comfort, half chaos. Worn wooden tables, metal chopsticks in tin cups, steam clouding the windows from hot broth and soju-fueled laughter. A place where people don’t come to impress, they come because it feels like home.
He pulls the door open for you, and the ahjumma behind the counter beams when she sees him.
“Seungcheol-ah!” she calls, already bustling toward the kitchen. “Same table?”
He nods, bowing slightly in greeting.
You look at him sideways. “Regular, huh?”
He shrugs, the edge of his mouth twitching. “Told you. I like places where people don’t ask too many questions.”
She’s already setting the table as you both slide into the booth. The tabletop grill is already heating, meat—samgyeopsal, thick-cut and glistening—lands in the center with a satisfying thud.
He picks up the tongs like he’s done this a hundred times, which he probably has, and starts placing the pork belly on the grill, the sizzle instant and loud.
“Wow,” you say, smirking. “So this is how you impress women.”
“I’m feeding you, aren’t I?” he says, eyes focused on flipping the meat with practiced ease. “It’s a love language.”
“You do seem suspiciously fluent in this.”
“You gonna psychoanalyze me now?”
You lean your chin into your hand, watching him with lazy interest. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you cook.”
He glances up, brow raised, but there’s a flicker of something else in his gaze now. That slow burn again.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “Flirting with me at a restaurant I come to every week? You’re treading into girlfriend territory.”
You pop a piece of kimchi into your mouth and smile like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”
“Too late.”
There’s something light about this but underneath, there's a current neither of you are pretending to ignore anymore.
He wraps a piece of grilled meat in lettuce, adds a bit of ssamjang and garlic, then holds it out across the table.
“For you,” he says, voice soft, hand steady.
You pause. Then lean forward, take it straight from his fingers, lips brushing his skin on the way.
And the look in his eyes?
Yeah, lunch just got a lot more complicated.
You're mid-chew when the ahjumma comes back over, wiping her hands on her apron, eyes sharp and curious as she sets another bowl of pickled radish down on the table.
She turns to Seungcheol with a knowing grin. “You’re not with the usual troublemakers today. Who’s this lovely girl? You got married and didn’t tell us?”
You almost choke. Seungcheol freezes for a secondbut then, smooth as ever, he swallows, glances at you, and smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Not married yet,” he says casually, sliding his chopsticks into the rice like punctuation. “But I’m working on it.”
Your eyes snap to him. Excuse me?
The ahjumma gasps, clearly delighted. “Aigoo! She’s pretty and patient—finally, a girl who can handle you! Yah, I prayed for this!”
You blink at her. Then at Seungcheol. He’s not even flinching. The man has the audacity to look pleased.
“Ah, he’s exaggerating,” you say quickly, giving the auntie a smile and trying not to combust. “We just—”
“—Make a good team,” Seungcheol finishes for you, eyes flicking to yours with a glint of mischief. “She keeps me in line.”
The ahjumma sighs dreamily, clearly buying the whole act. “Don’t let him go, sweet girl. He might act cool, but he needs someone who’ll yell at him when he forgets to eat. This one’s stubborn.”
You nod solemnly. “He does give off that energy.”
“Exactly!” she points at you like you’re a genius. “You understand already! Just marry him.”
Seungcheol coughs into his drink, but he’s grinning now, and you can’t help it—you’re laughing, eyes narrowed at him across the table.
The auntie bustles off, muttering about bringing more side dishes for the happy couple.
You lean in, tone low and pointed. “Married? Really?”
He shrugs, unabashed. “What? You handled it like a pro. I’m impressed.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he says, sliding another wrap your way, “you’re still here.”
You hate how easy it is to smile at him. Hate it even more that he’s smiling too—like he likes whatever this is just as much as you do.
The ride back to your office is quieter, he pulls up in front of your building, shifts the car into park, and glances over at you.
You unbuckle your seatbelt slowly. “Thanks for lunch.”
“You make it sound like I’m not planning on doing it again.”
You grin, leaning just a little closer. “Oh? Planning on making a habit out of me?”
His smirk is there, but softer now. “Thinking about it.”
You hop out before you say something stupid. Before he says something worse. But before you can shut the door, he leans across the console and says, quieter:
“Text me when you get up there. Just so I know you made it.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Yes, Dad.”
He raises a brow. “You really want to test that boundary this early?”
You shut the door before your brain melts and give him a mock salute through the window.
By the time Seungcheol pulls into the garage under his own office building, he’s five minutes behind schedule and vaguely irritated at how fast traffic moved now that he was in a rush.
He checks his phone in the elevator: one message from you.
You: Alive. Fed. Still thinking about that ssam you made. 8/10.
He grins to himself just as the elevator dings open on his floor. Unfortunately, his mood immediately sours when he sees who’s already in the conference room, arms folded, feet on the table like he owns the place.
Jeonghan.
The second Seungcheol steps through the door, Jeonghan looks at his watch dramatically.
“Five minutes late. How domestic of you.”
“Save it,” Seungcheol mutters, dropping into the seat across from him.
Jeonghan smirks like he’s been waiting for this moment. “So? Was it worth it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. You’re flushed, your hair’s a little messy, and for once, you didn’t glare at anyone” Jeonghan taps his fingers against the table. “You’re basically glowing.”
Seungcheol sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Can we just get through this meeting?”
“Oh, we will,” Jeonghan says brightly. “But not before you tell me if she’s single, if she has friends, and if your sudden boyfriend energy is gonna affect this quarter’s performance.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Absolutely.”
The days blur together. You two still talk, in between meetings and his hectic schedule he would always find some time for you. When he’s free he’ll go drive to you and grab lunch, wherever you want or sometimes a surprise.
It’s just past six when Seungcheol finally leans back in his chair, eyes dragging away from the spreadsheet he’s barely processed for the last fifteen minutes.
His fingers hover over his phone for a second before he gives in to the impulse—simple and direct.
Seungcheol: You free for dinner?
You:Yes. Come rescue me.
He smirks, already pushing back from his desk. Jacket on. Sleeves rolled. A very quiet kind of urgency in his steps.
On your end, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your coworkers have been hovering at your desk all afternoon, buzzing about Friday drinks like it’s the social event of the year. They’re already lining up shots in their heads, plotting karaoke and potential chaos.
“You coming, right?” one of them asks, nudging your elbow. “C’mon, you always dip. Just one night.”
You smile politely, already trying to edge away. “I actually have plans—”
“With who?” another cuts in, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been glowing all week.”
You blink. “What is it with people and this glowing thing?”
They groan. “So you do have a date. Who is he?”
Before you can lie—or dodge, or disappear into thin air—your phone buzzes again.
Seungcheol: Be there in twenty. What kind of rescue we talking? Fire escape or just dramatic entrance?
You bite your lip to suppress the grin that tries to surface.
“Just someone picking me up,” you say vaguely, grabbing your bag and ignoring the chorus of curious oohs that follow.
“You’re no fun,” one of them whines as you make your escape. “At least send us a picture! We won’t believe he exists!”
You wave behind you. “Exactly why I’m not sending one.”
They groan louder, but you’re already walking toward the elevator, pulse picking up just a little. You don’t know what this is with him yet—not really. But it’s enough to have you hoping the next twenty minutes pass just fast enough.
You make it out of the building just as the sun is dipping behind the city skyline, casting everything in that dusky golden glow that feels almost too cinematic for real life. As if on cue, his car pulls up.
The passenger window rolls down, and there he is, arm resting on the wheel, watching you with that lazy, low-key amused smile that somehow makes your heart skip like it’s late for something.
“You always look like you just walked out of a movie,” you say as you slide in, tossing your bag at your feet.
He glances over, that grin growing as he shifts the car into drive. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”
You shake your head, suppressing a smile. “Flattery before food? Risky move.”
“Not flattery,” he says, glancing at you as he pulls into traffic. “Observation. You look like you needed a getaway.”
You sigh dramatically, letting your head thud against the seat. “You have no idea. They were trying to hold me hostage for soju and noraebang.”
He chuckles, tapping the wheel. “I’d pay to see that.”
“You would,” you mutter. “Anyway, thanks for the timely rescue.”
“Anytime,” he says, tone quiet but sincere.
For a moment, you both fall into comfortable silence, the hum of the road filling the space. It’s not awkward. If anything, it’s the kind of quiet that only settles when someone’s presence feels... easy.
“Where are we going?” you ask after a while, glancing at him.
He tilts his head, lips tugging upward. “Somewhere that serves food hot, drinks cold, and lets me look at you across the table without interruption.”
You arch a brow. “Is that your version of romantic?”
“No,” he says. “That’s my version of honest.”
Your stomach does that annoying little flutter again. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his hand briefly brushes your knee in a turn—accidental, maybe—but he doesn’t pull away too quickly.
The drive takes longer this time, farther out from the noise of downtown, the streets growing quieter, narrower.
You glance over at him. “You’ve got a thing for hidden spots, huh?”
“I don’t like crowds,” he says simply. “And I like places that let me hear you when you talk.”
You pause, caught off guard by the casual weight of it. “You’re smooth.”
“I’m observant,” he corrects, pulling into a tiny gravel lot tucked away
You step out and take in the place. No line. No obvious branding. Just the kind of restaurant people guard like a secret.
“This place looks like it has stories,” you murmur, tucking your hands into your coat.
“It does,” he says, rounding the car to walk beside you. “Mostly about good food. And about the owner being mildly terrifying if you show up drunk and disrespectful.”
You laugh, and he pulls the door open for you, holding it until you step inside.
It’s warm. Cozy. The scent of doenjang jjigae and grilled mackerel hangs in the air. The lights are soft, yellow, casting everything in that old-kitchen comfort glow. You’re seated in the farthest corner, a little nook with floor cushions and a small table already set with water, chopsticks, and folded linen napkins. The privacy of it feels intentional.
The owner, a silver-haired woman in a worn apron, comes over with barely a word, just a sharp eye and a small smile when she sees Seungcheol.
“You brought someone,” she says, voice raspy but kind. “She’s pretty. And awake, unlike the last idiot your friend brought.”
Seungcheol winces. “That was Mingyu.”
She waves him off, already handing you both menus like she’s decided you’re staying regardless.
You stifle a laugh. “Do all your regular spots come with built-in character witnesses?”
“Only the good ones,” he replies, flipping open the menu. “What’re you in the mood for?”
You pretend to study the list, but really, you’re watching the way he sits here—comfortable, known, but still somehow wrapped in mystery. Like there’s more under the surface that he only lets people see in pieces.
“You choose,” you say, passing your menu across the table. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”
He takes it with a slow smile. “Dangerous trust.”
“You like that about me,” you say without missing a beat.
His eyes meet yours, steady and sure.
“I do.”
And the way he says it?
It isn’t playful. Isn’t light. It lands somewhere between a promise and a warning.
And suddenly, the quiet between you feels like something else entirely.
He closes the menu without looking at it for too long, then says something casual to the owner, his tone respectful but familiar. She gives you one last look (a little assessing, a little approving) before disappearing toward the kitchen with a short nod.
You raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t even ask what I wanted.”
He leans back, completely unbothered. “I did.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. You said, ‘you choose.’ That’s verbal consent. Witnessed and documented.”
You snort. “Okay, lawyer.”
He grins. “You’ll thank me in a few minutes.”
And you do. Because when the food comes, it’s thin wheat noodles in a light broth, topped with julienned vegetables, sliced egg, seaweed, and just a hint of sesame oil. The aroma alone makes your eyes widen.
Your inner monologue might as well be standing on a table, screaming. He ordered noodles. My weakness. My love language. My eternal home.
“Are you a mind reader?” you ask, unable to hide your excitement as you pick up your chopsticks.
“I had a hunch,” he says, watching you with mild amusement as you practically dive in. “You look like someone who’d fight for the last noodle in a pot.”
You pause with your chopsticks halfway to your mouth. “Is that a compliment or a psychological profile?”
“Depends.” He’s smiling, elbow propped lazily on the table, eyes fixed on you. “Are you the type to share your noodles, or hoard them?”
You pretend to consider it, chewing thoughtfully. “Depends on who’s asking.”
He laughs, low and full. The kind that catches in your chest.
The food is simple, warm, deeply comforting. Not because of the food, exactly. But because of who’s sitting across from you. And how easy he makes all of this feel.
And when he steals one of your noodles just to prove a point? You let him.
As you both finish the last of the broth, the warm glow of the restaurant wrapping around you like a lazy blanket, you lean back on your cushion and stretch your legs under the table, nudging his knee with your foot.
You glance at the time on your phone and raise a brow. “It’s not even eight,” you say, mock-disbelief in your voice. “Don’t tell me you’re the type to go to bed right after dinner. Old-man hours already?”
“What, you think I’m boring?”
You shrug. “I mean… I don’t know. The cozy dinner. The secret spot. The soft lighting. This has bedtime-by-nine written all over it.”
“You’re lucky I like you,” he mutters, grabbing the check before you can even reach for your wallet.
You blink. “Wait. What was that?”
“I said,” he repeats, standing smoothly and ignoring your faux-innocent stare, “you’re lucky I like you.”
“Bold assumption,” you say, following him toward the door. “You don’t know me like that.”
He holds the door open, leaning into the frame as you step past him. “You say that, but you’re not running away.”
You pause outside, cold air kissing your skin as you glance up at him.
“I’d say that depends,” you murmur, lifting your chin slightly. “Are you planning to make the night more interesting or tuck me in with warm milk and a bedtime story?”
“I was thinking…” he steps a little closer, voice dipping, “maybe something in between.”
Your pulse flickers fast. Intrigued.
“So,” you say, eyes narrowing. “What now?”
He glances toward the car, then back at you. “Let’s drive.”
“That’s it? Just a drive?”
He shrugs. “You scared I’m secretly boring?”
You smile, teeth catching your bottom lip as you shake your head. “No. I’m scared you’re not.”
The city peels away behind you, all neon and noise in the rearview, replaced by wider roads and quieter corners. You glance over at him as he drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift.
"You always drive like this?" you ask, the wind catching in your voice just slightly.
He glances over, curious. “Like what?”
“Like you're in a movie. Slow, steady. No destination, just vibes.”
His mouth tugs into that crooked half-smile. “Wouldn’t be the worst scene to be in.”
You roll your eyes, but your grin gives you away. “You're really running with this leading-man energy, huh?”
“You’re the one who asked me to rescue you. I’m just sticking to the role.”
"Right. So where's the dramatic monologue about how you're secretly emotionally unavailable but somehow willing to change only for me?"
“That’s coming in act three,” he says smoothly. “Right after the almost-kiss and right before I mess it all up.”
You’re laughing now, really laughing, and when you glance at him again, he’s not even pretending not to stare.
He clears his throat. “There’s a lookout just up ahead. View’s nice this time of night.”
“Another hidden spot?”
“You doubting my taste now?”
“Never. Just making sure you’re not lulling me into a false sense of security before you reveal you are, in fact, a very charming serial killer.”
He chuckles under his breath. “If I was, you wouldn’t’ve made it past the noodles.”
You hum. “Fair point. Still. You are dangerously smooth.”
“I could say the same about you.”
That brings a new kind of quiet. One with heat underneath it.
By the time he pulls up to the lookout you’re not sure whether you’re more captivated by the view outside, or the one inside the car.
He kills the engine but makes no move to get out. Neither do you.
“So,” he says after a beat, voice a little lower. “Still think I’m putting you to bed before nine?”
You smirk, turning just slightly toward him. “We’re well past bedtime, Cheol.”
And somehow, that feels like the most dangerous thing you’ve said all night. He huffs a short laugh through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly with amusement as he shifts to face you more fully in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
You tilt your head, feigning casual. “Just doing my due diligence,” you say, poking at the corner of the console with your nail. “Before this gets… you know. Interesting. You don’t have kids right? Or a wife waiting at home something like that”
He raises a brow, resting his arm against the back of your seat. “Interesting, huh?”
He doesn’t deny it. Just lets that lazy grin spread as he lets his gaze settle on you—like he’s trying to read between your words and the space between your knees brushing his.
“No wife,” he says finally. “No kids. No secrets.”
You blink. “Wow. A full set.”
He leans in just a little, voice lower now. “Disappointed?”
You laugh, the sound soft, breathless. “Relieved, actually. I’d hate to be a plot twist in someone else’s drama.”
“No,” he murmurs. “If anything, you feel like the beginning of something.”
You freeze just for a second.
“Are you always like this? Charming, smooth-talking, devastatingly good at timing?”
His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Guess I’ll need more data.”
He laughs again—quiet, warm—and lets the moment linger in that hazy space between restraint and intent. Outside, the city glows. But in here, it’s just the two of you, suspended in that delicious kind of silence where everything feels possible.
You swallow lightly. “So… how much data are we talking? One night? Two? A whole series?”
His smile curves, lazy and full of mischief. “Are you asking how many dates it takes before I kiss you?”
“Maybe,” you say, voice just above a whisper.
“Depends how good the data is.” He leans in a little, not touching you yet but close enough. His voice dips, rough around the edges in that way that sends a shiver up your spine.
Your breath catches, pulse ticking a little faster, but you don’t lean away. If anything, you meet him halfway.
You exhale slowly, watching his eyes flick down to your mouth.
“You’re really not going to kiss me, are you?” you ask, a little breathless now.
He smirks, gaze lifting back to yours.
“I will,” he says. “But not because it’s expected.”
You blink, pulse stuttering.
“Then why?”
He tilts his head, thumb brushing the curve of your cheekbone.
“Because the second I do… it stops being light and easy. And I think we both know it.”
You sit there for a second, stunned into silence—because he’s not wrong. There’s a weight to this that neither of you are quite ready to name, but it’s there. Unspoken, humming like the low thrum of electricity before a storm.
So instead, you nod—slow, almost amused.
“You’re dangerous, Choi Seungcheol.”
He leans back just slightly, watching you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.
“And you’re trouble.”
You smile.
“So what now?”
He reaches for the gear shift, gaze still lingering on you.
“Now,” he says, “I drive you home before we both make very bad, very good decisions.”
And you don’t argue.
But as he pulls away from the lookout, your fingers resting dangerously close to his on the center console, you get the feeling this isn’t the end of the night.
It’s just the prelude.
=
The sky is painfully clear, bright blue with not a cloud in sight and the sun has no business being this aggressive before noon.
Jeonghan’s halfway through lining up his swing when he notices it. The stillness. The quiet hum of something off.
He looks over and nearly misses his shot entirely.
“Okay,” he mutters, club dangling from one hand as he turns toward Joshua. “Am I hallucinating or is Seungcheol smiling at his phone?”
Joshua, already sipping on an iced americano and way too comfortable in his obnoxiously pastel golf attire, raises an eyebrow and glances over at their friend, who’s sitting on the edge of the golf cart with his phone in hand, thumb tapping out something quick.
And yeah. He's definitely smiling. Not smirking. Not plotting someone’s downfall.
Actually, smiling.
Joshua leans closer, squinting dramatically. “Are we about to die? Should I call my mom?”
“Maybe he’s reading memes,” Jeonghan says, though his voice lacks conviction.
“Right,” Joshua snorts. “Because Seungcheol totally wakes up and chooses cat videos.”
They both watch him a beat longer.
Seungcheol finally glances up, catching their stares. “What?”
Joshua holds his drink up like it’s a toast. “Just wondering if we need to evacuate Seoul. You good, buddy?”
Jeonghan crosses his arms. “You’re smiling, Cheol. Like… full teeth. Sunshine smile. Are you in pain? Blink twice if it’s a hostage situation.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth don’t drop. If anything, they twitch higher when his phone buzzes again and he types out a quick reply before tucking it away in his pocket.
“Y’all are dramatic.”
“Oh no no,” Jeonghan says, hopping into the cart. “You don’t get to be mysterious. Who is she?”
“There’s no she.”
“Liar. You haven’t looked this happy since Mingyu fell into that koi pond.”
Joshua hums, thoughtful. “It’s the girl from the bar, isn’t it?”
Seungcheol doesn't answer which is an answer in itself.
Jeonghan squints. “Wait, you’re still talking to her? Damn. I thought that was just a one-night distraction.”
Seungcheol shrugs, grabbing his club and walking toward the next hole. “Maybe I like being distracted.”
Joshua raises his brows. “He’s whipped.”
“Absolutely whipped,” Jeonghan echoes, grinning like he’s already plotting how to make this his new favorite topic of conversation.
The reason for that rare, suspiciously soft smile on Seungcheol’s face? Easy.
It’s sitting in his phone, timestamped at 8:02 a.m.
A photo of your desk, where a bouquet of creamy white ranunculus and pale blush roses now sits in the center, like it owns the place. A handwritten note tucked between the blooms simply reads:
Thanks for keeping me up past my bedtime. - CSC
Your caption underneath the photo had been equally unfair.
You: You smooth bastard. You knew I liked flowers, didn’t you?
He hadn’t, actually but he guessed. Just like the noodles. And the way your voice lit up over the phone when he mentioned he had a surprise coming.
It was a hunch, like everything else about you so far, a series of guesses that kept turning out more right than he probably deserved.
You: Do I have to say thank you over lunch or dinner? Because I can clear my schedule.
Hence: the smile.
The same one he’s fighting right now, out on the golf course, while Jeonghan interrogates him like a nosy mother with a magnifying glass.
“She thanked me,” Seungcheol says finally, smirking to himself as he adjusts his grip on the club.
Joshua frowns. “For what?”
He doesn’t even look up as he swings. “For the flowers I sent this morning.”
There’s a pause.
“Flowers?” Jeonghan yells from the cart. “Oh, we’re officially in rom-com territory now.”
Joshua leans on his driver. “You used to make fun of me for that. Remember back then when I got my girlfriend flowers after two weeks and you called me a simp with no spine?”
“I was right. You were insufferable,” Seungcheol replies easily. “I, on the other hand, am charming.”
Jeonghan snorts. “You sent ranunculus, didn’t you?”
That actually gets Seungcheol to glance over, brow raised. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Because you’re dramatic,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And because you’re literally the only person I know who flirts with florals like it’s a love letter.”
He shrugs, but the smug look doesn’t leave his face.
“She liked them.”
And really, that’s all he needs today. Not the perfect swing, not a quiet weekend, not even an answer to whatever it is that's slowly, surely happening between you and him.
You’re barefoot, hair up in a loose bun, sleeves shoved past your elbows, and a cleaning rag hanging off your shoulder like a badge of honor. There's a half-folded pile of laundry on the couch, your favorite playlist echoing from the kitchen speaker, and the scent of lemon cleaner still lingers in the air.
You weren’t thinking about him. Not exactly. Okay, maybe a little.
But still, when the doorbell rings, you freeze mid-wipe, glancing toward the door like it might be another delivery.
Flowers again?
You make your way over, still patting your hands dry on your pajama shorts, and swing the door open without much thought.
And your heart absolutely stutters.
Because standing there isn’t a courier. Or a stranger.
It’s him.
Choi Seungcheol, dressed down in jeans, a dark tee, and that unfairly calm expression that somehow looks even better in daylight. One hand casually stuffed in his pocket, the other holding up a familiar-looking takeout bag.
“You said lunch or dinner,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought I’d split the difference.”
You blink, stunned and slightly underdressed for this plot twist. “You—wait, you’re here?”
He lifts the bag slightly. “Samgyeopsal dosirak. And something sweet because I thought you might need dessert after all that dusting.”
You let out a soft, surprised laugh, stepping back instinctively to let him in. “You could’ve texted.”
“I could’ve,” he agrees, stepping past the threshold, eyes flicking to the mess of throw pillows and laundry and general weekend chaos. “But I figured showing up gets me bonus points.”
“Bold move,” you say, shutting the door behind him.
He shrugs, setting the bag down on your kitchen counter. “You already called me smooth this morning. Might as well live up to it.”
You watch him for a moment, slightly in awe—and slightly mortified you’re wearing an old t-shirt and fuzzy socks while he looks like that.
“Sorry for the mess,” you mutter, grabbing a few stray pieces of laundry and shoving them toward a basket.
Seungcheol just leans against your counter, watching you with that amused, unreadable expression.
“Relax,” he says. “I kind of like seeing you like this.”
You pause mid-fold. “Like what? Disheveled and unprepared?”
“Comfortable,” he corrects. “Like yourself.”
You clear your throat and gesture to the bag. “Well… you coming all this way with food means you’re definitely staying to eat, right?”
He grins. “Only if you sit next to me this time.”
“Scandalous,” you murmur, already pulling out plates. “We’ll have to keep the blinds shut. Can’t let the neighbors catch me fraternizing with the flower guy.”
He lets out a low laugh as he moves to help, and just like that, the space between you feels smaller again.
You slide the plates across the counter toward him, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his as you settle into the rhythm of unpacking the food. The scent of grilled meat, garlic, and rice fills the space, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the easy comfort of it.
“How was your morning?”
He leans back a little against your counter, breaking apart his chopsticks slowly, like he has time—like he’s in no rush at all.
“Golf,” he says. “Jeonghan roped me into it. He and Joshua have this bet going about who’ll finally beat me. Spoiler: they didn’t.”
You snort softly. “Let me guess. You smiled once and they thought something was wrong?”
He looks up at you, surprised, then chuckles. “Actually, yeah. Jeonghan thought the world was ending.”
“Because you were texting me?”
His gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long.
“Maybe.”
You look away then, biting back the way your heart trips at the casual weight of his honesty.
You try to keep your voice light. “You like golf?”
“I like the quiet,” he says. “And the way it slows everything down. Plus, it's one of the few times the guys don't expect me to be in CEO mode.”
You blink. “Wait—CEO mode?”
His smile turns crooked, caught between smug and sheepish. “You didn’t know?”
Your mouth opens, then closes. “You told me you work in management!”
“I do,” he says innocently. “Technically.”
You gape at him. “You're ridiculous.”
“And you're adorable when you're annoyed,” he replies, grinning as he sets the table with casual precision.
You shake your head, still reeling, still smiling despite yourself.
“Fine,” you say, settling down beside him. “You can be mysterious and charming and maddening later. Right now, just tell me more about your morning. What else happened?”
And he does. He tells you about the way Joshua nearly ran over Jeonghan’s foot with the golf cart. How the coffee at the clubhouse was abysmal. How the sun was too bright but the breeze made up for it. And you listen like it’s the most interesting story you’ve ever heard.
You finish the last few bites of your meal, chopsticks tapping against the empty container as you sit back with a satisfied sigh.
“So,” you say, stretching slightly, “since you’re already here, Mr. CEO—”
His brow arches, amused. “Oh, we’re using titles now?”
You ignore that smug little curve of his mouth. “Since you're already so generously spending time with a commoner like me, mind helping with a few things?”
He eyes you, mock suspicion in his gaze. “Define few.”
You push off the counter and gesture for him to follow you down the short hallway.
“It’s really just one thing. I’ve been putting it off because I like having a functional spine.”
You stop in front of your bedroom door, already bracing yourself for the impending chaos he’s about to witness. With a deep breath, you push it open and point to the far corner of the room.
“That,” you say flatly, “has not moved since I moved in. It’s heavier than it looks and it hates me.”
Seungcheol steps in behind you, eyes landing on the wide, solid wood dresser wedged awkwardly against the wall. He whistles low.
“Yeah, okay. That thing looks like it weighs more than I do.”
You cross your arms, already grinning. “Don’t be dramatic. I just need it shifted a little to the left so I can finally plug in the lamp I’ve had sitting on the floor”
“And you were just gonna… try to do this alone?”
“I tried. Got maybe an inch before I considered calling emergency services.”
He laughs, shaking his head, already flexing his fingers like he’s warming up. “Alright, move aside. Let me show you what those gym memberships are actually good for.”
You step back, arms folded, watching as he tests the weight, then—with alarming ease—shifts the dresser a few inches left, then a bit more, until it’s perfectly centered beneath the window.
“That’s it? That was like, two seconds.”
He turns, feigning a wipe of imaginary sweat from his brow. “You’re welcome, peasant.”
You scoff. “Okay, that’s the last time I compliment your arms.”
The sunlight hits him just right, painting golden streaks across his face and forearms, and for a second, the whole room feels brighter. Lighter.
“You’re trouble,” you murmur, half to yourself.
He catches it anyway, walking back over until he’s standing in front of you again, too close in that now-familiar, deliberate way.
“And you keep inviting me over,” he says, voice low and warm. “What does that make you?”
“Worse than I thought, apparently.”
He grins. “Good.”
And just like that—helping you move a dresser somehow becomes its own kind of intimacy. Domestic. Quiet. Dangerous in all the best, slow-burning ways.
Then something catches his eyes on something behind your desk. He drifts toward it, more curious than anything, his gaze pulled by the small burst of color on the wall.
It’s a collage of sorts, not perfectly arranged, but it has that personal, lived-in charm. Polaroids with slightly smudged ink dates along the bottom, movie tickets curled at the corners, scribbled notes, travel stubs, even a pressed flower or two.
A few things are clearly sentimental, a few probably meaningless to anyone but you.
But it’s the tiny folded receipt pinned neatly in the corner that catches his eye. Barely noticeable, until he sees the logo.
The bar.
He steps closer, mouth quirking slightly. “You kept this?”
You glance over from where you're fluffing the pillow he nearly flattened earlier. “Hm?”
He taps the pinned slip, and your eyes flick toward it.
“Oh.” You laugh softly, walking over to stand beside him. “Yeah. It felt... significant, I guess. A good story.”
“You keep a lot of stories, huh?” he asks, gesturing to the wall.
You shrug, suddenly shy. “I like remembering things. Even the dumb ones. Even the weird little in-between moments. They make everything feel more real.”
“Where’s the part where you almost got kissed by a stranger pretending to be your boyfriend?”
You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “You’re lucky I didn’t choose someone taller.”
“I’m lucky you chose me at all,” he says, quiet but clear, not teasing.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full—warm. Like the pause after a really good line in a movie, one that doesn’t need music or movement to make it matter.
You glance back at the wall, at the receipt, the night that started all of this.
“Guess that night’s part of the wall now,” you murmur. “Part of the story.”
His eyes flick back to you, amused. “So you’re the sentimental type.”
You raise a brow, lips twitching. “Why? That not fit into your little criteria?”
Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning you in that quietly intense way that always makes you feel like you’re being read instead of looked at. His voice drops, warm and smooth.
“I don’t think I ever had a real list.”
You scoff lightly. “Please. Everyone has a list.”
He grins. “Fine. Maybe I thought I’d go for someone less likely to keep bar receipts and concert stubs like museum exhibits.”
You feign offense. “Wow. So judgmental for someone who literally sent me florals with emotional implications.”
“That was strategic,” he deadpans.
“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure flirting with me in front of your friends was all part of some master CEO plan too.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies you for a long moment, something unreadable behind that steady gaze.
From then on, the flowers keep coming. Not every day but often enough that it’s clear there’s a pattern. An intention.
Sometimes it’s a soft arrangement of lilies and baby’s breath that arrives late in the morning with a note scrawled in that clean, all-too-neat handwriting: Don’t skip lunch today.
Other days it’s bold peonies or deep red ranunculus, tucked into a glass vase that seems to match your desk without trying.
One morning it’s a single sunflower with a post-it: Because you were complaining about deadlines. Sun’s out now.
And in between the deliveries, there are lunches—casual, spontaneous. A text at 11:32 a.m.: You free? I’m craving something spicy.
Or dinner on the way home from work, when you say you’re too tired to cook and he offers takeout. He picks you up like it’s routine, like the two of you have been doing this for years.
He holds doors open, lets you steal bites off his plate, keeps track of which side of the booth you like to sit on. He remembers you hate soggy fries and that you get cranky when you skip breakfast. And when your wrist started aching from too much typing, a small ergonomic mouse showed up at your office two days later. No note. No message. Just Seungcheol, a few hours later at dinner, asking casually, You get that thing I sent? Like he hadn’t just studied your habits like they were blueprints.
One night, you tease him. “You always feed people this well when you’re trying to win them over?”
He glances at you across the table, eyes warm, steady.
“No,” he says. “Just you.”
And it’s not a confession. Not really but your heart answers like it is. He grins at that—slow and lazy, like he’s been waiting for you to say it.
“Careful now,” you say, voice light, but your eyes don’t leave his, “I might get used to being spoiled.”
He leans back in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the booth, and he gives you that look
“And what exactly would be the downside of that?”
You hum, pretending to consider it, swirling the last of your drink with your straw. “Mm, I don’t know. Expectations. Disappointment. Sudden withdrawal of dumpling privileges.”
He chuckles, low and smooth. “I don’t take things back once I give them.”
You glance at him sideways, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Sounds like a threat.”
He tilts his head, his smile softening. “Sounds like a promise.”
For a second, the noise of the restaurant fades behind the weight of those words—like the hum of conversation, the clink of plates, even the music playing overhead all quiet just enough to make space for the way he’s looking at you.
You feel it, the shift. Again.
And you could say something sarcastic, you could push it away with another joke—but you don’t. Instead, you let the moment hang there, rich and charged.
“You keep this up,” you murmur, “and I might start thinking you actually like me.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.
“Good,” he says. “That’s the idea.”
You swirl your drink once more, watching the ice clink softly against the glass before glancing up at him with a sly tilt to your head.
“So…” you start, casual—too casual. “How many more dinners like this before the kiss?”
Seungcheol’s fingers pause mid-reach for his glass, his eyes lifting to yours, slow and deliberate. There’s that smirk again—just a shade more dangerous now, edged with the kind of tension you’ve both been dancing around for days.
He leans in a little, arms resting on the table, and his voice drops low. “You keeping count?”
You shrug, the corner of your mouth twitching. “I’m just saying… that first night? You played the part really well. Had me thinking you were the type to go in for the dramatic, sweep-her-off-her-feet, movie-scene kiss.”
“I remember,” he says. “You were looking at me like you were waiting for it.”
Your laugh is soft, quiet. “Maybe I was.”
“So what number is this then? Dinner four? Five? Let’s call it four and a half. One of those was technically just noodles and complaining about work.”
“So what you’re saying is… I’m close.” You lift your glass to your lips, hiding your grin behind the rim.
“Closer than you think. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth the wait.”
And you believe him. God help you, you really do.
“You’re really making me wait for this kiss, huh?”
Seungcheol’s lips part, not in surprise exactly, but like he wasn’t expecting you to say it so directly. His gaze drops to your mouth for the briefest second, and it’s subtlebut enough that your heart skips once, hard.
He exhales, and the corner of his mouth lifts like he’s trying not to let it turn into a full smile. “I told you,” he murmurs, “I make things worth it.”
“Yeah, but now I’m starting to think you like the anticipation too much.”
“I do,” he says without missing a beat. “But I like your reaction more.”
Your brows lift. “My reaction?”
“The way you look at me,” he says, quietly now, eyes not wavering. “The way you lean in just a little closer when you think I might—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just lets it hang there between you, heavy and electric.
“You’re dangerous,” you whisper. Your heart’s hammering now, a rhythm too loud to ignore, and still he doesn’t close the distance.
“You’re really not going to kiss me,” you say, half a laugh, half a dare.
He tilts his head slightly, like he’s deciding something. Then—
“I will,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “But not here.”
Your breath catches. “Why not?”
His eyes flick to the restaurant around you. “Because when I finally do, I’m not sharing it with a room full of strangers.”
And just like that, your skin is flushed, your chest tight, and you’re no longer thinking about how long it’s been—but how close you are now. How much more you want.
The moment you step out into the night, the cool air brushing against your skin like a sigh, his hand finds yours. No hesitation. No theatrics. Just warm fingers threading through yours like they’ve done it a thousand times.
You glance at him, heart kicking once against your ribs.
He doesn’t look over. Doesn’t need to. His grip is steady, his stride unhurried, and there’s something about the way he holds you—like it’s not even a decision anymore. Just instinct.
When you reach the car, he lets go only to open the door for you. Still without a word. Still with that same quiet, unrushed certainty. He waits until you’re seated, until the seatbelt clicks, before he rounds the front and slides into the driver’s seat beside you.
No questions.
No where to?
He starts the engine and pulls out into the street like he already knows. Because he does. He’s memorized your route home—left turns, shortcut alleys, that one spot where traffic always sucks near the crosswalk.
And for a moment, you sit in the silence of the ride, his hand resting on the gearshift, the lights of the city playing soft across his profile.
You lean your head against the seat, watching him through the slow hum of passing streetlights. “You’re a little scary when you’re this confident.”
“I’m always this confident,” he murmurs, eyes forward, that same grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
You laugh under your breath. “Cocky.”
He doesn’t deny it. But when he reaches over at the next red light, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand, there’s a softness in it—something that betrays the calm exterior. Something that says: I’m not rushing. But I’m sure.
And it steals your breath more than any kiss might’ve.
=
Seungcheol’s already at his desk when Jeonghan strolls into his office unannounced, like he owns the place. He’s got that look on his face too. mischief bubbling just beneath the surface, like he’s been waiting for this all morning.
Seungcheol doesn’t look up from his laptop. “No.”
“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Jeonghan counters, already dropping into one of the chairs across from the desk, far too comfortable for someone who doesn’t technically work in this building.
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
Jeonghan grins. “Fine. If you insist, I’ll start. One: she completely held her own last night. Didn’t flinch once when Mingyu started rapid-ordering food like he was feeding an army.”
Recalling last night when Seungcheol took you with him for drinks out with the guys. Surprising everyone.
“She’s impressive,” Seungcheol says simply, and this time he does glance up, barely trying to hide the small, proud smile tugging at his mouth.
Jeonghan points. “That. That smile. That’s what I came here for. I knew you were gone the moment she toasted Soonyoung under the table.”
Seungcheol just leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “He challenged her. It’s on him.”
“And she won. You know what that means? She’s one of us now. And more importantly…” Jeonghan leans in dramatically. “You’re so in it, man.”
“I drove her home,” Seungcheol says casually, but the softness in his voice betrays him.
Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “And?”
“And nothing.”
Jeonghan groans. “You’re seriously dragging this out? You're the most controlled man I know, and even I was rooting for a kiss.”
Seungcheol just smirks. “Told her I’d kiss her when she’s sober.”
Jeonghan stares. Then throws his head back with a groan. “You’re hopeless. Ridiculously swoony and hopeless.”
“I like her,” Seungcheol says, tone low and honest.
And that—that—makes Jeonghan pause. His teasing drops, just for a second. Because when Seungcheol says it like that, not as a joke or a half-guarded confession, but as a fact... it’s real.
He leans back, quieter now. “Yeah. I know you do.”
There’s a beat of silence between them before Jeonghan can’t help himself. “Still. If this ends in wedding bells, I’m officiating. Or, at the very least, giving the toast.”
Seungcheol sighs, already regretting letting him in.
Jeonghan grins again. “Don’t worry. I’ll start writing my speech.”
=
The city blurs past the windows in a soft hum of motion, headlights washing warm streaks of gold across your skin as you talk—casually, openly, like you always do now.
You’re curled in the passenger seat with your legs tucked under you, your shoes kicked off and your fingers fidgeting absently with the soft edge of the blanket draped over your lap. His blanket. The one he insisted on leaving in the car after you shivered just once during a late drive home.
Seungcheol doesn’t say much as you talk, but he glances over often—tiny flickers of attention between the road and you, like he’s memorizing pieces of the moment to revisit later. His left hand rests on the steering wheel, right one easy on the gear shift, the movement of his thumb mirroring the rhythm of your voice. Calm. Comforting.
You’re halfway through rambling about a disaster of a meeting you had that morning when your train of thought stutters.
“Oh,” you say, almost too quickly. “I—actually. Meant to ask you something.”
He hums, a lazy sound that rumbles in his chest. “Yeah?”
You hesitate. Just a second too long. He picks up on it immediately, his gaze flickering your way.
You’re looking down now, fiddling with the corner of the blanket, suddenly hyperaware of the lip gloss you left in his cup holder and the extra hair tie wrapped around his rearview mirror. There are little bits of you all over his car now. Just like there are little bits of him scattered across your days.
“So…” you start, trying for casual, but it comes out a little breathy. “There’s this wedding. In a couple weeks. One of my friends from college.”
You chance a glance at him. He’s still driving, still calm, but his head tilts slightly. Listening.
“I kind of... need a plus one,” you go on. “Well, I don’t need one, technically, but everyone’s bringing someone, and—” You bite your lip, nerves buzzing. “I just thought maybe… if you’re free, you could come? With me.”
