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rrxnjun · 1 year

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potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do.

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because.

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight.

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair.

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place.

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space.

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed.

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…?

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea.

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station.

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did.

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory.

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront.

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again.

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase.

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18.

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court.

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend.

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way.

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game.

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years.

“What about you?”

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before.

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much.

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac.

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob.

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road.

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck.

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect.

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next…

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again.

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech.

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun.

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport.

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago.

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression.

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips.

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it.

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety.

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know.

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should��ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him.

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals.

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?”

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?”

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms.

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction.

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off.

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead.

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all.

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips.

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side.

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time.

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid.

But for a second, he acts like he is.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.”

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair.

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?”

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused.

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding, “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie.

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair.

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness.

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion.

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?”

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future.

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal.

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would.

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it.

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out.

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct x reader #chenle x reader #chenle angst #chenle fluff #chenle oneshot #chenle fic #chenle imagine #chenle fanfic #chenle best friends to lovers #chenle au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct angst

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w2soneshots · 5 months

Text

Brother’s best mate -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol consumption.

summary: you and harry meet through your brother ethan. After a night spent with the side girls you crawl into bed with your favourite guernsey boy.

notes: I haven’t written anything like this in ages!🤭 hope you enjoy🔥🫶🏼

Liked by wroetoshaw and 301,583 others

y/username: spending time with my favourite people💞 (even if it's on a golf course😒😂)

Tagged: @faithloisak @behzingagram @wroetoshaw

-comments-

faithloisak: aw I love you

-> y/username: ❤️🫶

y/nfanpage21: she's so 🌼🧺☕️🧘‍♀️🥐 coded

user19470245: omg they went to golf together😭

user83271430: the pic of ethan and faith is adorable

Last year I moved to London to be closer to Ethan when Faith fell pregnant, to help her and to spend more time with the both of them. I also bought an apartment so I'm just a 20 minute drive from them. I finally met the sidemen at the gender reveal. I'd never actually been introduced to them before, which was weird because they are basically the reason Ethan has a career and they helped him so much a few years ago when he was in a really dark place. Me and Harry didn't immediately hit it off, don't get me wrong I thought he was attractive but he's also very awkward and was wary that I'm his best mates sister.

After almost five months of being friends with the group, going to little parties or just hanging out with them me and Harry kissed. I knew it was bound to happen since we had both quickly developed a large crush on each other but after it had happened we'd decided not to tell anyone (especially Ethan) before we knew we were actually good together. It took just one month before we were officially dating and decided it was the time to tell everyone. Of course we told Ethan first, he was shocked but (to our surprise) happy that his best mate and sister were dating. Everyone else was so excited.

We've now been together for 6 months and only told the fans recently. Today I'm going to dinner with: Talia, Faith and Freya for Talia's birthday. Harry had a more sidemen shoot today so wouldn't get home until six. I had a shower, dried and styled my hair, applied some makeup then chose an outfit. I was on my way out just as Harry arrived back. "Wow," He glanced down at my outfit before returning his attention to my face "you look beautiful." I smiled "thank you Haz, I'll be home by ten." "You better be, I can't wait to rip those clothes off."

I arrived outside of the restaurant, thanked the uber driver then spotted Talia getting out of another car. I quickly walked towards her "happy birthday!" We excitedly hugged each other. "Thank you! Freya's already inside." She beamed. "Ok. I think Faith's running a little bit late, let's just go inside." I replied. We headed into the fancy restaurant and were taken to our table where Freya already sat. When she spotted us she immediately leapt from her seat. She said happy birthday to Talia then we all sat down. Faith arrived a few minutes later and we ordered our drinks.

After eating our starters, mains and desserts me Freya and Faith split the bill (not before trying to convince Talia to let us treat her for her birthday). Thankfully I had only had two drinks so I was just a little tipsy. We left then ordered a taxi. Freya was dropped off first then Talia and I was third. I said goodbye to Faith then hopped out.

y/username

Liked by miniminter and 480,231 others

y/username: my girl @taliamar 's birthday dinner with @freyanightingale and @faithloisak 🤍💫

-comments-

taliamar: I had the best night ily😘

-> y/username: ily

freyanightingale: 💓💓

y/nfanpage21: omg you look stunning!!

user91037494: I love that the side girls are actually friends irl it's so cute

When I got up to mine and Harry's apartment I unlocked the door, opened it, kicked my shoes off and dropped my bag. "Haz?!" I shouted through the apartment. I walked through into the bedroom, Harry sat waiting patiently for me "Hey." My mouth curved into a smile "hi." I jumped onto the bed next to him. "Have fun?" He asked. "Mhm" I hummed.

I turned to him and pecked his lips. The kiss deepened, he grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me onto his lap. I reached my hands down to the belt wrapped around my waist, I pulled it off and threw it to the floor. I moved Harry's hands from the back of my thighs to my ass. He groaned into the kiss then rushed to pull the zipper down on my dress, then he pulled it off and over my head, leaving me in just my matching black lace bra and underwear set. Harry broke the kiss to look down at me "you're so fucking beautiful." He rasped. I pulled his shirt over his head, followed by his pyjama pants. While Harry unclipped my bra, allowing the straps to fall from my shoulders.

Within just a few minutes we were both completely naked. Harry flipped me onto my back. I whimpered as I rubbed my thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. "Harry, please." I cried out. "What do you want baby? Use your words." "I need you to fuck me."