“You want me to go with you?” he asks, voice low, like he’s checking—really checking—that he heard right.
You nod, trying to keep your voice light, even as your heart feels like it’s doing cartwheels. “Yeah. I mean, you’d probably hate it. Lots of mingling. Dancing. Champagne. Small talk with strangers.”
He smiles a little. “And you want me to be your date.”
You blink at him. “Well… yeah.”
The light turns green. He doesn’t move. Not yet. His eyes are on you, steady and searching, and the longer he looks, the more you feel exposed—in a good way. In a real way.
“I’ll go,” he says finally, with that soft certainty that always makes your chest ache. “Of course I’ll go.”
Your breath whooshes out of you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he repeats, eyes on the road now as the car starts moving again. “But only if I get to keep pretending I’m your boyfriend.”
You laugh, startled by how easy he makes it feel, how warm your chest goes at his words. “Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Pretending?”
His grip on the steering wheel shifts. “You tell me.”
And you don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know but because the answer sits somewhere in the middle of your ribs, nestled against every glance, every ride home, every shoulder kiss and every moment he’s chosen to stay.
When you reach your building, he parks without asking for directions. Of course he does. He knows the way by heart now.
As you’re getting out, he catches your wrist gently. “Text me the details,” he says, voice lower now, more serious. “What time. What to wear.”
You nod, and your throat’s a little tight. “Okay.”
It’s one of those perfect afternoons. the kind that hangs suspended between spring and summer, warm without being too hot, a breeze just light enough to make your dress flutter as you wait outside your building.
You’re not waiting long.
His car pulls up exactly on time, and you catch sight of him behind the wheel through the windshield—dark suit, crisp white shirt, and a tie that looks suspiciously like it was chosen to match the color of your dress.
Your heart kicks up, stupid and traitorous in your chest, because he looks good. Too good. Like the kind of man who belongs on magazine covers, not in your driveway.
And then he steps out.
He smooths a hand down the front of his suit jacket, one brow lifting the moment he sees you. “Wow,” he says, low and honest, eyes sweeping over you with a slow, appreciative gaze that makes heat crawl up your neck. “I knew you’d look beautiful, but... I wasn’t ready.”
You try for casual, but your grin gives you away. “You clean up alright yourself, Mr. CEO.”
He holds the car door open for you without a word, and when you slide in, you spot the little extra things right away. Your favorite mints in the cup holder. A spare hair tie looped on the gearshift. He doesn’t say anything about them, but the details are there—always there.
“You nervous?” he asks at one point, tone light.
You shake your head. “About the wedding? No. They’re the ones getting married. I’m just there to eat cake.”
He smiles. “About me being your date, then?”
You pause, then look over at him with a soft grin. “Not even a little.”
When you get to the venue, it’s like the entire world slows for a second. The moment you both step out of the car and walk in together—side by side, his hand hovering at the small of your back, your arms brushing as you walk—you feel it. The glances. The looks.
You were right. Everyone did bring someone. And yet somehow, you’re the one that people can’t stop staring at.
Because of him.
Because of the way Seungcheol exists in a room like he’s always been meant to be there—quietly powerful, quietly yours.
Introductions start slow. your friends immediately curious, trying to figure him out. But Seungcheol handles them all with the kind of smooth charm that makes you want to simultaneously laugh and melt.
He’s polite. Warm. Slightly reserved. But he doesn’t leave your side once, and when your hand accidentally brushes his under the table during dinner, he doesn’t pull away.
It’s only when you're both standing off to the side during a slow song, sipping champagne and laughing at the clumsy first-dance attempts on the floor, that he leans down, voice brushing your ear.
“You know,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you stop smiling since we got here.”
You glance up at him, heart thudding. “Yeah? Is that a bad thing?”
He meets your eyes. “No. I think I’d like to be the reason behind it more often.”
He holds out his hand. “Come dance with me?”
And with your fingers in his, his suit pressed lightly to your side, his palm warm at your back, you finally stop waiting. Because this, him, was worth every slow, drawn-out second.
You don’t realize how naturally it happens. How easily you lean into him, how right it feels to have your hand resting lightly on his shoulder while his other hand holds your waist, not too tight, but firm.
“You’re not a bad dancer,” you murmur, the tease threading through your voice.
Seungcheol lets out a low laugh, eyes twinkling as he looks down at you. “I had to learn. It was either that or embarrass myself at corporate galas.”
You tilt your head, smirking. “So I’m your rehearsal?”
He leans in, just enough that you feel his breath along your cheek. “No,” he says softly. “You’re the reason I’m glad I learned.”
That shuts you up for a second—not because you don’t have a comeback, but because the way he says it—earnest, grounded—makes your heart stumble in your chest.
“I still haven’t kissed you,” he says quietly, almost like he’s reminding himself. “And you’ve been very patient.”
“Painfully patient,” you whisper back. He smiles, but it’s different this time. Not teasing. Just full of something so genuine it makes your stomach twist.
“But this moment,” he says, pulling you in just a little closer, “this right here… I didn’t want to rush it. You deserve the good kind of build-up.”
You swallow. “So… this is a build-up?”
“Isn’t it?” he murmurs. “Every time I pick you up. Every dinner. Every time you leave your things in my car on purpose.”
“I don’t—” You try to defend yourself, but he grins, cutting you off.
“I like it,” he admits. “I like all of it. Even the fact that your lip gloss has now permanently scented my dashboard.”
You laugh, cheeks warm. “You’re very sentimental for someone who pretends not to be.”
“And you’re very brave for someone who said they weren’t looking for anything serious,” he counters.
That gives you pause. Because he’s not wrong.
You didn’t plan for any of this. But then again, you didn’t plan on walking up to a stranger at a bar just to escape a persistent creep either. And now… now you’re dancing with that stranger at your friend’s wedding while the night curls around the two of you like it knew.
“I still don’t know what we are,” you say finally, your voice lower, honest.
Seungcheol’s thumb brushes your waist gently, like he feels the shift.
“You don’t have to name it,” he says. “Not yet.”
“But you already have,” you murmur, meeting his gaze.
He looks at you for a long second. “Only in my head.”
You smile. “What is it, then?”
His grip on you tightens ever so slightly.
“Mine.” he says.
Just like that the music slows to an end, but he doesn't let go. And when the moment feels just too full, too warm, too close. His hand lifts gently to your jaw. His thumb grazes your cheek. And this time, finally, he doesn’t kiss your shoulder.
He kisses you.
It’s soft at first. A gentle brush of lips that speaks less of fireworks and more of certainty like he’s been waiting for just the right moment.
You don’t even realize your hands have slipped up to his chest, anchoring yourself as his other arm wraps around your waist to keep you close. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the quiet, unspoken truth of it sinking into your bones—that this kiss was a long time coming. T
When you part, barely an inch between you, your forehead lingers against his. Your heart beats like it’s trying to memorize the rhythm of his.
“Finally,” you whisper.
Seungcheol chuckles, low and husky, still close enough that his breath grazes your lips. “Was it worth the wait?”
You tilt your head just enough to press another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll let you know after the second one.”
He smiles like he can’t help it, like something warm is cracking open in his chest. “Greedy.”
“Very,” you reply without missing a beat.
You don’t even care that you’re standing in the middle of a wedding reception, that people are milling around behind you with cake and champagne and whispered guesses about who you are. None of that matters.
Because he’s still looking at you like you’re the only thing that does.
When you got to your building he offered to walk you up. Standing outside your door, your fingers are curled into the lapel of Seungcheol’s suit jacket, your mouth barely a breath away from his when the sound of someone clearing their throat slices right through the moment.
You both flinch, pulling apart like guilty teenagers caught sneaking out after curfew.
Your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”
Your mom stands there in front of your apartment door, arms crossed and one brow raised with terrifying precision, the classic mom look of I have questions and you better answer them properly.
She blinks slowly, then turns to Seungcheol with the kind of pointed interest that has your soul trying to escape your body.
“And who,” she says, sweetly, “might this be?”
You swallow. “Uh. Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?”
“I texted. You didn’t answer. So I thought I’d drop off some side dishes I made.” She holds up the container bag like evidence. “Good thing I came, it seems.”
You’re nearly sweating. Seungcheol, on the other hand, somehow still looks calm. Like he didn’t just almost get caught mid-doorstep make-out by your mother.
He straightens, then offers your mom a polite bow. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Choi Seungcheol. I was just dropping her off after a wedding.”
Your mom gives him a long once-over, then side-eyes you. “A wedding? Interesting. And how long has this Choi Seungcheol been around?”
“Mom,” you groan, but Seungcheol beats you to it.
“Not very long,” he replies easily. “But I’m hoping to stick around a while.”
You gape at him.
Your mom narrows her eyes. “Is that right?”
“If she’ll let me.”
Your mom stares at him another beat. Then to your utter disbelief, she… smiles. “Hmm. Well. At least you’re polite.”
You’re still recovering when she presses the container into your hands. “These are for you. You too, I suppose, since you’re clearly being fed well.”
Seungcheol accepts them with a small bow and a quiet “thank you.”
Your mom gives him one last look, then leans in to whisper (not quietly at all), “She likes flowers. And she talks in her sleep.”
“Mom!”
She pats your cheek and strolls away like she didn’t just commit emotional homicide.
You turn to Seungcheol, mortified. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe—”
But he’s already smiling. Like really smiling. “That was the best first ‘meet the parent’ ambush I’ve ever had.”
Seungcheol’s in his office early the next morning, already settled in behind his desk. His sleeves are rolled up, fingers tapping out a light rhythm on the edge of his desk as he hums a low, tuneless melody to himself.
He’s got that look on his face, the rare kind his staff sees maybe three times a year, a glint in his eyes like he just won the lottery and the stock market. Every so often, he pauses to check his phone, then smiles like someone just whispered a joke in his ear.
That’s exactly the energy Joshua and Jeonghan walk in on.
“Okay,” Jeonghan says slowly, not even trying to hide the suspicion in his voice. “Who are you and what have you done with our very serious, emotionally constipated CEO?”
Seungcheol doesn’t look up. “Good morning to you too.”
Joshua squints. “Is that... whistling? Are you—tapping your foot?”
Jeonghan drops into the seat across from him and kicks his legs up on the coffee table like he owns the place. “You’re smiling. Like smiling smiling. The last time you were this chipper was when we landed the Tokyo account and you got to yell at someone in perfect Japanese.”
Joshua leans against the wall. “No offense, man, but it’s kind of weirding me out. Is this like… a blood sugar thing? Are you okay?”
Seungcheol leans back in his chair, stretching with a soft groan and a big, satisfied sigh. “I’m great.”
“Yeah. We can tell.” Jeonghan raises a brow. “So go on. Tell the class. What happened”
Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away, just glances at his phone again with that same soft smile playing at his lips.
Jeonghan and Joshua exchange looks.
“Oh my god,” Jeonghan breathes, sitting up straighter. “It’s her, isn’t it? The bar girl. Your girl.”
Joshua’s eyes widen. “The one who literally drank Soonyoung under the table?”
“She’s not my girl, yet” Seungcheol says quickly—but his voice betrays him with the slightest upward lilt at the end, like even he doesn’t believe himself.
Jeonghan leans forward, both elbows on his knees. “So what happened last night? Because whatever it was, you’re acting like a man in love.”
“I am not in—” Seungcheol stops himself, mutters something under his breath, then groans as he runs a hand over his face. “You two are insufferable.”
“Did she finally kiss you?”
“Technically,” Seungcheol replies slowly, “I kissed her. But only after she asked for the third time.”
Jeonghan lets out a bark of laughter. “Took you long enough, Romeo.”
“It wasn’t about taking my time,” Seungcheol mumbles, and then lowers his voice, more to himself than to them. “I just… didn’t want to screw it up.”
There’s a beat of quiet.
Joshua softens. “You like her.”
Seungcheol doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”
Jeonghan’s watching him, a little differently now. Less teasing, more thoughtful. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“She asked me to be her plus-one to a wedding,” Seungcheol replies, then glances at them, almost shy. “And I met her mom.”
Joshua and Jeonghan practically explode.
“You what?”
Seungcheol winces. “It wasn’t planned—her mom showed up at her apartment with side dishes and caught us on the doorstep. Thought I was her boyfriend or something.”
Jeonghan is beside himself. “And you survived? No wounds? No emotional damage?”
“She liked me.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Joshua says. “We’re done for. He’s in too deep.”
“Send help,” Jeonghan deadpans, placing a hand over his heart. “Our friend is gone. Replaced by this domestic, well-fed, love-struck clone.”
“I’m not love-struck.”
“You’re literally glowing.”
Seungcheol shakes his head with a small chuckle. “Shut up.”
But he’s still smiling.
Seungcheol’s phone buzzes once, then again—your contact lighting up on the screen. His hand darts for the phone almost too eagerly, thumb swiping before the second ring finishes.
“Hey,” he answers, voice dropping into something soft and familiar, like the two of you are already alone in a room and not with Jeonghan and Joshua both watching like hawks from a few feet away.
You laugh softly on the other end. “Hi. Sorry, are you busy?”
“No,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve got time.”
Jeonghan mouths liar and Joshua smirks.
“So, I was gonna text, but my mom insisted I call. She’s making dinner tonight and… well, she asked if you’d like to come?”
His heart skips in a way he’s not used to—it’s not nerves exactly, more like… something warm curling in his chest. He stands slowly, pacing to the side of the office, back turned as if it’ll make the conversation any more private.
“You sure?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not,” you assure him. “She literally made enough for an army and said, and I quote, ‘tell that polite boy to come hungry.’”
He chuckles, unable to help himself. “Guess I can’t say no to that.”
“Seven okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiles again, stupid and wide and absolutely forgetting that he is not alone.
“I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Yeah,” he says, still in that soft tone only reserved for you. “Looking forward to it.”
The call ends. He stares at the screen for a second longer before pocketing his phone, already mentally rearranging the rest of his day.
Then he turns around.
Joshua is grinning like a fox. Jeonghan has both hands folded like he’s praying. “Okay. Let’s try that again. You’re not love-struck?”
Seungcheol sighs, running a hand through his hair, the soft grin on his lips refusing to fade. “She invited me to dinner. Her mom’s cooking.”
“Oh my god,” Jeonghan groans dramatically. “That’s domesticity. That’s serious.”
“You’re doomed,” Joshua chimes in cheerfully. “Next thing we know, you’ll be asking us to be groomsmen.”
“Shut up,”
You’re halfway through setting the table when the doorbell rings, and your mom, already at the stove with her sleeves rolled up, waves you off with a knowing smile. “He’s early. That one’s got good manners. Go let him in.”
You smooth down your shirt, trying not to look too eager, but your feet are already hurrying toward the door.
When you open it, Seungcheol is there dressed in that casually polished way that makes it look like he stepped off the cover of a weekend magazine. Button-up sleeves rolled just once, watch peeking out, hair slightly tousled like he ran his fingers through it before he knocked.
And in his hands?
Two bouquets.
You blink. “Are you trying to start a flower shop?”
He grins, lifting both arrangements slightly. “One’s for you.” He holds out the first—soft colors, delicate petals, your favorites, of course. “And the other’s for your mom.”
You take the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent with a tiny smile before stepping aside. “She’s going to love that. You just earned, like, ten extra points.”
“I’m trying to rack them up,” he says lightly, stepping in and revealing the dessert box in his other hand. “Also, I may or may not have picked up your favorite. You know… just in case.”
You glance down and immediately light up. “You remembered?”
“Please,” he scoffs playfully. “You’ve only ranted about it, what, three times? Of course I remembered.”
You laugh as you lead him inside, his shoulder brushing yours in that easy, now-familiar way. Your mom peeks out from the kitchen, and her smile grows when she sees the extra bouquet.
“Oh, you charmer,” she says warmly, walking over to greet him. “Flowers again? You’re going to make all the other boys look bad.”
Seungcheol offers her the bouquet with both hands and a small bow. “I figured last time I came empty-handed, so I had to make up for it.”
Dinner’s warm and loud, your mom doing most of the talking while Seungcheol listens, chimes in with small jokes, and praises her cooking so sincerely she beams every time he opens his mouth. He’s relaxed here, blending in like he’s done it a hundred times, and somehow that’s the part that gets you.
Later, after helping clean up and exchanging stories with your mom, the two of you step out into the cool night air.
He walks beside you in silence for a moment, then glances over. “So... still thinking about replacing me with someone from a crime documentary?”
You laugh. “I don’t know. That guy probably wouldn’t have brought dessert and flowers.”
He nudges you gently. “Damn right.”
You turn to him, slowing a little on the steps outside your building. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
And there’s that pause again—that loaded, quiet moment. You can feel it, humming between you. All the things unsaid but understood. No labels, no big declarations. Just gestures and quiet moments and the space he fills beside you like he’s always belonged there.
You lean in and kiss his cheek. He’s already smiling before your lips brush his skin.
“Don’t make me wait forever, Mr. CEO.”
He grins, eyes flicking to yours. “Patience, pretty girl. I’ve got a plan.”
And somehow, you believe him.
The moment you step back inside, your mom's perched on the couch like she never moved. She's got a cup of tea in hand and a look on her face that immediately makes you nervous—too calm, too unreadable, which only ever means she’s up to something.
Seungcheol follows behind you, quietly helping carry the dessert box into the kitchen, but before either of you can pretend the evening is winding down smoothly, your mom speaks up—tone light, but very deliberate.
“So…” she starts, gaze sliding over to Seungcheol like she’s just making small talk, “are you gonna marry my girl, or what?”
You nearly choke on air. “Mom!”
“What?” she shrugs, totally unbothered. “You’re both at the right age. You like each other. He’s handsome, polite, he brings flowers and dessert. I don’t want to wait another five years for grandchildren.”
“Oh my god—” you groan, half-burying your face in your hands.
But Seungcheol? Not flustered. Not even close. In fact, the traitorous man has the audacity to smile. A slow, confident one that only makes your embarrassment worse.
“Well,” he says, glancing at you before looking back at your mom, “if she keeps letting me stick around, who knows?”
Your mom raises a brow, then nods approvingly. “Good answer. You’re growing on me more and more, you know that?”
Seungcheol laughs, and you’re halfway to combusting. “Okay! Time to say goodnight, this interrogation is over,” you declare, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the door.
“Bye, Mom,” you grumble over your shoulder.
Your mom just waves, clearly pleased with herself. “Bye, future son-in-law!”
Seungcheol chuckles under his breath all the way down the hall. When the elevator doors close, he glances at you, amused. “So… how long do I have before she starts dress shopping?”
You glare up at him, still pink in the face. “Don’t you dare encourage her.”
“Too late.” He leans a little closer. “But if it helps…” His voice dips, teasing. “I am starting to like the sound of it.”
The elevator hums quietly as it takes you both downstairs, your hand tucked into Seungcheol’s without thinking. You walk him out to his car, the evening air crisp and still, soft with city quiet. He unlocks the door, but neither of you moves just yet.
“I’m just warning you,” you say, voice teasing, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Next time you come over, she’s not going to be asking if you’re marrying me.”
“No?”
You shake your head, grinning. “Nope. She’s skipping right ahead to asking when you’re giving her a grandchild.”
He chuckles low in his throat, eyes twinkling. “That so?”
“I can see it already,” you continue dramatically, “She’ll be standing in the kitchen, apron on, casually stirring soup while dropping 'So when’s the baby due?' like it’s small talk.”
Seungcheol leans against the car, folding his arms, that amused smile never leaving his face. “Well… we have kissed now,” he says, playful but soft. “I guess that means I should be prepared for her to start knitting booties.”
You swat his arm, trying not to laugh. “You’re too comfortable with this.”
“I’m comfortable with you,” he replies easily, gaze settling on you in that way that makes your heart skip and stumble all at once.
Seungcheol shifts closer, one hand brushing your hip before resting there, gentle but sure. “And hey,” he says, voice low, “about that kiss…”
Your breath hitches, and before you can even answer, he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours—slow and deliberate, nothing rushed, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again.
He pulls back only slightly, close enough that his nose still brushes yours. “Still got more where that came from.”
You manage a breathless laugh, fingers curling in the front of his shirt. “Dangerous man.”
He grins. “Only for you.”
When he finally slides into the driver’s seat, you linger by the open door. “Text me when you get home.”
He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course I will.”
You step back, watching as he pulls out of the lot, his hand lifting briefly in a lazy wave. And as you head back to your apartment, you already know: your mom’s going to be impossible next time.
You barely make it three steps into your apartment before your mom, still lounging in the living room like she owns the place (she kind of does, considering she brought over food and stayed uninvited), looks up from her tea and levels you with that look.
Not smug. Not surprised. Just deeply, motherly knowing.
“Oh,” she says, setting her cup down with an audible clink. “I see what this is.”
“What’s what?” you ask, walking past her, pretending to be busy as you head toward the kitchen.
But she doesn’t let you off that easy. She turns in her seat and calls out—voice just a touch singsongy.
“You love the guy.”
“What?” You laugh, unconvincing. “I don’t—what? That’s a lot, don’t you think?”
She stands, follows you to the kitchen like a shark who smells blood—or in this case, feelings.
“I’ve been watching you all day. You were smiling at your phone like a teenager,” she says, opening the fridge like she owns that too. “And when he came over? You lit up like someone plugged you in.”
You open a cabinet just to have something to do with your hands. “He’s just… nice.”
“Oh, no. Not just nice. He’s thoughtful. Respectful. Tall. Brings flowers. Carries dessert. Helped you move furniture. That man looked at you like you’re the only person on the planet.” She shuts the fridge.
“And you my sweet girl, you looked right back like he hung the moon.”
You groan, leaning against the counter. “You really don’t pull punches, huh?”
She smiles, proud. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to see through the nonsense.”
The smile that crept onto your face when Seungcheol kissed you tonight is still there. You feel it even now, this warmth that’s settled behind your ribs. It’s soft and terrifying and real.
And when you look back up, your mom’s just watching you with that soft expression, the one that says she’s been waiting for this kind of happiness to find you.
You sigh, eyes rolling, voice barely above a murmur. “Fine. I like him.”
She raises a brow.
“Okay,” you grumble. “I really like him.”
Her smile widens as she turns back toward the living room. “Took you long enough.”
=
The phone barely rings once before he picks up, voice warm and low like honey over gravel.
“Hey, baby.”
You swear your brain short-circuits for a second. The word hits you with a quiet thud right in the chest, catching you off guard even though you should be used to it by now.
“Hi,” you say, a beat late, already smiling into the receiver. “Okay, I forgot what I was gonna say for a second.”
There’s a soft laugh on his end, the kind that rumbles just under his breath. “That’s a good sign.”
You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.”
You lean against the kitchen counter, heart still doing that embarrassing little flutter. “I was just calling to see if you were gonna be busy later… I was planning to cook dinner.”
He goes quiet for half a second. Not because he’s hesitating—just because you know he’s already rearranging his whole evening in his head.
“Do I get to watch you cook?” he asks, voice lighter now, teasing.
You smirk. “That depends. Are you just gonna stand there looking pretty and touching nothing?”
“Depends. Can I taste-test?”
You scoff. “You’re just in it for the food.”
“Not true,” he says, soft again now, “but it is a very nice bonus.”
You pretend to sigh. “So… does that mean you’re coming?”
“I’ll be there,” he says without skipping a beat. “Tell me what time and I’ll bring wine.”
The ease of it makes your chest feel full, like the kind of full that wraps around your ribs and stays there.
The knock on your door is right on time—because of course it is. You’re still smoothing down your shirt when you open it, and there he is.
Wine in one hand. Flowers in the other. And that stupid smile on his face that already has you forgetting whatever it was you were about to say.
“Hi,” you breathe, just a little breathless at the sight of him. He’s in a casual button-down, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy like he ran his hands through it on the drive over. He looks good. Too good.
“For you,” he says, lifting the bouquet
“You really don’t have to keep bringing these every time, you know.”
“I know,” he says easily, already slipping out of his shoes and placing the wine on your counter. “But I like watching you smile when I do.”
You open your mouth to come up with a witty response, but it never makes it out. Because he’s suddenly in your space arms curling around your waist as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
Clingy. He’s so clingy tonight. And you love it.
“You okay?” you murmur, hugging him back.
“Just missed you,” he replies against your hair, like it’s that simple.
“You’re really not gonna let me cook, are you?” you ask, laughing as you try to wiggle out of his grasp.
“Nope.” He grins, chin resting on your shoulder. “This is a hostage situation now.”
“You’re clingy.”
“You love it.”
You glance at him over your shoulder. “I do.”
That earns you a kiss to the cheek. Then the temple. Then your neck. He’s shameless tonight. Unapologetically soft.
You try to cut up onions, but his arms stay wrapped around you the entire time, body warm at your back, like he can’t stand to be even an inch away. By the time dinner’s ready, he’s seated too close at the table, knees brushing yours under it, foot tapping against your ankle.
And when you pass him a bowl, he doesn’t let go of your hand right away. Just holds it for a second longer, thumb brushing your wrist.
“I could get used to this,” he says softly.
You smile, eyes locked with his.
He’s standing at your sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, strong hands buried in soapy water. Your purple apron is tied securely around his waist. your apron, the one with little hearts embroidered along the hem and a faint stain from that time you spilled sauce and never quite got it out.
You’re halfway through wiping down the counter when you glance up and pause, arms frozen mid-motion. Because this scene in front of you is almost too much.
Choi Seungcheol, your moody, broody, suit-wearing, don’t-mess-with-me CEO, is currently humming under his breath while washing your dinner plates in a heart-covered apron like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You wrap your arms around his middle from behind, chin pressed against the back of his shoulder. He pauses.
Then smiles, water still running as he leans back just slightly into your hold. “You done cleaning?”
“Mostly,” you hum. “I just needed a break to admire this sight.”
He chuckles, voice low, the sound vibrating through his back and into your chest. “What sight?”
“You. Domestic. In my kitchen. In my apron.”
“You mean your very fashionable, extremely purple apron?” he says, glancing down at it with mock seriousness.
“Mhm. It suits you.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah,” you say, drawing out the tease. “You look like the type of man who says things like ‘dinner’s ready, honey’ and then washes the dishes without being asked.”
“If you wanted to brag to someone, you could’ve just taken a picture.”
=
It’s a little surreal, stepping into the bar again after all these months.
The lighting’s still dim, the music low and pulsing in the background, familiar laughter echoing from the same corner booth the guys always seem to claim. Only this time, there’s no desperate escape from a stranger’s attention, no half-baked plan to use the intimidating guy in the corner to save yourself.
This time, you’re walking in hand-in-hand with him.
Seungcheol is dressed down, a fitted black tee and jeans that still somehow manage to make him look unfairly good. His hand is warm in yours, thumb drawing absent little circles on the back of your palm as he greets the guys already mid-round of drinks.
Jeonghan spots you first, grinning like he’s been waiting. “There they are! The king and queen have arrived.”
You roll your eyes. Seungcheol just chuckles, guiding you into the booth beside him. His arm slides across the back of your seat, casual and easy, but his fingers find your shoulder and rest there, grounding you like always.
It’s comfortable—normal, now.
You catch Joshua glancing between you two, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kind of wild to think it all started here, huh?”
You raise a brow. “What, the bar?”
“The act,” he teases, nodding toward Seungcheol. “Captain Broody pretending to be your boyfriend.”
“Oh,” you laugh, nudging Seungcheol playfully. “Right. That little performance.”
“Wasn’t much of an act,” he mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear.
You turn your head, surprised—and he’s already looking at you, eyes dark and soft under the warm glow of the bar lights. You swear you feel it in your stomach, that little flutter you still haven’t quite gotten used to.
He leans in closer, voice a little rougher. “What? Don’t tell me you forgot.”
You arch a brow, teasing. “Forgot what?”
“That you strut your way right up to me. All wide-eyed and bold like I wasn’t five seconds from leaving.”
“Oh please,” you grin. “You loved it.”
His smile widens. “Still do.”
The music dips into something slower, something smoother. Around you, the bar hums with noise, glasses clinking, someone laughing too loudly near the bar. But in this moment it’s just you and him.
He tugs you gently, pulling you into his side until you’re almost in his lap. You go easily, leaning into him, resting a hand on his chest.
“So,” you say with a smile, tilting your head up, “is this the part where you tell me you’re no longer my pretend boyfriend?”
He pauses like he’s considering it, then leans in until his lips are barely a breath away from yours. “Mm... maybe.”
You lift a brow. “Maybe?”
He kisses you then, slow and sure, like there’s nothing pretend about it.
Like there never was.
His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls away just slightly, lips still grazing yours.
“I’m not your pretend anything,” he whispers. “Haven’t been for a long time.”
You smile, cheeks warm, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
“Well good,” you say, heart fluttering, “because I’m pretty sure my mom already considers you family.”
He laughs, the sound low and unguarded, and kisses you again—just because he can. And you kiss him back—because it’s him.
And because this time, there’s no act, no games.
Just the two of you—right where it all began.
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Yours to Keep || J.W.W



pairing: Wonwoo x reader
wc: 4.5k
genre: fluff, angst, long-distance relationship
(a/n): missing Wonwoo hours is officially on. I just wanted to post something for him before he leaves. Also thankyou cel ( @mylovesstuffs ) and ro ( @shinysobi ) for beta reading ^^
summary: Before leaving for military service, Wonwoo hands you a disposable camera, saying, "Take a picture whenever you think of me." At first, you laugh it off, but as the days pass, you find yourself reaching for the camera more often than you expected
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The Departure
The night before he leaves, the air feels different—heavier, like the weight of unsaid words is pressing down on both of you.
You sat together on the couch, a blanket draped over both your legs, the TV playing a movie neither of you were really watching. Wonwoo’s arm was resting along the back of the couch, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, but he hasn’t touched you in a while. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows the moment he does, it’ll make leaving that much harder.
You stole a glance at him. His face is calm, unreadable, but you know him too well to be fooled. His fingers drummed softly against the fabric of his sweatpants—restless. He’s been like this all evening, like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable.
“…You should go to bed soon,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “You have to wake up early.”
Your throat tightens. So do you, you want to say, but instead, you shake your head. “Not sleepy.”
He exhales a soft laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.”
You don’t argue. Instead, you pull your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself. He watches you for a moment before reaching behind him.
“Here.” He handed you something small, something rectangular. You took it hesitantly, fingers brushing his, and when you looked down, you saw a disposable camera resting in your palm.
You blink up at him. “Wonwoo, what is this?”
He shrugs, looking almost shy. “Just thought… whenever you think of me, you could take a picture. So you won’t forget me.”
Your heart aches at the way he says it—lightly, like it’s a joke, but the meaning behind it is anything but.
“Idiot,” you murmur, gripping the camera tighter. “Like I could forget you.”
He smiles at that, but there’s something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. You don’t want this moment to end, because when it does, it means morning will come, and with it, the goodbye you’re not ready for.
But time is cruel, and before you know it, the night slips away.
—
The train station is busy, filled with people coming and going, but to you, it feels like you and Wonwoo are standing in your own little world.
You’ve never been good at goodbyes. You hate how they always feel too short, no matter how long they actually last.
Wonwoo shifts his bag on his shoulder, looking down at you. “You’ll be okay, right?”
You nod, but you don’t think you really mean it. He sees right through you, sighing as he reaches out to ruffle your hair—something he always does when he doesn’t know how else to comfort you.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry. “Liar.”
That makes him laugh, and for a moment, it’s just like any other day. Like he isn’t about to step onto that train, like he isn’t about to leave for months.
The announcement echoes overhead. Wonwoo glanced at the clock, then back at you. His eyes soften.
“Guess this is it.”
You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”
He hesitates, then reaches for your hand, squeezing it once before letting go. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. You feel the words lingering between you, the ones he’s never been good at saying out loud.
You watched as he took a step back, then another. And then, with one last lingering glance, he turns and walks away.
Your fingers tighten around the camera in your pocket.
The first picture you take is of the train as it disappears into the horizon.
The First Few Weeks
The first thing you notice is the silence.
Wonwoo never filled a room with noise—he wasn’t the type. But the absence of him is loud in a way that makes your chest feel hollow. You woke up the morning after he left, instinctively reaching for the other side of the bed, only to find cool, untouched sheets. You tell yourself it’s fine. You’ll get used to it.
Except you don’t.
The first week is the hardest. Every little thing reminds you of him. The empty coffee mug sitting on the kitchen counter because you keep forgetting that you only need one now. The folded-up blanket on the couch, still carrying the faintest trace of his cologne. The Spotify playlist he made for you playing on shuffle while you try to focus on anything that isn’t the aching space he left behind.
You held out for a call, a text—something. But the military isn’t generous with communication, and you know you won’t hear from him often. You try to be rational about it. You tried to focus on other things. But every time your phone lit up, your heart stumbled, hoping it was him.
It never is.
You don’t want to admit how much you miss him. It’s embarrassing, really. He’s only been gone for a few days, and you’re acting like you’ve been separated for years. But the quiet moments are the worst—the ones where you have no distractions, nowhere to direct your thoughts.
And that’s when you remembered the camera.
It had been sitting on your nightstand since he gave it to you, untouched. You pick it up hesitantly, rolling it over in your hands.
"Whenever you think of me, take a picture."
You scoffed under your breath. He’s going to regret saying that.
Because the first picture you take is of his empty side of the bed—a silent complaint, a little jab at how much you miss him already. You didn't let yourself linger on it for too long, tossing the camera back onto the nightstand and climbing out of bed.
___
Days passed, and the camera became an extension of your routine.
You take pictures without thinking too hard about it, little pieces of your life that he’s no longer here to witness. The second picture is your morning coffee, still made in two mugs before you remember there’s no one to drink the other. The third is the bookshop you both love, his favorite aisle tucked into a quiet corner.
You find yourself narrating moments to him in your head, like he’s still beside you. Wonwoo, you wouldn’t believe the way our neighbor’s cat tried to steal my lunch today. Wonwoo, I went to that ramen place you like, and they gave me extra toppings because they felt bad I was eating alone.
You don’t say them out loud, but somehow, taking the pictures feels like sending a message. Like you’re keeping a record of your days, waiting to share them with him when he comes back.
___
One evening, you caught yourself reaching for your phone before realizing, again, that you couldn't call him. Frustrated, you grab the camera and snap a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror—tired eyes, a messy ponytail, an expression that practically screams, "I miss you, idiot."
You roll your eyes at yourself. Pathetic.
Still, you didn't delete it.
Somewhere in the quiet, you started to realize—this wasn't just about missing him. This was proof. Proof that life is still moving, that you’re still finding ways to smile, to laugh, to exist, even in his absence.
And maybe, just maybe, when he finally came back, you’d hand him this little stack of memories and say—
"See? I never stopped thinking of you."
The Changing Seasons
The world keeps turning, even when part of you feels frozen in time.
Autumn faded into winter, and with it, the sharpness of your grief softened. Missing Wonwoo doesn’t feel like an open wound anymore—it becomes a quiet, familiar ache, something that sits in your chest like a second heartbeat. You still woke up reaching for him, still caught yourself glancing at your phone too often, but the loneliness no longer consumed you.
Winter was harsh this year. The first snowfall blankets the city in white, and for a moment, it’s almost beautiful. You remember the way Wonwoo used to stick his hands into his coat pockets, his nose red from the cold, mumbling about how he’d rather be inside reading. The memory makes you smile, and without thinking, you grab the camera.
Click. A picture of the snow-covered street. The kind of scene he’d roll his eyes at but secretly find pretty.
The days were slow, but they passed. You kept moving forward, one foot in front of the other. Work keeps you busy, friends pull you into plans you’d rather avoid, but you go anyway—because that’s what Wonwoo would want.
You started writing him letters.
Not the kind you send—just scribbled thoughts on paper, folded neatly and tucked away. Some are short: I saw someone today who looked like you, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Others are longer, rambling about your day, the books you’ve been reading, the songs you’ve been listening to. It’s comforting, in a way, to pretend he’ll read them someday.
Then spring came, and with it, a shift.
The world thawed. Trees blossom, the air turns warm, and the weight on your shoulders lifts—just a little. It’s strange how time does that. How grief doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape, fitting itself into the life you’re still trying to live.
You took more pictures now. Not just for him, but for yourself.
The cherry blossoms are in full bloom—soft pink petals against the sky.
The first ice cream of the season, melting too fast in the sun.
A selfie, just to prove to yourself that you’re still here, still living.
There was a moment—just a fleeting one—where you thought, Maybe I’m okay.
Then summer arrived.
And so did his letter.
You recognized his handwriting instantly, your breath catching as you tore open the envelope. It was short, because Wonwoo had never been one for long-winded words.
"I miss you. Are you still taking pictures?"
Your hands shook as you held the paper.
And for the first time in months, you cried.
Not because of sadness. Not because of longing.
But because you finally understood.
This distance—it was temporary. Seasons change. Time moves. And eventually, he’ll come home.
And when he does, you’ll have a whole life’s worth of memories waiting for him.
The Hardest Days
Some days pass in a blur—wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. You go through the motions, keeping busy enough that the ache in your chest doesn’t have time to settle. But the hardest days?
The hardest days drag.
They stretch endlessly, pressing down on you until you feel like you might sink under the weight of them. They aren’t loud or dramatic; they don’t come with warning signs. Instead, they creep in quietly, disguised as ordinary moments that turn into reminders of how much you miss him.
__
The first bad day comes two weeks after Wonwoo leaves.
You were doing okay, keeping yourself distracted, until you stepped into your favorite bookstore—the one you used to visit together. At first, it felt fine. You even reached for a book you thought he’d like, flipping through the pages with a small smile.
Then, you glanced to your right.
His usual spot—third shelf from the entrance, where he’d always linger, eyes scanning the titles like he was searching for something he’d lost—was empty.
The realization hit you like a punch to the stomach. You could almost see him there, adjusting his glasses, tilting his head slightly in thought. You could hear his voice in your head, muttering about how he “wasn’t going to buy anything this time” only to walk out with three new books.
But he wasn’t there.
And for the first time since he left, you truly felt his absence.
You left without buying anything.
__
The days bleed into each other after that. Some are manageable. Others make you feel like time is moving too slowly, stretching the distance between you even further.
Then the second bad day comes.
It starts with an innocent notification—a new game update.
Wonwoo had been so excited about this one. He’d rambled about it for weeks, explaining all the new features in way too much detail, his eyes lighting up in that rare, boyish way. You’d teased him for it, but truthfully, you’d loved seeing him that excited.
Your fingers hover over your phone, debating whether to open the game.
But what’s the point? He’s not here to play with you. There won’t be any late-night matches, no playful competition, no quiet chuckles when you mess up and pretend it was lag.
Still, you tap the icon. The screen loads, and suddenly, your vision blurs.
Because there—at the top of your friend list—is his username, followed by the dreaded words:
"Last online: 14 days ago."
The tears come faster than you expect.
You stare at the screen for a long time, hands clenched tightly around your phone, chest aching in ways you don’t know how to fix. The world keeps moving, but for you, time feels frozen in the moment he left.
___
And then, the hardest day of them all.
It’s late—past midnight. You should have been sleeping, but instead, you were lying in bed, curled up under the blanket Wonwoo used to steal half of.
Your body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and loneliness.
You roll over, reaching for your phone, because on nights like this, instinct takes over. You want to call him. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s still there, even from miles away.
But you can’t.
So instead, you do something even more reckless.
You scroll up in your messages. Past the "good luck" text you sent before he left. Past the "I landed safely" reply he sent hours later. Past the little check-ins, the random inside jokes, the "I miss you too" he sent on a particularly bad night.
You scroll all the way back—weeks, months—until you find the voice messages.
Your fingers tremble as you press play.
"You always stay up too late, you know that?" Wonwoo’s voice filters through the speaker, quiet and familiar.
"I swear, if you don’t start sleeping earlier, I’m gonna—ugh, never mind. Just take care of yourself, okay?"
There’s a slight pause, then a soft chuckle.
"You’re probably rolling your eyes right now."
A shaky breath leaves your lips.
"Alright, go to sleep. Goodnight, dummy."
The recording ends. The silence that follows is deafening.
And that’s when it really hits.
It’s not just that you miss him. It’s not just loneliness. It’s the fact that you can’t reach for him whenever you want. You can’t call him and expect an immediate answer. You can’t see him, can’t hear his real-time reactions, can’t fall asleep to the sound of him breathing beside you.
He’s gone.