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vampzity · 8 months

Text

𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨

Pairing: best friend! Yunho x f!reader

Genre: a bit of fluff, angst, sex between 2 side characters nothing graphic (wrap before you tap!), best friends to lovers, valentine’s day, one shot, best friend au, valentine’s series, pet names(baby, tiny), mention of alcohol/weed, arguing, fist fighting, strong language

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, a day you’d normally spend with your boyfriend of 2 years. Instead, you guys are at his friend’s house party because you decided to change things up. You’re happily enjoying yourself until you spot something you shouldn’t have seen, ruining the very hope you had left for love. Yunho, your best friend has always been there for you despite his constant concerns about this boyfriend. He just wanted the best for you. Could he be the best that you’ve always needed?

Now Playing: In Your Eyes - The Weeknd

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I am SOOO sorry for how long this upload took! I’ve been working all week *anything for ateez tickets* on top of that, studying & last minute baby sitting. I couldn’t tell you guys how many times I’ve changed Yunho’s idea. Safe to say, y’all are in for a RIDE!

Seonghwa's Pt. Masterlist Yeosang's Pt.

The music boomed in your ears as you danced around with your boyfriend. The aroma of alcohol and weed surrounds you, almost suffocating. You danced closely to your boyfriend, feeling his hands grasp around your waist as you held your red cup.

It was your 2nd Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend Suho, however, the last thing you’d expect was for him to take you to a party. Still, you didn’t mind it as all you wanted to do was spend time with him. You didn’t mind the intoxicating smell of weed and alcohol surrounding you if that meant you got to be with your boyfriend all night.

You wore a nicely fitted sparkly black dress, coming up just to your mid-thigh. You paired it with black gladiator 4-inch heels that had a bit of ridged grip at the bottoms and some pieces of gold jewelry to give it some extra flare. Your hair was nicely done, as well as your choice of makeup; smokey eyes, black liner with lashes, and a dark bloody red lip color. You were normally someone who wore baggy clothes and sneakers whenever you were out, so this was a drastic change for you.

You began to drink more as you danced with your boyfriend, practically intoxicating yourself. He began to kiss against your neck, feeling the vibration of your moans under his lips. He stopped suddenly, making you turn to face him with a pouting face. You noticed his eyes turned away from you, pointing from across the room. He smirked slightly, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“What? What is it?” You began to turn your head to follow his eyes until he stopped you, placing his hand against your cheek. He smiled at you and kissed your forehead softly.

“It’s nothing, baby, I’ll be back okay? Keesung wants me to go talk to him for a sec.” You pouted some more, nodding as you watched him walk away from you into the dining room.

Looking down at your drink, you took another sip, feeling the rush of how cold it was going through your body. However, you weren’t going to let anything stop you. You vowed to have a good night, and that’s exactly what you would do. So you continued to dance, allowing the alcohol to flow through your veins.

You felt a small vibration coming from your bra, feeling for your phone, you pulled it out and saw Yunho’s contact picture. You beamed with excitement and picked up the phone, eager to talk to him.

“Yuyu!! Come dance with me will you please?”

There was a moment of confusion from the boy. Your words slurred slightly as you spoke, making him question you.

“Y/n? Are you drunk right now?!”

Your face was flushed red, eyes barely open as you continued to smile towards the screen which made Yunho roll his eyes. You were practically a goner, not even aware of what was going on around you.

“Where’s your boyfriend? Isn’t he supposed to be with you right now??”

A small worried look painted Yunho’s face. He always had a bad feeling about Suho, not just because he didn’t like Yunho but because he always left you alone. He was rude to you, constantly fighting with you. It was a toxic relationship that you refused to leave for god knows what. Yunho knew he wouldn’t treat you that way, that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight if you were near blackout drunk. Who knows what could happen?

“Oh… I’m not sure. He said.. he was gonna talk to Keesung but.. I haven’t seen him since.”

Your words continued to slur as you spoke to Yunho, making him grow increasingly worried about you. He got up from where he sat and grabbed his keys from the holder, still with you on the phone.

“I’m coming to get you. Your no-good of a boyfriend clearly couldn’t care for your whereabouts if he left you alone like this.”

You pouted, whining as you begged Yunho not to. “You don’t even have the address!! How could you even know where I am?!”

He ignored you, walking outside of the house towards his truck as he began to unlock and open the door. You continued to try and get his attention when he sighed harshly and finally answered you.

“I’ll be there in 5, Y/n. Whether you like it or not, I’m not letting you stay there. Bye.”

With that he hung up abruptly, leaving you with a confused daze as you groaned. You placed the empty cup on the table in front of you, feeling a sudden urge to use the restroom. So many things surround you as you wander through put home, not knowing where the bathroom might’ve been. Dancing people, couples kissing, even people who stood by and watched these sights. Red solo cups were laid out amongst the floors and tables along with empty beer bottles. Multiple men tried to grab your attention, consistently hollering or whistling at you but you continued to ignore them as you were uninterested.

Finally finding the stairs to the bathroom, you sighed with relief and made your way up. The music continued to pound in your ears but quieted down a bit once you made it more than halfway up the stairs. You stopped at the second to last step looking at each door.

Your eyes came across one down the hall that was a bit cracked with the light on. You walked across the hall, soon stopping in your tracks at the noise coming from its direction. You heard not one, but two individuals. It was a bit intriguing to you, of course not knowing who it might be. As you walked closer, the moans grew louder, beginning to ring in your ears. The more you walked, the moans began to separate allowing you to distinguish both a male and female in the room.