And no amount of scrolling through old messages will change that.
So you do the only thing you can do.
You clutch the phone to your chest, squeeze your eyes shut, and let the tears fall.
Somewhere, across the distance, Wonwoo is probably doing the same.
The Small Joys & Healing
Time has a funny way of moving. Some days stretch endlessly, the hours dragging with a weight that makes everything feel slower, heavier. And then, without warning, weeks slip past in a blur of routine and half-hearted distractions. You don’t know which is worse—feeling like you’re stuck in time or feeling like you’re moving too fast without him.
But eventually, somewhere in between the long nights and the quiet mornings, you start to find something like peace.
It’s not the kind of peace that makes the missing go away. No, that lingers, settling in your bones like a familiar ache. But it’s a softer kind of longing now—one that doesn’t consume you, one that reminds you that love doesn’t disappear with distance.
___
The first few weeks were the hardest, but the world didn’t stop turning just because he was gone.
You still wake up every morning, even when the bed feels emptier than usual. You still go about your day, even when every little thing reminds you of him. The bookstore you both used to visit, the ramen place he always craved at the most random times, the late-night walks that feel lonelier without his quiet presence beside you.
At first, you avoid these things. It feels wrong to do them without him, like you’re leaving him behind somehow.
But then, slowly, you do return.
You find yourself stepping into the bookstore one afternoon, the familiar scent of paper and ink wrapping around you. It’s instinct to glance toward the third shelf—the one where he always stood, hands tucked into his pockets as he scanned the titles. He’s not there, of course. But you let yourself linger anyway.
Your fingers brush against the spines of books you know he would’ve picked. A classic novel with poetic prose. A sci-fi story with a plot twist he’d figure out before the halfway mark. A historical book he’d read just to debate the accuracy of it later.
Before you know it, you’re picking one up.
Not just for him. For you.
Maybe, when he comes back, you can tell him about it. Maybe you’ll finally have something to recommend to him instead of the other way around.
The thought makes your chest feel lighter.
__
Then, there’s the laughter.
It sneaks up on you one evening while you’re on a call with friends. They’re arguing over something ridiculous—whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza, or maybe which video game has the worst NPC dialogue. You’re half-listening, offering the occasional hum of agreement, until someone casually brings up Wonwoo.
“He’s probably trying to act all serious in training,” one of them says. “But I bet he still zones out mid-conversation like usual.”
The memory of Wonwoo’s blank, unreadable expressions comes rushing back, and before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up. A real one.
And just like that, you remember:
Wonwoo might be far away, but he’s not gone.
He’s still him, still existing, still part of the world you share.
It’s a simple realization, but it lifts something inside you.
You laugh again that night, and for the first time in weeks, it doesn’t feel like you’re betraying the ache in your chest.
___
And then come the letters.
They don’t arrive often, but when they do, they feel like tiny lifelines. A piece of him, sent across the miles, just for you.
The first one is short, the paper slightly crinkled at the edges. His handwriting is neat but rushed, like he was scribbling between moments of exhaustion.
"I’m fine. Tired, but fine. It’s weird not having my phone. I keep reaching for it before remembering I can’t just text you. I hope you’re eating well."
You trace your fingers over the ink, swallowing the lump in your throat. Even in the middle of everything, he’s still thinking of you.
"Oh, and don’t let them trick you into watching horror movies without me. You know you’ll regret it."
A small, breathy laugh escapes you. He knows you too well.
That night, you sit at your desk with a pen in hand, writing your own letter back. You tell him about your days, the little things he might miss—the bookstore visit, the ramen place, how your friends still argue over the same things. You try not to sound too sad, even though the words feel heavier than they should.
At the end, you add, “I miss you. But I’ll wait. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”
You don’t expect an immediate reply, but when his next letter arrives weeks later, your heart pounds as you unfold the paper.
"I could never forget you. Don’t even joke about that."
And just like that, the waiting feels a little easier.
___
Healing doesn’t come all at once. Some days are lighter, some days are heavy. There are moments when the longing feels unbearable, when all you want is to hear his voice, to see him sitting beside you, to feel the warmth of his hand in yours. But there are also moments of quiet contentment—when the missing turns into something gentler, something that reminds you that he’s still yours, even from a distance.
And maybe that’s enough.
For now.
Because love like this—steady, unshaken, unwavering—is worth waiting for.
And when he comes back?
You’ll be right there, waiting.
The Return
The moment you spot him, the air in your lungs disappears.
You’ve been preparing for this day for months—counting down, dreaming about how it would feel to finally see him again. But none of those daydreams could’ve prepared you for this.
For him.
He steps past the arrival gate, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his uniform crisp and perfectly fitted. His posture is straighter, his movements sharper, his presence heavier. It’s him, but at the same time, it isn’t.
Wonwoo has always been broad, but now he’s different—stronger. His shoulders are wider, his arms more defined, muscles straining slightly under the fabric of his uniform. Even his stance is different, more solid, more certain.
And his face.
Your heart stutters at the sight of him.
The softness of youth has faded from his features, replaced by sharper angles, a sculpted jawline, a quiet confidence that wasn’t there before. His skin is tanned, kissed by the sun after months of training outdoors. His lips are slightly chapped, a little more serious than you remember. And his eyes—
They meet yours across the crowded terminal, and everything else ceases to exist.
Your chest tightens.
His gaze is the same.
Still warm, still familiar, still your Wonwoo.
For a second, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching you, taking you in. And then—
The corner of his lips twitches. A breath of a smile.
And just like that, you’re running.
You push past strangers, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out the noise around you. He sees you coming, and before you even reach him, his bag is slipping from his shoulder, arms already opening—
Then you crash into him.
He’s solid. So, so solid. Your arms wrap around him, and for a second, he stumbles back from the force of your embrace. But then his hands find your waist, gripping you tightly, pressing you closer.
And oh.
He feels different.
The Wonwoo you remember was warm and comforting, but this Wonwoo is unshakable. His back is firm under your touch, his arms secure around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. He smells like fabric softener and something distinctively him, something you missed more than you can ever put into words.
“Wonwoo,” you breathe, voice muffled against his shoulder.
He exhales shakily. “Yeah,” he murmurs, like he can’t believe this is real either.
You squeeze your eyes shut, hands fisting the back of his uniform. He doesn’t let go. Neither do you.
When you finally pull back, your hands instinctively find his face, palms pressing against his cheeks. He lets you look at him, watching as you take in every detail—every sun-kissed inch of his skin, every small change time has left behind.
“You got buff,” you whisper, half teasing, half awed.
His lips quirk slightly. “That’s the first thing you say?”
You laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “You just—” You pause, eyes sweeping over him again. “You look different.”
Wonwoo tilts his head. “Yeah?”
You nod, fingers brushing over his jaw, feeling the rougher skin there. “But you’re still you.”
His expression softens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. His hands, still resting on your waist, tighten just slightly. “Still me,” he echoes.
You smile. “Still mine.”
Something shifts in his gaze. His thumb brushes against your hip, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s memorizing this moment, memorizing you.
Then, voice quieter than before, he murmurs, “Always.”
And with that, he takes your hand, laces his fingers with yours—strong, sure, steady.
“Let’s go home.”
Epilogue: Home
The apartment feels the same, yet entirely different.
It smells like the candles you kept burning, like fresh linen and the faint scent of coffee. The same bookshelf stands against the wall, still overflowing with your shared collection of novels and mangas. The couch still has the blanket you always curled up in, the one that used to smell like him before it faded away.
But now—he’s here.
Wonwoo stands in the center of the living room, eyes scanning the space like he’s reacquainting himself with it, like he’s trying to remember what it felt like to belong here. His duffel bag rests by the door, abandoned the moment he stepped inside. His jacket is slung over the back of a chair, and he’s wearing the plain black tee and gray sweatpants you had set out for him, finally out of that uniform that made him feel distant—unreachable.
His hair is shorter, his shoulders broader. His stance is different, like the months away have reshaped him in ways that are still settling. But his eyes—they are the same. Warm. Familiar. Home.
And then his gaze landeds on what you’re holding.
The disposable camera.
A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “You still have that?”
You nod, turning it over in your hands, fingers brushing over the familiar ridges of the plastic body. “Of course. You gave it to me before you left.”
He had slipped it into your hands that day at the departure gate, voice teasing but eyes serious. "Take pictures. So I don’t miss too much."
So you did.
Of your morning coffee, of the stray cat that lingered by the bookstore, of the first snowfall that settled on the windowsill. Silly things. Little things. Things you wished he could’ve seen.
Wonwoo stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over the camera. “How many are left?”
You glanced at the film counter. “One.”
His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he reached out, fingers wrapping around the camera.
Click.
The shutter snaps before you can react.
Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”
Wonwoo lowered the camera, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Wanted the last one to be of you.”
Your heart stutters.
You should’ve expected it. He has always been like this—quietly sentimental in ways that take you by surprise. But something about this moment, about the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to memorize every detail—it makes warmth bloom in your chest.
You reach for the camera, setting it gently on the table before stepping closer, wrapping your arms around him.
Wonwoo exhales, his hold firm, grounding. His chin rests against the top of your head, and for the first time in months, you feel complete.
“You’re back,” you whisper.
His lips brush against your temple. “I’m back.”
A pause.
Then, softer—“I missed you.”
Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, your throat tightening with emotion. “I missed you too.”
Outside, the city hums with life, the world moving as it always has. But here, in this small apartment, time stills.
And as you stand there in his arms, the disposable camera sitting beside you, its final photo safely tucked away inside—you know you’ll never need it to remember this moment.
(join my taglist) ^^
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"Let's meet again on a winter day when our noses are cold."
448 words
A letter style ramble inspired by Wonwoo and his words during Caratland, his last performance before enlistment. If you couldn't tell,,,,, I'm already mourning the loss of something that hasn't yet happened. But I'm sure these next few years will go by quickly and we will all reunite again on a nice and bright day.
Let's complete the given homework and continue to be happy and healthy so we can all share our stories and brag about our achievements once he is back !!
~
The days have stretched into eternities without you, and the nights have become endless voids that echo with the absence of your presence. The air now crisp, hinting at the passing time between us once again. It reminds me of you in a way, the way that the cold dances across my skin just like your hands would after a long day, leaving behind traces of a rosy flush against my cheeks. It mirrors the way you used to make my heart race with a delightful, yet almost painful intensity. But lately everything is reminding me of you, even the smallest things that I wouldn't previously pay any real attention to. The songs that play on the radio and the way you would throw glances towards me as you would sing the lyrics, even if you sung them wrong. The slight scent that I could pick up through the wind while walking down the street. Even the way the moon would shine through the slight gaps of our window curtain during a late night. But now I fight these shadows alone, the shadows that stretch along our windowsill, dancing its way over to wrap around me and squeeze until it pulls every last breath out of me until all I can do is gasp at the memory of you.
It has been a long time now, hasn't it? It has been longer than I care to admit. The world has kept spinning, and seasons have changed yet again. No matter how much I try to fight against the passing time it keeps moving. Yet a part of me is still found stuck in that last moment we shared together, tangled in the sheets with silent whispers of how we wouldn't let this separation change us. That last moment that I cherish so deeply, guarding it against the harshness of reality. I know things had to be this way, that no matter how hard we tried, we wouldn't be able to stop this distance and time that would keep us apart. I miss every little moment that I took for granted. And so I find myself longing, longing for a future where I won't have to fight against this winter cold alone. A future where we can simply just... be.
Let's meet again on a winter day when our noses are cold, when they are so cold they do nothing but sting. Let's stand close enough that we can see the snowflakes clinging to each other's lashes, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from our bodies to reach the other. Let's meet again and remember what it felt like to be whole, to be complete, to simply... be.
#jeon wonu#seventeen wonwoo#svt wonwoo#wonwoo#wonwoocomfort#wonwoo comfort#wonwoo x y/n#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x you#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo angst#jeon wonwoo
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“I would never even think about it”
🎵 don’t leave me alone - got7🎵
paring : wonwoo x reader
genre: comfort, slight angst
warnings: none
word count: 560
you stumbled through the front door, almost falling over your own feet as you tried to shrug off the clothing that began to stick to your skin. you were on your way home from work when the cold breeze began to turn into light showers, slowly seeping through your jacket and settling onto your skin. cursing at yourself and anything that was around you, you let your belongings drop at the entrance, hoping that your emotions from the day would follow in lieu.
you let yourself drop to the couch the second it entered your sight, not bothering to move any further or prepare yourself for bed. you could feel tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes as you let them fall shut, feeling yourself slowly drift off to sleep. the last thing you could remember before falling asleep was the sound of the clock handles moving to their places, wondering if you too, could continue to move forward like them.
you don't know how long it was that you stayed asleep on the couch, letting out a groan as you woke up to the feeling of something weighing down on you. after gaining an ounce of consciousness, you saw that there was a blanket laid across you carefully. how odd, you thought to yourself, you didn’t remember grabbing one before passing out. the sound of shuffling caught your attention, before a shadow appeared before you.
"you're awake?" you heard being softly directed at you.
"wonwoo…?" you mumbled out, recognising the voice.
"mmm, why are you asleep here love? you should have gone to the bedroom instead..." he uttered as he bent down to become eye level with me, reaching out his hand to remove the hair that had fallen over my face.
you couldn't bring yourself to respond, not wanting to think about the day that you so desperately tried to sleep away.
the feeling of his warm hand against your skin made you let out a sigh, moving the blanket further up your body.
"bad day?" he whispered.
you nodded slightly, "i'm sorry."
"what are you apologising for love, you don't have to be sorry for anything."
"i'm being silly, i shouldn’t drag you into this."
"you're not silly for anything, it's okay. should we head to bed together?"
"will you stay with me?"
he hummed at this. "of course my love, you know i would never leave your side."
you felt him grab your hand softly before helping you stand, your body falling into his momentarily.
his arms wrapped around your body, one of them moving to cradle your head against his chest as you let out a sigh of relief.
after a short moment, you felt him move away slightly, leading you towards your shared room. he helped you to get rid of your clothes for the day, letting you change into one of his hoodies that he knew was your favourite to borrow from him, hoping it would help you relax that little bit more.
slowly, you were guided down onto the comfort of the mattress, underneath the covers and into his arms yet again.
you could feel the stress leaving your body with every soft caress against your frame.
"go to sleep love, tomorrow will be a new day."
"you won't leave me alone?"
"i would never even think about it."
#seventeen wonwoo#svt wonwoo#wonwoo#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#wonwoocomfort#jeon wonu#wonwoo x you#wonwoo x y/n#seventeen comfort#wonwoo comfort#seventeen fic#seventeen imagine
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[240120] Follow to Asia - Macau D1
SAINT 🐈⬛ don’t edit/crop logo.
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got these photos of wonwoo at the con, perhaps i will never be the same again😭☝🏻
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🥹🥹🤍🤍🤍
— ✦ etherealyoungk's 2024 rewind!
i saw this going around so i thought i'd hop onto it and do a little appreciation post for 2024! this is going to contain my top fics, some stats, goals for 2025 and a little paragraph for all my lovely moots on here <3
— top three posts this year!
into the night - jeon wonwoo (with 1918 notes)
sugar & spice - jeon wonwoo (with 1536 notes)
new beginnings - jeon wonwoo (with 1287 notes) honestly didn't think people would like this concept so much haha and not all the top three being wonwoo fics lol.
— longest fic of 2024:
sugar & spice - wc: 29.2k
— shortest fic 2024:
wonwoo fluff drabble - wc: 438
— an unexpected fic in 2024:
love between the lines - chwe vernon (wc: 12k) i genuinely really enjoyed writing this fic. vernon isn't a member i write for often or find a little hard to write, so this was a nice challenge. i honestly don't thing i'd ever have written a long fic for vernon if it wasn't for the collab and i'm so glad i joined and wrote this because i had great fun with it and really happy with the outcome + seeing so many of you guys enjoy it makes me always happy ^^
— some of my fav reads:
tell me that you love me pt 1 & pt 2 by @wheeboo one of the best fics i've read this year honestly this was tooo good like THE joshua fic so everyone go read this right now.
what's wrong with secretary kim with soonyoung by @xinganhao this was the cutest fucking thing i've read and i need more ahhhhhh kae your work is top tier i love it sm.
rates of change by @wqnwoos hana i'm literally in love with you and your writing and ths fic was the cutest thing ever i adored every word and ate it up.
ex-conomics by @ugh-yoongi oml this fic was so fucking good i read it in one go on my bed and it was such an emotional rollarcoaster but you wrote it so well everything was just so so amazing one of my favs for sure.
here and now by @writingmeraki babe im in love with your spy gyu couple im not even kidding when i say i go reread this often like i love it so much okay and i love you.
burnt promises, second chances by @slytherinshua omg zanna please this fic it was so good you wrote it so so well i just loved everything about this and the concept was so cool too!
— milestones in 2024
writng an almost 30k fic bc that is insane to me i never thought i could do that but im so proud of that fic.
hitting 4.5k followers just before the year ends! that's honestly insaneee. i adore each and everyone who reads my work and leaves reblogs and feedback.
joining collabs and doing a collab for the first time was so new but also so exciting for me. hopefully in 2025 i can do more.
— goals for 2025
finishing all my incomplete wips!!! i really really want to finish all the wips i started and left hanging skgjsg bc they were really good ideas and i wanna put them out in the world for you guys to read as well!
try to interact with you guys more? i feel like i don't enough.
— a word to my mutuals <3
to all my mutuals i love and adore you guys so much and i still can't believe i'm actually friends with some of you insane guys i love yall so much and i love this silly little family i have on here, it means the world to me <3
@wheeboo rania i love talking to you and love how i can just come in your dms and be delusional and bounce off ideas with you. i love talking to you about anything and everything. you're seriously one of the best writers and i can't wait to see where 2025 takes us.
@fairyhaos yenaaa my love! i love talking to you and you're the sweetest and your fics are always so so good. i miss you but i hope you're doing well and taking care and uni isn't too hectic. always thinking about you fondly and sending hugs mwah mwahh
@writingmeraki pri the loml my wife i love you so so much. i love how became moots bc of this one post of yours and after that it's history and i just love talking to you about anything and how we just talk about anything and everything <3 i just love us so much. mwah mwah mwahhhhh
@strawberri-uyu nico my love! our convos are honestly the best and i miss you and i hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself bubs <3
@paindivinemp3 my dear maria! you're the sweetest soul ever and i love talking to you about life and things and it's always so nice to talk to you, it always feels like i'm talking to an elder sister 🥺 sending much love <3
@wqnwoos hana i literally adore you and your writing so so much and you're the sweetest kindest soul mwah mwah ily <3
@gyuswhore you're the coolest moot! you're so so talented, an amazing person and just the coolest!!
@jeonsupershy kashii i love talking to you about day6 and seventeen and i adore your gifs they're truly amazing and im so glad we got talking.
@ylangelegy kae omg i love your work it's so good especially your text imagines im in loveeee and plus i know we only started talking but it's so nice to meet another myday and carat and hopefully we talk more!
@gyubakeries tiyaa i love how you text me on discord and we have the most funny convos.
@fxstpace aspen omg new moot but you're so much fun to talk to i hope we talk get to talk more.
and all my other lovely moots that i adore: @blue-jisungs @slytherinshua @kyeomyun @hannyoontify
@weird-bookworm @lvlystars @icyminghao @cheolhub @rubywonu
if i missed anyone im so sorry but just know you guys are so loved by me!
@reikaryu @husbandhoshi @welcometomyoasis @babyleostuff
@odxrilove @holdinbacksecrets @husbandhoshi @naaaaafla
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Ah! Love
Yoon Jeonghan isn't told 'no' often - or ever, really. So, when his friends set him up to get turned down, his ego is shattered. But his friends didn't realize they just introduced him to his new partner in crime.
Pairing: Jeonghan x female reader Genres: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fake dating, college au, idiots to lovers
Word count: 50k
TW/CW: MDNI! Contains smut with no protection mentioned (be safe please!!), under-aged drinking, alcoholism, implications of abuse and neglect (but no specific descriptions), food, mental health struggles.
A/N: The way these characters are written in no way indicates reality as this is entirely a work of fiction. This whole thing was just one big coping mechanism for recent events... please enjoy!!!
Recommended playlist: Ah! Love by Seventeen; Can't Get You by Jaehyun; Bonnie & Clyde by Yuqi
Act One
It’s nearly 1am when Y/N parks her car. She should have been home a while ago, but thanks to someone calling in, she was asked to work a few extra hours today. Not like it was hard, but there’s only so much to do at the reference desk at the campus library on a Friday night. The semester hasn’t even started yet, but the stupid university policy said that the library had to be staffed 24/7 except for holidays.
She was just thankful that one of her coworkers had the good sense to hide a phone charger in the bottom of a desk drawer. It had come in handy tonight when she’d finished her book. The university library had a less than impressive fiction collection to pick from.
But now, Y/N was irritated again because her designated parking spot at her apartment complex was taken. In fact, every single spot was taken. Someone must have been hosting a party to celebrate before the start of the semester. This complex was mostly occupied by students, but damn, didn’t they know how to read signs, such as RESERVED? So she was parked on the street half a block away.
Y/N yanked the key out of the ignition and had her hand on the door handle when a loud laugh made her jump back. A group of guys were walking down the sidewalk towards her and they’d clearly been drinking. Not interested in facing them (whether out of self-preservation or to spare them her mood), she sat back in her seat, biting her nail and waiting patiently (read: Not Patiently At All). They seemed to be taking their sweet time. As they walk under street lights, she thinks she might recognize one or two of them from campus over the years, but that doesn’t mean much. The university has a huge student body.
One of them stops, a muffled, “Hold on,” coming through the car window. He steps towards the front passenger side of her car. His hands go to his pants. He’s -
He’s peeing on her car.
Her jaw drops. A car passes by and in the headlights she can see who it is. She unfortunately knows him - or knows of him, anyway. It’s Yoon Jeonghan.
Her jaw is now tight, gritting teeth together painfully. Before she can think, her hand is on the center of the steering wheel, pressing sharply. The horn blasts for a split second and the only thing that makes this situation any better is the panic that flashes across his face. He jumps back, zipping himself up, waving and shouting a quick “Sorry!” Then he’s off, practically sprinting. His friends follow, but between the drinks and the laughter, they’re sluggish.
Y/N waits until they’re around the corner before she gets out of her car.
The next morning, Y/N finds Vernon at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. He doesn’t look up from the game on his phone when she walks in and goes straight for the coffee. “Didn’t hear you come in last night.”
Y/N grunted as she slid into a seat across from him. He pushed her a bowl and spoon, along with a box of sugary cereal. “Yeah, I didn’t get back until 1. Had to park on the street.” Vernon hums, but she’s not sure he’s really listening or cares. “By the way, do you know if the complex has a water hose or something near the parking lot?”
Now he’s listening, though he still doesn’t look up. His eyebrows are scrunched. “Water hose? I don’t know. Why? Why not go through a car wash? There’s one around the corner.”
“I don’t need a whole car wash for my piece of shit car. Just enough to wash the urine off of my tire.”
Vernon bites back a laugh. “Someone pissed on your car?” He’s obviously amused.
“Yoon Jeonghan did.”
Now his laughter resembles the squeak of a windshield wiper. This was nothing new - Vernon finding Y/N’s bad luck hilarious. Normally, she’d let it go because he had a laugh that made her laugh. She did not find it funny right now. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, stuffing some cereal in her mouth to bite back any further comments.
Vernon wiped his eyes. “How do you even know it was him?”
“Because I was in the car when it happened.” Another bite of cereal for Y/N and another wheeze from Vernon. For the rest of the morning, Vernon would glance at her before falling into another fit of laughter. Y/N opted to escape by going back to bed.
Jeonghan joins his friends in the student union at lunch on Monday. Classes started this morning but he’s not stressing it so far. After all, he’s only had one class and it’s already 1pm. Tomorrow might be another story based on his class schedule, but he’ll worry about that… tomorrow.
Across from him, Mingyu is talking about the girl he hooked up with on Friday night. Jeonghan’s not really listening because he’s too busy scarfing down his third slice of pizza.
Seungcheol tells the story of his hookup on Saturday night. It becomes a competition between Seungcheol and Mingyu and they keep glancing at Jeonghan as he stuffs his face with more pizza, challenging him to jump in. He usually would, but he’s not terribly interested today.
Besides, they all know he didn’t go home after the party on Friday. He walked with them back to campus and ended up in the dorm room of one of the many girls he kept in rotation. All it took was one text and five minutes later she was signing him in at the front desk of her dorm as a guest. He signed himself out at the front desk afterwards because it was clear she wasn’t up to moving anytime soon. Between that and how satisfied she looked, he was pretty happy with the night as he walked back home. He doesn’t feel the need to brag anymore. His reputation precedes him.
When it becomes apparent that Jeonghan isn’t taking the bait, they turn on Joshua. “How’s your girlfriend?” The word ‘girlfriend’ comes out as more of a sneer when Mingyu says it. Out of the whole group, Joshua seems to be the only one that believes in the concept, or at least puts it to any genuine practice.
Joshua met her while shadowing at the hospital a few years ago when he was still trying to pick a major. His crush was massive and they all teased him relentlessly about it. But after seeing how lovesick their friend was, they actually encouraged him to ask her out. They knew Joshua wasn’t a huge fan of anything casual. He’d rarely hooked up before meeting his current girlfriend anyway. Jeonghan is happy for him, he really is, but he’s still very perplexed at the dopey smile that overtakes his friend’s face at the mere mention of her.
“She’s good. We volunteered at the animal shelter on Saturday and then went out to dinner.” He says this with such an innocent grin that some scoff or roll their eyes. Jeonghan just smiles and shakes his head. They should know by now that Joshua is just that kind of person. Even if he wasn’t, all this girl would have to do is ask because he’s totally wrapped around her finger. Again, very perplexing. Jeonghan couldn’t imagine what that was like.
Jihoon is not one of those people that scoffs at Joshua though. He shakes his head disappointedly at the others and then looks at Joshua directly. “They’re just jealous. They wouldn’t know how to even get into a relationship, much less hold one down as long as you have.”
Joshua seems totally unfazed with his stupid smile, but Seungcheol barks out a laugh. “It can’t be that hard. Mingyu and I both have had long-term things.” He pointedly ignores Jihoon's correction - a not-so-subtle mumble of ‘situationship’ disguised under a cough. Dating was a very loose term for them, never that serious and really just for a predictable amount of sex in the end. When they got their fill, it was over at the snap of a finger. “Besides, it’s Jeonghan that couldn’t do it at all.”
Jeonghan chuckles, “What makes you think that?”
The silence is deafening for only a moment before his friends start giggling. Mingyu bangs his fist on the table. Seungcheol is shaking his head in disbelief. Jihoon is sliding down in his chair and covering his face. Even Joshua is smiling like he’s trying to contain a laugh.
Which is not a good time for Chan, the poor unsuspecting freshman that they’ve taken under their wing, to slide into a seat at the table. He looks like he’s afraid to ask. When he makes eye contact with Jeonghan, he’s really afraid to ask.
Jeonghan scoffs. “I don’t know what’s so funny. I could date anytime I want. I just don’t want to,” he yells near the end to be heard over his friends.
Seungcheol’s still shaking his head, but this time it has a purpose. “No, I’m sorry, man. I haven’t seen you so much as go on a single date since high school. Everybody knows your pattern. You sweet talk some poor girl at a party to get her home and then as soon as it’s over, you say ‘This was nice, but I’m not interested in anything more’.”
The words sting because it’s accurate, right down to the phrasing Jeonghan usually uses. Seungcheol must have heard some of these awkward morning-after conversations before at their apartment. Jeonghan is used to Seungcheol cheering him on in his pursuits. It felt like a skill then, one that he was very good at. A little locker room talk is normal, right? It’s another thing entirely for his best friend of nearly 15 years to turn it all around and say he can’t do the opposite. That his skills are a hindrance to it. That he’s just not capable of it.
Joshua must have sensed his friend’s discomfort because he tries to smooth it over. “Han, all he’s trying to say is that you’ve never even expressed interest in pursuing someone seriously and you shoot down anyone that approaches you for more than sex. When you do want to date, there might be a bit of a learning curve. That’s all.”
Jeonghan doesn’t know how to respond because he’s totally floored by the whole situation. Since when did not wanting anything serious become a problem? Jeonghan likes having fun. He likes having something new often. When did they stop understanding that?
The minutes tick by slowly, especially when his friends are still talking about it long after Chan has finished his lunch. They’ve emptied their trays and left the student union and they’re still talking about it. They’re half-way across campus and they’re still talking about it. Details about how shameless he’s been, how brutal he’s been about his rejections, how he’s won so many bets and completed so many dares over the last few years. His record is starting to sound like a bad thing when they were high-fiving him about it a week ago.
Mingyu turns around, walking backwards so he can face Jeonghan with a taunting smile. “I can’t believe you think you can do it.”
“I can,” Jeonghan says, now completely bitter because it doesn’t come off as confidently as he would have liked. It’s not like him to accept that he can’t do something. He likes pushing limits. He likes to toe the line. Mingyu’s face right now makes him want to jump clean across the line just to prove him wrong. The words spill out. “I can prove it.”
This gets all of his friends attention. Seungcheol’s smirk is so fucking irritating when he says, “And how are you going to do that?”
Jeonghan’s jaw clenches. He’s burned a lot of bridges as he’s formed this reputation. There are a lot of women that hate him - have yelled at him, slapped him, bad mouthed him, or just plain sobbed in front of him. Besides the last one, that was usually pretty amusing. There are also a lot of men that hate him too, likely because he’s ghosted their friend or sister. That’s a little less amusing when he has to dodge a fight. He’s not a coward when it comes to a fight, but he feels like there’s nothing to defend because he’s done nothing wrong. He’s never promised anyone a date and it’s not his fault when someone assumes that he will. But now he’s very determined to prove that he can do anything he wants with anyone at anytime because they’ll happily let him. That includes dating. “Pick anyone. I’ll make it happen.”
His friends raise their eyebrows as they look at him. They’ve now stopped in the quad and stepped off the path into the grass. Jeonghan grows impatient with their stares. He waves his hand around the quad. “Pick.”
Mingyu and Seungcheol are the only ones that start looking around with any sort of seriousness. They must find something that makes them happy because they look at each other and smirk. When they turn to Jeonghan, their expressions make his stomach turn, but he’s determined not to show it.
Mingyu points across the quad to a figure. Their target is a girl he’s seen in some of his English classes before but her name escapes him. All he knows is that she’s is a major bookworm, usually having stacks of books on her desk that aren’t even for a class. The only reason he’s noticed it is because he’s heard others laugh and whisper about it - which he found ironic because they were all English majors. You shouldn't pick that major if you hate to read. A errant frisbee flies within five feet of her and she doesn’t flinch. He’s never talked to her.
“Let’s start by getting her to agree to go out with you first.” Mingyu’s clearly enjoying this and Jeonghan’s fists clench in his pockets to resist hitting him.
“And what do I get out of this?” It won’t be a girlfriend, at least not in anyway that matters. He does want something besides his pride back though.
“$100 if you can get her to agree to go on a date with you. Another $100 if you can get her to agree to be your girlfriend. Another $100 if you can make that last three months.” Seungcheol states the terms, looking rather smug about it. He expects Jeonghan to back down. The whole concept of dating is absolutely not his style and $300 doesn’t seem worth the trouble. Seungcheol’s probably giving a lowball offer on purpose. But Jeonghan is desperate to retain some pride and composure.
Jeonghan’s feet are moving before he even realizes it. He slaps Seungcheol on the shoulder for good measure as he passes.
Y/N is quite literally a page away from finishing her chapter when a shadow casts over her. She glances up and suppresses a groan. “Can I sit here?” She slides over to the edge of the bench and tries to refocus on her book and remain unaffected. However, her mind has alarm bells are going off.
Why the fuck is Yoon Jeonghan sitting next to her?
She prayed he didn’t recognize her from Friday night. She did not want to have that conversation - or any really - with him. But she could not think of a single other reason why he would be here right now.
“You look familiar. Have we had classes together before?”
She glances up, if only for a brief moment to make her answer convincing. “Maybe.” She knows she’s had classes with him. He doesn’t need the ego boost by knowing she’s paid any attention to him though. He gets enough of that from everyone else.
He sticks out his hand. “I’m Jeonghan. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself in any of those classes before.”
Y/N stares for a second, internally cursing the manners that are ingrained in her. She’s going to have to shake his hand, if only to remain polite for now. She mutters her name, reaching out to his hand. His hand dwarves hers, long fingers wrapping around her hand, but his touch is soft and warm. It surprises her only momentarily before she’s remembering all the reasons why she wants to avoid him. She’s relieved to have her book clutched in both hands again to ground her. She will not be falling for his charms today, or ever.
“I’ll get straight to the point, since I interrupted you. Would you like to go on a date with me?” He says gently, but there’s the usual amount of arrogance in his expression. Like he knows what she’s going to say. Y/N bets he usually gets the answer he wants. Y/N presses her lips together, feeling uncomfortable for so many reasons.
“Oh. That’s nice of you, but no thank you.”
Jeonghan blinks a few times, then his eyebrows furrow. “Uh. What?”
Y/N closes her book and stares at him. Why now? They’ve shared classes for three years now. Their schedules have aligned an irritating number of times and he’s never so much as glanced her way. Not that she would have ever fallen for this, even as a naive freshman three years ago. “I said, no thank you. I’m not interested.”
“Not interested?” He says this slowly, like the words don't make sense to him. Maybe they don’t. Word on campus is that he doesn’t hear them often. Or perhaps ever from the expression on his face. But there’s a first for everything, right? This must be one for him. “Can I ask why?”
There’s a loud cackle across the quad and it gets both of their attentions. It’s the guys that were with Jeonghan on Friday night. They seem to be enjoying whatever show Jeonghan is putting on for them.
Ah, okay. That tracks. Y/N scoffs, standing to put her book in her bag. “Do I need a reason? Besides, I’m sure there are many others that will fall for the dare or bet that they’ve put you up to.”
Jeonghan kind of looks like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a few times. He’s glancing fast between her and his friends. “What? That’s not…”
“Sure seems that way,” she cuts off, trying to keep her voice even, but it’s challenging. “And you’d have to make me a pretty damn good offer to agree. You should tell them to be more subtle if you really want to use this tactic on some poor unsuspecting victim.” Y/N isn’t sure why she isn’t walking away right now.
Jeonghan is standing now, but he looks totally out of his element, none of his normal confidence and arrogance present. It actually makes her want to smirk, but even she feels a little bad about how loudly his friends are laughing across the quad. Second-hand embarrassment is a very real thing and she was starting to experience it. “Have I done something to you?” It sounds a little defensive.
Y/N narrows her eyes at him. “It says something if you have to ask that, Jeonghan. But no, you have not. I’m really just not interested. I have to get to class. Have a good day.”
She passes by the group of guys and doesn’t make eye contact. Kim Mingyu is there and this really does seem just like the kind of thing he’d be involved in. She almost feels sorry for Jeonghan again, but then she remembers the arrogant smirk he usually wears and the way he was confused by the word ‘no’. Almost sorry, but not quite. He could stand to be taken down a peg every now and then and Y/N was happy to be the one to do it today.
Jeonghan didn’t wait around to find out just how funny his friends found whatever the fuck just happened. Getting turned down was something he wasn’t used to and his friends’ laughter across the quad just rubbed salt in the wound. He’d also pointedly ignored the group chat for the rest of the day. Even Joshua was being iced out. When Joshua sent Jeonghan a message apologizing outside of the group chat, Jeonghan just gave it a thumbs up and nothing else.
However, by the afternoon he realized he needed to save some face. Y/N may have said no, but many others would say yes. And despite his shock, he had heard what she said back in the quad. His friends would be a detriment to whatever plan he tried because they couldn’t hide their amusement. He sent a single text when he got home and a girl arrived at the apartment he and Seungcheol shared a little after 8pm. When he let her in, he passed by all of his friends in the living room, drinking beer and playing video games. Perfect. Uninvolved in the plan, but present for the show.
He’d picked this girl because she’s loud in bed and seemingly not embarrassed about it. After sex though, he realized that she’s just loud all the time. He decides he can’t ask her to go on a date, much less hang out with her for three months as her boyfriend. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about as he pulled on some clothes, but he interrupted her to tell her he had an 8am class the next day and he’d see her out. She took the hint and began getting dressed. There was no 8am, but he wanted whatever this was to end promptly. He also wouldn’t be reaching out to her again.
He was still icing his friends out but Jeonghan was satisfied with the expressions on their faces as he went back to his room after seeing the chatterbox out. They could make comments about his dating habits, or lack thereof, but they couldn’t say he didn’t know what he was doing in every other way. They’d had to listen to the evidence of it.
That eased his mind until the next day. At lunch, they made it clear they hadn’t forgotten about his rejection the day before. He was thankful that all except for Joshua had a class soon after so his suffering wasn’t prolonged like yesterday. As soon as the others were far enough away, Joshua frowned at Jeonghan. “I’m sorry. I told them to let it go, but you know how they are.”
“Unfortunately, I do,” Jeonghan mumbled, unable to meet his friend’s eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets uncomfortably as they start walking.
“For what it's worth, they set you up anyway.”
Now, that got Jeonghan’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“She’s friends with Mingyu’s roommate, Wonwoo. They knew she’d shut you down.”
Oh. Now it was making sense. He remembers how smug Seungcheol and Mingyu had looked when they’d spotted Y/N. Jeonghan had met Wonwoo many times over the years. Mingyu and Wonwoo shared a lot of classes and seemed to get along as roommates, but Wonwoo was never very interested in joining them when they went out. They’d stopped extending the invitation after a while. Mingyu said his roommate would rather be home reading or playing video games anyway.
“Are they close? Y/N and Wonwoo?” Jeonghan wasn’t totally sure why he was asking. Maybe he wanted to know who she would say yes to, if not him. He’d like to think he checks a lot of boxes for women, but… she must be a unique case. Maybe if he knew who she would date, it would make him feel better.
“Seem to be. Mingyu said they’ve known each other for a long time, since they were little I think. Y/N’s apartment is apparently where Wonwoo goes when Mingyu brings guests over.” Guests, meaning girls - Joshua was just too polite to say it. Jeonghan had a similar system with Seungcheol when he wasn’t trying to prove a point. Basic roommate etiquette and all that.
“Don’t sweat it too much, okay? It’s a single rejection. I don’t condone the bets or dares, you know that, but I know I can’t stop you guys there. There are plenty of other girls on campus if you’re really serious about this. Just be careful.” With that, Joshua turned towards his class and walked away. Jeonghan was almost late because of how distracted he was.
He had to let go of this if only for his sanity. Joshua was right - it was a single rejection. The only one in his entire high school and college careers. It was a blip on the radar. A small infraction on an otherwise perfect record. It wasn’t like he’d have to see her anyway. He’d only had a few classes with her and even if he did have to see her he’d just avoid her until he wasn’t feeling so wounded by the whole thing. No big deal. He can breathe easier with that realization.
Whatever high Jeonghan had been riding since Tuesday comes crashing down at approximately 4:30pm on Thursday afternoon. He was almost late to his Tales of Villainy literature class. Though he was on a pre-law track, he was technically an English major and had to fulfill a certain number of literature credit hours to graduate in the spring. Of all the options offered this semester, this one seemed like the most tolerable.
Oh, right. Except that the first person he lays eyes on when he walks into the classroom is none other than Y/N. And the only seat left open is the one directly behind her. He bites back a curse and almost leaves. He’s considering just dropping the class and figuring it out later, but the instructor is already looking at him from the podium, waiting to start. Jeonghan silently sits down in the seat behind her. He knows he can’t drop because he’s on a tight schedule to graduate. If Y/N noticed him, she doesn’t show it.
He does his best to focus on what the instructor is saying. What tests and essays there will be. What works they’ll be reading and when. What kind of participation he wants to see in class. Jeonghan prays that all of this is in the syllabus he blankly glances at occasionally because he’s taking very little of it in right now.
The truth is he feels like a fucking teenager, because he can’t stop glancing at the girl in front of him. He’s noticing things that he’d normally not notice or give much thought to when it comes to girls. Usually, he’s looking at their bodies and how much skin he can see, or how they’re looking at him. Specific features have never mattered much or held his attention because it all feels the same in the end.
So it’s totally unfair that he’s transfixed by her. The way her hair falls in her face when she leans down to write something with a stupid purple glitter pen. Or the doodling she’s doing in the margins, which mostly consists of a bunch of little suns and moons. Or the smell of her perfume which is some kind of blend of lavender and vanilla. He’s not even admiring her body as much as he normally would, but that’s really nice too. He noticed that earlier in the week when he’d approached her.
He wants her in a way that he hasn’t wanted anyone before but his ego is still in recovery and he can’t risk asking her again. Why wasn’t she into him? Was he losing his touch? It occurs to him that maybe he’s bordering on obsession like this only because she turned him down. Because she seems unattainable. That’s something he’s never really experienced before, but Jeonghan’s been known to like a challenge. It feels kind of like a fatal flaw right now.
He has to get here earlier next week to secure a seat away from her, not only to save his grade but to save his sanity and ego. Fuck the rule that you sit in the seat you picked on the first day for the entire semester. He’d fight someone for it to avoid this kind of spiral weekly. He needed to put a lot of distance between Y/N and himself ASAP.
After three agonizing hours, when the instructor lets them go, Jeonghan is the first one out of his seat, not even bothering to stop to stuff the syllabus that’s wrinkled in his grasp into his backpack.
He thinks about bailing on his plans with his friends to call someone over because he needs some sort of validation right now that he hasn’t lost his touch, but thinks better of it. He’s afraid his friends will see right though the facade. They don’t need to know his ego his hurt this badly that he’s driven to hook up with so many people in a week to get over one rejection.
He’d get his validation tomorrow night. Maybe more than once with the way his system was on overdrive. At least then he wouldn’t have to seek it out. They’d come to him.
Y/N thinks that if she has to hear this song again she’s going to scream. She’s in her ensuite bathroom with the door closed and she can hear CL’s Hello Bitches start for the 23rd time. Yes, she’s been counting. She loves CL, but this is becoming excessive.
She can also hear who is in tune and who is most certainly not. She’s just about to get her eyeliner right this time when there’s a screech in the other room. Not the type of sound you expect to hear when you know there are six grown men in there.
Swinging the door open, she’s met with the sight of Seungkwan pinning Junhui down by his neck. Soonyoung is scolding them (which is ironic because he’s usually at the center of these things) but the other three are totally unfazed. Vernon and Minghao are scrolling on their phones and Wonwoo looks like he’s napping (or trying to anyway). “Guys, are there any other songs on this ‘playlist’ of yours?”
Seungkwan pulls away from Junhui, whose glad for the opportunity to escape. Seungkwan turns his wrath to Y/N. “What do you have against this one?”
“It’s one song, Kwan. It shouldn’t count as a playlist,” Y/N deadpanned.
Seungkwan glares. “Yeah, well, your eyeliner sucks.”
“Thanks to Junhui’s screeching,” Y/N sasses, while Junhui scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in offense. They all ignore him and his dramatics.
Minghao’s off the bed in moments though, taking the eyeliner pen from Y/N and pushing her back into the bathroom. “Let me fix it so we can leave. I can’t stand them or this song anymore and I need a drink.” Minghao’s subsequent glare silences the laugh that’s bubbling up Y/N’s throat. Like the artist he is, Minghao’s efficient with lots of mediums, including eyeliner apparently, and they’re dragging her out of the apartment in less than five minutes.
This is not their normal Friday night. They usually end up at one of the restaurants down the street until it closes and then they move to Vernon and Y/N’s apartment to crash. Sometimes there’s alcohol, but there’s always more food (despite having their fill at the restaurant), and almost always some form of games.
So it was to everyone’s surprise when Wonwoo announced that his roommate, Mingyu, had insisted they come to a party tonight. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Junhui were in immediately. The rest took some convincing and Wonwoo was certainly not going to do it. He left that to his friends that couldn’t wait to get drunk on someone else’s alcohol.
The walk was short and the house was already packed when they arrived. They squeezed through the crowd to the kitchen to get drinks and then went their separate ways. It was likely that they’d all end up back at her apartment anyway, so Y/N wasn’t worried. She runs into Minseo in the kitchen and strikes up a conversation. They were roommates in the dorms until Y/N moved into her own apartment with Vernon and Minseo moved into the sorority house. They were unlikely friends back then and even remained friendly when they ran into each other on campus now.
Minseo was talking about being a big for her sorority this year, something she’d been looking forward to. However, Minseo was cut off by an “Oh shit!” Something splashed onto Y/N’s shoes. She hadn’t looked down but Minseo had. Y/N did not like how her former roommate’s face was twisted in disgust right now. Y/N glanced down.
Yep, that’s puke.
“I am so sorry!” Y/N was convinced that any and all gods hated her, because she recognized that voice. She looked up to find Yoon Jeonghan in front of her with wide, panicked eyes. He was clutching another guy by his sides, seemingly holding him up. “He’s a freshman, he doesn’t know how to handle his alcohol quite yet.”
“It’s fine,” Y/N forced out, trying not to look down at her converse again. She’d most certainly gag if she did.
The freshman wavered on his feet but this time he made it to the trash can behind Minseo. Jeonghan was no longer clutching the freshman, but now ringing his hands, so uncharacteristic from his usually overwhelming confidence. “Let me wash your shoes for you. My friend lives here, he won’t mind.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary.” With a grimace, Y/N dropped her drink into the trash can when the freshman came up for air. She tried not to look at Jeonghan and instead looked at Minseo. “I’m going to head home.”
“At least let me walk you home. It’s late,” Jeonghan cut in, face pinched with anxiety.
Y/N waved her hand as she stepped back. “No, that’s not necessary either. It’s not far.” The freshman had his head in the trashcan again. “I think he needs you more right now, anyway.”
She didn’t wait for an answer and quickly exited the house. As she walked, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to the group chat that she was leaving. They all had her location so they’d know when she made it home if they were worried.
The August air was stagnant and humid, making the smell on her shoes so much worse. She grimaced again. This was why she didn’t go to these types of things. Minseo and a few of the guys regularly tried to get her out of the house, but this was just not her vibe. Tonight was just more evidence of that. She had terrible luck with these things.
A rhythmic sound was getting louder behind her. For a moment, she prayed that Yoon Jeonghan hadn’t followed her to walk her home like he’d been insisting. She was beyond relieved when she heard a more welcomed voice. “Hey, what happened?” Wonwoo asked as he slowed next to her. He must have caught a whiff of what had happened because he did a quick scan of her before landing on her shoes and muttering, “Ew. Dude, that’s gross.”
“I know,” she scoffed. “Go back to the party. Mingyu wanted you there.”
Wonwoo began walking with her, ignoring her command. He shrugged, “I showed up and spoke to him. That’s more than he usually gets. What happened to you though? You didn’t answer.”
“Some freshman that couldn’t handle his alcohol apparently. That’s the shortest visit we’ve ever made to a party and that’s saying something.” Wonwoo laughed at Y/N’s words and thankfully it diffused some of her tension.
“Yeah, a whopping twenty minutes.”
Wonwoo was the brave one when it came time to deal with Y/N’s shoes upon arriving to the apartment. She slid them off along with her socks at the door and Wonwoo carefully picked them up by the least gross parts. Never mind that he sprinted for the washing machine with a scream. He said it was so he wouldn’t breath in and smell it. Y/N thought that was pretty valid.
When the others arrived at the apartment a few hours later, they found Y/N and Wonwoo on opposite sides of the couch, one reading and one playing video games. They joined in seamlessly, grabbing snacks from the kitchen to sober up. She appreciated that they didn’t ask why she left early. The last thing she wanted to talk about was anything in reference to Yoon Jeonghan.
It’s been nearly a week and Jeonghan is still not talking to Chan. He pretends like he doesn’t hear him when he talks. He’s getting really good at it.
At first it confused Chan, particularly when there was no one else in the room with them in Jihoon’s trashed kitchen on Saturday morning. It goes on so long that a hung over Chan starts to wonder if he’s invisible. Can that happen? He’s never drank this much before. He’s starting to worry about weird genetic mutations or that maybe he’s a ghost now. However, Seungcheol greets him when he enters the kitchen. So that settles it. Not invisible. Jeonghan’s just mad.
It takes the entirety of Saturday and Sunday, and the first half of Monday before Joshua finally steps in to counsel them and try to solve the issue at hand. All of them have a soft spot for Chan and don’t like seeing him so dejected. It turns out Chan remembers very little of the party so he doesn’t even know what to apologize for, though he keeps offering blanket apologies. So, Jeonghan tells the story in excruciating detail. Mingyu is downright elated by it. Seungcheol and Jihoon try to bite back their laughs and turn away. Chan is completely mortified and says he’s swearing off drinking for good. Joshua can’t fix this, he’s decided, but he feels a lot of sympathy for Chan. After all, they were all once freshman and did some stupid things. So he tries to fix it anyway.
He fails.
Then food magically starts appearing in front of Jeonghan randomly. First it’s a burger and fries that Chan treats him to on Monday night when they all go out. Then it’s coffee and a muffin on Tuesday morning. When they go out for beers on Wednesday, Chan buys everything Jeonghan drinks, but Chan doesn’t partake even though this college bar is known to overlook a little underaged drinking now and then. Thursday, Jeonghan finally puts a stop to it because Chan must be spending a small fortune for a college student on this apology. He accepts the coffee Chan hands him and says, “Okay, enough.”
Chan’s eyes are hopeful and Jeonghan hates how much he loves the kid. He really does seem to feel bad. “I’m forgiven?”
Jeonghan nods. “Yes. Please pace yourself next time though.”
“Of course,” Chan nods eagerly. “I do not want to feel like that again. Have you talked to her since?”
The question catches Jeonghan off guard. He’s relieved it’s just him and Chan today. He really wants his friends to forget about her entirely because every time she comes up it’s kind of like they’re twisting the knife. “Uh, no. I’m trying not to see or talk to her, which might become a bit of a challenge at 4:30 today. I have a class with her.”
“Oh,” Chan deflates. “Maybe I should apologize? I know you said you did, but… maybe it wasn’t well-received.”
“Yeah, because she had puke on her shoes,” Jeonghan half scoffs, half laughs.
“Sure…” Chan looks like he wants to say something more and Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “That has something to do with it, I’m sure… But… Okay, I’m not telling you this to bother you about it. I know you’d wish we’d drop it. But the others are really enjoying how much she seems to not like you. Something about karma.” Chan gives a shrug because he isn’t sure what else to do.
“Karma about what?” Jeonghan bit, anger rising. If feels like all of this has been so far out of his control that it’s not fair. What has he done to deserve this?
Chan wouldn’t make eye contact with Jeonghan. “You know I’m new, so I don’t know specifics. But something about how you deserve to be shut down every now and then. That your body count borders on too much.”
Jeonghan can’t help but scoff. “Literally all of them except for Joshua have a high body count. They’re not totally innocent either. Besides, the whole concept of body count is stupid.”
“Yeah, it’s been pointed out,” Chan said cryptically. “Anyway, I’ll apologize if you think it will help. Just let me know.”
Jeonghan debates on whether to stick to his plan of avoidance throughout the rest of the day. When he arrives to his lit class, he makes the impulsive decision to sit behind Y/N again. He cares more than he’d like to admit that she seems to hate him. It’s one thing if he deserves it - if he’s done something to her, then he thinks he could accept this and move on like he has many times with many other girls. But he hasn’t really done anything to her besides ask her out and it’s starting to eat him alive, especially when he thinks about how she said no before she realized he’d been dared to do it. And the party on Friday was just a comedy of errors. Maybe there was a little irony in the fact that, out of all the people at that party, it was her shoes that Chan threw up on.
She’s reading when he slides into the seat behind her. When she’s finished a chapter, he taps her on the shoulder. She closes the book around her fingers, turning in her seat. Her expression, like it was in their last two interactions, doesn't give much away except that she’d already like the conversation to be over already. It pains Jeonghan to see because it’s not the reception that he usually gets.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday.”
Y/N blinks. He hates how big and pretty her eyes are, even when she’s definitely not happy to see him. “You said that already. I told you it’s fine.” Her voice is totally flat and he really wishes he could read her mind. Maybe then he could find a way to fix this. They don’t have to be friends by any means, but something other than her total disinterest would be nice.
“I know, I just -“ He doesn’t know where to go with this. He swallows roughly. He’s expecting her to turn away, but she doesn’t, placing the book in her lap now. There’s something patient in her expression that confuses him, but he’ll take advantage of it. “It’s occurred to me that I haven’t left the best impression, not just once, but twice now.”
She laughs, but there’s something humorless about it and it makes his lips turn down a little more. “More than twice, but I’d have to agree with that.”
He’s not sure what he’s done before this semester, doesn’t remember a single interaction with her before all this. “I’d like us to forget it if we can. Start over, if you will.” He’s not sure why he’s saying this or why it’s so important to him. He’s never cared much about his interactions with women outside of before, during, and after sex. It’s clear that none of that is going to happen here.
She seems to be thinking and it feels like she can see right through him. He squirms in his seat, not used to feeling so exposed. Usually, he’s the one reading people, not the other way around. And he can’t read her - not when he asked her out, not at the party, and not now. Finally, she smiles but there’s kind of an evil look in her eyes. “I’ll think about it. I’m still mad that you pissed on my car.”
Jeonghan’s jaw drops, breath catching in his throat, but he can’t get a word in because the instructor has swept into the room and Y/N is already turning around in her seat. He drops his head in his hands and suppresses a groan. This class is the longest three hours of his life.
It’s nearly dark when class ends. Jeonghan stuffs his things in his bag quickly, but his movements are hurried and messy and Y/N is already walking out of the classroom. He calls her name as he exits the building. He kind of expects her to ignore him, but she stops, halfway turning to glance at him. She kind of looks smug and he doesn’t know how to take it. He halts next to her. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was your car.”
Y/N looks away and starts walking again and Jeonghan is trailing behind her now. “Do you have a habit of doing that when you go out drinking?”
The question is conversational, casual even. Jeonghan feels awkward and kind of wishes she’d just yell at him. “Uh, no. It’s not a habit of mine.” He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or not when she looks mildly amused.
“You seem nervous.” Another casual statement.
Jeonghan stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jeans and he watches in real-time as she clocks the defensive pose. Yeah, she’s definitely amused. He’s noticed she’s incredibly perceptive. He feels like an open book to her. “I’m not used to making this much of a fool out of myself. I’m usually much smoother than this.” He admits it because she probably knows it already anyway.
“Oh, I know. Your reputation is well-known around here. Quite the heartbreaker.” She says it so evenly that it somehow hurts worse than the anger that he gets from other women. It’s like it’s a fact. Jeonghan guesses it is and it makes him deflate.
“Is… that why you said no?” The question leaves a very bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he fucking cares. It’s just one girl, why is she worming her way into his brain like this, making him feel so insecure?
There’s curiosity in her eyes when she glances up at him. “Perhaps. It didn’t help that you’d obviously been put up to it.”
Jeonghan huffs. “Yeah, that probably looked bad, didn’t it?” He’d been so stressed about getting his lick back lately that he’d kind of forgotten how fast she’d put all the puzzle pieces together.
“Oh, yeah,” she laughed, but this time it wasn’t so humorless. He’s so surprised that she’s not mad because she has every right to be. He doesn’t know what to say. “This is my stop,” she said, pointing to the library behind her. “Look, I don’t know what all that was about, and I don’t really want to know. But consider that maybe your friends are just dicks if they’re putting you up to something like that. Even you might deserve better friends, Yoon Jeonghan.”
She wishes him goodnight with a wave and his frown is so deep that even Seungcheol notices when he arrives home. Jeonghan brushes it off, almost feeling bad when Seungcheol presses again later that night, asking if everything is okay. Jeonghan remembers what Joshua and Chan said about the whole thing being a set up and how much they were enjoying it. Hell, it had even occurred to him that her presence at the party was a set up too, now that he knew Mingyu’s roommate was one of her friends. It would be so easy to invite Wonwoo and tell him to bring his friends as a courtesy.
No, he wouldn’t be talking to any of them about Y/N anytime soon. The sooner they all forget about this whole thing, the better.
The weeks start to fly by as the semester gets underway officially. Jeonghan is taking more than a full load of classes because he plans to do an internship next semester that will take up most of his time. This is something that he begrudgingly planned for last semester, but is really thankful for now. There’s a predictable pattern to his life. Class, homework, hang out with friends, go to parties on Friday and Saturday night and maybe take someone home. He’s not even doing that last part as often as he once did. He keeps thinking about his friends’ words at the beginning of the semester and when he does hook up with someone he’s left feeling less than satisfied. He's never realized how empty the whole thing is, but now that he does he can’t unsee it.
The only other deviation from this plan is the occasional conversation with Y/N in their shared lit class.
No, he hasn’t moved seats. No, he doesn’t plan to anytime soon. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
That’s what he tells Joshua after his friend spots Jeonghan and Y/N leaving their class together. They've taken to idly chatting as he walks with her to the library on his way to his own destination. He’s thankful it was Joshua that saw it and that his friend was willing to let it go. Joshua also must have kept it to himself because none of his other friends said anything. They’d seemingly forgotten about Y/N.
Which was perfect because he doesn’t want to talk about how many times he’s been embarrassing himself in front of her.
In September, his printer crapped out and the ancient professor that he was writing a paper for insisted on paper copies, even though the school offered a perfectly good online submission option. So Jeonghan found himself at the library late on Thursday night. Yes, he knew Y/N was working because he’d walked her there earlier that night. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. He especially didn’t want to talk about how he broke the printer and had to approach Y/N to admit it. If he hadn’t have needed that paper printed for first thing in the morning, he would have ran for it and come back another time. Y/N assured him that this particular printer was always on the fritz and offered to print it for him at the reference desk, but there was something sly in her expression when she handed him a stack of warm papers neatly stapled together. It’s like she knew he was taking a hit to his pride by having to ask her of all people, despite the positive interactions that they had sometimes.
In mid-October, he found out she actually lived in the same apartment building as him. He found that out because he had been dared to wear his halloween costume (Spiderman to be exact) to check the mail. No good reason, just because. He usually had no shame, so what’s the worst that could happen? He found out the worst is seeing Y/N coming down the hallway. He ducked into the elevator as soon as it opened and repeatedly pressed the Close Door button, hoping to avoid the whole thing. However, Y/N not only saw him, but how aggressively he was pressing the button as she slid into the elevator. He realized he wasn’t wearing his mask and she was biting back a smirk. “Don’t…” he muttered, his eyes closed tight. She stayed silent throughout the whole interaction, letting him retain what little pride he had left. He’s not even sure why he’s so embarrassed because he’s done way more ridiculous things in far more public settings just for a laugh. Jeonghan returned to his apartment with none of his usual bravado when he completed a dare.
In early November, Jeonghan decided he wanted to make ramen at 3am. Writing a paper had worked up an appetite. He’d made ramen a thousand times in his college career. What he hadn’t done before is set off the fire alarm in the apartment complex. As he stood in the parking lot watching the fire department sweep the building, he heard Y/N grumbling to her roommate how annoying this was because she had an 8am class. If he’d had his keys, he would have gone to hide in his car. Or maybe leave.
Yeah, maybe just leave. Seungcheol could handle the rent, right?
And then there were the times that Y/N of all people had caught him in compromising positions with girls. The first was when an acquaintance of Seungcheol’s that lives in the same building hosted a party. He’s making out with a girl in the hallway. He’s not sure why he didn’t just take her up to his own apartment down the hall, but the thought hadn’t occur to him immediately. He’d just pushed her out of the apartment and against the wall in the hallway and she let him. He’s almost got his hand under this girl’s shirt when he hears something alarmingly similar to Y/N’s voice from the other end of the hallway. It snaps him out of whatever lust-filled haze he was in and she and her friends pass by them in the hallway. He knows she’s seen him and what he was doing - the eye roll gives it away. The girl asks him to take her somewhere more private and he does, but he’s a little distracted for the rest of the night.
The second time is at the library of all places. He’s been paired with a girl from one of his classes to work on an assignment and they’ve agreed to work in the library. He’d normally suggest working somewhere more private, but he’s not terribly attracted to his project partner. She’s fine, he’s just not that interested. However, the project is painfully dull and when she suggests that they sneak off for a few minutes he agrees automatically. He lets her suck him off in one of the dark corners of the stacks. Despite not being very attracted to her, she’s decent and he enjoys it enough to come. He also doesn’t mind the thrill of a little exhibitionism from time to time. His blood runs cold when they’re walking back to their table and Y/N is in the next aisle over, reshelving some books off a rolling cart. He has no idea how much she’s seen or heard. She doesn’t look at him, but she’s shaking her head. He decides he can’t stick around and makes an excuse that he’s forgotten something and he needs to leave.
The most recent run-in is at another party, this time at a sorority house. He’s snuck off to the bathroom with one of the sorority girls and he’s got her sitting on the sink. Her hand is in his pants and his fingers are in her panties buried deep inside her when there’s a knock on the door and it opens. None other than Y/N is standing there. He pulls away from the girl quickly, but the girl’s hand is still very much in his pants and he knows Y/N has seen all of it anyway. He starts to apologize so they can let her have the bathroom, but Y/N is already waving him off with another eye roll and closing the door behind her. He makes an excuse to the girl and doesn’t end up taking anyone home that night.
And after all that, luck was especially not on his side when their lit instructor announced that they’d be pairing up with someone for their final presentation. This was both a blessing and a curse. Someone to share the responsibility for the bulk of your grade, but also… someone to let you down on the bulk of your grade. Jeonghan also couldn’t decide if it was a blessing and a curse that the instructor paired him up with Y/N. She didn’t object and he’s too mortified by 90% of the interactions he's ever had with her, so he kept his mouth shut and accepted her invitation to meet, pick a book, and lay out a plan. She was a good student so he could at least bank on a good grade. He’d have to get a grip if he was going to survive this project though.
Yet another thing that he did not want to talk about with his friends.
It’s Wednesday afternoon in early November when Jeonghan slides into the seat across from Y/N. They’ve agreed to meet in a coffee shop just off campus. When Y/N recommended it, Jeonghan simply shrugged and asked for the time.
“Sorry, I got caught up after class. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” Jeonghan asked. His face was pinched with the usual concern - usual only because she kept seeing it when he looked at her over the course of this semester. It was very different from the arrogant grin he usually wore, and somewhere deep down (deep, deep, deep down), she was wondering if she’d been too harsh on him or misjudged him. He seemed to wear a mask sometimes and she could see right through it because she liked to wear one too.
Either that, or he was the greatest actor in the world. Maybe this new face of concern was a facade to get her to let her guard down so he could still win whatever bet his friends had issued. But it didn’t seem like it. He hadn’t broached any topic that indicated he had an ulterior motive since the first day of class. Anyway, even if it was all an act, she kind of liked watching him squirm.
“Not long. What do you want to drink? I’ll go get it,” Y/N said, prepared to stand up.
Jeonghan immediately objected. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it in a minute.”
“No, really,” Y/N chuckled. “I know the barista. Just tell me what you want.”
He reluctantly gave his order and she smiled as she left the table, satisfied that he’d folded so quickly.
Minghao was standing behind the register with an eyebrow raised when she approached the counter. He leaned over the register to whisper to her. “Yoon Jeonghan? What’s that about?”
“We’re paired for a project. Can I add another drink to my tab?” Y/N gave her sweetest smile. Minghao’s lips pursed like he was unimpressed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Your tab is becoming alarmingly long, you know that right? The boss doesn’t even want us to offer tabs to friends.” Nevertheless, he took the drink order and began making it. While he was at it, they were discussing plans for the upcoming weekend. Junhui was performing in a play on Saturday and all of his friends had agreed to show up in support - not that he could keep them away. They hadn’t seen much of Junhui in the past few weeks as he’d been rehearsing nonstop, but everyone was really proud of him. They were planning to cheer and clap so loudly it embarrassed him, give him flowers, and treat him to dinner and drinks afterwards.
When Y/N put the drink in front of Jeonghan, he looked like he was ready to go with his laptop and a printout of the approved books for the project. She was pleasantly surprised by this since he never seemed to take classes too seriously. Sometimes he didn’t even bother to get out a pen or paper or even open his laptop to take notes. She just hoped he’d open the damn book that they picked out because she had never seen him read a single page with her own eyes.
Still, she was pleasantly surprised again at how involved he was with their selection process. They agreed on The Monk, mostly because they both liked the challenge. Not many people were picking something from the 1700s if they could help it and their selection would show some initiative to their instructor. He’d even agreed to a reading schedule and regular meetings. She tried to remind herself that every time she got caught up in how cute he was when he focused, or how intently he seemed to be listening, that this was the man that pissed on her car in the beginning of the semester. And asked her out on a bet or dare. And whose friend puked on her shoes. And… you get the idea.
Somehow she didn’t feel all that angry about a lot of it anymore. Weird.
That’s why when he began chatting idly about other things outside of the project, she didn’t shut him down. She told him about her plans for Junhui’s play this weekend and he told her he’d been applying to internships for next semester without much luck. She surprised herself by volunteering to review his applications and resume. He looked really cute when he was surprised by the offer and she bit her tongue to keep from further trapping herself. Being friendly with Yoon Jeonghan was something she was still conflicted about.
“Can I ask you something?” Jeonghan asked hesitantly when conversation lapsed. Y/N shrugged. “You said you know the barista?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah, his name is Minghao. We’ve been friends since freshman year.”
Jeonghan hummed and something smug filled his expression. “Mhm. So how long have you liked him then?”
Y/N choked on air. “What? What are you talking about?”
Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. “I saw you bat your pretty eyes and smile for a free drink - thank you by the way. That’s so unlike you. I mean, all I get are blank stares most of the time and I’d like to think I’m quite charming.”
“It’s not like that,” Y/N insists, but it was weak at best. Her face feels hot.
“There’s nothing wrong if it is like that,” Jeonghan assured. It appeared to be genuine, encouraging even.
“It’s…” Y/N trailed off, avoiding eye contact as she tried to find the words. Whatever explanation she was trying to conjure up fizzled out when the door to the cafe opened. “Oh god.” She dropped her head into her hands.
Jeonghan swung to look in the same direction. “Whose that?” He glanced back at her. He’d always thought he might enjoy seeing Y/N in a way that wasn’t so composed after all the times he’d made a fool of himself in front of her. And he did enjoy teasing her about her little crush on the barista. He’d never thought he’d see her blush and it was pretty cute. However, this was different because she looked down right mortified. Not cute. He’s feeling protective all of the sudden for no good reason. “Uh, he’s walking over.” He watches the mask snap back into place so fast that he gets whiplash. She had just looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but now her face is totally impassive.
“Y/N!” The guy is now standing in front of their table, a bright smile on his face.
The smile Y/N returns is friendly enough but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Seokmin, how are you? I’m surprised to see you here.” Jeonghan thinks that she really meant something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you doing here’ instead. Seokmin clearly did not know that.
“Oh, you know I couldn’t miss Junhui’s first leading role. I had some time off and decided to come and visit.” Seokmin is still smiling brightly and Jeonghan knows now that he’s not a fan. He’s seen Y/N looked totally unimpressed, primarily at Jeonghan, but this is different. There’s a flash of anxiety on her face that unsettles him. This guy’s done something wrong and he hopes she’ll stick up for herself. He wants a front row seat to it and he doesn’t even know what Seokmin’s done.
Y/N’s smile is tight. “That’s great. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled you made the trip.”
Maybe Seokmin is finally picking up on the tension because the thousand-watt smile dims a bit. She hadn’t said she was happy to see him, just that Junhui would be. Seokmin turns to Jeonghan, sticking out his hand. “Lee Seokmin.”
Jeonghan turns on the charm, giving his best smile and gripping Seokmin’s hand tight as they shake. “Yoon Jeonghan.” He isn’t sure what Seokmin is thinking when he glances back and forth between Y/N and Jeonghan, but Jeonghan kind of hopes that in some twisted way he thinks they’re together. He’s trying to put out the vibes of a possessive boyfriend, mostly so Seokmin will stop looking at Y/N because it’s clearly making her uncomfortable. She’s shrunk in her seat and crossed her arms, making herself look small.
Seokmin’s about to say something when Minghao comes out of the back and yells his name. Seokmin’s easily distracted and as soon as he’s away from the table, it takes half a second of eye contact before Jeonghan and Y/N are packing up their stuff, making a show of looking at the time and saying they’re late for something.
Once they’re out of the coffee shop and around the corner, Jeonghan pulls her to a halt by the elbow because she’s practically sprinting. “What exactly was that about?”
He doesn’t ask if she’s okay because her distress is crystal clear. Now that she’s out of the cafe, she looks like she might cry. “It’s kind of a long story.” There’s a choked quality to her voice that tugs at his heart strings. He can’t explain that. He’s seen plenty of women cry, usually because of him, and it’s never really bothered him before.
“I have time,” Jeonghan shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but he’s floored that she’s not shutting him down and walking away right now. Y/N’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally pouts. He doesn’t even think she’s aware she’s doing it but he still suppresses the urge to squish her face because of how cute she looks. He doesn’t think that she’d like for anyone to do that, much less him. “How about this? It’s nearly dinner time. Let’s go get something besides coffee and you can tell me about it.” She looks hesitant, probably remembering the first day of classes, so he tacks on, “No ulterior motives, I promise. You just look like you need to talk to someone about it. I’ll even pay.”
He lets her order her chicken tenders, fries, and milkshake before he starts asking questions, mostly because he’s surprised she’s still sitting across from him and the promise of food on the way might make her stay. The whole walk to the diner near their apartment complex, he had half expected for her to make a run for it.
“I’m not sure where to start.” There’s a helpless tone to how she admits this and Jeonghan hates it. She’s usually so sure of herself and he already hates Lee Seokmin for the effect he seems to have on her.
“Let’s start with Seokmin.” The waitress delivers their milkshakes and Jeonghan patiently waits while Y/N jabs the straw into her cup and starts twisting and crumbling the straw wrapper.
“We dated. For a long time actually, since high school. We even picked this school so we could go together because it had both of the programs we were interested in. He’s a theatre major, you know? Well, was. Was a theatre major. Last year, out of the blue he announced that he’d landed a role and he’d be moving right away for it. I hadn’t even known he was auditioning for anything that wasn’t local. He broke up with me because he thought he wouldn’t have time for me and left three days later. Back at the cafe is the first time I’ve seen or spoken to him since.”
Y/N looks so dejected as she grabs Jeonghan’s straw wrapper because hers is totally mangled now. He kind of wishes he’d hit Lee Seokmin rather than shake his hand. “How long were you together?”
“6 years, almost 7.” The pout is back and Jeonghan’s beginning to heat with anger. What a waste that time was for her.
“I’m… sorry. That’s so shitty. I can’t imagine it.”
“Kind of hoped he wouldn’t come back. That maybe he’d be so successful abroad that he’d never need to. Is that wrong of me?”
Jeonghan scoffed. “Wrong of you to wish him success even though he broke your heart to achieve it? Maybe. Something isn’t right about that.” He’s aware immediately of how hypocritical what he just said is. Earlier this semester he asked her out on a bet, fully intending to date her for three months and then dump her to cash in on the $300 he was promised. He squashed the thought because now wasn’t the time. He needs to get that pout off her lips right now. He kind of hates that the only way he can think of to do it is to bring up Minghao. She was so much lighter when she ordered Jeonghan’s drink from him. “How does Minghao fit into all this?”
The pout lifts a bit. “Minghao was one of the first friends I made in my freshman year here. I took an art class for one of my general education requirements and he was in it. I’m not an artist. But he was kind about it even though he’s a much better artist than me and even helped me fix a lot of my work so I could pass. Last year, when Seokmin left, Minghao was still kind, even though Seokmin was his friend too. He didn’t look at me with pity like a lot of the others did.” Abruptly, she throws down the second mangled straw wrapper, crossing her arms across her chest. “That probably sounds stupid, doesn't it?”
“No!” Y/N’s eyes flare at Jeonghan’s rather passionate answer and Jeonghan tries to backpedal. “I mean… I know I don’t set a great example when it comes to this stuff. God only knows my friends won’t let me live it down. But I can sympathize. You put your heart and soul into someone for nearly 7 years and then he up and leaves at the first sign of a greater opportunity without so much as asking what you want? That would hurt anyone. It’s also totally reasonable to have a soft spot for someone that helped you when you needed it after all that.”
He’s avoided looking at her during his whole speech, but when he does he knows what he’s looking at because he’s already seen it a couple times tonight. She’s biting her lip and her eyes look unusually wet. He’s about to apologize when she says, “You surprise me, Yoon Jeonghan.”
“I do?” Jeonghan asked, confused.
Whatever emotion she was showing clears and she nods firmly. “Yes. Every time I think I have you figured out, it seems I’m wrong. You’re pretty thoughtful when you want to be.”
He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s not like this with most people, not by a long shot. The waitress brings their food and he’s thankful for the distraction. He’s nearly done with his burger when Y/N speaks again.
“What were they going to pay you if I said yes?”
Jeonghan is sure he knows exactly what she’s talking about but he prays he’s misunderstanding. He tries to play dumb. “Huh?”
“You said your friends never let you live down your reputation. I saw them that day that you asked me out. What was the prize if I said yes?”
He stalls out of for a long moment and Y/N waits patiently. “You won’t be mad?”
“No. It was obvious there was an ulterior motive the moment you approached me. We’ve had classes together for years and you never even glanced at me.”
He thinks that wasn’t totally true but he doesn't correct her because he doesn’t think it would change anything. She appears to be honest about not being mad so he clears his throat. “One of my friends, Joshua, is in a relationship and very happy. I don’t know how it ended up here, but they all agreed I was basically incapable of dating like that, or at all really. They wouldn’t let it go and it bothered me. I felt like I had something to prove to them.”
“How much?” This time she was pressing. His throat burned because it occurred to him why Joshua didn’t condone the betting and dares in the first place. Telling her she was worth $300 and some bragging rights to him made him feel ashamed now, especially with how she’d just opened up to him. But he answered her anyway. To her credit, she barely blinks. “And you picked me?”
“They did.” Jeonghan feels like he’s swallowing acid. He wonders if she thinks he finds her unattractive or that he never would have picked her if it had been up to him. That bothers him for reasons unknown.
“So they set you up then.” Jeonghan must have looked surprised because Y/N continues. “Mingyu knows I don’t like his habits. It runs Wonwoo out of his apartment constantly and hurts a lot of feelings. Because of your reputation, and your association with Mingyu, they had to know what I would say.”
Jeonghan’s positively dejected now. He slumps in his seat, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I guess so.” He looks out of the window to avoid her eyes because she’s doing that thing again where she looks right through him and he feels too raw now.
“It really does bother you, doesn't it? You don’t think you could do it if it was with the right person?”
“Maybe not,” Jeonghan mumbles bitterly. “I haven’t even gone a date since I was a sophomore in high school and my fucking mom drove me to it.” His laugh is so hollow as he wipes his hands down his face in frustration. He doesn’t know why he’s admitting this. He expects to see pity in her face but her expression is not completely impassive or unkind. “Sounds kind of pathetic, really, especially admitting it to someone like you, whose been in a very long relationship. I know how to hook up but I know next to nothing about dating.”
He can’t look at her and he kind of expects her to leave. Kind of wishes she would so he could go crawl in a hole in peace. “Jeonghan.” He looks up reluctantly and is terribly confused when she’s smirking and her eyes look a little chaotic. “Ask me again.”
Jeonghan’s brain shuts off like someone’s pulled the power cord to it. All thoughts flicker out. “What?” It comes out more like a hiss.
But she’s still blinking her pretty eyes at him and now she’s nodding encouragingly. “We can prove them wrong, easy. Ask me again.”
He shakes his head, hoping it’ll help him make sense of this. “You want to help me win a bet by pretending to date me.”
She shrugs. “Sure. I have a little experience, so I can help make it convincing.”
He knows she’s trying to make a joke about Seokmin, but he feels like he might pass out. “Why would you do that? What do you get out of it? And what about Minghao? Seokmin? What about my horrible reputation?”
“I care very little about your reputation actually,” she says firmly. “We’d have to establish some ground rules anyway if you want some image rehabilitation out of this. Seokmin is a non-issue because I don’t want anything to do with him anymore, and I’m positive that things with Minghao won’t be going anywhere. Besides, I kind of hate Mingyu. I’d like to make him eat his words.”
After a beat, Jeonghan barks a short laugh in disbelief. “You’re insane.” It’s not an insult because he’s beginning to smile.
Y/N sticks her hand out to him across the table, a satisfied smirk across her face. He likes the mischief in her eyes. It’s actually a huge turn on. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”
Now he’s wearing a huge grin. His hand encapsulates hers and they shake. “I’m Jeonghan. Nice to meet you. Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Act Two
Jeonghan was in charge of the first step of this plan. He needed to tell his friends that he had a date. He kind of wanted to straight up brag about it. Yes, they’d teased him mercilessly about Y/N’s initial rejection, but look who finally came around. He knows the bragging would be effective. It would make every competitive bone in Seungcheol and Mingyu’s body ache. He can imagine that they’d all try to start dating too just to prove a point. They can’t be shown up by Jeonghan.
But Jeonghan is surprised when Y/N pitches another idea and it’s absolutely devious. She suggests being so casual that it makes them feel guilty. Now, he hadn’t expected her to have such a manipulative streak, and he’s still more confused at this vendetta she seems to have against his friends, Mingyu in particular. But the more he thinks about it, the more satisfying he thinks her recommendation will be. He’s also incredibly turned on by the way she’s willing to play these mind games. She’s undoubtedly the best person to pull this stunt with.
After their shared night class on Thursday, Jeonghan slid into the booth at the bar. He runs a little late on purpose. He’s not sure if Chan remembers, but he’s already let it slip that he has a class with Y/N on Thursdays. It would be nice if he remembers that after Jeonghan’s announcement and puts two and two together, but it’s not necessary for the successor this step.
His friends were a few drinks deep already and discussing some baseball game that was on TV when he arrives. Jeonghan has a couple beers himself before the right opportunity finally presented itself. “You guys going to the Kappa party tomorrow night?”
The others agree to Seungcheol’s question automatically. Jeonghan glances at his roommate casually before looking back at the TV. He casually sips his beer. “I’ll pass.”
“What?! You never miss it. What’s better than a Kappa party?” Seungcheol laughs like Jeonghan is totally unserious.
Casual. No big deal, just like Y/N recommended. “I have a date. Maybe next time.”
Jeonghan’s words are intentionally flat and he enjoys the silence in the booth, knowing it’s the calm before the storm. You can hear a pin drop in their little corner booth, which is crazy because it’s Thirsty Thursday in a campus bar.
“I’m sorry? Can you say that again?” Jihoon speaks, confusion obvious.
Jeonghan finally meets his friends eyes. He suppresses the satisfaction at their shock, pulling his best Y/N impression to keep his face blank. “I have a date.”
“With who?!” Mingyu cries.
“When did this happen? I didn’t even know you were interested in anyone.” Seungcheol looked seriously offended.
Jeonghan and Y/N had agreed that this would be the best part. It would look like not even she was impervious to his charms, he’d just needed some extra time for her to warm up to him. He glanced back at the TV again. “Y/N. I asked her out earlier this week.”
Man, were they right. A glass clattered to the table. A gasp. Finally, a loud, “How in the fuck,” from Mingyu.
“Y/N, the girl that brutally shot you down earlier this semester? Wonwoo’s friend?” Seungcheol clarified.
Jeonghan did everything to keep his face passive and relaxed. Like he was long over it. “Brutal is a strong word. She was actually pretty polite about it.” That part was true. She’d said ‘no thank you’ when she could have said ‘no way in hell’.
“Then how did we get here? Did you bribe her or something?” Mingyu accused. “That would definitely go against the bet.”
Ah, another thing they had anticipated. After some discussion, they both agreed Jeonghan wouldn’t need to bring up the bet. His friends would do it for him in one way or another. After even more consideration, they’d also agreed that the bet didn’t matter. Jeonghan didn’t want the money, primarily because it would involve Y/N and he’d come to respect her too much over the semester. Even if he did take it, Y/N refused to accept any of it for her role. Plus, Jeonghan rejecting the bet would send a clear message.
“We have a class together and we got to know each other some. And no, I didn’t bribe her. I don’t give a fuck about the bet,” Jeonghan says evenly.