You cocked your head to the side, growing curious as to who was in the room but you stopped outside of the door. Would it not be intruding if you took a peek at two people simply enjoying themselves? Isn’t that kind of wrong?

You shook your head, turning back around to walk towards the bathroom. You were drunk, so it’s no surprise that you weren’t in your right mind to make rash decisions. That was until you heard his name.

Your boyfriend’s name.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling your heart jump out of your chest. Even though you were far from tipsy, you were well aware to know that your boyfriend’s name was called. You turned around and made your way back towards the door. You took a deep breath, peeking through the opening in the doorway. As the sounds grew louder, they started to become deafening.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you; seeing your boyfriend sat up on the bed, almost completely naked. His head was thrown back as he went to wipe his hair out of his face and moaned continuously. You felt your heart break into a million pieces as you walked further into the room, the grunts and moans being complete horror to your ears.

Walking closer, you notice a girl under him practically grasping the sheets under her. She moaned repeatedly as your boyfriend held onto her breasts from under her dress. You felt your eyes swell up with tears as the moment dawned on you, feeling a harsh burning in your heart.

Your boyfriend was cheating on you.. on Valentine’s Day…

“Suho..? What are you doing…?”

Yunho made his way to the door of the house, opening it eagerly hoping to you so that he could take you home. Only to see that your presence wasn’t here. Yunho began to ask around, wondering if others may have seen you but of course, no one paid attention enough. They were all too high or past the legal drinking threshold to drive.

He started to walk around the house, getting constant stares from everyone as they wondered who he was and what he was doing there. When he realized you weren’t on the lower floor, he made his way toward the staircase, hoping you were only using the restroom.

Someone rushed into him as he walked, making him slightly lose his balance and groan loudly. He looked over to see a young man around the same height as him with short pink hair and sunglasses. It was Mingi.

“Mingi!! What the hell?! Watch where you’re going, dude!”

Mingi looked at Yunho, smiling widely. His eyes were bloodshot red and he reeked of weed. Yunho rolled his eyes, looking around for his elders who he could not find as he remembered they too were at this party. Mingi continued to smoke from the blunt he had in his hand, making Yunho roll his eyes in annoyance.

He shook his head, leaving Mingi behind, and continued walking towards the stairs until he heard yelling coming from above. He looked around, wondering if anyone else had caught on but with the loud music blaring through every speaker, no one paid any mind to it.

The yelling began to rise, startling those around Yunho as he grew worried. There you were at the top of the stairs practically screaming your head off at your now ex-boyfriend. You began to storm down the stairs as you made it known to everyone how much of a fake he was, calling him a liar even a snake. It wasn’t long before Suho began to follow behind you, shirtless and shaming you for the reason of his reckless cheating.

“Fuck you!! I never even needed you anyways! You’re always hanging around that group of boys.. what? Are they gang-banging you??”

You paused, feeling your entire body tense as you turned your head, your strong glare meeting his eyes. The entire room became quiet as they all watched from afar, refusing to engage.

“Excuse me?!” You softly spoke. You walked towards your now ex-boyfriend, pushing him towards the stairs. Yunho quickly made his way over to you, about to grab your hand and pull you away when Suho pushed you to the ground, kicking your leg.

“You heard me you slut. Get out of my fucking face.”

Yunho felt his body heat with rage as he walked over to Suho, swinging his fist with full force at his face. The entire room let out a loud gasp, watching the blow he had taken. Suho held onto his check, smirking at Yunho. You sat on the ground, forcing yourself to get up to stop the two of them from fighting. Your ex-boyfriend tackled Yunho, repeatedly punching him in the face as he tried hard to fight back. You pulled at Suho, begging him to let go of Yunho until Mingi and San pulled him off and dragged him away.

Yunho spat blood onto the floor, getting up as he wiped his face. He reached into his pockets for his keys and grabbed you by the arm, walking outside.

“Yunho, what the fuck was that?! I can defend myself! You know you’re practically weak compared to Suho!” You stopped in front of the tall man, your face red with anger.

Yunho only ignored you, walking over to his truck. He unlocked it and got into his truck, starting it. You stood outside of his truck perplexed. “Hello??! So you’re just gonna fucking ignore me now?! Hey! I’m talking to you!” You continued to bark at him as he ignored you, pushing him to his limit.

“Will you just get in the fucking truck so I can take you home?!” Yunho banged against the dashboard and glared at you harshly, immediately turning your anger into fear. “You’re drunk y/n! Can’t you fucking see that?!”

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger as you stood by the car. “I’m fine Yunho! I don’t need you looking after me all the time like I’m a fucking ki- Yea? Well clearly somebody needs to and your boyfriend won’t!!” You stood there in silence as Yunho cut you off.

You felt a harsh lump in your throat as you opened the door to his truck and got in. Strapping in your seatbelt, the silence between the both of you grew. As Yunho began to drive through the empty dark streets, you stared up at the moon feeling saddened by how the night ended. Not only did you catch your boyfriend cheating on you, but it felt as if there was tension between you and your best friend. Knowing that you two drifted lately, it felt like this fight only pulled you two away more. The moon continued to shine against your tear-stained face as you cried silently, feeling the heat of everything now catching up to you.

You wanted to speak but your tears stopped your words from coming out, so you remained silent, eventually drifting off into a deep sleep.

You woke up in a softly lit room, which was only illuminated by a small lamp. Looking around, you take note of your surroundings. It smelled of a familiar cologne making you quickly realize that this was not your own. You heard the door creak open, only to see Yunho lock eyes with you as he entered the room. He brought you a warm cup of tea and placed it by the bedside table.

“Yunho?”

He ignored your calling and sat by you on the bed, soon hugging you tightly without saying a sound. You paused for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. The weight of everything began crashing onto you, crushing your mind and your heart. You felt tears swell in your eyes as it eventually became overwhelming and made its way out of your system.

“I’m so sorry for yelling at you… I didn’t mean it. You were only trying to protect me.” You continued to cry into his shoulder as he rubbed your back, still not saying a word. You two remained in silence for a bit longer until Yunho pulled you out of the hug and smiled at you reassuringly despite how messed up his face was.

“Y/n, you truly deserve the world. I’d take a thousand beatings from doucebag guys if it meant you’d be happy. I’m sorry your Valentine’s had to end this way.”

His words filled your heart with joy as his eyes admired you. He always knew the right thing to say, even when the moment was far from good. You two sat in silence for a moment, as you weren’t sure of how to respond.

“Yuyu, I don’t know. You were right the whole time about Suho and I didn’t even listen to you. I deserve what happened to me tonight.”

You continued to cry once again, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked away to hide your embarrassment. Yunho cupped your face with his hands, pulling it to face him as he finally gave in to his feelings. He leaned in to kiss you softly, catching you by surprise. You leaned in closer, kissing him back passionately to feel the heat of his lips against your own.

You both pulled away for some air, your faces still very close to each other. You gazed into each other’s eyes lovingly, Yunho’s flushed with red as he finally dared to do what he’d been wanting to for so long.

“Y/n.. I love you. I always have. Nothing you do or say would change that for me.”

Your face blushed at hearing his confession. It was the last thing you expected on this horrible night. You looked away hesitantly still feeling the effects of the alcohol in your system. Yunho placed his hand on yours, caressing it with his thumb lightly.

“Hey, it’s okay if you’re unsure. With everything you went through tonight, you need time and I understand that.”

Yunho was always the best at reassuring you when you needed it most. He knew Suho broke your heart and smashed it, how he tried to call you out and make you look bad in front of everyone. You felt used and abused, just wanting to forget this nightmare of a holiday.

“I know. I appreciate all the reassuring Yu.” He nodded, keeping a firm hold on your hand.

“It may take a lot for me.. but, I’ve always had this deep feeling for you, maybe it’s one I’ve pushed down because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” You looked at him and quickly looked away, feeling your face heat up nervously.

“I’ve chased after different guys, desperate to keep these feelings I had for you away. I just didn’t want to lose you entirely because of how I felt for so long.”

Yunho sighed, pulling your face softly to look at him. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he smiled in admiration of you. “It’s okay Y/n. I’ve felt this way for years too. Believe me.”

You smiled softly quickly looking at the moon that showed through the window. “Do you know why I like the moon Yunho?”

The young man tilted his head, confused at your sudden question. He looked up at the moon with you, its brightest form shining down on the both of you.

“Well, remember that one time in grade school that you said I was pretty like the moon?” You looked back down at Yunho, seeing his face flush pink as he scratched the back of his head. He nodded in embarrassment and put his head down.

“I’m surprised you remember.” He laughed a bit and smiled at you. You nodded and looked down as your hands remained intertwined.

“You’re my moon, Yuyu,” you paused before leaning to kiss him again. “The moon to my stars.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I wanted to make this a bit *PFT* angsty.. I promise Yeosang’s part won’t take to long nor will it be angst haha. Pure fluff for him!

Taglist: @skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @honeyhwaaa

*comment to be added to future tag lists!*

#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s valentines #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #kpop #ateez atiny #ateez oneshot #atiny #angst #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #suggestive #ateez fluff #fluff #valentines day #best friend au #friends to lovers

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cupidsdolll · 8 months

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!harry x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; time apart helps both Harry and Y/N learn more about themselves and their feelings.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.1k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; slight angst? i’m pretty sure that’s it!

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; hi hello! here’s the long awaited part two! part one is linked here for anyone who hasn’t read it yet! i hope you all like it <3

- - - -

Heartbreak is always one of the worst pains, but Harry thinks the absence of someone that’s been in your life for as long as you can remember hurts worse. It’s been a week since Y/N said she needed space after confessing her feelings for him and he’s just miserable. He’s not as happy as he normally is, and it seems as if everything reminds him of her. Even the things his girlfriend Liv does reminds him of his best friend, he’s found himself comparing the two.

He doesn’t mean any harm honestly, just sometimes Liv will do something and his mind will go back to how Y/N would do the same thing just differently. For instance, Liv is on her way to bring him some tea in hope it’ll cheer him up at least just a little bit, Harry’s excited to try her tea. It’s one of his favorite drinks if he’s being honest. A knock comes from the door and he tells his roommate that he’ll get it, he’s already standing up and making his way to the door. When he opens it, Liv is standing in front of him sporting a bright smile and happiness.

“Hi, hon. I brought you that tea I was talking about!” She says and he smiles back, a little hesitant but excited nonetheless.

“Thanks, babe. Come on in, I hope you don’t mind that my roommate’s here.” He says and she shakes her head, his mate’s never been a problem with Liz, the one thing he notices is different from Y/N. Liz is more natural hanging around in the boys’ dorm whereas Y/N tended to not want to come over. Something about the smell and how loud the halls are, he doesn’t blame her most of the time though. Liz walks over and makes herself comfortable on the arm rest of the chair Harry was sitting at before, ushering him over excitedly. He chuckles as he makes his way over, reminding him of how Y/N would act whenever she’s excited to show him something.