Across from him in the booth, Mingyu and Seungcheol look at each other before frowning. They hadn’t expected this and Jeonghan had been banking on that. It felt so satisfying and he already couldn’t wait to tell Y/N how well this was going.
Jihoon claps him on the shoulder. “That’s nice, man. I hope it goes well. You’ll have to tell us about it later.” He seems to mean it too.
Chan looks relieved. “So I don’t need to apologize for puking on her shoes?”
Jeonghan barks a laugh. He loves this kid. “No, her shoes cleaned up okay.”
Joshua is grinning. “I knew it’d work out. What are you doing for your date?”
Jeonghan isn’t sure how to take that first part but he doesn’t have much time to think about it because Joshua, Jihoon, and Chan are peppering him with questions. He feels stupidly happy when he answers them, losing the cool, unaffected exterior that he had before. They’ve never been so encouraging. Seungcheol and Mingyu are the ones that are usually cheering him on. But this is different isn’t it? His two friends across from him stay quiet for the rest of the night. It seems like they don’t know what to say.
His two friends are so quiet that it isn’t until Jeonghan is getting ready for his ‘date’ on Friday that one of them approaches him. He’s brushing his teeth when Seungcheol leans against the doorframe of his bathroom. “So, you’re really doing this, huh?”
Jeonghan likes to think he’s getting good at being casual about this topic because it’s all most of his friends have talked about since he made the announcement last night. He spits in the sink, focusing on running his toothbrush under the water. “Seems that way, yeah.”
Seungcheol is quiet for a while and Jeonghan wonders if he might drop it. He’s not so lucky. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His roommate sounds hurt.
“I did. Last night.” Jeonghan tries to keep the chill out of his voice when he answers it because he’s remembering how satisfied Seungcheol looked back in August across the quad.
“I mean - we’re friends, right? We have been for years. We live together for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even know you had a class with her, much less that you’d been talking to her or really liked her.”
He can tell Seungcheol is getting frustrated and Jeonghan is losing his patience for it. Seungcheol should feel bad and Jeonghan wants to make sure he does. “I didn’t know you’d want to know, especially if I wasn’t getting turned down.”
It has the affect that he’s hoping for. Seungcheol reels back a bit. “It’s not like that and you know it. Of course I’d be happy for you if you really liked someone. You just… haven’t.”
“I do now.” Jeonghan is even surprised by how fast the words come out. “Want to make fun of me the way you guys do with Joshua now? It seems you and Mingyu will have something to say either way.”
It’s like he’s watching in real time as Seungcheol realizes he might have been a dick. But this has just started. He and Y/N have a three month agreement once it’s reasonable to announce that they’re official and Jeonghan plans to make the most of it while Y/N is on board. Seungcheol is just the start.
“You know we don’t mean it. It’s not that serious,” Seungcheol might even be pleading now but Jeonghan feels his anger boiling over as he pushes past Seungcheol to get back to his bedroom.
“Have you asked Joshua if he thinks it’s not serious? You ever wonder why he doesn’t bring his girlfriend around when she goes to the same fucking school?” Jeonghan bites, opening his closet, yanking out clothes that he’d already planned to wear. His movements are jerky as he dresses.
“He always says she’s busy.” It sounds like Seungcheol is trying to convince himself of it. That really has been Joshua’s excuse, but Jeonghan remembers how Joshua avoided talking about her for so long, afraid of how everyone would react. They’ve only met her a handful of times in three years. He half considers taking a page out of Joshua’s book when it comes to Y/N, but it would defeat the purpose of their plan. This needs to be rubbed in their faces. Not tonight, but soon.
“I gotta go, I’ll see you later,” Jeonghan shoves his keys, wallet, and phone in his pockets and walks past Seungcheol, ignoring the ‘seriously, man’ that’s mumbled.
Y/N can tell Jeonghan is in a mood when they meet in the lobby of their apartment complex. She lets him have his moment as they get into his car and drive to the river front. He seems to relax some when they park and she asks what kind of street food he’s thinking of getting. It’s chilly but they find a bench on the river’s edge to eat their food. “So how’d your announcement go?”
“Good, I guess,” Jeonghan grunts.
“Be more convincing,” Y/N insists lightly. He gives her a look out of the corner of his eyes before he scoffs. But she’s relieved when he does lighten up a bit.
“It was good until I was talking to Seungcheol earlier. He was offended that I never mentioned it.” One thing that keeps surprising Y/N is how open Jeonghan is about his thoughts and feelings. She doesn’t want to discourage it. She knows what it’s like to feel like you can’t go to your friends with this sort of stuff.
Y/N hums. “Seems about right. How’d that go?”
“Bad. We don’t fight often - I mean only a handful of times over nearly 15 years. He didn’t like that I was right though. He didn’t want to know about it if he couldn’t give me a hard time about it.”
“I’m proud of you.” Jeonghan’s head snaps to look at her as she continues. “You should absolutely tell him he’s being a dick. Mingyu next, please. Imagine how satisfying that will be.” After a beat, she adopts a thoughtful expression. “Maybe we need to take a more subtle route to avoid fighting with them, though. I’m not out to ruin friendships here. I just want to deliver some karma and a little guilt-tripping.”
“How’s this going to work anyway? Jeonghan asks. He's already said he doesn’t want to make assumptions about what she’s comfortable with in this little scheme of theirs and that her approval on the process is important to him.
She hears him chuckle when she pulls out a notebook and a pen from her bag. “You’re not going to make me sign a contract, are you?” He teases.
She gives him a side eye, but she can’t help but smile. She flips to a certain page. “No, Yoon Jeonghan. How much time are you spending on Wattpad?”
“Just enough,” he jokes. She rolls her eyes.
The plan is pretty simple.
Phase One - Casually Dating. This is critical, she says, because it lays the groundwork for the rest of the plan. It has to be convincing that it’s going well and they like spending time with each other. She insists that this act doesn’t just extend to his friends or even her friends, though they’re important factors. It extends to all of campus. His absence at parties will be noticed. His prolonged attention on a single person will be noticed. It will make an impact. He needs to jumpstart some image rehabilitation if this will work. People need to be second guessing what they think they know about him.
Phase Two - Officially Dating. Once they both feel that others are sufficiently convinced that something serious could really be going on between them, they hard launch. This includes things like being seen together on campus, posting each other on social media, and attending parties together. She says that this is the natural rhythm of this type of thing and he nods in agreement. Despite the fact that he’s not put any of those things to practice, she knows he’s smart and has seen it all before. When Y/N mentions a little PDA, Jeonghan frowns like he hadn’t considered that it would be necessary. He asks what she has in mind, but Y/N shrugs and says they’ll revisit it if phase one is successful. She’s still debating on what will work in regards to the topic of PDA, given what he’s used tonight other than girls.
Phase Three - sometime after the three month mark, they quietly break up. Quietly because Jeonghan can’t be the bad guy here if this is going to really benefit him in the long run. Jeonghan says that this part sounds deceptively simple and even asks if there’s more. There’s not so he shrugs. Another thing they’ll revisit if the first two phases are successful.
She really only has one rule. He has to stop all non-platonic interactions with other women until this is over. Even if he’s discreet, people will still talk and it will ruin the new image that they’re trying to create. Jeonghan agrees to this with surprising ease, and Y/N’s shock must show. She was expecting for him to ask to bend this rule on an occasion or two because it’s been implied she won’t be putting out. She has an idea of the frequency of his hook ups because she’s seen and heard things and three months is a long time for someone with his habits. He simply says, “Just trust me. I promise not to make you look bad.” He even pinky promises on it.
When they’ve agreed on the general details, Jeonghan takes the pen and signs the bottom of her notes with a smile. “There, it’s official now.”
She scoffs, snapping the notebook shut around his hand and taking her pen back. Both items go back into her bag. She’s smiling too though. “Come on. I want hot chocolate.”
“Are you paying?” He chides, standing to walk with her.
“No. You just signed your life away. You didn’t even read the contract.” She jokes and he laughs. He pays anyway without complaint.
Y/N had spent so much time worrying about Jeonghan’s side of this little deal that it didn’t occur to her until she was out with her friends in celebration of Junhui’s excellent performance earlier that night. They both had a part to play in this and she feels kind of silly that she had forgotten that this would impact her too.
Seokmin had joined them for dinner and Y/N wore her best poker face. He’d been friends with everyone before he left too. She didn’t want to cause anymore of a rift than their breakup had. She also knew many of the guys still kept in contact with Seokmin even if she didn’t and had missed him. Vernon kept her glass full of alcohol. It’s one of the rare times that he wasn’t giving her a hard time about her misfortune (which this entire night certainly classifies as). She thinks he probably just doesn’t want to see her cry tonight. Vernon is totally lost with that sort of thing.
The alcohol wasn’t numbing much though. Everyone else seems to be having a good time and she was beginning to feel left out. In particular, Soonyoung was having a lot of fun downing drinks. His voice was loud and it looked like their waiter might cut him off at any moment. Drunkenly, Soonyoung turns to Seokmin. “Seokmin, Minnie couldn’t come with you? When will we meet her?”
Y/N didn’t miss the looks from the rest of the table because there was nothing subtle about it. Some flashed with concern towards Y/N. Some looked like warnings at Soonyoung, who was oblivious. Seokmin hesitated, eyes flitting to Y/N across the table. “No, she had some things to do. She says she’d like to come next time.”
She felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Minnie. His costar. Maybe his new girlfriend too from the sounds of it. It seemed like all of her friends knew as well and they’d kept it from her. Soonyoung cried out, leaning down to hold is leg. Someone must have landed a kick under the table. Minghao smoothly changed the subject.
After that, Vernon is very diligent about keeping her glass full. The world moved around her but she stayed quiet. How dare he? How dare he dump her and move on just like that? They’d not even been broken up for a year. How was it so simple for him when her eyes burned at the fact that he was even at the same table? Did nearly 7 years mean nothing?
Maybe it didn’t. Maybe her friends knew that, which is why they’d kept this a secret. They knew she hadn’t been able to move on so easily. Between the anger and the alcohol she felt like she was on fire.
Vernon elbows her. She’s missed an entire conversation. “Seokmin is here until Friday. Want to join us for dinner and drinks on Thursday night?” Junhui’s not oblivious, but he’s sure acting like it with the question. Or maybe it’s out of politeness, not wanting her to feel excluded. Either way, her fists clench in her lap because there’s no way to spin this into something positive.
Out of nowhere, Y/N remembers Jeonghan asking her what she gets out of their scheme. She’d insisted making his friends eat their words was enough. But maybe she could benefit from it more than she thought.
She remembers when she and Jeonghan planned his announcement to his friends. Be casual, no big deal. She gives her most convincing apologetic smile. “Sorry, I won’t be able to make it. I have a date.” She doesn’t look at Seokmin because his reaction matters very little to her. It’s with great satisfaction that she watches her friends stumble as she changes the subject.
Y/N hadn’t really thought about the impact her announcement would have because it was so spur of the moment, unlike how Jeonghan’s was meticulously planned. But she was learning what that impact was. Her friends were tiptoeing around her, around the topic. It seemed like no one was brave enough to say anything yet. That is, until they sent Minghao.
As was her usual routine, Y/N often studies at the coffee shop during Minghao’s shift. It’s three in the afternoon now, which means it’s dead. The morning rush is long over and the night class rush (if you could even call it that) won’t start for another hour or so. Minghao slides into the chair across from her and Y/N glances up to give him a small smile. He doesn’t return it. He looks a bit nervous, which is very unlike him.
“What?” Y/N asks, though she thinks she knows where this is going. It’s been days since the conversation during dinner. It’s clear one or all of them can’t take the mystery anymore.
Minghao looks like he’s steeling himself. Finally he says, “So, a date, huh?” She shrugs. “When did that happen?”
“I’ve actually already been on one, on Friday. We’re going out again.”
She watches Minghao’s eyes flare in surprise. “Oh? So it went well then?” He seems neutral about the news.
“Yeah, it was good.” The answer was genuine. If you’d told her earlier in the semester that she’d enjoy Yoon Jeonghan’s company, she wouldn’t have believed it. Despite the fact that it could barely be called a date, what with the scheming and all, she did have a good time.
“Do I know him?”
Y/N shrugs again. “I suppose. It’s Yoon Jeonghan.”
A flash of concern crosses Minghao’s face. “Yoon Jeonghan. Are we thinking of the same one?” When Y/N just raises an eyebrow because there’s only one Yoon Jeonghan around here, he tacks on, “The one that was here with you last week?”
“Yes.”
Minghao face palms. “Oh, honey. Why would you do that?”
He sounds so exasperated and scolding that it pisses her off right away. “Do what? Go out with someone whose interested in me?”
Minghao’s stammering now. He didn’t expect her to fight back. She’s been the quiet one of the group from day one, letting the rest of her friends run the show. With Seokmin, she’d always been so agreeable, even to a fault. And when Seokmin had left, she took all of her friends’ advice without argument, trusting that she would feel better if she did. She’d always assumed they were looking out for her, but she was thinking she’d misinterpreted some of their intentions now.
“I don’t mean it like that, Y/N. I just mean… we all know how hard Seokmin leaving was on you. There’s no need to rush moving on. Least of all with someone like Yoon Jeonghan.”
She doesn’t like how he says Jeonghan’s name like he’s the devil incarnate but she can’t deal with that right now. “No need to rush moving on like Seokmin did? Tell me, how quickly did he start dating someone else after he ended a years-long relationship?” She snaps and Minghao doesn’t have an answer. “Every single one of you knew and you didn’t tell me. You let me sit across from him at dinner and find out the hard way.”
“We were trying to protect you from it. You’d been doing so much better. We didn’t want to ruin the progress,” Minghao says weakly.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about the progress being ruined. I’m very over Seokmin, but I’m deeply offended that you guys kept this from me. It did absolutely no good to protect me from it right up until he was right in front of me for the first time in a year.”
Minghao opens his mouth to say something but a customer comes in. He has no choice but get up and make their order. Y/N packs up her things and leaves while he’s busy because she’s not interested in continuing this conversation.
Thursday night after class, Y/N finds herself across from Jeonghan in what he’s dubbed their regular booth at the diner. It’s the same one they sat at when they initially hatched this whole plan initially. When she’d texted him earlier in the week asking for a ‘date’ on Thursday, she was relieved when he immediately agreed. This ‘date’ has a dual purpose. They needed to meet anyway for their project and they also needed to discuss the next steps in their scheme. Her conversation with Minghao had sparked something in her.
They get the boring stuff out of the way first - combining their notes for what they’ve read so far, discussing themes and motifs, and choices in characterization, plus where they think the ending will go. Not only has he actually done the reading they agreed on, but he’s far more intelligent than he lets on and Y/N finds the conversation just as stimulating as the scheming.
Speaking of, when their plates are empty, laptops are closed, and Y/N’s notebook and pen come out, Jeonghan smiles. She’s taken more notes. However, she doesn’t tell him how it’s going to be right away. “How do you want to proceed?”
The question stumps him and Y/N smiles when his face falls into confusion. “Didn’t you come up with a plan already?”
“A loose one. There’s a lot of flexibility because this needs to come naturally to both of us if it’s going to be convincing. The question now is, when can we move on to phase two?”
Jeonghan’s thinking, and it probably mirrors a lot of her own thoughts. Since their agreement, Jeonghan had made a point to meet her regularly on campus - meeting her for coffee or lunch, walking her to class, even carrying her bag once or twice. It had gotten looks, which was the entire goal.
She also knew that her friends had seen some of this too. She wasn’t sure if Minghao had told them who she was seeing, or if they’d seen it for themselves, but it was clear that they knew now. She smiled and confirmed their assumptions when asked, but they were careful not to voice their opinions. They seemed to sense that they were in trouble.
What she didn’t know was how things were going with his friends. She knew they’d also seen Jeonghan and Y/N together on campus, and knew that a lot of those times he’d been bailing on them to see her. “Are things convincing to your friends so far?”
Jeonghan nodded slowly. “I think so. It’s helping that I’ve turned down parties. Jihoon called me a changed man the other day.” There’s a lightness about him when he says this. Like it’s the biggest compliment anyone could give him.
“Do you miss it? The partying, I mean?” Not that she told him, but some of his bad habits were the biggest risk to their whole plot. She’s relieved when he shrugs.
“Not really. Might be nice from time to time but it was kind of always a means to an end.”
He doesn’t have to spell it out for her. He won’t go to parties if he’s not taking someone home. He looks a little embarrassed about this admission after he says it but she appreciates his honesty.
“That brings me to my next question, actually.” Jeonghan looks nervous but nods for her to continue. “Maybe we should attend one together.”
He’s frowning now. “You don’t like parties.”
“I don’t like getting puked on.” She’s teasing, but he must know that because he rolls his eyes. “What I’m getting at is, a total 180 of your habits could be suspicious. Plus it’s a good opportunity to be seen together. We show up, have a few drinks, chat, look cute together, and then we leave if you want.”
“Define ‘look cute together’.” He looks genuinely confused.
“Which brings me to my next point. How are you with PDA?” She watched Jeonghan’s eyebrows raise and then he busies himself looking elsewhere.
“I usually do enough to get someone to go upstairs or go home with me.”
She nods, closing her eyes with a tinge of exasperation. “That’s not the kind of PDA I’m talking about.”
“Oh.”
She flips the notebook to a fresh page, tapping the pen a few times. “I mean, innocent touches. Things that will make it apparent that we’re together but doesn’t necessarily mean you’re taking me straight to bed when we leave. Though I guess people thinking that wouldn’t hurt much, especially later on.”
Across the table, Jeonghan tries to think of literally anything else but the implication of her words. He’d made a concerted effort not to think about her that way this whole time, not just in this scheme but throughout the whole semester. He would not be able to get through this if he was thinking about her in his bed. He’d surely fuck it up if sex became involved. She seems oblivious to his struggles. He clears his throat. “I don’t know. What would you normally do?”
Y/N is surprised and her poker face slips a bit. He couldn’t be that inexperienced to all of this, could he? He’s starting to fidget, a nervous tick that he has. Maybe she’s wrong. There’s more of a learning curve than she thought.
“Hand holding. Little touches, like if we’re standing next to each other you put your hand on my back or waist. Or if we’re sitting next to each other you put your hand on my thigh. Kissing probably wouldn’t be a bad touch either, to whatever extent you’re comfortable with it. The critical part is that we need to look interested in one another and no one else over a significant period of time.”
She’s writing notes as she says this, so she misses how Jeonghan’s eyes are glazing over. He knows couples touch and kiss, he’s not an idiot. And he’s definitely not inexperienced with the mechanics of it all. But he feels like he’s 14 again at the concept. He hasn’t said anything yet and she interrupts his panic. “Are you okay with that? Would you add anything? Are there things you don’t want to do?”
“Uh, no, I’m good. But, you’re sure you’re okay with all that?”
He’s getting her signature blinks. “Jeonghan, I wouldn’t mention it if I wasn’t okay with it. Besides, there’s no script to this part. Just do what feels natural.” He’s doesn’t know how to respond and it makes her frown. She puts the pen down and sighs. “Maybe we go a different route with this. It doesn’t have to be public. Maybe you don’t want to be seen with me.”
Jeonghan’s eyes go wide, hands planting on the table. “Whoa, where did that come from? What makes you say that?”
Y/N chews on her lip. She’s usually a straight shooter, but she hesitates to admit this because of how insecure she might sound. However, this won’t work if they’re keeping secrets. “I don’t quite fit the type of girl you go after. You looked uncomfortable at the idea of being near me or touching me. It’s fine if you don’t find me attractive. I’m really not offended, I promise, but if that’s the case for you, then maybe we scrap this whole plan or find someone else to help you with it.”
“You think I don’t find you attractive?” Jeonghan is deadpanned now because he can’t imagine pulling this off with anyone else. Y/N shrugs, feeling exposed now that she’s said all of that. Jeonghan gives a stiff shake of his head. “You’re insane.” He’s said this before but this time it’s not a compliment. “I’m only going to say this once. You’re incredibly hot and pretty and cute, and just about any other kind adjective out there. You’re not the issue here. In fact, I’m already getting questions about how I got you to so much as look at me.”
“That’s because I’m kind of a bitch.” Y/N means it as a joke but Jeonghan certainly isn’t taking it that way. He looks more serious than she’s ever seen him.
“No, you’re not,” he says firmly, leaving no room for debate. “You have boundaries and you know what you want. That’s something about you that I can’t get enough of.”
Things move in slow motion for her as Jeonghan reaches across the table to grab her notebook and pen. He scribbles out the question mark she’d put next to Kissing and then signs his name at the bottom. “I’ll pick you up at 9 on Saturday night. There’s a Phi and Zeta party.” He flags down the waitress for an order of fries. It’s clear that this is final.
Minseo busts into Y/N’s room at approximately noon on Saturday, two coffees in hand. Y/N is relieved to see her, though she almost didn’t call her. But Minseo had picked up on the second ring and it took very little explaining before Y/N could hear her former roommate scrambling around her room, promising to be there ASAP.
Y/N wasn’t good with girls. Not good at having conversations with them, not good at maintaining friendships with them. She had very little in common with someone like Minseo, who had done dance and cheer for most of her life, was popular in the sorority circles, and whose favorite color was hot pink. Instead, Y/N had been on the soccer field skinning up her knees or the volleyball court diving for the ball, and when she wasn’t doing one of those, she dressed like a complete tomboy - no skirts or dresses in sight if she could help it. And don’t get her started on the fact that all of her friends had always been boys. Other girls, even her own teammates, had criticized her over the years, saying that she must think she’s better than other girls. They interpreted her reservation (which was rooted in anxiety about fitting in) as her being stuck up. She wasn’t. She didn’t feel that way at all. She wished she could fit in with them desperately but didn’t know how.
Minseo was one of the few girls she’d ever met that didn’t complain about the skateboard being left in the walkway of their dorm, or that Y/N’s closet primarily consisted of denim and black, or that she sometimes wore a bit too much dark eye makeup when she was in the mood. She didn’t even blink at the number of guy friends that were in and out of their shared dorm the entire time they lived together and never even suggested that something else was going on. In return for that acceptance, Y/N had tutored Minseo for many classes to remain eligible for the sorority of her choice and supported Minseo’s 2am baking habit. She had even helped Minseo style dozens of outfits for her many sorority events, back when she was still trying to find her footing within the organization. It was Y/N that needed the fashion help this time.
“I need you to start from the beginning.” Minseo was practically vibrating as she plopped on her stomach onto the bed, feet kicked into the air with her head propped in her hands. She’s grinning.
“I have a date.”
“So you said. With Yoon Jeonghan.” Minseo’s smirk is huge. She’s not surprised that Minseo’s heard it. The whispers have been following her everywhere lately.
“It’s fake.” The whisper is out before Y/N can stop it.
Minseo’s jaw drops. “What?!” The screech must have disturbed Vernon’s beauty sleep because he bangs on their joining wall. Minseo and Y/N yell ‘sorry’ in unison, an old habit from their dorm days.
“Oh my god, Y/N. Start from the beginning. Now,” Minseo hisses.
Y/N does. She’s desperate to tell someone everything, to get it off her chest and feel better. She tells her about turning Jeonghan down in August, the bet, the class they shared and how they kept running into each other, Seokmin, Minghao - everything. It feels good to share the pain of it all. It also feels good to have someone to panic with her. Minseo is screaming into the pillow by the end of it and Vernon’s banging on the wall again.
“Well, so what now? Fake date Yoon Jeonghan?” Minseo must recognize that this is Top Secret because she’s adopted a whisper too.
Y/N gives a deceptively casual shrug. “Yeah, that’s the deal. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Hell yeah, but girl, this is so messy of you. Are you sure you’re good?” Minseo looks mildly concerned.
“I’ll be better if you can help me figure out what to wear, and how to do my hair and make up. I’m trying to make a point here.”
“Clarify the points for me.” Minseo is gentle with the request, but it’s clear she’s not moving from the bed until she has an answer.
“That I can move on from Seokmin. That I already have, actually. And that Jeonghan’s not quite what his reputation leads people to believe.”
“You’re sure about that last one? That the bet’s not back on? That he’s not going to continue to sleep around?” Another gentle but serious question. Minseo knows his friends so she knows how Jeonghan is by default.
Y/N bites her lip. “I think so. Even if the bet’s still on, none of it’s real. And he’s agreed not to sleep around. If he does, this whole thing backfires on him anyway.”
This seems to satisfy Minseo, because she’s suddenly lunging towards the closet. Clothes begin flying out onto the floor behind her. She’s digging to the back of the closet. Y/N expected that but dreads it nonetheless. A few options are laying out on the bed in moments, things that are a little more revealing or tighter (or both) than she’d usually wear. She’s not sure why she even has some of them because they still have the price tags on them.
It’s a little unclear what Minseo’s process is, but she’s meticulous about examining an outfit, scanning Y/N, looking back at the outfit, repeat. Finally, Minseo shoves one to her and points to the bathroom in a silent command. Minseo frowns when Y/N comes out and silently hands her another outfit. “What? Is this one bad?” Y/N asks, looking down self-consciously.
“No babe, you look hot, but you also look terribly uncomfortable. That’s not going to convince anyone.”
It takes a while before Minseo is satisfied with the full look, but at a little before 9pm, Y/N is glad she trusted the process. Minseo ended up scrapping all of the things she initially pulled out with the excuse that they weren’t edgy enough. Y/N fans her face to dry wet eyes and not smudge her makeup when she looks in the full length mirror. Minseo didn’t try to stuff her into a short party dress; she’d let her keep her personal style and comfort, but it’s enhanced her feature in a way that she didn’t know was possible. She owed her former roommate big for this because it makes her feel a little more confident about this whole thing. Like she’s not just playing dress up as Jeonghan’s soon-to-be girlfriend.
The apartment door opens and Y/N knows it’s time. Time for what, she’s not sure, but it feels a little like facing the music. She finds Jeonghan and Vernon at the door. She’s unsure if they’ve ever actually met, but they apparently have now. Both look surprised when they see her, or rather what she’s wearing, but while Jeonghan smiles, Vernon frowns. She hasn’t made this kind of effort to dress up for a guy… ever, really. Not even for Seokmin.
Y/N tries to convince herself it’s not really for Jeonghan per say, but she does like how he looks at her. It seems innocent and there’s a quiet admiration to it.
“Ready?” She asked Jeonghan. He holds the door open for her as they leave, while Vernon’s still standing in the entry way awkwardly waving.
“You look nice,” Jeonghan says when they enter the elevator.
“Thanks, so do you.” It’s not a lie. He’s usually wearing baggy clothes like sweat pants, hoodies, and oversized shirts. Now it’s jeans, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket. Within the confines of the elevator, she can smell his cologne. Something woodsy with a hint of citrus. The scent is kind of consuming and she’s eager to get out of the elevator and clear her head.
Conversation comes easy on their walk across campus. It usually comes easy with them anymore. It’s when they approach the frat house that Y/N begins to hesitate. Jeonghan’s perceptive, leaning close. There’s a crowd of people in the front lawn and he probably doesn’t want to be heard. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can just walk back home now, or go somewhere else and hang out. Me not showing up at all also makes a point.”
“That defeats the purpose. Besides, wasn’t I the one convincing you of this the other day?”
“You were,” Jeonghan nodded. “But you’re allowed to back out at any time. You’re getting very, very little out this.”
“That’s not totally true,” Y/N mumbled. As soon as the words were out, she hoped he hadn’t heard her but he must have.
“Your mysterious vendetta against Mingyu isn’t worth being uncomfortable here. We can always set up something else less crowded,” Jeonghan insisted.
“No, I mean…” she stalls. A crowd of drunken frat guys get too close to them on the sidewalk as they rough house. Jeonghan’s hand flies to her waist pulling her away. He doesn’t take his hand back, like maybe he’s trying to comfort her. Or maybe he’s just putting on a show. He’s standing close and she imagines how intimate it must look because she knows how intimate it feels. Whatever it is, it’s disarming because it seems so natural. “Seokmin’s moved on. All my friends knew and didn’t tell me.”
Jeonghan’s fingers tighten around the curve of her waist ever so slightly and his touch is warm through her jacket. “So… you want to prove you can move on too.”
It warms her that he gets it just like that, no further explanation needed. “Does that make me a bad person?” Y/N asks, looking around the front lawn next to her.
“Does it make me a bad person that I want to prove to my friends that I can date by fake dating you?”
“No,” Y/N’s fly up to Jeonghan’s and he’s looking intently, a hint of amusement. “Your friends are being dicks. They should be more supportive of you and what you want.”
“And your friends should be honest with you about some asshole that up and left you after 7 years. Fuck, they shouldn’t even be friends with him anymore, Y/N. I don’t have to know the details to know he was in the wrong here.” His hand slides around to her back as he steps forward a bit, impassioned. She can feel his warmth against her side now.
She’d never had anyone so… viciously supportive of her. Not even Wonwoo, arguably her ride or die for as long as she could remember, had said a bad word about Seokmin around her. Not even when she wouldn’t eat or sleep, and cried often. She’d asked over and over what she’d done wrong and none of her friends ever had an answer for her. Now that she thought about it, they also never told her she wasn’t in the wrong at all. Jeonghan’s validation, particularly the intensity of it, is touching.
Confidence in their plan renewed, she was reaching around to grab his hand off of her back, lacing their fingers together. “Let’s go.”
Jeonghan didn’t have to be told twice.
Jeonghan had only told his friends he’d show up tonight, but not that he’d be bringing anyone. The omission was only because he wanted to give Y/N room to back out, and if she had backed out he already planned to back out too. In a way, he kind of liked the idea of keeping a little mystery. But Y/N is right when she says they still need to show off a little bit.
He feels their stares, amongst many others, as he leads Y/N by the hand to the kitchen. It occurs to them that he and Y/N didn’t really have a game plan for this. They’re totally winging it and he’s trying to think fast.
They both get drinks and wordlessly reconnect their hands together to fight through the crowd. He finds his friends by the pool table, Mingyu and Seungcheol with cues in their hands. They aren’t playing though. They’re staring. Joshua is the first to greet them, but he hardly seems concerned with Jeonghan. He seems so enthusiastic that Y/N is here that it’s a little overwhelming. He immediately introduces himself to Y/N and then introduces the other four one by one.
“Nice to meet you, but what’s the catch?” Jihoon asks. Though he means it in jest, Jeonghan’s fingers still tense around Y/N’s. He’s afraid he might lose his cool but she squeezes his hand back.
“No catch,” Y/N answers coolly. “Why would there be?”
Jeonghan suddenly remembers who he’s working with. She’s smiling, but he sees the gleam of mischief in her eyes that he’s becoming familiar with. She’s excited to face off with them. Jeonghan now realizes that she’s going to make them say it. She’s going to make them fess up to what they really think about him and about him dating her. She’s also going to make them regret it. He feels a little giddy at the thought. His hand relaxes in hers and he gives his friends a cool smile now.
“It’s just, Jeonghan doesn’t date. This is weird for all of us,” Seungcheol says with a slight smirk, kind of like he’s expecting to scare her off easily. It’s irritating, but Seungcheol doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
She looks up at Jeonghan with an amused expression. “Is this weird for you?”
Automatically, Jeonghan is shaking his head, a genuine smile on his face. It really isn’t weird, which is the great irony of it all. “Of course not.”
Y/N’s expression is light but there’s a challenge in her eyes when she levels with Seungcheol and shrugs. “You’ll get over it.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen and the smirk drops a bit. Jeonghan can see he didn’t expect her to be so casual and indifferent to his prodding.
Mingyu laughs but there’s something kind of malicious about it. Jeonghan wonders what’s happened to cause such tension between Y/N and Mingyu because he feels Y/N’s fingers twitch at the sound. He kind of wonders what she would do if both her hands weren’t full. “Y/N, honey, you know how this goes. We’re just trying to save you from the inevitable. Get out while you can.”
“Yeah, I do know how these things go with you, Mingyu. I make it a point to not take your advice because of it,” Y/N says evenly, relaxed even.
Mingyu’s lips purse and he backs down just like that. Jeonghan’s never seen Mingyu cower like this and makes a mental note to ask what kind of dirt she has on Mingyu that makes him finally shut up. It’s Jihoon that breaks whatever tension has been building. He looks at Jeonghan with a grin. “Oh, I like her. We’re keeping her so don’t fuck this up.”
The night goes on and Jeonghan enjoys it more than any party he’s ever been to. It’s something to do with Y/N, no doubt. He liked how Joshua and Jihoon had claimed her as part of the group immediately. He liked how she hugged a drunk Chan and patted his cheek kindly when he almost cried while apologizing for puking on her shoes all those months ago. He also really liked watching her absolutely demolish both Seungcheol and Mingyu at pool. As she sunk the last ball to win against Mingyu, Seungcheol looked at him with crazed eyes. “Where the fuck did you find her?”
“You guys found her. Remember?” Jeonghan said with a laugh. He enjoyed the sobering affect his words had on Seungcheol. That’s right. He’s not going to let him forget how all this started. This is when Jeonghan realizes he hasn’t been plotting this entire night. He’d expected that the PDA and introductions would need to be meticulously planned, but it all happens with such ease that it surprises him. Joshua had handled the introductions for him and it seemed so natural to put a hand on her back or waist or hold her hand when they stood next to each other. He finds he kind of likes it.
Jeonghan can tell that Y/N has had enough social interaction a little after midnight and begins to pull her by the hand towards the door. He’s surprised when Seungcheol invites her to hang out with them the next day. On Sundays, they often go to the sports complex and find something to do. He’s even more surprised when she says yes.
Very few words are necessary on the way home. They both know this has been a huge success. Enough that she lets him throw his jacket around her and take a picture of her, which is uploaded to Instagram right away. Hard launch complete. Phase two begins now.
It was clear on Sunday morning that her friends are staging an intervention.
Y/N is already dressed to go to the sports complex later and comes out on the hunt for some breakfast. She finds her living room full and six pairs of eyes on her. Wonwoo is the one to pat the seat next to him and ask that she sit down. He starts gently. “We saw the post. It’s blowing up on instagram. Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
She loves Wonwoo, and all of them really, but there’s an expectant look in their eyes that makes her seethe. Like they think they deserve answers. “Does it matter?”
“Matters?! Yes it - of course it matters, Y/N. You’ve been dating and you didn’t even tell us,” Wonwoo cries, calm facade gone.
“This is what this intervention is about? That I’m dating and didn’t announce it immediately?” She can’t help but deadpan in total disbelief.
“Yes! Y/N, it’s so unlike you to not tell us what’s going on with you,” Soonyoung answers, frowning.
“Have we done something?” Junhui asks.
“Have you done something? Is that a serious question?” Minghao puts his face in his hands because he must know where this is going. He’s already been ripped apart for this once back at the coffee shop. The others are genuinely nodding though. Minghao must not have said much about their conversation because it would have served as a warning. Y/N laughs bitterly, running a hand down her face in exasperation. “I’d like to know where you all find the audacity to ask me that like you haven’t been hiding things from me for who knows how long.”
Besides Minghao, they look surprised, like they’d already forgotten the big reveal at dinner the other night. “Y/N, I promise we didn’t tell you only because we didn’t want it to be a setback,” Seungkwan tried to reason.
“And you didn’t think it would be a setback when I found out while he’s sitting across from me at dinner, which I didn’t even want to be at by the way? I sucked it up and went for Junhui because it was his night. Did you think that felt great to find out that not only did Seokmin toss out nearly 7 years together because he has bigger and better things to do, but one of those bigger and better things included moving on in what? A matter of months? Was it even that long? Did you think it felt great to know that everyone else knew before me?” Now Y/N is out of her seat, refusing to be placated by Wonwoo whose trying to pull her back down. “You guys are supposed to be my friends. Seokmin and I intentionally didn’t make you guys pick between us but it seems like you did anyway. And now you all are upset that I’m moving on? It’s okay for Seokmin to be happy after he tossed me out like trash and I can’t go on a fucking date a year later and be happy about it?”
“And you think Yoon Jeonghan will make you happy?” Vernon ask pointedly.
“Yes! I wouldn’t be dating him I didn’t think so!” Tears of frustration are pricking at her eyes now. She doesn’t like how they’re talking about Jeonghan, regardless of whether any of it is real or not, and she doesn’t like that her happiness is so conditional to them.
“Y/N, honey… he’s just such a far cry from Seokmin in literally every way,” Wonwoo tried to reason. She knows what he means. Seokmin is sunshine personified, a hero, known to be one of the kindest people you’d meet, and Jeonghan’s the evil villain in this story to them. But Jeonghan hasn’t destroyed her. He seems to be going out his way to make sure he doesn’t with their little plan. No amount of loyalty and kept Seokmin from doing that though.
“It’s almost as if that’s the entire fucking point. You guys watched Seokmin rip my heart out after so long together and you still seem to think he’s the good guy here. Seokmin’s not the guy you think he is, but neither is Jeonghan. This intervention is over. Fuck you guys.”
She doesn’t know who knocks on her bedroom door every now and then but she doesn’t respond. When it’s time to leave for the sports complex, she walks past the living room quickly, ignoring their calls. She stuffs her feet in her tennis shoes and she’s out the door.
Jeonghan meets her in the lobby. She’s sure he can tell something’s wrong immediately, but he doesn’t ask right away. He tells her that Mingyu and Seungcheol are already at the gym but they’re in no hurry so they can take their time walking.
It’s when she continually silences calls and ignores texts before finally shutting off her phone entirely that Jeonghan has to ask. “Is everything okay?”
“My friends staged an intervention this morning. I’m still pissed.”
“Intervention? I’m gonna need you to elaborate.” So she does, because she doesn’t see a point in keeping it secret from him. He should know about it before he comes around her friends, if they’re still even considered that. It’s strange how she finds some comfort in hooking onto his arm that’s stuffed in his coat pocket and even stranger how he doesn’t seem to react. This was the man that didn’t know what innocent touch really was until a week ago, but it feels so natural. Just like last night at the party.
When she’s done explaining, he looks conflicted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this would cause such a rift for you and your friends.”
“The rift was already there when they started keeping secrets from me. They just made it worse by expecting honesty when they weren’t giving it back in return.” She tightens her hand around his arm, leaning into him a bit. He must think she’s cold because he loosely throws the arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side. It’s the closest they’ve been at this point but it’s not uncomfortable at all. Y/N even thinks it’s kind of nice.
“You’re right, but… it doesn’t help that I’m me. If it were anyone else they might not have reacted that way.” He sounds a little dejected and when she looks up he’s even pouting a bit. She resists the urge to squish his face.
“You know I don’t give a shit about that, right? I know what I agreed to. Besides, you’ve been good to me in ways that others haven’t. If they understood that, they’d back off.” It takes a while but he finally looks down and meets her eyes.
“It’s just what you deserve. You deserve more than a fake boyfriend really, but I’ll have to do for now.” He looks sheepish but full on laughs when Y/N elbows him in the ribs.
“Hey! Stop being gross! It’s too cold for this shit!” Jeonghan and Y/N spot Mingyu in front of the sports complex with Seungcheol. It’s Mingyu who yelled, but Seungcheol is laughing.
It turns out that Mingyu and Seungcheol only brought Y/N to challenge her. It seems they took their losses in pool very hard and needed redemption. First, it was basketball, then it was soccer, then it was volleyball. With Jeonghan’s help, Y/N demolished Mingyu and Seungcheol in each one. The moment they give up is when Jeonghan sets the volleyball to her and she spikes it down their throats.
“How the fuck did you even jump like that? You’re like half my size!” Mingyu whines, throwing himself on the ground. Seungcheol’s on his knees, head in his hands. They’re still bitter about their losses when they end up at a sushi restaurant that Y/N picked. Oh right, they were competing for who’d pay for dinner and drinks the whole time, because Jeonghan’s friends truly believed their first loss was a total fluke. Mingyu and Seungcheol hand over their cards with a grumble when the bill comes but Y/N is satisfied because not only did she eat whatever she wanted on their tab but it seems like she’s winning them over. Jeonghan’s assured her that the competition is a good sign and whatever snide comments they make now are playful in nature. They even ask when they can hang out with her again.
It’s been hours since she left, so she’s surprised to find all of her friends still in her living room when she gets home. They look positively panicked. “Y/N, we’re glad you’re okay, we kept trying to call you and we couldn’t check your location.” Soonyoung is hugging her tightly but she’s still pissed. She peels away from him and begins to put away her shoes.
“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”
“Y/N, we’d like to say some things, if you’d let us,” Vernon started.