He sits down and she hands the cup to him, it's warm but not too hot, he’s assuming the walk here helped cool it down. He takes a hesitant sip, he doesn’t want to take too big of a sip just in case he doesn’t like it. It’s good, sweet but still has that leafy taste and it flows nicely. It’s not overwhelming with any of the tastes and it’s just.. good. He smiles as he stares at the cup, his mind wandering back to Y/N. He always enjoyed her tea, she always managed to create the perfect balance and temperature. Y/N makes the perfect tea, will always be better than anyone’s, better than Liz’s.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Y/N right now though, so he blinks twice to clear his head and turns to his girlfriend.

“It’s good, thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me, I know you didn’t have to.” He says and she just laughs.

“I know, I wanted to, H. It’s no big deal really.” She says. He feels bad, ever since he and Y/N stopped talking as much, he’s found himself comparing the way Liz cooks and acts to Y/N.

Y/N likes to wear more cozy clothes unless it’s actually going out, where she feels like she needs to impress someone whereas Liz tends to dress up all the time. She’s always dressed in nice looking clothes and adorned in jewelry and smells nice. He likes that Y/N always felt comfortable with him and didn’t feel the need to impress him, not that he doesn’t like that Liz puts forth all this effort into her looks because he does. Whenever he and Liz go to watch a movie, she normally wants to watch something with romance but occasionally she’ll tell Harry to turn on whatever he wants if she’s coming over for a nap.

Y/N usually put on a comedy movie and sometimes they ended up being a rom-com but they always alternate days so Harry can feel included. He misses that, he misses Y/N. He’s not sure if they’ll ever talk again, he thinks her dramatics are rubbing off on him. He just hates the absence of her, he never realized just how happy she made him feel. She made him feel warm and sometimes he’s got those silly butterflies whenever he looks at her, but he just assumed that was normal for how close of a friendship they had. He never realized just how much time they spent together, how special she was and how different from his other love interests he’s had.

But he’s never considered Y/N as a love interest, she’s always just been his best friend. Sure enough, he did like to flirt with her a little bit whenever he was drunk but that was only because he liked seeing her all flustered. He thought it was cute and it was hard for him to get her like that. Yeah, he loved her but in the same way friends love each other, it’s normal for them to say it before leaving or just because. They’ve always been just friends, the best of friends and that’s how they were supposed to be.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, a soft touch to bring him out of his mind, he’s been doing that almost daily.

“You’re thinking about her again, Haz. Can’t we just hang out without her taking your attention? This is good, it allows you to be your own person now.” Liz says sweetly, genuinely. She tries to be supportive, she really does but there’s just so long you can watch your boyfriend be heartbroken over a girl, especially one he never dated. They haven’t even been dating long, but they had only been dating for a couple of days before Harry told her she had to meet his best friend. Ever since Y/N shut the door on them and he had ushered her back so he could try to talk to his best friend and figure everything out with tears beginning to fill his eyes, it’s just been a repeat of the same days over and over again.

- - - -

When Harry walks the halls, he can’t help but to hope that he’ll be able to see Y/N on her way to class. He admits that it’s weird not walking her to class and being around her, it was their norm for quite a while. A part of him hopes that when he sees her that she’s just as miserable as him but he feels bad about that, he wants her to be happy. He wants to see that she’s doing well and that she’s happy. He always loved to see her happy, it just looked so good on her. So when he sees her sporting a bright smile as she talks with two people he hasn’t seen before, it makes his heart skip a beat and hurt a little at the same time. He’s happy that she’s doing well, he really is, it just hurts that he’s not the cause of the bright smile on her face.

He hopes that she’ll look over here so he can wave, just a small acknowledgment would hold him over he thinks. The halls are crowded and loud, he can’t help but to sigh as he accidentally bumps into someone. She always had this magnetic aura to her, always had his gaze being pulled to her. Ever since she called for a break, she’s all he’s ever been able to think about, the main thing he looks at and for. He wants even the smallest attention from her, it helps the pain in his heart.

He watches as her head turns just the slightest and their eyes meet, a warm feeling enveloping Harry as he smiles and waves at her. She just gives him the same smile she’s always given him, warm, friendly and loving, and waves back. The pain goes away leaving a happy feeling in his chest, he doesn’t feel bad about bumping into students in the hall. He watches as she walks away before making his way to his own class.

- - - -

Y/N doesn’t miss Harry as much as she thought she would. That’s a lie, she misses him terribly but after a couple of days moping and several streams of tears shed, she thinks she’s doing okay. He stays on her mind but she’s able to tune those memories out by doing the activities she likes. She joined some book club on campus and made a couple of friends that enjoy some of the same stuff she does, which is such a relief. While Harry listened and tried his best to participate in things she enjoyed but some stuff he just never got into the way she did.

The past week she’s been attending the book club and talking about the books they’re reading, she’s cut back on some of the stuff she used to do. She dropped out of two of her classes that she did just for fun and stopped volunteering every week to give herself more time to relax. She walks with them to class when she can, and they talk on the phone sometimes. She’s happy for the most part, happier than she thought she would be.

Don’t get her wrong, she still gets upset over the fact that Harry isn’t around all of the time, it’s usually late at night or early in the morning when she misses him the most. She misses him when his favorite song plays and when she sees him in the hallway. She feels bad then, seeing him all heartbroken and moping around. She’s never seen him so down, and she wishes she never said anything to begin with in those moments. She hates the fact that he’s heartbroken over her.

She’s happy for the break, as much time as the two spent together, the break allows her a chance to know who she is outside of Harry. She’s found ways to cope with this ache for him, playing songs he’s never heard before distracts her from thinking of him. Finding new books to read, new shows to watch. Not letting her look at him for too long whenever they pass each other in the halls, hide his clothes (minus the one hoodie she sleeps

in, she can’t bear to part with it because after all it’s not a complete end to the friendship.

She spends a little (a lot) of time telling herself that just being friends is okay, her feelings will go away and they’ll go back to being best friends. She knows they won’t go back to being where they were before she confessed, but hopefully it’ll be somewhat the same as before. She hopes with everything in her that she’ll be able to get over her feelings for him in a reasonable time, and doesn't want to drag this out any longer than what’s needed. She’ll remind herself when she starts thinking of him randomly, when she sees a picture of them in her phone. They always should’ve been best friends, nothing more and nothing less. That’s how the universe wanted them to be.

Everything was fine the way they were, now she has to get over her feelings for him in order to get him back. She sees him everywhere it seems, hard to avoid him even though she doesn’t necessarily want to, in the halls at school or passing by on the sidewalks. She’s nice to him, doesn’t want to make him feel even more upset. She can feel his eyes on her every time, a tingling feeling on the back of her neck before she turns around to face him.

She’s met with the same hurt expression, his eyes full of emotion and telling her how much he misses her. He waves subtly as if he doesn’t think she’ll see it, won’t want to see it but of course she does. She always sees it, how could she not see it when anytime they’re in proximity of each other gems all she’s able to look at. Of course she waves, even gives him a warm smile, one that has and always will be reserved just for him. She still wants to be friendly with him, to keep that door open for the two of them and their friendship.

They don’t really talk other than saying hi as they pass one another in the halls, or if they happen to need to copy notes. They got partnered once after everything, a sense of awkwardness filled the air between them and Y/N hated it. Hated that she felt like she didn’t know what to talk about, didn’t know what limits were with this weird boundary set by her. She feels like she should know, she should’ve known since she was the one who drew the line.

Their conversations were awkward and pointed, pain lingering in their voices as they mentally decided not to talk about anything personal. It’s better that way honestly, it keeps her from breaking and allowing him back when she knows she’s not ready. The wall built between them shows her just how much he’s hurting, shows her how much she hurt him. She never meant to hurt him, she knew breaking it off would cause a toll on him. She never thought it would be as bad as it is, never expected to see the bags forming under his eyes.

She never expected him to be so…torn up about it, to cave in on himself and go quiet. She can feel his eyes on her all of the time, and can see whenever he fights back tears. She watches as Liz tries to cheer him up, hugs him and runs her fingers through his hair. She watches as Liz brings him cups of whatever drink is in them, watches as he thanks her with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. She thought that maybe he’d continue partying like he always did, ignore her or something of the sort. He should be giving all of his attention to Liz, not moping on about losing her. His mind just always seems to be elsewhere, his gaze is always sad and unfocused.

- - - -

Two months later the two are doing just fine on their own. Y/N found out from a classmate that’s on Harry’s soccer team that Harry had broken up with Liz about a month ago. They wouldn’t say why they broke up and Y/N wasn’t going to be the one to ask. The two of them have gotten more friendly with one another, there’s no awkwardness whenever they’re paired up and they’ll sometimes sit together at lunch. Y/N thinks she’s able to be his friend again, and doesn't get the intense butterflies in her stomach whenever she looks at him.

She doesn’t want to kiss him as much as she used to, although the urge still comes up whenever she thinks he’s being the cutest boy ever. She decides to bring it up as they sit together during lunch.

“Hey, Harry?” She asks and he hums in response to her.

“I think I’m ready to be your friend again.” She asks and watches as his face lights up. His eyes brighten and a huge smile appears on his face.

“Really?” His voice is full of excitement and she smiles as she nods.

“Yeah, I think so.” He immediately wraps her in a hug and she melts into it.

“I missed you, honey.” He says and she smiles as she responds.

“I missed you too, Haz.” He squeezes her tighter, as if he wants to remember the feeling of her body pressed against his.

“Those three months without you were absolutely horrible. I want to apologize again for leading you on unintentionally, but these three months have shown me something.” He says as he pulls away.

She stares at him confused, he’s already apologized numerous times so she’s not sure what else needs to be said.

“What’s that?” She asks and he smiles.

“I can’t imagine a life without you by my side. I missed you so much and hated not being able to just come over and talk to you. I like you. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner and I know it’s a terrible time to say it now that you’re back in my life. It’s perfectly okay if you don’t feel the same way anymore, but if you do I’d love to ask you out and take you out properly.” He says and she almost wants to scream.

She spent so much time getting over him and now he just wants to spring his feelings on her now? She thinks the whole situation is absolutely absurd and the two of them have terrible timing of their feelings. She sighs tiredly as she stares at him.

“When did you figure this out, you dummy?” She asks and he shakes his head, as if he’s in disbelief.

“Uh like a month and a half ago, I think? I’m not quite sure when exactly it happened. All I know I spent my whole relationship with Liz comparing her to you and I missed you entirely too much to ever risk losing you again. The whole like high school years up until three months ago, we acted like a couple unknowingly. I know we just labeled it best friends, but normal best friends don’t act like we did. I’m sorry once again,” Harry says as he watches her in hopes he’ll be able to read her.