All of them did look exceptionally guilty, but they’d still have to work for it. She crossed her arms but refused to sit down. “Go on.” All of them looked at Wonwoo like they’d rehearsed this. They probably did, now that she thinks about it. Fights like this don’t happen often in this group.
“We’re sorry. We were trying to spare you the hurt but I guess that was unavoidable,” Wonwoo said. “We should have just told you so maybe you had time to process it before you had to see him again. We’re also sorry that we made you feel like we picked Seokmin over you. I promise it’s not like that. We’re all still conflicted about how things went with you two. We do want you to be happy, but we want you to be careful. Yoon Jeonghan is just… not our first choice. But if it’s yours, we’ll support it.”
“Then who is? Whose your first choice?” None of them answer and some of them won’t even make eye contact. Y/N scoffs. “Still keeping secrets, I see.”
“It doesn’t matter who our first choice is. All that matters is that you’re happy. If that’s with Jeonghan, then we’ll support it and we’d love to officially meet him,” Minghao said. He looks stressed. He’s looked stressed since the day at the cafe. He relaxes a bit when Y/N agrees to arrange something. They all do.
Jeonghan readily agrees to abandon any Friday night plans that he might have had (which was nothing because he hadn’t been committing to anything or anyone besides Y/N and their plotting lately) in exchange for game night with Y/N and her friends. However, he agrees on Monday and immediately begins to panic. He’s aware that her friends aren’t his biggest fans. He even understands it. This is different than proving to his friends, who usually seem to like him, that he can hold down a relationship. This is simply proving to her friends he’s not a totally bad guy. He’ll even settle for being an okay guy. Breaking his image is critical with them if this will work. He and Y/N both know how it would look for her friends to not be supportive. It would negate a lot of their efforts.
He and Y/N spend a lot of time talking about how this might go on Thursday night after their class. This time, they go to get fast food in Jeonghan’s car because it’s getting too cold to walk. The radio plays lowly while they both sit sideways in their seats for what feels like hours. He kind of feels like he’s getting a pep talk to meet her parents in a way. They ultimately decide that he’ll need to show some humility and play up his sweet nature. Jeonghan laughed when she recommended that, but she reminds him that he wasn’t very cocky the other night when she met his friends. They decide to play the PDA by ear, but that it will look better if he sticks around for a while that night and doesn’t try to sneak off with or without her. They’re still suspicious of his intentions and they need to be convinced that this is all innocent right now.
On Friday, he shows up early to help Y/N cook dinner. She doesn’t ask him to, he just does, pushing past her when she opens her apartment door and picking up a knife to start chopping things that are laid out on the counter. She doesn’t ask but he’s sure she already knows this is just to work off some nervous energy.
When her friends start to show up, he learns a few things fast. Soonyoung does not know how to handle his alcohol and swings wildly between imitating a tiger and crying. There’s very little reaction to this so it must be normal. Seungkwan is the biggest gossip he’s ever met and seems to know everyone’s business, even some of his. That’s a little intimidating, but it seems to work in his favor that he’s embarrassed by it.Vernon is very critical of Jeonghan’s movie choices and has some strong opinions on the Star Wars series. Jeonghan has to talk movie theories to get into his good graces. Wonwoo is a huge nerd (this doesn’t surprise Jeonghan, but Wonwoo’s much more shameless about it here). He brags at his rank in some first-person shooter game that Jeonghan’s never really played. Junhui tells really bad, cringe worthy jokes and Jeonghan thinks he might be his favorite here because it breaks a lot of the tension in the air. And Minghao is totally in love with Y/N.
The way he looks at her says it all. Everybody seems to know, except for maybe Y/N. It’s especially obvious with how he avoids all contact with Jeonghan if he can help it, despite him being the one to ask for introductions in the first place according to Y/N. It occurs to him that she could get something else out of this deal if Minghao manned up and confessed after their ‘break up’. The idea leaves a bitter taste in his mouth for reasons unknown and he tries to be subtle about downing his drink to wash it out. Picturing them together is something he can’t spend a lot of time on and he kind of hopes he never has to see it if and when it happens.
Someone pulls out UNO and apparently they totally ignore the rule disallowing stacking of drawing cards. It’s even crossed out in the little paper manual from the box in pink glittery ink. Jeonghan doesn’t have to wonder who did that. The game is vicious and by the end of it Soonyoung isn’t the only one tearing up with so many cards that they can’t even hold them all in their hands. Jeonghan wins by sheer luck. He would usually cheat excessively at games like this but he swears he didn’t when he’s accused. Some of them don’t seem to believe him.
To put a stop to the heated threats and crying, Wonwoo moves everyone into the living room for some video games. This has the opposite effect and Jeonghan watches as Seungkwan nearly breaks the controller when he loses. Jeonghan becomes a little distracted when Y/N leans into him more to dodge Vernon’s arms flying in rage when he also loses. Without thinking, Jeonghan’s arm comes around her waist and he’s pulling her into his side. She folds instantly, laying her head onto his chest. His heart races and he’s sure she can hear it.
At some point, they switch to Just Dance and Y/N has swung her legs over his lap. He mindlessly plays with her hands in her lap. He doesn’t know what this looks like to her friends but he finds he doesn’t care all that much. This isn’t about putting on a show because it feels nice and she’s warm and smells good. His heart races more when she twists the rings on his finger. He’s so comfortable with this and he realizes so fucked because this isn’t really requiring much acting anymore and he can’t imagine doing this with anyone else in a matter of three months.
The following weeks become predictable in some ways. Jeonghan and Y/N spend every spare moment together. Jeonghan’s friends regularly crash these moments, especially Seungcheol and Mingyu who have become particularly fond of Y/N. There are also the occasional interruptions from Y/N’s friends, though they’re still pretty guarded. They’re at least making an effort to be friendly when they see Jeonghan and extend invitations to him when he’s around.
Their friend groups had even started to mingle some. It was approaching the end of the semester and Soonyoung and Chan were planning a Christmas party before everyone went home for the holidays. Jeonghan was surprised that all of his friends agreed despite the fact that it wouldn’t be the rager that they’re used to.
Since the game night at Y/N’s apartment, she and Jeonghan have also taken to an open door policy at each others apartments. They don’t need invitations, though it’s nice. They just show up when they’re bored - if they weren’t already together, that is. They aren’t even trying to act cute together, as Y/N put it, anymore. They just enjoy each other’s company and often times innocent touches come naturally.
He especially likes holding her hand as they walk or cuddling with her on the couch. His friends tease him about it, saying he should let Y/N breathe a little, but he notices she’s just as guilty of initiating physical contact. She likes to hold his arm and huddle into his warmth when they walk around campus in the snow and plays with his hair when he lays on her with his face in her neck or on her chest. He soaks up all of it because it’s so unlike what he’s experienced before. It’s innocent and warm and floods his entire body with something totally unique that he can’t identify.
But he still wants her badly in other ways and doesn’t want to talk about how it keeps him up at night when his thoughts turn into something not so innocent. He feels guilty about how fast it makes him come sometimes as he touches himself. He’s sure she doesn’t mean any of her touches like that so his 3am habits will remain a dirty little secret.
What’s totally unpredictable is the attention that both of them started getting. Many guys on campus now approach Y/N to hit on her. One straight up told her, “If Yoon Jeonghan can get with you, then anyone can.” He, along with any others, got ripped apart. Jeonghan didn’t even find out about these conversations from her and certainly didn’t witness them. She was starting to get a reputation of her own and Jeonghan grinned when he overheard one guy tell another not to mess with her and that she and Jeonghan must be kind of serious.
Jeonghan was also getting attention, maybe even more than when he was single. Some women even approached him when Y/N was with him, like him holding her hand or carrying her bag didn’t matter to them. His shiny new reputation as adoring boyfriend was apparently very likable, even to women that had said they outright hated him before. In another life he might have lived for this kind of adoration, but it got old very fast. By now, he had perfected the friendly yet firm response of, “No thank you, I’m not interested,” and if Y/N was with him he happily introduced her with special emphasis on the word ‘girlfriend’. If they continued to push, he’d become pretty mean. He wasn’t interested in hearing anyone bad mouth Y/N, and he also wasn’t interested in making her look bad by letting it slide.
The day after finals are done, Y/N is making lists in her little notebook about desserts she plans to make for the holiday party. Joshua has joined them because he can bake and Jeonghan should not. Instead, Jeonghan is seeing what ugly Christmas sweaters he can find online that will get here fast.
Joshua and Y/N finalize a recipe and ingredient list they’ve been working on and take a break. “When are you going home for the holidays, Y/N?” Joshua asks. Jeonghan frowns. He’s been so busy with the end of the semester and interviewing for his internship that he’d forgotten to ask what her plans were. He feels like a bad boyfriend. Or a bad fake one anyway. At the very least, a bad friend, which he considers them to be by now.
“Oh, I’m staying here,” Y/N answers.
Joshua glances at Jeonghan. “Oh. Is your family in town then?”
Jeonghan’s been around Y/N enough to start seeing through the mask she usually wears. There’s some tension in her mouth, the only tell at the moment. “No, they’ll be abroad for the holidays. They usually are.”
This is news to Jeonghan. He’s abandoned his phone entirely now. Over the past month or so that they’d been ‘dating’, she’d never mentioned her family and he’s never witnessed a phone call or text between them. He just assumed they weren’t close. He hadn’t realized they were so distant that they didn’t even see each other for the holidays at all.
Joshua’s asking a lot of questions now with a lot of concern. Where are they going? Didn’t you want to go with them? Do you see them often? The subsequent answers were: France, no, and no. Joshua looks devastated. “So you’ll be here by yourself the whole time?”
Y/N shrugs. “Sometimes, I go with Wonwoo, but his family is going on a cruise this year. His parents are getting their vows renewed and it’s going to be more like a family reunion. So, yeah, I guess I’ll be here.”
The thought of her alone on Christmas morning made Jeonghan’s chest hurt. There was no way he could stay in his parents’ home and enjoy anything knowing that. “You should come with me.”
Y/N looked surprised, but Joshua looked straight up stunned. Jeonghan knew he would get grilled about this later, but it wasn’t important right now. What was important was getting Y/N to agree. “Hannie,” Y/N started. Jeonghan’s heart fluttered. It was a relatively new nickname and he wasn’t over it yet. He’d been used to her calling him his full name to give him a hard time (which he’d come to like too). “Are you sure? We’ve not been dating long and it wouldn’t give your family a lot of heads up.”
“I’m sure.” And he is. His parents don’t need a lot of heads up because they already know about her. His sister had promptly ratted him out after seeing his Instagram post many weeks ago. He’d take whatever embarrassment his family threw at him in her presence if it meant she wasn’t alone here the whole time. “I’m leaving the day after the party.”
Jeonghan thinks she’s going to say no. She’s chewing on her lip now, looking right through him to make sure he’s serious. He’s long stopped being nervous when she does this whole ‘staring right into your soul’ thing. He enjoys it now, being seen by someone like this, because she’s never once made him feel bad about what she sees. Finally, she nods. “Okay. Let me know what time to be ready.”
The moment she excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Joshua’s all over him. “Han, are you serious? Taking a girl home to meet your parents?” Joshua looks ecstatic at the idea.
Jeonghan smiles. “Yeah, of course.”
“Of course? I think I might cry.” And he really does look like he might. “I’m just really happy for you. You two fit together so well.”
“Yeah, we do,” Jeonghan mumbles. Y/N comes back in the room, ready to go with the next recipe, none the wiser. Jeonghan blindly scrolls through ugly Christmas sweaters without really seeing them because he’s too busy thinking that maybe they only fit together so well because that’s the whole point of their little scheme. Lately, there are times that he entirely forgets about the scheme, which would end in a matter of months. His eyes start to burn at the thought.
A couple days later, Jeonghan finds himself seated next to Y/N at the table in her apartment. It looks like Christmas threw up in here, what with the aggressive amount of colored lights and garland everywhere, the Mariah Carey song that Seungkwan is belting it out to on karaoke (which he’s not actually that bad at), and the ridiculously ugly sweaters everyone is wearing. Mingyu and Y/N are talking sports and Jeonghan isn’t keeping track of the conversation, though he’s staring at Y/N as she talks. She’s got glittery eyeliner on and it’s distracting. Seungkwan laughed at her as soon as he’d seen it, calling it gaudy, but Jeonghan defended her, saying it was cute and festive. He’d defend her glitter habit any day because it was very her and made him smile. It didn’t hurt that she smiled at him when he defended her either. That alone would have been worth it even if he hated it.
The apartment door swung open and Y/N jumped out of the chair mid-sentence. “You made it!” She’s hugging Minseo and they’re laughing at their outfit choices. It’s nice to see because there aren’t many women that react warmly to Y/N like this. Minseo waves at Jeonghan and then she spots Mingyu. Her smile drops, turning to a sneer.
“Mingyu.”
Mingyu looks uncomfortable. “Minseo?”
But Minseo’s already off, insisting to go next on karaoke. When Y/N sits back down, Mingyu leans across the table and hisses in barely contained rage, “You like to see me suffer, don’t you?”
Y/N’s grin is smug. “Yes, I do.”
Mingyu’s muttering about another drink as he gets up from the table. Jeonghan’s watched this whole thing with wide eyes. He leans in close to Y/N. “What the hell was that about?”
“It’s my mysterious vendetta against Mingyu. I’ll tell you later.” Jeonghan was so hooked that he was about to insist that she tell him now, but Joshua’s rounded the table to stand behind them. Across from them stands Joshua’s girlfriend, Jieun, grinning with a camera in her hand. Joshua’s started to bring her around more now that Jeonghan and Y/N are together. Something about not being the only targets now.
It takes entirely too long to figure out why Joshua and Jieun look so sneaky. Jeonghan and Y/N spot the mistletoe at the same time, dangling from Joshua’s fingers above them. Jeonghan’s flooded with panic. As much affection as they show now, kissing had not been on the table yet and Jeonghan was beginning to think it never would be. That maybe they’d just pretend that that part of that relationship was so private that no one would ever see it, so they would never have to think about it. Y/N reaches out to grip the collar of his sweater and yank him forward.
Just like spotting the mistletoe, it takes entirely too long to realize that he’s now kissing Y/N. A few clicks and flashes of the camera go off before he really reacts, but when he does, he’s holding her head in place. It’s gentle and there are some aww’s, but mostly gagging. It makes Y/N giggle against his lips and he can’t help but giggle too.
He asks Jieun to send him all the photos she took.
“What do you mean, you and Minseo pulled a ‘John Tucker Must Die’ on Mingyu?” Jeonghan asks. Last he remembered watching that movie, he’d never seen anything like that happen to Mingyu. He would have certainly remembered it, if only for how much he enjoyed it.
They’d barely pulled onto the highway when Jeonghan started hounding Y/N about her interaction with Mingyu the night before.
“Well, we didn’t pull a ‘John Tucker Must Die’, but let’s say we were inspired by it. And others helped,” Y/N said casually, sipping her coffee. Jeonghan thinks she looks cozy in the passenger seat, shoes kicked off and feet pulled up into the seat. One of the jackets from his back seat are over her lap as a blanket. He likes the look of it and doesn’t mind driving her around.
“So this isn’t your first scheme, huh? No wonder you’re so good at it,” Jeonghan teased and it earns him a light slap on the arm.
She’s laughing anyway. “Contrary to what you might be thinking, I don’t do this type of thing often. Mingyu happened to deserve it.”
Jeonghan believed that. “Tell me what happened,” he insisted.
Long story short, Mingyu and Minseo dated while she and Y/N were roommates. This is a total surprise to Jeonghan because the way Y/N describes it is that Mingyu was head over heels, to the point that Y/N spent very little time in her room that semester. Her exact words are things like ‘sickening’, and ‘obsessive’, and ‘love-bombing’. Jeonghan couldn’t recall ever seeing his friend like that, or even hearing of a girlfriend so serious. It had apparently worked for Minseo for a while - that is, until she came across him cheating on more than one occasion.
After the first time, Minseo had come back to the dorm in tears. Y/N encouraged her to break up with him right away. He showed up the next day with flowers ‘just because’, and Minseo was weak back then.
The second time, Minseo was mad. The next day, he showed up with some luxury jewelry saying it reminded him of her. She couldn’t stay mad.
The third time, it was Y/N that came across it. She’d been dragged to a party by Minseo and found him in the bathroom with someone that was definitely not Minseo. Mingyu panicked because he hadn’t known Minseo or anyone close to her was going to be there and as far as he knew this was the first time he’d been caught. He begged Y/N not to say anything. Y/N agreed, but the next day she slid a large whiteboard she’d stolen from a study room downstairs into their dorm room and demanded Minseo seek revenge.
They started a private Facebook group simply called “Kim Mingyu Must Die.” It turns out that Minseo was far from his first victim. The way Y/N puts it, it practically became a full-time job for a few weeks simply managing the volume of traffic that was coming through. Screenshots, phone call recordings, even some videos of him partaking in some unflattering locker room talk. The kicker was the growing list of embarrassing sexual escapades. Mingyu was not nearly as smooth as he portrayed himself to be.
Minseo broke up with him by inviting him to the Facebook group.
Jeonghan had to pull over because he was crying from laughing so hard. “Show me right now! No, invite me!” He was positively gleeful the rest of the drive.
When he parked the car on the street outside of his parents’ house, he noticed that Y/N didn’t move to get out of the car right away. “You good?”
“It might be a little late to ask this, but are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Jeonghan asked, but he thinks he already knows the answer. At least part of it. This is temporary. The initial plan wasn’t to lie to their families - or his family that is. He wasn’t sure if her family even knew about him and hasn’t brought it up because it seems like a sore subject.
“Have you ever brought a girl home?” Y/N asked, but she’s not looking at him, examining the cheesy Christmas decor that his mom insists on putting up.
Jeonghan has to laugh because the situation they’re in should make it obvious. “No.”
“What have you told them about me? I assume I’m not a total surprise… right?” She looks at him with wide eyes.
Just like that it’s his turn to look away because he definitely can’t look at her when he answers. “I told them we met in class. That you were pretty, and funny, and took absolutely no shit.” Jeonghan picks at some fuzz on his sweats to keep avoiding her eyes. “I wasn’t sure how much you wanted me to say. But they’re looking forward to meeting you.”
She reaches out and captures his hand and he grips back reflexively, looking up at her. She’s not shy about physical touch with him, never really has been since all of this started, but it almost makes him feel giddy every time she initiates the contact. “You’re okay with me being here?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise.” His answer is automatic and honest. “Are you though? I can take you home. We haven't gone in yet.” He means it. He’d start driving again and tell them he’s running behind and Y/N couldn’t make it. Or maybe even bail entirely just to stay with her back at her apartment. There were a couple hours on the road to think of a decent excuse.
Her grip gets tighter on his hand and she looks back at the house. He patiently waits for her. “I’m not used to what you might consider a normal family dynamic. I’m going to be awkward. Really awkward, probably.”
“We’ll make it work. I’m just glad you’re here and not alone at home the whole break.”
She looks like she’s steeling herself. “Will you hold my hand?”
Jeonghan’s heart could explode. “You know I will. As soon as I can put the suitcases down.”
He keeps his promise. As soon as the suitcases are placed in the entry way, Jeonghan is helping her with her coat and shoes. There’s a yell from the kitchen. “Is that my son?!”
“Yep!” He yells back, before turning to Y/N and offering his hand.
His parents are warm. It’s the best way to describe it. When Y/N spots them, they’re in the kitchen cooking dinner together. Both are wearing cheesy Christmas aprons and their smiles are huge when they spot Jeonghan. He has to drop Y/N’s hand to hug both of them and it kind of looks like they’re squeezing the life out of him. But as soon as he’s got some space between him and his parents, his hand is on Y/N’s back. It’s grounding to her if only for a moment.
“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says simply. To her surprise, she’s pulled into a hug by both of his parents. At the same time. She tries to be polite but she’s totally overwhelmed by it. Jeonghan waves them off, “Okay, okay, don’t scare her off, please.”
As soon as they back off, she’s close to Jeonghan again and she hopes it doesn’t seem rude. She cares about what they think and she can’t pinpoint why in the moment. Jeonghan’s hand falls to her back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t know what to do with herself but his mom leaves very little time to stress.
“Y/N, how’s your baking?” Y/N says ‘okay’ and Jeonghan says ‘amazing’. His mom smiles again, handing her a whisk. “Great, you get to help me make dessert.”
Hours later, after dinner, Jeonghan says they’re going to turn in for bed early. He makes the usual excuses like traveling, but really he can see that Y/N is still totally overwhelmed and needs the opportunity to regroup. Upstairs, he points her to the bathroom across the hall for a shower and he takes the chance to tidy up his room. Since he’s been with her, he’s made an effort of trying to keep his space clean in case she comes over. Last time he was home to visit he wasn’t with her yet, so it’s not in the greatest condition.
While putting fresh sheets on the bed, he tries not to think about how they’ve agreed to share his room for the duration of their trip. His sister’s coming in tomorrow so her old room is not an option beyond tonight. Y/N insisted he not sleep on the couch, and Jeonghan let it be known that her sleeping on the couch was never even an option.
This is a boundary that they haven’t crossed yet. They might spend just about every waking moment with each other, but there had been no sleepovers yet. He trusts that she’d tell him if she didn’t like the sleeping arrangements or if she has any ground rules for the next week or so. She’s not usually shy to tell him what she’s thinking. But this is most certainly a test of his restraint and he doesn’t want to mess everything up.
When she comes in, he doesn’t look at her right away, too busy shaking a pillow into a pillow case. “Feel better?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she says, but the crack in her voice makes his head snap up. Her eyes look puffy and red and he can only assume she’d cried some while in the bathroom. Some guilt is settling in. Maybe he hadn’t realized just how overwhelmed she was. He wonders what her life was like before, as a child, as a teenager, if a few hours of basic kindness and warmth from his parents has her like this.
He throws the pillow down and opens his arms. She walks right into them, wrapping her arms around his waist. He finds himself practically folding himself around her, bending some to put his head next to hers instead of on top. He can smell her shampoo and his hands rub her back without much thought. His T-shirt is starting to get wet and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because of her freshly washed hair.
Jeonghan waits for Y/N to pull away first and when she does, he’s ushering her under the covers. Whatever stress he had about this moment is null and void now because it’s a no brainer to slide into the sheets next to her and pull her to him. Without much of a fight, she puts her head on his chest again, one arm wrapped around him. He mindlessly alternates between patting her wet hair and rubbing her back, his other hand holding hers where it sits on his chest. He’d like to never leave this spot because it means a lot to him that she’s willing to be like this with him.
“Want to talk about it?” He whispers after a long time. Or maybe it’s only been a few minutes. Time is moving differently right now. There’s a sniffle below him and his lips press to the top of her head before he even realizes it.
“I’m sorry. They’re nice. I’m not used to that.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jeonghan insists. “I’m sorry it’s not what you’re used to, but it can be here.”
He’s not sure why he said it. As soon as he does, he realizes he must have forgotten again that this is temporary. In just over a month, he can’t keep that promise. It should have been obvious from the start to Jeonghan, but this ‘break up’ was going to feel like a real one. When that happens, he won’t be bringing her back here to see his family, though he’d like to. He won’t be spending every waking moment with her then because all of it will hurt too much. It already does in a way with the anticipation of the ending creeping up on them.
He feels tears pricking his eyes and there’s something jagged about his breathing. It’s like she has a sixth sense about why because she squeezes his hand. “We’re making a mess of this, huh?”
It sounds like maybe he’s not the only one who keeps forgetting, but he’s afraid to ask. He laughs and it’s a bit watery. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Y/N is twisting now, nearly laying on top of him. His body heats and hardens immediately at the feeling but his emotions are starting to become all over the place and it distracts him. She props her head on her hands as they lay flat on his chest, looking up at him. There’s something irresistible about how he’s pushing her hair back and holding her face while the other hand grazes the skin of her back when her shirt creeps up. It’s entirely too intimate to be fake anymore and he can see she knows it too. This moment isn’t to prove anything anymore. Neither of them will say it outright.
He’s always admired her for how she can compose herself, but he likes that she doesn’t bother often at this point with him. She looks and sounds vulnerable when she whispers, “How do you want to proceed?”
He understands. This has gotten too intense, too serious. She’s giving him an opportunity to back out right now, three month agreement be damned. They can go home and say it just didn’t work out and it’s too bad. Maybe they can even stay friends because they stopped digging this hole they’re in and start climbing out together.
Jeonghan takes a deep breath and his throat burns. “Let’s call it off after New Years.”
Her smile is a little shaky. “Ok. Two weeks. Let’s make the most of it.”
He smashes his lips onto hers and she responds immediately, her hand flying up to tangle in his hair. He really did plan to make the most of what little time he had left. They could start climbing out of this hole in two weeks, but not now. He wanted to, no, had to keep digging while he still could before this was all over because he would need the good memories later.
Y/N begins soaking up the warmth that is the Yoon family the next day, knowing she might not see them anytime soon after all this, or ever maybe. She soaks up the maternal energy Jeonghan’s mom constantly feeds her by baking, decorating, and wrapping presents. They gossip over wine and trash TV, and Jeonghan’s sister joins them when she’s home and not visiting friends while she’s in town. His sister is hilarious and Y/N immediately enjoys watching how she pokes fun at Jeonghan when they bicker, which is every single moment they’re in a room together. Y/N is an only child so the dynamic is new to her, but between the shouting matches and headlocks they appear to love each other. Then she spends time playing games and having snowball fights with Mr. Yoon, who’s a bigger kid than either of his actual kids. He likes to laugh and his horrible dad jokes have her in stitches.
Then there’s Jeonghan. When she said they should make the most of the rest of their holiday, she hadn’t expect that it meant he’d be glued to her the whole time. There were not many moments that he wasn’t touching Y/N in some way, not that she would ever complain.
And it didn’t stop when they crawled into bed each night. It might start innocently at first, but the moment either one of them leaned in to give a kiss, it became heated quickly and one was on top of the other. She was soaking that up too. The feeling of sitting on his lap with his hands up the back of her shirt, grazing and gripping her back as he kissed her made shivers run through her. Or feeling him laying on top of her between her parted legs while his tongue dipped into her mouth lit a fire she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
If she was being honest, it had never felt like this with anyone before, period. Not that she had experienced something like this with anyone else besides Seokmin, but it had never been like this with him either. No clothes had even come off yet between she and Jeonghan and it was one of the best experiences of her life. Far better than thinking about him in the middle of the night while she touched herself back home.
She wasn’t proud to admit it, but there were times that she grew a little self-conscious of her inexperience compared to his significant amount of experience. She wanted to measure up to what he’d had before. However, most of that worry washed away with how he reacted to her touch. She’d run her hands into his hair and he’d sigh. She’d bite his lip or neck and he’d gasp. She’d run a hand up the back of his shirt when he was laying on top of her and leave scratch marks and he’d groan into her mouth. It was intoxicating to get those little reactions and know that he was as turned on as she was. Even if he didn’t give her those little sounds, she could feel how hard he was when he pressed against her.
And he made sure to find what she liked too and keep doing it over and over. His hand in her hair was her favorite, but the runner ups were things like his hands running up her thighs to her ass when she was in his lap, or his mouth and teeth on her neck. Not that she hated anything he did. It all felt like heaven.
They’d come very close to taking things too far many times. When they were at that tipping point, Jeonghan would be the one to pull back and lighten his touches, a clear signal that it was time for a breather. Despite how hard he was against her, he had stopped every time this happened. His restraint surprised her given what she’d heard about him and even seen herself. He’d never seemed to hesitate to sleep with someone. She was forced to consider that maybe he just didn’t want to have sex with her and it stung a little. But maybe that was a good thing in the end because, even though they’d agreed to call things off when they got back, the way they enjoyed this made things messier.
But if he ever did offer more, she was going to take it. He might have had restraint but she didn’t think she would.
It’s Christmas Day and the festivities were long over. Y/N’s had a somewhat emotional day because she’d expected to sit on the couch and watch the Yoon family open their gifts. The good vibes and hot chocolate would have been more than enough for her, but then they started handing her presents. She’d checked the tags with watery eyes and, sure enough, they were for her. Jeonghan’s hand had stayed on her back as he watched her open the presents as a silent show of support. They weren’t overly personal or expensive gifts. Books, a sweater, a set of glittery pens. It was enough to know that Jeonghan had given them a few pointers though.
Now it’s the middle of the night and no longer Christmas Day even, and Jeonghan’s got his front pressed tightly against her back. She can feel his soft breaths in her hair. “Hannie?” He hums sleepily. “Is it weird that I got you a gift?”
She hears his breath catch and then he tightens his arm around her. “No, I got you one too. Wasn’t sure when to give it to you though. If you even wanted it. Does it still classify as a Christmas gift now?”
He’s giggling and it makes her giggle too. “If it’s in Christmas wrapping paper, then yes.” Y/N rotates a bit to see him, though he’s so buried in her hair she’s not seeing much. “Do you want yours?”
One eye peels open and then he’s grinning. “Okay.” Y/N is up in a flash digging into the bottom of her suitcase. She and Jeonghan sit on the bed facing each other and Jeonghan has very little hesitation about opening the gift when she hands it to him. When he peels the lid off the box and lifts the tissue paper, he stops. She’s afraid maybe she’s made a mistake, especially when he sniffles a bit. He admires the simple frame holding a familiar picture. It’s one of the many that Jieun took of them at the party a week ago. It’s the moment where they’re giggling after their first kiss.
“How did you do this? We left the day after this was taken.” Jeonghan gets lost in the photo.
“Jieun sent me the pictures. I got this one printed and bought a frame when your mom and I went out the other day for more baking stuff.”
She’s getting nervous, but then he laughs, wiping his eyes. “So sneaky. Do you want yours?”
“Okay,” Y/N answers softly. She doesn’t know what to expect and she’s really nervous now. She’s not used to gifts, usually refuses them because she feels so awkward accepting them. Jeonghan opens the drawer of his bedside table and pulls out a small box. He carefully places it in front of her.
“I’m sorry if it’s weird, but it made me think of you.” She wants to say there’s probably nothing he could do that she’d find weird. Instead, she picks up the gift and gently unwraps it. She lifts the lid up and something shiny catches her eye. It’s a silver ring with suns and moons on it. When she takes it out of its cushion, the outside layer of the ring spins. She can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on her but she doesn’t know how to react so she keeps examining the ring.
“It’s - uh, it spins because you like to play with my rings like that. And the suns and moons reminded me of how you doodle them on your notes all the time.”
She still can’t look at him, but she mumbles, “You surprise me, Yoon Jeonghan.” She slides it onto a finger and it fits. She’s not sure how he got the right size.
“Is that a good thing right now?” He jokes, but there’s a tinge of anxiety in his tone that gives him away.
Y/N swipes all of the boxes and wrapping paper out of her way and lunges for him, crawling into his lap. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her in even closer. She’s hiding in his neck when she mumbles, “Yes, it’s my favorite thing.”
Jeonghan and Y/N drive back the day after Christmas. Jeonghan tries to keep a positive attitude, but he dreads going back because it reminds him that the clock is ticking. He thinks Y/N might be feeling the same way, though she’s wearing a mask again. At least it’s a happy one and not her usual poker face. He grips her thigh the whole way home like its an anchor and hers sits on top.
It feels bittersweet to arrive back to his empty apartment. Seungcheol won’t be back for another few days. This is the longest he’s been away from Y/N in weeks, but they both agreed they need to do some laundry and catch up on some things. Jeonghan thinks this is only a taste of the distance they’re about to have because he doesn’t know how to broach the topic of being friends after all this.
But he’s glad they’re on the same page later that night because just as he’s about to slip on shoes to go to her apartment, she knocks on his door. She says it’s because Vernon’s away still and she didn’t want to be home alone, but they both know it’s because they don’t know how to sleep apart now after just a week of it. He pulls her into his bed and when he can’t breathe from kissing her anymore, he falls asleep with his face in her neck.
The next night, it’s Jeonghan who knocks on her door and she opens it like she’s been waiting for him. He’s laying with his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat as she threads her fingers through his hair. He so close to sleep but her hand stays busy in his hair and it seems like she’s not as sleepy at all with the pace she’s keeping. So he asks what she’s thinking about.
After a long beat, Y/N finally asks, “would you ever have sex with me? If I asked?”
He lifts his head up, nearly hovering over her now. He knows his look is intense, but he can’t help it. “I’d give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.” He means it. He waits and watches her while his fingers twitch against her stomach. He’d been so careful to pull away every time it seemed like that was where things were headed because the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel pressured or complicate this whole thing further. But he’d fold the moment she asked. He knows it and he’s okay with it. Wants it even.
Y/N’s hand laces through the hair at the nape of his neck and she’s scanning his face carefully. “I want you.”
He lets her pull him down and her kiss is soft. He feels her hand shake on the back of his neck. He’s hovering over her completely now, arms braced around her head. When they run out of breath, he runs his lips down her jaw and onto her neck. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.” Something like a sigh and whine escapes her lips. He’s not doing it to be cruel or tease her. He really just wants to do everything to please her as long as she’ll let him. He places a few pecks up under her ear and then sucks at the spot and she gasps. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”
“Clothes off, now.” He sits back on his knees and follows her command immediately because her voice right now is one of the sexiest things he’s ever heard and it makes him throb. He peels off his shirt and sweats and he’s about to ask for permission to undress Y/N but she’s already tossing off her hoodie and yanking her sleep shorts down her legs. His brain is trying to catch up with the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the hoodie, but Y/N is impatient and pulls him back down to her by the shoulder. A groan bubbles up from his chest into his throat.
He wants his hands everywhere all at once. Her skin is warm and feels so soft under his touch, and he loves the sigh that she lets out as his hand come up her stomach to her chest. She’s so fucking responsive and he’s never wanted anyone more in his life. When she flat out moans as he pinches one of her nipples lightly, he has to pull back just to look at her. He wants to keep working her up like this, but he’s also working himself up at an alarmingly rapid rate.
He cups her breast to squeeze and kisses her again, before barely pulling back to whisper against her lips. “What now?” He’s switching hands to give attention to her other breast and she arches into him. “Where do you want me?”
“Lower, please,” she says and he thinks he could come totally untouched. The need in her voice worms its way into his brain and he kind of hopes he never forgets it.
“You don’t have to say ‘please’ with me, Y/N. At least not right now.” Because he’s decided that if she ever lets him do this again he’ll make her beg until she cries. But not now. She can have whatever she wants.
His hand skates down her stomach to the top of her panties, a cute pair that has polar bears skiing on them. He smiles against her cheek because he loves it. Loves that she doesn’t have to even try to be the hottest woman he’s ever seen, even without all the lace. Loves that she’s so lost in his touch that she doesn’t show a hint of embarrassment about it. His fingertip finds the band of her panties and runs underneath the edge and he loves how she shudders. He pulls his finger out and runs his hand down to totally cup her over the material now and her eyebrows are pinched. He rubs softly, feeling a wet patch forming under his fingertips. He pulls the panties to the side and gives a soft, experimental stroke to her lips, dipping between.
It makes whatever control he thought he had snap. Now he was moaning with her because she was soaked. “Fuck, baby. Did I do this for you?”
She nods, hand now gripping his bicep like an anchor. “You always have,” Y/N sighs.
Jeonghan feels like a man possessed now. His fingers dip into her wetness before they land on her clit and he starts circling slowly. “Did you touch yourself like this thinking about me? Did you make yourself come?” She doesn’t answer because she’s gasping and her nails are digging into his arm. “Answer, baby.”
“Yes. Many times,” Y/N grits out.
Jeonghan’s pulling back, hands leaving her as he leans back on his knees. “Show me.” His tone is demanding and her eyes snap open. He’s never seen her look so surprised and maybe that makes sense because he just told her he’d do anything for her. After this, though. He needs this. “Show me how you touch yourself, how you make yourself come. I want to see it.”
Y/N feels like she’s on fire. “But I want you to touch me.” She whines but it doesn’t seem to matter because something has shifted in Jeonghan’s eyes. A hardness that she’s never seen before.
His hands reach down to grab her knees, lightly pushing them apart. “And I want to see you come before I touch you. Then I’ll make you come as many times in as many ways as you can take, I promise.” His intensity numbs her mind and she wonders how much she can take from him if he’s like this. His promise replays in her head and she’s fucking aching for something, anything.
So she slips her panties down her legs and tosses them somewhere, she doesn’t care, and spreads her legs wide. One of her hands finds one of her breasts, rolling her nipple, and the other slides down between her legs. She would usually do this with her eyes closed, but she can’t because the way Jeonghan’s eyes are tracking her movements makes her drip.
She slides two fingers inside of herself right away and sighs at the feeling, but she feels herself flutter around her own fingers at the way Jeonghan’s breath hitches. He’s watching closely, eyes glazing over, lips parted a bit. Her fingers pump in and out at a slow pace and Jeonghan’s hand grips her knee. Now both of her hands are between her legs, one rubbing her clit and the other pumping three fingers in and out. Her high is approaching fast. Jeonghan’s now centered himself between her legs, both hands on her inner thighs, spreading her as wide as she can go, nearly beyond her flexibility. Her orgasm slams into her, her eyes snapping shut, but Jeonghan’s still watching because he’s holding her legs open when they try to close reflexively.
Y/N sags back into the bed feeling boneless. When she opens her eyes, Jeonghan sounds a little out of breath. She sees his cock twitching in his boxers. The hand that was just inside her comes up in a ‘come here’ motion and he obeys immediately. “Open.” His eyes flare in shock. “Open so you can taste me.” His pupils are totally blown out, but his jaw drops, tongue sticking out. Three of her fingers dip into his mouth and he moans around them.
After only a few licks, he’s gripping her wrist and pushing it back onto the bed over her head. His other hand lightly closes around her throat and she feels in her eyes roll back and jaw drop at the touch. His tongue is in her mouth and she can taste herself. Then he’s moving fast, his tongue dragging down her neck, her chest, to her center. “Oh, baby. I hope you can handle it because I want to see that over and over again.”
Y/N wants it even if she can’t handle it. The moment he’s laid between her legs, hands on the inside of her thighs again, she’s gripping his hair and pulling him forward. He’s groaning when his mouth first touches her cunt. He doesn’t hesitate now, doesn't wait for her to tell him what she wants anymore. His tongue laps across the entirety of her pussy, getting a good taste of her before he starts an unforgiving routine. His tongue dips into her over and over and just when she’s close his lips move to close around her clit until she’s close again. Then repeat. She must be gripping and pulling his hair painfully now to keep him where she wants him to no avail, but it just makes him moan into her cunt louder.
Tears are filling her eyes at how overwhelmingly good everything feels and now she’s babbling, gripping the sheets. “Please, Hannie. Your fingers. Want to cum.” Two of his fingers slide in immediately and they feel so much better than her own, stretching wider and reaching that place that’s always just out of reach for her. He finds it quickly, rubbing circles into it. His lips close around her clit again, tongue dancing across it, and tears are streaming down her face now. She’s not sure she’s breathing.
Her vision goes white and she has no idea what she sounds like. He holds her legs open, letting her ride it out. When some sense comes back to her, she mumbles, “Holy fuck, how did you do that?”
Jeonghan’s giggling against her thigh and she snaps up, propping herself up on her forearms to look down at him. This can’t be the man that just made her see god with his tongue. She smirks and he notices the shift immediately, raising an eyebrow in question. “Your turn, now.”
His mouth pops open. “What - no, baby, you don’t have to do that.”
“You said I could have anything I want, right?” He nods quickly. “Then I want your cock in my mouth.”
Y/N watches with glee as his eyes roll back in his head. “Baby, you can’t say things like that!”
“Why not? You don’t like it? I thought you wanted me to tell you what I want and you’d give it to me.” She knows she’s playing with fire because he could have her coming again in moments if he wanted to, but she likes how fast he folds. He’s flopping next to her on the bed and pulling her into a heated kiss in moments.
“Yeah, of course I like it. I like anything you say,” he mumbles against her lips and doesn’t stop her when her hand slides from his chest all the way down. He gasps into her mouth the moment her hand makes contact, rubbing his cock through his boxers and then giving a soft squeeze. His eyes are shut tight. His hand snaps out to grip her wrist, but he doesn’t make her stop her motions. “Baby, I’m not gonna last long if you do this. I’ve already been close so many times tonight.”