She just smiles softly at him, her eyes so full of emotions that it’s hard to read which ones are in them.

“You better be glad my feelings for you didn’t go away completely. Yes you can take me out, Harry. It’s okay, I’ve missed you too.” She says and immediately his hands make his way to her face and he slowly begins to move closer. He wants to allow her time to say no, to change her mind but it never comes and he smiles briefly before their lips meet in a soft tender kiss. A kiss so full of love and warmth, making up for all the years missed and tears she cried unknowingly. It fills both of them with happiness as she giggles into the kiss and pulls away.

“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriend now?” She asks and he nods.

“Baby, you can call me anything you want now,” He says and she laughs, a mischievous flickers passes through her eyes.

“Even my best friend?” He immediately shakes his head and laughs.

“Anything but that.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry #harrystyles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #best friend!harry #my writing

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honnelander · 1 year

Note

asdfghjkl I love your writing. Your Sanji & reader have my heart forreal 🫶🏼✨ keep up the great work 😘

Suggestion: reader having a niche hobby (like knitting/crocheting, or collecting shells, anything really LOL 😆 your choice) and Sanji’s reaction to that

you are soooo sweet thank you!! this request/suggestion was so cute, i loved it.

when i read "collecting shells" i immediately knew what i wanted to write for it and this is how i think go fish!Sanji would react to reader collecting sea shells as a niche hobby:

masterlist

When you had started collecting shells, it didn't start out as a hobby, far from it in fact. You didn't even know collecting sea shells was considered a hobby until Luffy pointed it out to you.

"Oh, wow! You collect shells y/n? How cool!" Luffy gushed with his signature bright smile that lit up his face. That's one of the things you loved about Luffy, he had the ability to make any rudimentary task seem like the most special thing ever. "What a cool hobby!"

And that was when your shell-collecting hobby was born. At first, you had just wanted a souvenir of some sort, just wanting a small piece of each island you visited so you could look back at your collection one day and remember all of the places you've ever been to.

It was something very special to you. So imagine how you felt when you nearly forgot to grab a shell one day, during a routine island pit stop to restock the ship's supplies, when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst just as the straw-hat crew was making their way towards the ship.

You liked to grab a shell right before you left. Usually, you had your routine: you would go to the closest beach to where the Going Merry was docked at, take a moment to survey the assortment of shells scattered along the beach, and pick out the shell that most reflected your either long or short time on the island. You loved it.

But during that particular trip, your shell-collecting routine didn't go as planned and you nearly had a heart attack at the thought of missing a shell.

The weather had suddenly turned for the worst as you and the crew were walking back towards the Merry. All of a sudden, it started to downpour so everyone decided to run back to the ship as fast as they could before all of the ship's supplies got ruined (well, everyone except for Zoro, who was already back on the ship with his stuff, not wanting to stick around on any island longer than he had to).

As you all were running up the plank to board the ship one by one, Luffy suddenly called out to you from the dock as you tailed behind Nami with Sanji right behind you.

"Wait! Y/n!" he called out and you stopped at the top of the plank to look back at him through the rain. "What about your sea shell? Don't forget to go and grab one!"

You gasped and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly dropped at the thought of forgetting to grab a shell and in turn, forgetting all about your visit to this island. "My shell!"

"Your what?" Sanji asked loudly over the rain, next to you.

You quickly dropped your crate of supplies on the ship's deck, not caring anymore if they got wet or not. "I have to go get my sea shell!" you replied quickly, running past him and back to the dock.

"Don't worry, y/n, we will be waiting right here for you!" Luffy reassured with a nod. "Now go get your shell!" he yelled and raised his fist in the air.

You gave him a grateful smile as you dashed towards the nearest beach, Sanji watching you go with a curious look in his eye before bringing your supply crate inside and out of the rain.

That night, as Sanji was cleaning up the kitchen, you were still at the table finishing up the warm soup he had made that night for dinner (he loved that you were a slow eater, it meant that most nights he got to spend a little bit of extra alone time with you in his favorite place), he asked you about your niche hobby.

"Feeling better now?" Sanji asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he cleaned off one of his knives with a rag, sneaking a look at you with a small smile. "All warmed up from being out in the rain too long?"

You hummed in agreement. "Absolutely," you nearly purred in delight (Sanji felt his heartbeat stutter for a second at your tone. He's never heard you like that before). You looked at the chef with gratitude. "Your food always hits the spot Sanji, but the soup you made tonight just hit differently. It warmed me right up."

"Ok good," Sanji laughed softly, looking at you for a few seconds through his blonde hair, and flicked it to the side slightly. "I can't have you getting sick on me now." He finished cleaning off the one knife, setting it down on the counter, picking up another to clean before he asked with a raised brow, "So, uh, why did you go back today? Something about a sea shell?"

And that's how he learned about your niche hobby.

You told him all about it; about how you wanted a small token from everywhere you've ever been, how long you've been doing it, described some of your favorite sea shells you've found so far, and how you couldn't wait to show your collection to your kids and grandkids someday and in turn, telling them all about your adventures with the straw hat pirates.

As Sanji listened to you explain your hobby to him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, stealing glances at you every so often. He loved listening to you talk about the things you were passionate about. He loved the way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled.

And for something as unique and special as this? He loved it even more because he knew that this little hobby of yours went way beyond just collecting shells, it was your own way of physically manifesting your hopes and dreams. Each shell you acquired was another story you would tell your future kids about. You were sharing a part of your soul with him, and Sanji was completely enamored.