Y/N ignores the warning. If she can come more than once, so can he. She continues rubbing him, pressing light kisses to his lips and cheek while he looks a little lost. “Tell me something, since you already know my secret. Have you ever touched yourself thinking of me?”
“Yes,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight.
Y/N hums next to his ear now. “Tell me what you were thinking about. What made you come?” His hips jerk up to meet her motion and she grins. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”
The grip on her wrist tightens and then suddenly he’s gripping her throat again as he laughs deep in his chest. “You evil woman, using my own words against me.” His lips land harshly on hers but he has to pull away to moan when she adds significant pressure to his cock.
Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock. She becomes wetter by the second as she takes him into her hands. He’s falling into her neck now, broken moans with every stroke of her hand. The fingers of her other hand thread back into his hair again like it’s her favorite thing to do, but this time she tugs hard. His cock twitches in her hands. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself and I’ll let you come.”
Jeonghan sighs and Y/N thinks she’ll never get enough of watching his eyes roll back like this. “I think about you on your knees with my cock down your throat. You crying on my cock as I ruin you. You creaming all over me.” She strokes him faster, expecting that to be it, but it’s not. He’s getting worked up and words are spilling out fast. “You moaning my name. Crying my name.”
Y/N can’t help it. She’s already pulling away from him and kneeling between his legs. He whines at the loss but she shushes him. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?” The words have an immediate effect, his face falling into an expression she’s never seen on him before. Something like awe maybe. He nods hesitantly. “Good. Then let me taste you, too.” She’s leaning down to hold his cock again. As soon as her head is in reach, his hands are combing through her hair and she’s unsure if it’s to hold her hair back and be helpful or keep her there. Maybe both.
She gives him a few strokes and he looks like he’s not breathing as he watches. Pride floods through her when her mouth finally wraps around his tip and he throws his head back. He’s not the only one that can tease. She alternates between sucking lightly, then deeply, licking and then pulling her mouth away all together. The way he grips her hair when she slides her mouth all the way down to the base feels so nice that she moans around him. And the way he makes this little disappointed noise when she pulls away completely is so cute that she keeps doing it.
He’s becoming desperate, hands starting to push her down farther and hold her in place, hips thrusting up to be deeper. There’s a constant stream of curses and moans and praises falling from his lips and it seems like he doesn’t want to look away but sometimes he can’t help it. Her tongue runs against his tip as she strokes him fast with her hand and now he’s begging. “Baby, please. Y/N, I want to come. Please let me come.”
Y/N comes up for air to say, “Go ahead, Hannie.” It only takes a few more pumps of her hand and a couple kitten licks of his tip before he’s shoving her down by the back of the head. He groans as he comes, body shaking a bit from the intensity.
She releases him when his hand on the back of her head relaxes. His hands blindly reach for her to drag her up his body. His hand his firm on her chin and between the bliss on his face there’s an edge of that hardness she saw when he demanded she touch herself earlier. “Did you swallow it?” The question makes the corners of her lips turn up and she shakes her head. “Let me see.” Her mouth pops open, tongue out carefully. Then she closes her mouth and swallows, opening her mouth wide again to show him. He doesn’t look long before he moans, pulling her by the chin into a kiss. His hands are gentle now, pulling her onto his lap to straddle him.
“Holy shit, where have you been all my life?” He’s laughing against her lips.
Y/N’s giggling too, “Like you haven’t had any of that before.” She doesn’t mean it as an insult and he knows it. She just never expected to be able to surprise him in bed like this.
His hand is combing through her hair, holding her against his lips. The low laugh he lets out is secretive almost. “Y/N, it’s never been like that. I think I saw the light for a second.”
Y/N slaps his chest with a laugh now. “You’re so dramatic!”
“No, really. If we go any farther, I might lose it. You’re going to ruin everyone else for me more than you already have.”
“Do you want that? For me to ruin other people for you?” Y/N is careful to ask the question lightly, but she can see that he understands. Moving on after this will be harder if everything gets compared to what they’ve already done and what they might do next. She knows that’s how it will be for her.
His hands are so soft against her waist as they rub up and down and the way he’s looking at her makes her want to cry. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She asks.
Jeonghan is sitting up now to be face to face with her. “Cry. I don’t like it, not like this.” He places a soft kiss on her lips. “And yes. You’ve already ruined everyone for me in so many other ways anyway. I’ll take whatever you give me.”
Her hand grazes his cheek and his eyes flutter closed. “Why don’t you ruin everyone for me too? Make me remember it.”
Jeonghan is looking at her like he can see right through her. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You don’t know how much I want this.” His voice his so raw that her heart is cracking a little. This is the closest they’ve come to speaking openly about the unspoken feelings and desires they might have gained for each other. He’s called this whole thing off but the way he’s looking at her right now is at such odds with that decision.
“I can assure you I want it as much as you do, if not more,” Y/N promises. His grip on her waist is tight now, blunt nails digging into her skin. She leans in close, lips hovering over his. “Please.”
Jeonghan responds to her immediately because the desperation in her tone matches how he feels exactly. His hand goes back to her throat and he pushes her by it, rolling her onto her back and shoving off his boxers with the other hand. Her legs fly around his waist as he gets on top of her and she holds onto his shoulders as he grips his cock to run it along her folds. He wants to wait, to slow down, to make it all last longer, but he’s on autopilot now, totally driven by how much he wants her. No, it’s really closer to a need now. He can’t imagine she wants this more like she said, though. It’s impossible.
His tip slides in and then he’s kissing her deeply, holding both of her hands above her head, threading their fingers together. He slowly pushes in and they give matching broken moans at the sensation. Her lips stop moving against his once he’s fully seated inside, then her head tilts back. He’s kissing her neck, nipping at it and leaving marks, letting her adjust.
“Okay?” Jeonghan asks, coming back up to her lips. The kisses are so soft compared to what they were moments ago and he can feel Y/N melting. He’s so proud that he can have that kind of effect on her. That she places any kind of trust like this in him.
“Yes. Please move.”
He starts slow, an experimental drag almost completely out. Y/N starts to whimper in complaint but it turns into a cry as he slams back into her. He see stars at the way she’s squeezing around him, the warmth and wetness consuming him. He sets a fast pace. When he lets go of her hands, hers plant on his shoulders and his are everywhere. Her hair, her throat, her chest, and finally the back of her thighs as he pushes them up against her chest. The angle is maddening to him and her eyes are watering again when he looks down at her face. “Hannie, more.”
“Tell me who makes you feel like this, baby.” There’s something so possessive about the demand and she must like it because a moan rips from her throat and she clenches on him. She’s getting close to the edge again and he can’t wait to get her there over and over.
“You, Hannie.” He grips her hair, tugging her to meet his eyes.
“Whose cunt is this? Who going to make you come like this?” They’re selfish questions but he needs to know. Needs to know that she’ll remember this and compare it to every other interaction she ever has. He knows he will for the rest of his life because he’ll never find anything like this again, in or out of the bedroom. Jealousy flows through him thinking about someone else in his position. He has to make her remember it.
Her eyes are rolling back and he lands a soft slap on her cheek to get her to look at him again. She moans at the touch and he feels like he could come already. “Hannie.” Everything she says comes out as a moan or cry now. Tears are streaming down her face and he presses a sweet kiss to the cheek he’d just slapped, totally at odds with everything else he’s doing to her body right now.
“Already crying on my cock like a good girl. Now you just have to come all over it. Do it, baby.” His hand finds her clit, rubbing quickly.
He thinks she stops breathing as she comes. Jeonghan’s praising her in her ear because he can see the intensity of it all, can feel it, and for the thousandth time tonight he can’t believe he’s being allowed to make her feel like this. He slows down his movements now, kissing her cheek and mumbling, “Good girl.” His hand sweeping up and down her body seems to make her relax so he keeps doing it. He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Want more?” Y/N nods numbly. “Words, baby. I need you to tell me it’s okay or if you want to stop.”
Tears are pouring out of her eyes again and she’s begging for real now. “More, please.”
Another sweet kiss to her lips. “Baby, I told you you don’t have to beg. Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.”
“Don’t care what it is, just keep going.”
Jeonghan moves fast, pulling out of her and getting to his knees. Before she can complain, he’s roughly flipping her over onto her hands and knees. His hand gently pushes her head down onto the mattress and she moans as he grips a handful of the fat of her ass. He lands a sharp spank and before she can even cry out, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock into her folds again. He slides in easily, groaning again. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.” He sits deep in her like this and the way she’s arching makes him think she likes this position, which is good because he has no idea how many times he’s imagined this exact sight. His imagination pales in comparison to reality. His hand slides from her ass to the middle of her back. The touch is soft and then suddenly it’s not. He yanks on the ends of her hair and pulls out of her, slamming back in. The cry she lets out echoes in the room.
His pace is brutal now and his hands are everywhere. At one point he even pulls her arms behind her back and holds them there while he gropes her breast. She comes for a fourth time like this, harder than before, and he thinks she must be made for him. He meant it - it’s never been like this. Nothing even comes close. Their bodies are becoming slick with sweat and he can see her arousal dripping down her inner thigh when he leans back.
“I’m close, baby. Will you come with me? Please?” Jeonghan chokes out. He reaches down to her clit, rubbing fast, because he’s dangerously close to bursting.
“Jeonghan!” She looks like she’s panicking at the intensity of it all and when she finally tips over the edge, she sobs. He fucks her through it, but the way she’s clenching on him and the sight of her tears has him tipping over the edge too. She lets out another sob as he fills her up, coming deep inside.
Her breathing is jagged and he recognizes the signs. She’s drifted pretty far, totally overwhelmed, totally unaware now. Jeonghan places his hands under her hips to help lower them to the bed, sliding out of her. He’s laying next to her, stroking her face, hair, and back soothingly when she really comes back to any sort of awareness.
She looks as dazed as he feels. Sluggishly, she slides into his arms. They lay there for a long time just breathing. He knows she’s crying, can feel it drip on his neck where her face is buried. He doesn’t say anything because by now he is too, so he pulls the covers over them. They’ll deal with it tomorrow.
Over the next four days, Y/N and Jeonghan don’t leave each other's side for more than a few minutes at a time. Their friends all trickle back in but Jeonghan and Y/N are too busy trying to crawl into each other’s skin. What little they have to be around others, Jeonghan is pressed up against Y/N’s back or Y/N is in his lap. Their friends make jokes about turning down the PDA a notch. They don’t listen for now because they’ll have to eventually anyway.
Speaking of PDA, simple touches escalate quickly now. Jeonghan’s hand lands on her thigh and she’s pulling him into the bedroom. Y/N’s fingers run through his hair and he’s folding into her, pushing her back onto the couch. They’ve christened nearly every room of their apartments in a matter of days and they’ve most certainly been caught a few times. Jeonghan doesn’t feel embarrassed, has never felt embarrassed about that sort of thing outside of the times that Y/N was the one to catch him with someone else before all this, but it’s surprised him over and over that Y/N seems to give even less of a shit. When her hand lands on his crotch at the dinner table surrounded by some of their friends, that becomes apparent.
It’s New Years now and Y/N jokingly calls it their last hurrah. He laughs but he’s feeling so fucking raw about it and he’s sure she can hear it too. She doesn’t stop him when he pushes her into a corner at the party they’ve agreed to attend and smashes his lips onto hers. They’re already kissing when the ball drops and the crowd cheers. She drags him out by the hand not long after and as soon as they close the door to his apartment she’s on her knees, taking his cock into her mouth. He pays her back tenfold, first with his fingers, then his mouth, then his cock. It’s overwhelming how insatiable both of them seem to be and they don’t sleep that night.
It’s never been like this with anyone, he’s never needed anyone the way he needs her. And it’s not just about the sex. He wants to glue himself to her so that he never has to be away from her. Somewhere between Christmas and now, he’s come to terms with the fact that he loves her - that he’s in love with her. There’s no other explanation for this suffocating feeling. He thinks he has been for a long time now and it’s crushing him, making his chest ache.
There are tears in both their eyes the next day as Y/N pulls out her little notebook and glitter pen. They’re in their booth for what might be the last time together. Jeonghan knows he can’t sit here again without her. They don’t even order anything besides a plate of fries because neither of them are very hungry. Her eyes level with his across the booth and though her eyes are so watery they're threatening to spill over, she gives him a smile. “How would you like to proceed?”
Act Three
Initially, Y/N pitches making it look like she’s the bad guy. She even has some ideas jotted down of how to do that. Jeonghan thinks she’s overly concerned about maintaining his new image now and refuses to let her take the fall for any of it. Refuses to even hear her ideas. He takes the notebook from her and rips that page out, crumbling it in a ball and dropping it on the table. He pointedly ignores her frown and makes another suggestion.
So, just like they started this mess, they decided to do it casually. Wait for the right opportunity to bring it up. Jeonghan hasn’t seen her in a few days now and he’s feeling a weird mixture of agony and relief about it. Distance is probably good if he’s ever going to get over this, but he’s having to stay busy to ignore the itch to find her wherever she is right now. If he’s still for too long, it might consume him. Y/N’s absence is the exact opening he’s looking for, though he doesn’t want to talk about her. He feels sick. He has for days - since he came home from the diner on New Year’s Day to be exact.
He and his friends are drinking at home tonight. The snow is coming down fast and none of them wanted to go far, so they pick up a couple cases of beer at the convenience store around the corner and pile up in his and Seungcheol’s living room. “Haven’t seen Y/N in a few days, what’s she up to?”
Jeonghan shrugs at Jihoon’s question. “Not sure.” He swallows hard around the sip of beer.
“Not sure? I thought you guys were attached at the hip,” Mingyu laughs but it’s not unkind. His teasing has lost its mean edge when it comes to Y/N because, like his other friends, Mingyu is totally soft for her. Jeonghan feels like he’s swallowing battery acid when he drains his drink, reaching for another one with a shrug.
“We broke up, so I’m not sure what she’s up to.” He tries to say it casually, but it doesn’t really come out right. It’s so fucking hard to remain casual about this, so he focuses on anything else but his friends who have gone silent.
“Broke up? Hannie, what happened? It seemed like things were going so well.” Joshua sounds as shattered as Jeonghan feels. Jeonghan can’t look at him because he’s just called him a nickname that Y/N uses, or used he guesses, so he keeps picking at the label on his bottle.
“It wasn’t going to work out.”
“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s voice is hard.
Jeonghan expects to be asked this, expects that it will look like his fuck up despite their best efforts to rehabilitate his image. Y/N and Jeonghan had talked about that too. They’d had to discuss it weeks ago because there were whispers around campus that it would only be a matter of time before Jeonghan slipped up and they were trying to get ahead of the assumptions.
He levels with Seungcheol who looks very angry. Flatly simply because he doesn’t have the energy, Jeonghan answers, “Nothing. Like I said, it wasn’t going to work out. It was mutual.” At least that last part was true.
“Hyung…” Chan starts. “I’m sorry. You seemed really into her.” He kind of looks like he’s just been told his parents are divorcing and he has to choose who to live with now, so Jeonghan looks away.
“Yeah, it’s too bad,” Jeonghan mumbles, downing half of his drink in one go. He’s filled with so much bitterness about the whole thing, but right now specifically about how they all seem so devastated by the ending to something that they were convinced could never happen. “Guess you guys were right, I don’t have it in me.” His eyes are burning so he closes them.
“Han,” Mingyu lets out in a blend of exasperation and admonishment. “We weren’t right. We were very wrong about it, about you. And we’re genuinely sorry it didn’t work out. We like her and we like you two together.”
“Are you sure it can’t be fixed? Maybe you guys should give it a few days and then talk,” Joshua says hopefully.
For a brief moment, Jeonghan imagines what that might look like. What would he say? How would Y/N react? They’re thinking it’ll be an “I love you, take me back” kind of conversation, but it would really be a “please take me back, for real this time” kind of conversation.
He remembers her sliding the notebook across the table to him with the pen sitting on top. There wasn’t much on the page because there just wasn’t much to this phase, but she’d jokingly drawn a signature line on the bottom of the page. He had taken her notebook and signed everything they’d drafted this whole time just to make her laugh but the action had a sort of finality to it that was sobering. They’d both proved their points, so the job was done. So he’d signed it too while neither of them so much as cracked a smile.
But now he really did feel like he’d signed his life away like she’d joked all those months ago. “I don’t think so, Shua.” Jeonghan recognizes that he’s completely bummed out his friends and he could really use some space now that this wound has been ripped open again. He drains the last of his drink and excuses himself.
Every semester starts a new routine and Y/N’s holding onto the predictability like a buoy in the middle of the ocean. She’d spent so much time with Jeonghan near the end of last semester that now it feels weird to never see him. They don’t have any classes together because he’s only taking a couple and doing an internship off campus. And anyway, it becomes apparent that he’s avoiding her the same way she’s avoiding him. She’s not even sure which one of them started it first. Things were left so raw even though they agreed on all of it.
It burned her badly when she told her friends that she and Jeonghan had broken up. She'd had to bring it up randomly because they hadn’t asked. After a few cursory questions about why and what he’d done, she didn’t miss how their shoulders relaxed. They looked relieved by the news and it hurt so badly that she started distancing herself from them. She’s the first one to volunteer for an extra shift at the library and when one isn’t available she pretends she’s drowning in homework although her classes are the easiest she’s ever taken. She doesn’t have breakfast with Vernon anymore, claiming she’s always late or not hungry, and locks her bedroom door when she knows Wonwoo might be crashing with them for the night because it’s a childhood habit of his to hog her blankets and she can’t be around him right now. She doesn’t go to the cafe that Minghao works at anymore. When she can’t avoid them and Soonyoung and Junhui tell her jokes or Seungkwan wants to serenade her with a new playlist, she smiles but doesn’t really know how to laugh with them anymore.
The loneliness was becoming crippling but she couldn’t bring herself to spend time with them when she was doubting that they meant it when they said they wanted her to be happy back in November. Fake or not, she’d been happy in Jeonghan’s company and they were thrilled to be rid of him.
The person who refused to let her be lonely surprised her though. Seungcheol had shown up at her door the day before classes started and all but demanded her schedule. He walked with her to and from campus most days and invited her to lunch with his friends, who were still surprisingly warm to her. She recognized he was worried and was trying to fill a void, but he never mentioned Jeonghan. His actions made it clear. They’d began to call her a friend so that’s what she was. The break up didn’t change that. Although on paper it felt like history was repeating itself like it had happened with Y/N and Seokmin, this felt so different and sometimes it made her want to cry. They didn’t look at her with pity like her friends did a year and a half ago. Her friends hadn’t even asked if she was okay beyond that one conversation about the break up, but Seungcheol had been careful to check in without naming Jeonghan specifically. He made sure she ate and asked her how she slept. He kept her from overworking when he could.
So she and Seungcheol had settled into a routine on most Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. They’d usually come back to the apartment and hang out for a while, and maybe even eat dinner together. She’d even convince him to crack open a textbook or work on a paper sometimes. On this particular day, they’re freezing as they walk into his apartment after trudging through the snow. Even though Jeonghan lives here, she almost never sees him. Seungcheol seems to be strategic about his timing and goes out of his way to make sure they don’t run into each other.
Seungcheol starts some ramen and he’s telling her how he found out that Joshua is ring shopping now. “That’s so cute!” Y/N means it. Joshua and Jieun were sweet together and very obviously in love. She thinks they’ll make it.
Y/N interrupts to ask if he wants hot chocolate. When he says ‘sure’, she jumps up to start it. “Do you think he’ll propose soon?” She’s asking as she reaches into the cabinet on her tiptoes, fingers hooking around the handle of the mug and sliding it off the shelf.
“Who’s proposing?”
Y/N lets out a yelp as the mug slips from her hand, crashing to the floor, broken pieces of ceramic hitting the tile at her feet. Her breath catches and Jeonghan is on her in seconds. She hadn’t even heard him come in - probably would be exiting quickly if she did - but he’s gripping her elbow to pull her back from the mess. “Are you okay?”
She can’t breathe now and her eyes are filling with tears, panic flooding her veins. “I’m sorry, it slipped.”
“Baby, I don’t care about the mug.” The pet name seems to come out of his mouth so easily and it only heightens her panic. She tries to put her hands over her face, but Jeonghan intercepts them. “Are you hurt?” He’s examining her hands, palms first, then flipping them over to look at the backs. His fingers are soft and warm as they graze the ring he got her for Christmas and she’s full on crying now. She’s vaguely aware that he’s glancing to check her feet too, but she’s wearing socks and slippers. “Baby, talk to me,” he presses gently.
“I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I’m sorry I broke the mug. I’ll replace it.” The words bubble up fast and she feels like she could sob. Her hands start to shake in his.
Jeonghan pulls her into him. The scent of him makes her body sag and her tears soak into his dress shirt. She’d forgotten he’d have to dress up for his internship at the law office. She tries to pull back because she doesn’t want to ruin his shirt, but he’s mumbling into her hair. “I told you, I don’t give a fuck about the mug, baby. It’s okay, I’m not mad.”
Things are suddenly too much and when Y/N pushes him at arms length, he lets go. “I’ll clean it up.” Y/N is moving toward the cabinet holding the broom and dustpan, because she really needs something to do and really needs some distance between them to regain some composure.
“I got it,” Seungcheol says. She’d honestly forgotten he was there for a moment and she feels kind of ashamed that he’s had to see all of that. “Go take a breather.”
In Seungcheol’s bathroom, she cries hard, feeling exposed like a live wire. Y/N is nervous to go back out there, but Seungcheol doesn’t mention it as he slides her a bowl of ramen and a mug of hot chocolate and pointedly picks a new topic. Jeonghan is nowhere to be found.
It’s Valentine’s Day. Seungcheol knows today might be hard for two of his friends. Y/N has plans with Minseo and he’s relieved to hear it. She sounded excited about a girls night. Jeonghan is a different story. Seungcheol’s been tiptoeing around Jeonghan’s moods since the beginning of the year. They all have, really. Jeonghan doesn’t show up for much anymore, and when he does it’s kind of like the lights are off and no one’s home.
That’s why he’s surprised when Jeonghan agrees to go to the singles mixer that Phi and Zeta are hosting. They almost didn’t ask him, because they didn’t want it to seem like they were rushing him to move on. It’s the first instance that Jeonghan has expressed an interest in going out since his breakup. Not a single hook up in sight, though Seungcheol is wondering if tonight might change that and he feels conflicted about it, thinking about how it might get back to Y/N. To make up for the lack of hook ups lately, there’s been more than enough drinking. Seungcheol’s been known to party hard often, but he can recognize when someone’s at a cliffs’ edge where it’s not longer for fun and has become self-medicating. He watches his roommate come home with alcohol every other day and drink until it’s time to go to bed.
Jeonghan agreeing to attend the party should have been the first red flag. Seungcheol is talking to a girl when he spots Jeonghan throwing back shots. He keeps pulling away from the girl whose trying to be on his arm and whisper to him between each one. He finally pushes her at arms length at one point and Seungcheol doesn’t know what he says but it must have gotten the point across because she moves on to someone else.
Then Seungcheol spots him doing a keg stand. Most people are cheering, but Seungcheol makes eye contact with Jihoon across the room and they know something’s up. Well, something’s been up, but it’s getting worse it seems. It’s when he sees Jeonghan trip over his own feet and giggle as he rolls into the floor that Seungcheol’s had enough. He apologizes to the girl he’s been talking to and has already promised to take home, excusing himself. Mingyu’s not very happy to be pulled away from the girl he’s making out with in the kitchen, but even he recognizes a spiral when he sees one.
Chan and Mingyu have Jeonghan by each arm to hold him up as he sways. Seungcheol tries to unlock the door to their apartment quickly, and soon Jeonghan drops to the couch unceremoniously in a fit of giggles. The four of them stand around for a moment, silently looking between each other before it’s decided that there needs to be some sort of check-in. Too bad Joshua’s not here to partake because he’s out with Jieun tonight.
“Doing okay there? Tough night?” Jihoon starts, trying to keep things light.
It doesn’t appear to be tough because Jeonghan is still giggling to himself. “Yeah, Valentine’s Day sucks,” he slurs. “Being in love sucks. I don’t know how Shua does it.”
It’s really not a surprise to anyone that Jeonghan feels this way. They could all see it plain as day when they were together and you don’t mourn a relationship the way he has been if you don’t feel that way. “Why don’t you try to fix things, Han?” Seungcheol suggests. “I really think she misses you too.”
Jeonghan pinches his eyebrows. “No, that defeats the whole purpose of our plan.”
“Plan?” Chan asks.
“It was all fake. We just wanted to prove a point.” Jeonghan’s frowning now, the only indication that he’s not asleep.
Mingyu stammers. “Fake? How - Jeonghan, why would you do that? Why would she ever agree to that?”
His eyes fly open as his head snaps up and though he’s looking a little like a bobble head, he looks defensive. “It was her idea!” He flops back down. “You guys thought I couldn’t be serious about someone and she wanted to prove that she was over Lee Seokmin.” He fakes a gag at the name ‘Lee Seokmin’. “Besides, she’ll probably start dating Minghao any day now.” Suddenly he’s looking really pale. Jihoon shoves a trash can under Jeonghan’s face just in time.
Mingyu and Jihoon force Jeonghan to rinse his mouth out and drink some water when he’s done throwing up and help him into bed. Chan offers to take out the trash and clean up after Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s stuck in the same spot, hands on his hips. Guilt is clawing at him and he decides he can’t watch this situation spiral anymore.
Seungcheol is kind of surprised when all of Y/N’s friends agree to meet. They pull together multiple tables in the diner so they can all sit together. It’s convenient in a way that Y/N is working tonight and that Jeonghan went straight to bed with a bottle of alcohol. Most of Y/N’s friends are not being cold, but Seungcheol and his friends agree they haven’t seen much of any of them lately despite how well they all got along before the semester started. This whole break up as driven a wedge between the two groups again and it’s like they don’t know each other all over again.
Plates are mostly empty when Wonwoo finally asks Seungcheol, “So, not to be rude, but why did you want to meet? You said it was about Y/N.”
Seungcheol glances at his three friends that were with him last night. He feels bad because he hasn’t had the opportunity to fill Joshua in on all this. But it needs to be said anyway. “Jeonghan and Y/N were not really dating.”
The confusion is obvious across everyone’s face. Soonyoung is the first one to finally say something but it comes out in a laugh of disbelief. “What?! You can’t be serious about that.”
“I’m very serious. Jeonghan spilled the beans last night while he was drunk.” Seungcheol confirmed and he was thankful when Mingyu, Jihoon, and Chan nodded along. He needed witnesses because he realizes how crazy all of this might sound.
“Why on earth would they do something like that?” Seungkwan sounds angry.
Well, Seungcheol’s familiar with that emotion so he matches it. “It sounds like we all drove them to it.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Wonwoo snaps.
Seungcheol and Mingyu glance at each other and Mingyu shakes his head. He knows Mingyu must be feeling pretty ashamed at how he’s instigated this whole thing because Seungcheol’s feeling it too. Seungcheol bites back his pride and answers. “We’re assuming that it started when we made the bet that he couldn’t date anyone.”
“You guys made a fucking bet about her?” Minghao is raging and it gets the attention of the waitresses behind the counter and they share a look of anxiety. Seungcheol needed to take control of this fast before they get kicked out. He doesn’t think they’ll agree to meet again if this conversation ends now.
“And I regret it immensely. We all do because we love Y/N now that we know her,” he snaps. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter because the bet never went anywhere. She turned him down immediately. And then out of nowhere they were dating months later and Jeonghan said he had no interest in reviving the bet.” Seungcheol huffs, crossing his arms and falling back in his seat. “Last night, he said it was to prove that he could do it and that it was even her idea.”
“Why in the world would she come up with something like that? What would she stand to gain from this?” Junhui scoffs like he doesn’t believe it.
“It was something to do with Lee Seokmin, apparently. Whoever that is,” Jihoon shrugs. It’s like a switch flipped. Some of Y/N’s friends sigh, some hide their heads in their hands, some close their eyes. It’s clear that name means something to them.
“Who’s Lee Seokmin?” Chan asks firmly.
They silently seem to nominate Wonwoo to answer and he huffs, yanking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “He and Y/N got together freshman year of high school. They were cute together. He seemed to have a good effect on her, brought her out of her shell some. And then last year, he abruptly announces he’s landed a role abroad and he’d be moving in a matter of days. He dumped her just like that. Nearly seven years down the drain.”
“Tell the whole truth,” Minghao’s all but demands and after a long moment, Wonwoo continues though he looks like he doesn’t want to.
“We kept in touch with him so we knew he was dating one of his costars in a matter of weeks. But -“ Wonwoo’s planting his hands on the table in front of him, leaning forward. “You guys don’t understand. Y/N was totally blindsided by the break up. We all were, really. The last thing we wanted to do was make it worse… so we didn’t tell her he was already dating someone else. That came back to bite us in the ass when he visited in November and she found out anyway. And then she’s suddenly dating Yoon Jeonghan.”
Seungcheol bites his tongue at how Wonwoo says his roommate’s name like a curse, but Mingyu doesn’t. “So what? You can stay friends with someone like him but heaven forbid Y/N spends any time with someone else.”
“Yoon Jeonghan is so different from Seokmin,” Wonwoo scoffs and everyone recognizes it for the insult that it is.
“Maybe that’s a good thing.” It’s the first time Joshua’s spoken this entire time. He’s usually soft about disagreements, usually playing the role of peace keeper and referee. His expression is anything but kind now and so is his voice. “You guys stayed friends with someone that dumped your other friend after years and you think Jeonghan’s the problem here?”
“Yeah, and how’s he holding up? How many people has he slept with since this supposed ‘break up’?” Seungkwan sneers.
“None.” The answer is firm and loud from everyone in support of Jeonghan, because it’s clear the table is very divided when it comes to him. Seungcheol is livid now because he knows Jeonghan’s not a bad guy and never has been despite his old habits. He’s beginning to understand why Jeonghan felt the need to rehabilitate his image in such an extreme way.
“He’s turned away every single person that’s approached him, sometimes pretty brutally. Last night was the first time he’s gone out all semester and he got absolutely trashed, which he was already doing at home on the regular anyway. He’s suffering. And you know what? So is Y/N. You think I don’t notice how she is around you guys now? She avoids you guys like the plague. Tell me, how much did you celebrate when she told you about the break up? Which, by the way, you thought was real until about five minutes ago. Did you celebrate in front of her or did you at least wait until she left the room?”
Seungcheol’s met with silence and he knows he’s right.
Mingyu scoffs. “Man, at least I don’t like to see my friends in pain.”
It’s clear Team Jeonghan has won but Seungcheol doesn’t feel very vindicated by that. He’s about to get up and leave because this isn’t going anywhere. Even has his hands braced on the table to stand when Minghao speaks up. “How do we fix it?”
This gives Seungcheol pause. He remembers Jeonghan mentioning him, that he might date Y/N any day now. But Minghao looks very serious.
“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks. “I hear you might be into her.”
Minghao doesn’t look too put out by the implication and he doesn’t deny it either. “I want to fix it because I want her to be happy. Fake or not, that’s what they were. Now how do we help them make it genuine?”
“Are you suggesting that we scheme just like they did?” Jihoon asks, eyebrow raised.
“I’m not sure we can compete with their level of scheming. I mean, I don’t know at what point things stopped being completely fake but they were incredibly convincing from the very beginning,” Vernon sighed. Seungcheol almost felt bad for him because, just like him, this was going on with his roommate right under his nose.
There’s a long beat of silence and then Mingyu sucks in a breath. “I think I know who could help, but it might take some convincing.”
Minseo is not happy. Not by a long shot. She tried to ignore her phone when DO NOT ANSWER tried calling her not once but six times. Plus multiple texts. Her finger is hovering over the block button when her phone rings again.
She gives him 30 seconds to explain why he was contacting her, but he only needs 5. “We need your help with Y/N and Jeonghan.”
The mention of her former roommate is the only reason she pushes past Mingyu when he opens Jihoon’s front door. “Explain,” she demands, arms crossed. Mingyu has backed down from Minseo’s anger every time they have to interact since they broke up, running away with his tail between his legs, but instead today he hands her an iced coffee, maintaining an even expression. It even looks like the right coffee order.
“Thank you for coming. We’re all in here.” She refuses to be softened by him and refuses to acknowledge the coffee. Instead, she followed him into the living room. She didn’t expect for the room to be so full. It seemed all of Y/N and Jeonghan’s friends were on the same team today. She’s afraid she knows where this is going.
Mingyu leads her to an arm chair so she places her coffee on the floor and sits, crossing her legs and arms expectantly. “Explain,” she demanded again.
Mingyu bites his lip. “Jeonghan and Y/N weren’t really dating. It was fake the whole time.”
Minseo’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I knew that.”
There are cries of outrage and shock around the room and Minseo rolls her eyes hard. If they’d all been better friends, they would have known too. Or it might have never even happened in the first place. Mingyu shakes his head at her. “What do you mean you knew? You’ve talked to Y/N recently about it?”
“You’re not in a position to make demands, Kim Mingyu. I’m here only because it involves Y/N,” she bites. “But if you must know, yes, I’ve spoken to her recently about it because I’ve known since the beginning.”
“Didn’t you try to talk her out of it or something?” Wonwoo cried, throwing his hands up in the air.
“I asked some pointed questions about the motivations behind it, but I think they actually had some good reasons. You guys have kind of been assholes.” She looks around the room and then rolls her eyes again. “Oh, don’t look ashamed now. I’m not sure I even want to help you guys with whatever you’re thinking.”
“But someone needs to do something. We know Jeonghan’s miserable and I think Y/N might be too, right?” Seungcheol pleaded.
Minseo presses her lips together. She wasn’t about to rat out Y/N but she’d been incredibly emotional in the days after the ‘break up’, even more so than the real break up with Seokmin. There were quite a few times this semester that she’d just show up at the sorority house because she had no one else to talk to about it or she needed somewhere private to cry. “You could say that,” she answers shortly. “But what are you going to do about it? They’re really good at avoiding each other from what I hear.”
“That’s why I called you. I know Y/N was the mastermind behind the Facebook group a couple years ago, but you’ve gotten a peek into her mind. Help us plan something to get them back together, for real this time.”
Minseo stares at Mingyu, totally perplexed. She can’t believe he’s bringing up the Facebook group that publicly embarrassed him amongst so many women on campus - and she doesn’t miss how confused the rest of the room looks at the mention of it. She also can’t believe he’s so invested in someone else’s dating life to the point of reaching out to her when it appeared he’d written off dating entirely after they broke up. Finally, she scoffs in exasperation. “Yeah, she was the mastermind, so I can’t hold a candle to her. You should have seen the other things she came up with. What you got was tame. And even if we try to pull something on her, she’s way too smart to fall for it. They both are. Their deal seemed pretty final from what I can tell, so maybe we shouldn’t meddle.”
“It shouldn’t be final if Jeonghan’s in love with her. We should try something,” Jihoon insisted.
Minseo blinks. “He said that? He’s in love with her?” A few people nod, most of Jeonghan’s friends to be exact. Minseo’s purses her lips. “Find me a whiteboard. A big one.”
Thirty minutes later, Seungcheol and Mingyu are placing what she requested in front of her. It looks suspiciously like the ones the university supplies in study rooms in the dorms. Minseo bites back a laugh. Y/N got one of these off the wall, into the elevator, and into their dorm room single handedly a couple years ago without getting caught and both boys look a little out of breath now bringing it in from the car together. It speaks to the determination Y/N had to help Minseo get revenge back then.
Mingyu lets a handful of dry erase markers roll into Minseo’s hand and steps back. They’re watching her with baited breath and she can’t believe they’re so invested and that she’s agreed to help. With a resigned sigh, she uncaps a pink marker, sitting cross legged in front of the board. “We should start with status updates. How they’re feeling, what they’re doing, what their schedules look like.”
To their credit, everyone is fully committed, giving updates to their friends’ current situations. Minseo doesn’t miss that Seungcheol knows way more about Y/N’s side of the board than her own friends do. It’s a glaring sign of the neglect that they need to come face to face with. This is about getting Jeonghan and Y/N back together, yes, but there are some friendships to repair too.
Then Minseo asks for ideas. Vernon scratches the back of his neck as he offers, “Couldn’t we just lock them in a room together until they work it out?”
Minseo snorts. “Vernon, are you reading fan fiction?” None the less, she writes down ‘forced proximity’. Ideas begin to flow and Minseo believes none of them are all that great, but they’re really trying here. They offer things like setting them up on a blind date, saying one is in trouble to get the other to find them, and waiting for one of them to get sick so the other can take care of them. There are a lot of things on the board but Minseo thinks they’ll both be suspicious of every single one.
Chan groans, head in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what about fake dating? It worked on us, didn’t it?”
Minseo thinks it’s an absurd idea. “Just how would we go about that? They wrote the whole book on this thing. Literally. I’ve seen their notes.”
“I mean… Jeonghan’s not going on a date. He flat out refuses to do anything with anyone. But would Y/N? If the right person asks? Maybe it would prompt Jeonghan to do something.” Chan shrugs.
After a beat of silence everyone turns to Minghao. His eyes flare. “No. Absolutely not. I’d do a lot of things for Y/N but I’m not interested in being a pawn in all of this. It’s cruel of you to even suggest it. Plus, she’s not interested and she never has been.”
“That’s not totally true, but I understand. This is already too messy,” Minseo agrees, turning back to the whiteboard. She ignores the questions that come from multiple people and claps her hands loudly. “No! No more hurt feelings here! We’re trying to fix things!”
Begrudgingly, the only thing they can totally agree on is forced proximity of some kind. Jeonghan and Y/N were inseparable before and if they have to be around each other some of that might naturally come back. Seungcheol doesn’t elaborate but he believes it’ll work because he's seen them interact since the break up. They scrap the other ideas and decide to pray for a miracle.
They had all underestimated the lengths that both Y/N and Jeonghan would go to to avoid each other. It’s been a month and not a single thing has worked so far. The first attempts are simple. Jeonghan’s friends know his schedule and Y/N’s friends know hers now, and they try to make them mesh often. The two groups run into each other at the student union or on the way to class and stop to chat or plan to meet for dinner and drinks, but both subjects of their plot drift to the back of the group, make excuses that they’re late to something, or simply can’t make it. This happens no less than five times and the team regroups to try a different strategy.
The second one is pretty ambitious and takes some coordination and a little white lying. Joshua convinces Jeonghan to go on a triple date with him and Jieun. He says one of the guys had to drop out last minute and they don’t want Jieun’s friend to be left out. There’s absolutely no pressure to date - just an opportunity to get out, chat a bit, and get some fresh air, food, and drinks. What Jeonghan didn’t know was that the second couple was Mingyu and Minseo, who only agreed to be seen together because they needed to rope Y/N in as well. Minseo had said she was considering taking Mingyu back and she wanted Y/N there as a voice of reason. Yes, Y/N would be that friend who would have been dateless if Jeonghan didn’t go.
They all regret this strategy and think it was a terrible idea because it’s so painful to watch how Y/N and Jeonghan both avoid each others’ looks and drink too much. They have to cut dinner short to take both of them home to sleep it off. They make the decision that they can’t use forced proximity if alcohol is involved.
The third and fourth attempts present themselves back to back and it’s sheer luck. First, Jeonghan comes down with a cold. It knocks him on his ass for days and Seungcheol remembers that this idea was on the board at one point. He lets Y/N know that Jeonghan is really sick but Seungcheol has to go to class and can’t stay with him. He asks if she can drop in and check on him. She looks conflicted but hesitantly agrees. When Seungcheol comes home, Jeonghan’s trudging through the kitchen and Y/N is nowhere to be found. “Did you make soup?” Jeonghan asks as he looks into the pot on the stove top. It’s still warm.
Seungcheol tries not to look smug. “No, must have been Y/N. I asked her to stop by since I’d be gone for a while. Didn’t you see her?”
Jeonghan looks crestfallen. “No… she must have come by when I was asleep.” Despite saying he hadn’t had an appetite in days, Jeonghan has three servings of soup in one sitting and there’s something warm and relaxed about his expression when he’s done.
As luck would have it, the next week Y/N comes down with food poisoning. Vernon comes back from class and realizes Y/N had never left for her own classes because she’s too busy with her head over the toilet. Wonwoo says Mingyu is suffering from it as well since they ordered the same thing the night before.
Knowing that Jeonghan is home, Vernon makes the same excuse that Seungcheol did. He has to go, but could Jeonghan check on her while he’s gone? Jeonghan hesitantly agrees. When Vernon comes back, he finds Jeonghan sitting on Y/N’s bathroom floor with her head in his lap. She seems to be asleep while he strokes her hair. He’s got his eyes closed too, head leaned back against the wall when Vernon knocks.
Vernon asks if he needs anything, and even offers to help get her back to bed in case he’s itching to escape. Minseo had insisted that straight up trapping them was the absolute last resort. Jeonghan declines and says he’ll take care of it. Vernon doesn’t put his headphones in when he goes to bed, hoping to catch when Jeonghan leaves, but he falls asleep before that happens.
It’s late when Jeonghan leads Y/N out of the bathroom with a hand on her back to steady her. He hasn’t said much to her since he came in a while ago. Just an ‘I got it’ when her hair keeps falling in her face as she vomits or a simple ‘here’ when he hands her a cup of water to rinse her mouth out at the sink. But she’d been sick more than once and the cycle repeated. The same holding back of her hair, the same gentle rubbing of her back, the same cup of water. When there couldn’t be anything left to make her sick, he sat in the floor beside her and pulled her to lay down. She’s not sure how long she slept but that’s where she woke up, his fingers combing through her sweaty hair. She’s so tired that she can’t even cry at the feeling or be embarrassed.
Jeonghan helped her into bed and Y/N tried to grab his hand when he turned away. “Are you leaving?” Her voice sounds terrible for so many reasons that she doesn’t want to think about much. Tonight is the closest he’s been since she dropped that mug in January.
She’s so surprised when his lips turn up at the corners. “I’m just turning off the light.” She lets him go, and as promised, he comes back. Instead of laying down, he sits up against the headboard. His arm comes around her shoulders and she falls into him, head landing low on his chest. She’s afraid to talk because she doesn’t want to run him off. His hand rubs her arm up and down soothingly.
“Do you feel better?” He asks after a long time. He sounds sleepy. She thinks about Christmas break at his parents’ house when she hears it.
“Some. Thanks for coming to help me.”
He hums and it vibrates under her ear. “I’ll always come help you.”
“Really?” Y/N’s voice cracks weakly. She hopes he thinks it’s because she’s been sick, but he squeezes her arm like he knows it’s not that.
“Yeah. I meant it when I said I’d give you whatever you want.”
This conversation is starting to feel like ripping open an old wound but she clings to him anyway. “Did you think I’d want space?”
“Don’t you?” He’s so soft when he says it.
“No,” she answers quickly, then she hesitates. “Do you?”
There are so many beats of silence that she loses count and then he mumbles, “No.” He lays his head on top of hers.
“Maybe we’re not so good at scheming,” Y/N laughs, but it feels and sounds hollow.
A laugh rumbles in his chest under her ear but it actually sounds genuine, like he thinks of it fondly. “What are you talking about? Your plan was great.”
“I don’t know. Phase three was pretty weak.”
He hums. “How so?” He pats her hair soothingly.
“I guess we never talked about what comes… after everything. We just stopped talking, stopped seeing each other entirely.” One hand is still on her head and his other hand finds her ring, spinning it as she talks. It spins and spins and spins and she thinks he might not have anything to say. So she tacks on, “If that’s what you want, I understand. I just… wish we’d talked about it first.”
More spinning. So much spinning that she’s becoming dizzy watching it. She almost misses it when he mumbles, “It’s not what I want. I thought it’s what you wanted.”
“No, it’s not. I missed you.” It feels good to admit it. Jeonghan’s still spinning her ring, so she keeps talking. “We spent so much time together and then nothing. It’s been hard for me, Hannie.”
Both arms wrap around her now. “I missed you too. I haven’t been myself lately.”
Eventually, Y/N whispers, “How would you like to proceed?” She feels him smile into her hair.
“Let’s start over.” It’s not a question and Y/N is elated. She sits up. He’s still smiling as he sticks out his hand. It makes her smile too at the familiarity of it all. They’ve done this before and they can do it again. She places her hand in his and shakes.
“Hi, I’m Y/N. Would you like to be friends?”
“I’m Jeonghan, your new best friend. Nice to meet you.”
The Y/N + Jeonghan group chat gets a text from Vernon first thing the next morning. ‘It worked!!! He’s still here!!! They’re eating breakfast together!!!!!’
Though very few recipients are together that early in the morning, there’s a lot of celebration. Soonyoung even gets the evil eye from his instructor because he received the text in class and let out a gasp.
A minute later, Vernon sent a follow up text. “False alarm? They say they aren’t back together???”
Vernon doesn’t have a good explanation for their questions because he’s just as confused. They look just like they did late last semester, sitting at the table next to each other, talking, smiling. There are even small signs of affection. But when Vernon ‘jokingly’ asks if they’re finally rekindling their relationship, they both say no.
The following month is confusing. They’re just like they were before, but maybe even worse. They spend every waking moment together outside of class, Y/N’s work, and Jeonghan’s internship. They sleep over at each other’s apartments every night and are often found cuddling together. They start going to parties together again, but often sneak off for what they call a ‘little adventure’ and no one really knows what that means. They post each other on their social medias constantly.
The first time around there was something almost shy about how they were around each other. Now, that was not the case. They acted like they wanted to crawl into each others’ skin most of the time. There was the usual stuff like hand holding in a crowd, or Jeonghan’s hand landing on Y/N's back or waist. Or when they sat next to each other on the couch or while they were out to eat, Jeonghan’s arm quickly came around her shoulders and sometimes Y/N’s hand landed on his thigh.
Then there was what Minseo had identified as cuteness aggression. One time, Seungcheol witnessed Y/N showing up at their apartment in a very oversized hoodie, sweater paws and all. Jeonghan had cooed at her, squishing her cheeks and calling her ‘so fucking cute’. Another time, Jeonghan showed up at Y/N’s apartment with a new hair cut and Vernon witnessed Y/N squeal and grab his face while screaming about how good it looked. On both of these occasions, the person receiving the aggression would scoff and push the aggressor away with a blush. The aggressor would say, “You love me.” The person receiving the aggression would roll their eyes and say, “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Then there were the looks. Distinctive from the looks of adoration that they’d give each other when the other wasn’t looking (which still happened all the time), these were dubbed the ‘mind reading’ looks. This usually resulted in pranks or cheating at whatever game they were playing with the group, but one particular time, Wonwoo was a victim of it. Like everyone in the Y/N + Jeonghan group chat, Wonwoo wanted answers. At dinner, he watches Jeonghan and Y/N pick things off each others’ plates and it makes him lose it. “Are you guys seriously not dating?”
Y/N and Jeonghan give identical looks, eyebrows raised in amusement, when someone asks them this. “No, why do you ask?” Y/N asks evenly.
“You guys are grosser now than when you were fake dating. And I caught you guys having sex back then, so that’s saying something.”
A hush falls over the table because they’d all agreed to not let Y/N and Jeonghan know that their secret was out. However, it doesn’t seem to matter because Y/N and Jeonghan share one of those ‘mind reading’ looks for exactly one second before they turn back to Wonwoo and gaslight the shit out of him. Jeonghan just smiles and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wonwoo. That would be crazy of us to do.”
And then there were the comments that gave the group whiplash. One day at dinner, Jeonghan is texting his family when he scoffs and turns to Y/N. “I think my mom likes you more than me.”
Or when they were getting ready to go to a party and Vernon overhears Y/N getting ready in her room while Jeonghan hangs out. That’s not unusual, right down to changing in front of each other. Y/N laughs about a bad hair day and says she’s going to look like a hot mess tonight. Jeonghan laughs and says, “No, you’re just hot.”
The shamelessness of it all has the group in front of the whiteboard at Jihoon’s house multiple times throughout the month but they don't know what to do. Y/N and Jeonghan seemed so happy, maybe even happier than when they were ‘dating’. They batted around theories. Maybe it was because their friendship was genuine while their dating wasn’t. Maybe it was because they were just better off as friends. Or maybe they were actually dating for real and hiding it.
That last theory has them desperately planning one final attempt because they want nothing more than to celebrate their friends being together and the idea of them hiding it now causes hysteria. They all schedule a last minute spring break trip to the beach and Y/N and Jeonghan easily agree. They even make the drive together and Seungkwan and Chan are forced to sit in the back while Y/N gets passenger princess and aux cord privileges. When they all arrive at the beach house and decide sleeping arrangements, Mingyu asks Y/N and Jeonghan if they’re okay with sharing a room. No one is surprised when they just shrug because they’ve slept in the same bed every night for over a month now.
Throughout the trip, the group attempts to set up increasingly obvious romantic scenarios. They leave without waking them up in the morning, everyone tiptoeing out of the beach house so they can have a quiet morning to themselves. They basically sprint back from the pier or the restaurant down the block so that Y/N and Jeonghan have space as they walk slowly. When they grill out on the back deck at night, they intentionally play a slow song or two and are elated when Jeonghan pulls Y/N into a slow dance as they giggle. On their last night, they watch them sit on the beach together with Y/N leaning on Jeonghan’s shoulder as they watch the fireworks.
In the car on the way back, Seungkwan asks if they’re finally getting back together and they say no. They seem to mean it, so the group decides that maybe its time to let this go.
The Y/N + Jeonghan group chat has been silent for days since spring break when Joshua and Jeonghan hang out after class one day. Y/N is working which is probably the only reason Jeonghan agreed to meet. Joshua watches his friend closely. He does seem happy - the happiest Joshua thinks he’s ever seen him, really. Joshua doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but he really has to know because it’s beginning to drive him crazy.
“Han, can I ask you something?” Joshua asks and Jeonghan hums. “Are you and Y/N really okay? As friends, I mean?”
“Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?” Jeonghan asks, but he seems kind of disinterested in the conversation, glancing between Joshua and his phone. Joshua’s sure he’s texting Y/N, because he always is when they’re apart.
Joshua frowns, hesitating. “I mean, you said you were in love with her back in February. I just wondered if that’s still the case.”
Jeonghan looks up at Joshua for real this time, eyebrow raised. “When did I say that?”
“Valentine’s Day, apparently. I wasn’t there, but you had some things to say while you were drunk.”
Sliding his phone onto the table, Jeonghan slumps in his seat, arms crossed. He seems lost in thought. “Is that how you guys knew about the fake dating too?” Joshua nods in confirmation and Jeonghan hums, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “Sounds like you guys might have been doing your own plotting. Don’t think I forgot about the triple date.”
Joshua chortles. “Yeah, we thought you two might figure that out. Look, I’m asking because if you’re happy with where things are at then we’ll back off. We’ve all instigated so much of this mess. We were just trying to fix it.”
Jeonghan’s still looking at the ceiling and he doesn’t answer for a long time, so long that Joshua wonders if he even heard him or if he’ll even answer. Finally, he sighs like he’s resigned himself to something. He sits up and looks Joshua in the eyes. “Of course, I’m still in love with her. More than I was before, even. And I’ll give her whatever she wants, but I think that’s just friends at this point.”
Joshua frowns. “Have you asked her what she wants? Maybe you’re misreading things.” Joshua’s certain he’s misreading things, actually.
“I don’t know that I need to,” Jeonghan shrugs. “She’s the one that came up with this whole plan. I guess she could have just dated me if she wanted to do that for real. I would have said yes because I was already into her.”
Joshua gives an exasperated sigh, and Jeonghan just stares. “Can I be honest?” He doesn’t really wait for an answer. “We all think it was real. It might have started as fake and a lot of things were probably coordinated in the very beginning, but it seemed far too natural at some point. I mean, you guys looked so in love it was sickening, and that’s me saying that. You might be calling yourselves friends now like nothing happened but you still look at each other that way. Really, you’re even more shameless now as ‘friends’ than you were when you were ‘dating’.”
Joshua puts his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. He’d wanted to say all of this for so long that it feels like he’s bursting at the seams now. “I can’t watch you fall apart again the way you were earlier this year. You wouldn’t eat. You drank every night to go to sleep. You wouldn’t go out, wouldn’t talk. When we did see you it was like you weren’t really there.”
“That won’t happen again, especially if we just stay friends,” Jeonghan insisted. He’s apologized to his friends a few times about how he’d behaved in the first couple months of the year and for causing them to worry.
Joshua couldn’t help but scoff. “And what happens when she moves on and starts dating someone else? Can you stand watching that? Can you stand the idea of being at her wedding in five or ten years as a guest? Jeonghan, I want to believe you’d be okay, but I’m not so sure.”
“So what do I do then?” Jeonghan shakes his head helplessly and Joshua hates to see it. Like his fate is already sealed.
“It depends. What do you want? What would make you happy?” Joshua hesitates, but feels he has no choice but to add on, “Would you move on, too?”
Jeonghan closes his eyes. It takes him a long time to answer but finally he shakes his head. “She makes me happy and I can’t imagine moving on. I just don’t know how to get out of the friend zone that I’ve put myself in, even though it’s far better than nothing. Remember, I’m bad at dating. She was the one that was good at dating and I’m just good at being in love with her. And no, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from this enough to move on.”
“No, you looked like an expert in dating. Still do actually,” Joshua laughed. “It’s the asking out that might need some work. Let us help you,” Joshua was practically begging.
Jeonghan grimaced. “No offense, but you guys aren’t great at plotting. Everything you’ve done is pretty transparent. Besides, who’s ‘us’?”
Joshua just grinned. “Are you free tonight?”
When Jeonghan walks into Jihoon’s living room later that night, he didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. Everyone except for Y/N is here and they look very surprised to see him. He doesn’t respond to the questions because he’s too busy reading the whiteboard behind Minseo. He wants to laugh because some of the things that are written down are ridiculous, but he’s actually kind of touched and wonders how long they’ve been doing this. Despite the fact that their efforts were incredibly transparent, they’ve clearly been putting in a lot of work.
“Scratch everything, I have a new plan,” Joshua announces.
“And… that involves Jeonghan being here? No offense,” Junhui adds.
Joshua gives a bit of an uncharacteristically evil laugh. “Yes.” He goes to the whiteboard, taking the eraser from Minseo. He gets rid of everything on the board and then writes ‘Hannie confesses to Y/N’ at the top. Jeonghan groans and almost turns to leave.
“Joshua, when you said you’d help me, I didn’t think this was what you meant,” Jeonghan gestures to the crowded room.
“Just trust the process! We’re going to make this work.” Joshua sounds so sure. Jeonghan frowns, looking around the room. They all look hopeful, honestly. Even Y/N’s friends that didn’t really like him. Seungkwan and Soonyoung separate to make room for him on the couch.
He thinks of what things are like with Y/N now, and even what they were like when it was fake. It makes his chest ache. Because Joshua was right earlier. Not all of it was fake, certainly not near the end. And he’s being driven by the same emotions now as friends. He wonders if it ever really was fake for him. Maybe he could have just asked her out at the diner that night instead of hatching their plan. Maybe she would have just said yes back then.
He swallows hard. His pride is what got him into this mess, but now he’d have to put it aside if any of these people could help him. He walked to the couch and took a seat.
It turns out that all of their friends are hopeless romantics. Jeonghan watches as they practically fight over the markers to write their ideas, and those that won’t fight over the markers just start yelling out ideas so someone else can write it down. It’s totally overwhelming the amount of choices he’s being given and Minseo frowns at him when he stares at the board blankly. “Jeonghan, you can’t overthink this. It has to feel natural, so some of this might not work for you and that’s okay,” Minseo says, trying to ease his tension.
Instead, he laughs. Laughs because Y/N had told him over and over again in the beginning that it had to be natural. Laughs at the absurdity of all of their ideas and how he’d actually do any of it if he thought it would work.
Then comes the crisis intervention because they must think he’s losing it. Someone takes a picture of the board and then Minseo erases it so they can organize it better. They’re so meticulous about all of this that Jeonghan is kind of perplexed by how none of their other plans worked if this kind of energy went into it. They organize the chaotic list into date ideas, affection, romantic gestures, gifts, and domestic activities. They even argue about what something should be categorized as. For instance, Jihoon thinks flowers are gifts and Junhui thinks it’s just a romantic gesture and doesn’t really count as a gift.
Then they start asking him what he thinks. His mind is shockingly empty. He kind of expects them to laugh at him when he admits he doesn’t know, particularly Seungcheol and Mingyu who would have enjoyed this type of thing so much before, but instead they frown and start suggesting things even though they’re already on the board and he’s already read it. Buy her flowers. Take her on a date. Buy her a gift (this restarts Jihoon and Junhui’s argument all over again). Write her a love note. Vernon says he should just kiss her and get this over with. Jeonghan shakes his head, though he’s definitely thought about it already, far before he walked into Jihoon’s house tonight.
Ultimately, they give him the list and tell him to do what feels right. They also say that they’ll assist in anyway they can. They add him to a group chat so he can update them and he can’t help but scoff at the name of the group chat when he sees it.
His mind is racing when he, Seungcheol, and Vernon meet Y/N at the entrance to their apartment complex. She’s just gotten home from work and she smiles, asking how their night was. Jeonghan blindly follows her into her apartment and into her room. He blindly changes clothes, which he’s started keeping here, and gets into bed with her. He barely even glances at her as she changes too, getting ready for bed.
“Something on your mind?” Y/N asks from her pillow.
Jeonghan does what he calls his best ‘old Y/N’ impression and hopes it’s convincing. “No, I’m good. Just tired I guess.”
“What did you guys get into tonight? Anything fun?” Y/N’s voice is light, but he can tell she wants to prod.
“Just hung out at Jihoon’s, nothing crazy.” What a lie. It left a gross taste in his mouth because not once had he ever lied to her like that, but he wasn’t ready to admit how he’d spent his night. Maybe if all of this worked out, they could laugh about it one day.
Y/N hums, stares through him for a moment, and then finally smiles as she closes her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets for now.” Jeonghan scoffs, pulling her into him.
“Nothing bad, I promise.” He’s not really sure if that’s the whole truth either, but he kisses the top of her head anyway. She falls asleep long before him and he sees the whiteboard filled with rainbow hand writing every time he tries to close his eyes.
Jeonghan is starting to feel the pressure. It’s been nearly a month since that night at Jihoon’s with the whiteboard and graduation is approaching in a matter of two weeks. For some reason, he’d set this as a soft deadline for this little plan to be completed, whether or not it worked in his favor. He’d crossed off a lot of things from the listtheir friends had put together, and even some of his own when the opportunities had presented themselves, with little results.
One Saturday, they both were itching to get out of the house. Y/N had suggested they go to the park and get some sun. Jeonghan had offered to pack up some food for a picnic while they were there. While Y/N showered and got ready, Jeonghan asked the group chat if picnics were considered romantic. The overwhelming reaction was yes, accompanied by hearts and exclamation points, and even a voice message from Soonyoung of him screaming (or maybe sobbing, but Jeonghan couldn’t be sure). So Jeonghan took great care with what he put together while he gave himself a little pep talk. Most of it went out of the window when Y/N came into the kitchen in a sun dress, turning around to ask if he could help her zip it up. His heart pounded as he did it and he was thankful that she was too busy eyeing the food to notice whatever expression he was wearing. The day was nice, but he was a nervous wreck the whole time. She looked too pretty as she laid down in the grass and he felt like a teenager. It wasn’t the right time.
On Wednesday night, they planned to have a movie night at his apartment. She was wearing his hoodie as she curled up on the couch next to him. He didn’t think much about it when he pulled her feet into his lap and started rubbing them. She sighed and sagged into the couch like she could fall asleep. Seungcheol came in and spotted them, and the excited look on his face told him that Jeonghan might be doing something right, even if he hadn’t realized it. Before he could work up the courage to say anything, she was already asleep.
On Friday night, Jeonghan’s new lego set comes in and he can’t wait to put it together. He’d already told Y/N how excited he was for it to arrive, but he was even more excited when she showed up at his apartment that night with things to make dinner, saying that they could put it together afterwards. He was so distracted that she had to guide him through a lot of the instructions.
On Saturday, they’re at a book store because Y/N is itching to pick up a few new things. He patiently follows her around the store, letting her add books to the growing stack in his arms. While in line to check out, they look at the knick knacks near the register. He hears Y/N giggle and she points to a set of matching bracelets, one with a sun and one with a moon on it. “Wouldn’t that be cheesy?” She says, but her eyes are gleaming with something really special that makes Jeonghan’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah, about as cheesy as your ring,” Jeonghan chuckles. She looks at it for a moment too long and he finds himself saying, “Get them. I’ll wear the sun one.”
She gives him a playful look. “What if I wanted the sun?”
“Then you get the sun. Go on,” he insists, nodding his head at them. She picks up the bracelets, not needing anymore convincing. At the register, the employee comments on how cute they are together. Jeonghan beams when Y/N doesn’t correct her.
The following Wednesday, Jeonghan is at his internship at the law office. It’s pretty mindless stuff, shuffling papers around and taking a few phone calls here and there, so he spends a lot of his time texting Y/N throughout the day. He’s surprised when she tells him she won’t be going to class. It’s unlike her and he’s immediately a little concerned. Finally, she admits that she’s not feeling good because she’s on her period. He almost texts the group chat to ask for advice, but at the last minute he changes his mind and texts his sister.
So on the way home, he calls her and asks if she needs anything. After some prodding, she hesitantly asks for tampons. He immediately recognizes this as the Most Boyfriend Task he’s ever been given and promptly asks her to send him what she needs. When he shows up with tampons in addition to some flowers and a slice of cake from the bakery, she cries. This night turns into the Most Boyfriend kind of night as he makes her dinner, throws a load of laundry in that she meant to do earlier, and cuddles her on the couch with a heating pad.
When she’s just about asleep, he hears her say, “thanks for taking care of me.”
It’s a no brainer to say, “you don’t have to thank me. It’s what you deserve.”
She snuggles deeper into his chest. “You’d make a great boyfriend, Yoon Jeonghan.”
He finds himself laughing. “That’s all thanks to you. You’re a great teacher.”
She giggles in his chest sleepily. “I don’t remember this lesson. You came by this naturally it seems.” He’s relieved that they can make references to how all this started without any awkwardness.
He feels like this might be the right time, but it takes too long to give himself a little pep talk. When he calls her name out, she doesn’t respond, clearly asleep. He sighs, kissing her head.
Then suddenly it’s dead week, and then it’s finals week, and everyone is so stressed by the end of the semester that now is certainly not a good time. He’s not stressed about that. He’s stressed about the whiteboard in front of him. Jihoon was kind of confused when he showed up unannounced but let him in anyway. He can feel Jihoon’s eyes on him as he stares at the board.
“No luck yet, I take it?” He asks gently and it makes Jeonghan want to put his head in his hands.
“No, it’s never felt like the right time.”
Jihoon is quiet for a long time, looking at the board with him. So many things are crossed off. “Maybe there isn’t a such thing as a right time? Maybe you just need to say it.”
Jeonghan chuckles, but there’s a tinge of darkness to it. “What? Just say ‘I love you, Y/N. I’d like to date for real this time’?” He frowns when Jihoon shrugs.
“It’s a good ideas as any. You’ve been dropping hints for a while now. Maybe hints won’t work.”
“How would I even do that? What setting could possibly be fitting for something like that?” Jeonghan sighs in exasperation. There had been so many seemingly romantic opportunities and nothing had felt right.
Eventually, Jihoon hummed. “How do you and Y/N feel about heights?”
Jeonghan’s snapped to Jihoon. “What?”
“I have an idea, but you’ll have to trust me.”
Jeonghan was feeling pretty desperate so what did he have to lose.
Finals week is over and graduation was on Saturday. It felt like a whirlwind for Y/N to finally have a degree in hand, one that her parents had never been convinced she could get on her own without their support. If she’d listened to them four years ago, she would be abroad at some prestigious university that her parents had donated heavily to change her acceptance status for. She would be preparing for med school, or law school, or something equally prestigious to fit the family dynamic. Something that her father can brag about in between business meetings or her mother can rub in other rich ladies’ faces about while getting drinks at the country club. She’d kind of expected that her parents might show up for graduation. As a sort of olive branch, she’d sent them an invitation for it. But they hadn’t shown up and that was just as well. Being disinherited and disowned was okay too.
Instead, she’d been staring at her stupid English degree that she paid for by herself in the apartment that she’d paid rent for without access to the trust fund that had her name on it but had never had access to. And this apartment would remain hers for a while longer because she’d already applied and been accepted to the grad program of her choice at this very university and she and Vernon were renewing their lease.
Things are good. Better than they’d ever been, really.
She’s still looking at her degree when there’s a knock on her open bedroom door. Lee Seokmin is standing there. He’d come in for the graduation, but Y/N kind of expected not to see him again before he left. He looks a little nervous, but he comes to stand next to her and look down at her degree too.
After a long moment, he finally speaks. “I’m proud of you, you know?” Y/N stares up at him while he admires the diploma. It’s the first thing he’s said directly to her since that day in the cafe with Jeonghan last November. “I remember how nervous you were when we started here. Worried about money. Worried about classes. Burning yourself at both ends to make it work. I worried about you a lot back then. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to see all of it work out until now.”
“Are you?” Y/N hopes the question doesn’t sound unkind, but she’s confused. She remembers how he was when he broke up with her. It was awkward, but in a way it was also unapologetic. That’s what had hurt the most about it. Nothing she had said back then seemed to change his mind.
“I deserve that,” Seokmin chuckles, looking a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. “But yes. I am sorry - for a lot of things really, more than just that.”
“Do you regret it?” She means the break up, but she doesn’t specify in case there’s something else. This is a wound that’s barely closed. She doesn’t want him back, wouldn’t even entertain the idea if he asked, but this conversation has been put off for long enough and it’s time for some healing while he’s brave enough to approach her.
Seokmin still won’t look at her. “Yes and no. No, because I really needed to take that role. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. But yes in just about every other way.”
“What about Minnie?” Her question is still not unkind, just curious.
Seokmin laughs, finally looking at her. “It didn’t work out, which is total karma for how I left things with you.”
Y/N frowns. Despite being upset at how he’d moved on so fast, she’d never wished him any ill will. She couldn’t after all the times he’d had her back over the years. “I’m sorry, Seokmin. That sucks.”
He shrugs with a relaxed smile. “It’s okay. It’s kind of awkward to work with her now, but that’s temporary.” He chuckles again, looking around her room now. “You know, when she found out I was coming to visit, she accused me of wanting to get back together with you.”
This gave Y/N pause. This was a part of the conversation she’d kind of hoped to avoid. “And… is that why you stopped by?”
“No,” Seokmin shakes his head. “I lost my one chance. I’ve just been too big of a coward to give you a real apology, which you deserve, so here it goes.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I threw our whole relationship out like that. I regretted it as soon as I was on the plane. I’m sorry I started dating just like that. And I’m sorry that little secret made it seem like our friends were picking sides.” She must have looked surprised because he smiles at her shyly. “I’ve been caught up on some things. Fake dating, huh?”
Y/N scoffs, but it’s not entirely humorless. “You guys are such gossips.”
“Yeah, we are,” Seokmin laughed and she’d kind of missed how joyful he was. He’d always been such a mood maker. Then his expression turns serious. “Can I ask how things are going there? With Jeonghan, I mean. You guys seem close.”
Y/N isn't sure how to answer. She plops down on the edge of her bed. “That’s a good question.”
“I’m a good listener. Maybe I can help.” That much is true. Seokmin has always been a great person to unload your worries on. It’s one of the things that made her let her guard down all those years ago, even though everything else in her life was bad at that time. When she doesn’t kick him out immediately, he rolls out her desk chair and sits to face her.
Y/N spins her ring, staring down at it when the sunlight catches it. “I love him. I’ve been in love with him for a long time, I think. It’s never been like this with anyone, but we’ve made such a mess of things. But now things are good. He’s the best friend I could ever ask for. I don’t want to run him off.”
Seokmin shakes his head, chuckling. “I don’t think it’s possible to run him off. Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“I don’t think he’d be open to it. I mean, this is the man that agreed to fake date me after he lost a bet. He’s opened up so much since then, I don’t want him to slam the door in my face if I ask for something too serious.”
“Y/N, can I be honest?” Y/N looks up at him and he’s so serious. “I’ve been hearing about you guys all semester. How love sick you were and how gross you guys are now despite not being together. And I saw what they meant yesterday at the graduation and dinner after. You guys look like you’re dating already. I mean the way he looks at you is like you hung the stars. And I know that look well because I used to wear it all the time.”
Y/N spins her ring some more, looking at him blankly. “So what do I do? You know I’m so bad at letting people in like that. I mean, it took years for me to say ‘I love you’ back when we were together. And I’m just supposed to say it out of the blue now?”
“But you’ve already let him in, more than you ever let me in from what I hear.” There’s no bitterness in Seokmin’s words. “He matches your intellect, he makes you laugh, and he gets you in ways that I only wished I could. I’m kind of surprised to say it but Yoon Jeonghan is kind of the perfect match for you.”
“Yeah, it does feel that way,” Y/N mumbled.
Seokmin pats her knee a couple times and it’s entirely friendly and comforting. “Stop overthinking it. All you have to do is ask him and he’d say yes.”
“How do you know that?” Y/N’s mind is flashing to all of the times that Jeonghan said he’d give her whatever she wanted. It had never occurred to her that he really meant anything literally.
Now Seokmin is full on laughing. “Because everyone does. There’s a whole whiteboard about it apparently. Seriously, stop overthinking it. You’ll be happier for it. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.” He gets up and leaves, but Y/N is frozen in place.
Jeonghan wanders into Y/N’s bathroom midday to find her doing her makeup. She smiles at him as he sits on the closed toilet seat to keep her company. He thinks she looks really pretty in a little white sundress and her hair is already lightly curled. She doesn’t dress up like this much, particularly without all the grunge or black, and he wonders why she’s putting so much effort in for the fair tonight. He doesn’t ask because he doesn’t want to make it sound like he doesn’t like it or make her feel self-conscious about it. He loves anything she does.
Instead, he watches her put mascara on with comically wide eyes and smiles. “You look pretty.”
She flashes him a smile that could stop his heart and then goes back to the mascara. “Thanks. You look nice too.” He doesn’t believe it because he’s just picked some jeans and a t-shirt, but he thanks her anyway. She’s unusually quiet, and it occurs to him how funny it is that he finds it odd. Last semester he was sometimes surprised if she even so much as looked at him, but now he’s come to expect her usual chatter.
“Doing okay?” He wonders what it could be about. She’d had a stressful last two weeks cranking out final assignments and stressing about the grade she’d get. Jeonghan had talked her off the ledge multiple times because she nearly had a 4.0 and was already accepted into her grad program anyway. She could relax because she was already set up for success.
He also hadn’t missed the way she looked around the crowd outside of the stadium where the graduation was held yesterday. He didn’t have to ask who she was looking for because all of their friends were already there. He’d seen that she’d sent her parents an invitation, but they’d never graced her with their presence, or even responded to her message.
Jeonghan thinks his family may have made up for it. Despite the news of their ‘break up’ after New Years, they’d greeted her warmly and even brought her flowers. Jeonghan wasn’t sure how they’d known she wouldn’t be receiving any from her own parents, but he didn’t ask. Maybe things were more transparent back around Christmas break than he’d thought. It had made her happy anyway.
Y/N sighs. “Yeah, it’s just the first time I feel like I could relax in a while.”
“Yeah, I was beginning to worry about you,” Jeonghan teased though it was entirely true. He didn’t like to see her stressed and had mindlessly picked up things like cooking, cleaning, and laundry in the midst of her panic. Since he couldn’t talk her into taking a break, he picked up other things she was neglecting and worrying about catching up on later.
“Thanks for picking up my slack again. Boyfriend material yet again. No! Husband material even,” she teases as she puts on blush now. He thinks maybe he sees a tinge of pink right before the brush actually touches her cheek, but he can’t be sure.
But it doesn’t matter because he’s trying to remember how to breathe. Her boyfriend material comments have become frequent, but the word ‘husband’ absolutely floors him. The old Jeonghan would be running the other way now thinking he’d be a bachelor forever, but he finds a little thrill in the idea of the title.
Or a big thrill, if he’s being honest. But only if she’s the one saying it and it has ‘my’ in front of it.
He fiddles with his rings to distract himself. “Just doing what you deserve. I don’t mind taking care of those things if it makes things easier for you. Besides, we can relax tonight. We’ll get some food, play some games, ride some rides.”
“You don’t want to ride any rides, Hannie,” Y/N teases.
It’s true, it’s not his favorite thing. But he remembers how her eyes lit up when Jihoon had mentioned the fair. The look was so childlike and pure that, once again, Jeonghan would do whatever she asked if she kept looking like that. Even if it made him nauseous.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll go with you anyway.”
The blush is a little brighter all of the sudden, but she shakes her head. He thinks she’s trying to look busy because her make up seems done. “If you puke on my shoes, I’ll be mad, Yoon Jeonghan.”
He barks a laugh, standing up to place a hand on her back and push her out of the bathroom. “That’s Chan’s job but I’ll let him know.”
Jeonghan is shockingly relaxed considering where he thinks this night will end up. He and Y/N are the last of their friends to show up and the group has been impatiently waiting by the entrance to go in. Once inside, they go straight to the most aggressive rides because Mingyu insists that they front load all of these before they eat. Jeonghan suffers through all of the spinning and jostling and flipping, complaining that there’s no way all of these are up to code. But every time Y/N laughs at him and drags him by the hand to the next one.
Finally, back on the ground, Y/N and Jeonghan share a funnel cake. When she brushes powdered sugar off his cheek, he can practically feel the heart eyes he’s wearing. She doesn’t say anything about it.
Then, they play some of the games offered at the stands around the fair. Jeonghan is pleasantly surprised when he actually wins at ring toss and let’s Y/N pick what she wants. She picks a small plushie, a glittery pink unicorn, and Jeonghan just laughs as his chest warms.
It’s dark now and he keeps looking at her as they stand in line for the Ferris wheel. The bright, flashing lights from all the rides around them lights up her face every now and then and he thinks this whole idea is so fucking cheesy. But oddly it feels right this time.
As he helps Y/N slide into the seat of the carriage, Jeonghan spots Jihoon whispering to the fair employee that’s running the ride. Jihoon puts something in his hand and when he turns he gives Jeonghan a not-so-subtle thumbs up. So that’s what Jihoon meant when he said he’d take care of it. He’s buying him time.
The ride spins slowly and the view is nice, but he’s distracted. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say over and over again with Jihoon an embarrassing amount of times but his tongue feels thick now. But he doesn’t know how much time he actually has up here, so he sucks in a breath and puts his hand on her thigh to get her attention.
Her head snaps to his and after a split second her hand lands on top of his. Her eyes are concerned. “Feel okay?”
Another deep breath, like he’s jumping off a cliff. “I love you.” The words roll off easier than he expected and he watches her eyes flare in surprise, mouth popping open a bit. He needs to talk fast now. “I have for a while now I think. I needed to say something because it was going to eat me alive.” She’s still quiet and she’s looking right through him. For the first time, she looks really surprised at what she sees. Jeonghan flips his hand from her thigh and she lets him thread their fingers together. “I don’t know how you feel about that, but I need you to know I’m okay with whatever you decide. Even if it’s just friends. Even if it’s less than that.”
She’s silent. It hangs heavy for so long that he starts to spin her ring. He thinks she’s trying to think a way to let him down gently. That she’s planning to leap out of the carriage as soon as it stops near the ground. That everyone that’s helped him at that damned whiteboard has misled him or had it all wrong.
Jeonghan thinks of all the opportunities she’d given him to back out of their little scheme. He thinks the words are fitting. So he smiles nervously. “So how would you like to proceed?”
Her eyes are watering as she pulls her hand away. This is it, he assumes.
But just when he is preparing to be crushed, her hands come around his face and she’s leaning in. The kiss is soft and he doesn’t know how to react. Didn’t expect this. Slowly, his hand comes around her waist and the other holds the side of her head.
When she pulls away to look at him she laughs. “Yoon Jeonghan, did you think I wouldn’t return your feelings?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. That’s not the case?” Jeonghan feels like he could pass out because no matter what kind of pep talk he or anyone else gave him, this is not how he expected this to be going.
She laughs again. “No, it’s not the case at all. I love you too. Very in love with you in fact.”
Jeonghan feels his jaw drop a bit. “Since when?”
“I was sure of it by Christmas. You?” She asks, her hand sliding down to his chest. He’s sure she can feel his heart pound.
Jeonghan laughs. “Same. We’re idiots, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that. I told you phase three was weak, but I’m wondering if the whole thing was weak now.”
Their friends are cheering when their carriage stops at the ground and they’re still kissing. Y/N looks shocked at the excitement. “Have I missed something?” She asks after they’re both out of the carriage with feet on the ground again.
“Maybe a little,” Jeonghan teases.
Epilogue
Y/N peers through the sheer white veil, a bouquet clutched tightly in her hands. She frowns.
It’s because Jeonghan is laughing at her. “This feels like deja vu a little bit, Y/N.”
“Why are you picking on me on today of all days?” Y/N whines, hand falling to her sides, petals falling to the floor as the bouquet hits her thigh. “You know it’s been a stressful day. Stressful week, even!”
Jeonghan’s laughing again as he steps closer. His hands lift the veil and he places a soft kiss on her lips. No one’s looking at them this time around. “I know, I’m sorry. There are just some good memories like this. I saw her put the veil on you after you caught the bouquet.”
“I told her I was already married. I shouldn’t be the one with any of this,” Y/N grumbled, gesturing to the bouquet and veil.
“You’re the maid of honor, you have to do whatever she says,” Jeonghan reminds her, putting a hand around her waist to pull her close. “How are your feet? And your back?”
“Not great. I’m ready to crash,” Y/N slumps against him, trying not to get make up on his dress shirt. He’s lost the suit jacket hours ago and his tie is loosened. The whole look makes Y/N salivate a little. Instead she says, “I want some champagne.”
“I know, baby,” he soothes, patting the top of her head. The DJ comes to the mic before he can say anything else.
“It’s time for the bride and groom to cut the cake! Please gather around.”
Y/N and Jeonghan turn, mostly with Jeonghan’s help, to find the happy couple standing behind a tiered cake decorated with white and pink frosting. Minseo would not consider any other color schemes. It had to match the bridesmaids dresses after all.
Y/N watches Minseo look up at her new husband, a finger wagging at him as she scolds him. He smiles good-naturedly, nodding along with her. She’s surely warning him to not shove cake in her face. Y/N doesn’t think Mingyu will. He’s too soft for Minseo.
“Weird, isn’t it?” She finds herself mumbling into Jeonghan’s ear
He giggles in her ear. “You could say that, yeah. Didn’t think I’d be at Kim Mingyu’s wedding anytime soon. Or at all if I’m honest.” They don’t say anything else as they watch the newlyweds cut the cake and share a bite, clapping loudly. Minseo looks pleased that she doesn’t have cake all over her face.
As soon as the crowd begins to disperse, Jeonghan is leading her to a seat and she drops into it, kicking off her heels under the table. “Better?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, hands coming to her shoulders to rub gently.
“Yeah. What would I do without you?” Y/N giggles.
“Hey, that’s my line!” Jeonghan teases.
Seungcheol approaches them with a wide grin and a plate in each hand. He hands one to Jeonghan and slides one to Y/N. She immediately notices that there are two slices and she looks up at him questioningly. Seungcheol laughs. “I know the rule by now. One for you, one for the baby.” He walks away without another word.
Jeonghan is chuckling as he sits down next to Y/N. “That is your rule now. Has been for a while now.”
Y/N places one hand on her stomach and picks up the fork with the other. “This baby is a parasite,” she jokes. Jeonghan knows it’s meant in jest so he just shakes his head.
“I know. I feed your cravings daily, remember? That baby has some strange tastes already.” He lets her finish her cake and when she sits back in her seat, his hand lands on top of hers on her stomach, feeling her matching wedding ring underneath his fingers. “You know, Minseo will forgive you if you’re done for the night. The other bridesmaids aren’t six months pregnant and can handle it just fine.”
Y/N pouts, glancing over to the head table where Minseo and Mingyu are whispering between kisses. She looks back at her husband. “Maybe we can just sit here for a while?”
Jeonghan leans over to kiss her lips and it feels and tastes sweet. “Whatever you want, baby.”
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"think about how happy we'll be when we meet again after living our lives well."
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i saw svt for day 1 of caratland in kr and i still havent processed it yet tbh
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