From that night forward, Sanji had decided that he too would start a sea shell collection of his own, without you knowing, so that someday in the future, he could surprise you and your kids with it, with the beautiful sea shells he had secretly collected right alongside you, his future wife, the whole time.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face someday.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder

#OK SO i'm working on the jealous! oneshot i promise!#but i needed something else short and sweet to bang out in the meantime #and this lil blurb request just became so much more sentimental than anyone would think #but!#i just couldn't help myself LOL #i hope i did your request justice anon #thank you for baring with me #you guys are the best #i hope i didn't miss anyone in the taglist i'm sorry!#your requests give me life #asks #requests #blurbs #go fish! au #sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader

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edenesth · 9 months

Text

In Pursuit of Serendipity

Pairing: best friend!Hyunjin x fem!reader

AU: high school au

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: Your friendship is tested when Hyunjin starts crushing on his new classmate. What you didn't expect was that your own emotions would come into play. Denying your feelings, you decide to be the ultimate wingwoman, helping him while battling your own heartache in silence. Will the pursuit of love lead to happiness or heartbreak?

A/N: Lowkey inspired by the Mixtape: On Track music video, still one of my favourite MVs from SKZ.

MAIN MASTERLIST

The busy hallways of your high school were alive with the energy of students rushing to their next classes.

Amidst the sea of students, you made your way through the crowded corridors with an excitement that bubbled within you. The reason for your enthusiasm swung in your hand—a gaming magazine had just revealed the release date of the highly anticipated video game you'd been eagerly awaiting.

Hyunjin and Felix, your partners in crime since kindergarten, were waiting for you.

As you neared your usual meeting spot, a sudden obstacle appeared in the form of an unnoticed puddle. Before you could react, your foot lost its grip, sending you careening toward an embarrassing collision with the cold, tiled floor. In a split second, strong arms wrapped around you, breaking your fall.

"Whoa there! Quick reflexes, Hyunjin style." Hyunjin exclaimed, his grin showcasing his pride at the successful save.

Felix laughed heartily, "Nice dive! You should consider joining the school's gymnastics team, though I hear their routine doesn't involve slipping in the hallways."

You shot him a playful glare as he approached to make sure you were unharmed, "Thanks, Jinnie. And you," You said, turning to Felix, "Can save your sarcasm for someone else."

Felix chuckled, brushing off imaginary dirt from your shoulder, "Just making sure you're in one piece. You know, you should work on your gracefulness. It's not very lady-like to trip and fall."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "Oh, please. Who needs grace when you've got Hyunjin's superhero reflexes? And besides, I'm not planning to win any 'Miss Graceful' contests."

Hyunjin grinned, leaning against the row of lockers, "True that. But you might want to consider it. You'll never find a boyfriend if you keep stumbling around like a bull in a china shop."

You scoffed, the idea of conforming to societal expectations not even registering on your radar, "Who said I'm looking for a boyfriend anyway? I'm perfectly content with my PS5 and the upcoming release of Assassin's Creed. Relationships can wait."

Felix raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Hyunjin, "Famous last words. We'll see how long that sentiment lasts."

You brushed off their teasing with a nonchalant wave, determined to keep your priorities in check. As the three of you continued down the hallway, you couldn't help smiling at the thought of the virtual adventures awaiting you in the upcoming game—an escape from the typical high school drama and the perfect reminder that, for now, you were content marching to the beat of your own, unapologetically clumsy, drum.

After grabbing a light breakfast together from the school cafeteria, you, Hyunjin, and Felix made your way through the bustling hallways, weaving through the student traffic. Despite being part of different classes, your morning ritual of meeting up for breakfast had become a comforting constant.

As you reached the fork in the hallway leading to your respective classrooms, Felix grinned, "See you guys at lunch. Don't trip over your own feet without me around to catch you!"

You playfully nudged him, "I'll try my best, Captain Obvious."

Felix waved, disappearing into his classroom, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue down the corridor. Although your class was situated at the far end of the school, you were used to the daily trek. Hyunjin, however, insisted on walking you there, despite the inconvenience it posed for him.

"Why do you bother walking me all the way to my class, Jinnie?" You asked, your voice tinged with amusement as you walked side by side.

He shot you a teasing grin, "Well, for one, I don't trust your coordination skills without Felix or me around. And secondly, what if there's a stampede, or a meteor falls from the sky? I need to be sure you make it to class in one piece."

You scoffed, "A stampede? Really?"

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, adopting a mock-serious tone, "You never know. High school can be a dangerous place."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your lips. It was moments like these that reminded you of the unique bond you shared with your friends. Despite the exaggeration, there was a genuine concern in his eyes that touched your heart.

Nearing the entrance of your classroom, you stopped, "You really don't have to do this every day, you know. I can handle walking to class without tripping."

Hyunjin leaned against the wall, his expression softening, "I know you can, but I want to. Call it my daily act of heroism."

You chuckled, shaking your head, "Fine, you overprotective hero. Thanks for the escort to class."

He grinned, walking you right up to the door, "Anytime, damsel in distress. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the genuine care your friends showered upon you, "Okay. Don't save too many people on your way to class."

With a playful salute, Hyunjin turned to make his way to his own classroom. You watched him go, appreciating the small gestures that defined your friendship. As the classroom door closes behind you, you feel a sense of gratitude for the protective duo that made your high school journey more adventurous and, most importantly, full of genuine companionship.

Later that day, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos as you approached your designated spot between Hyunjin and Felix, your tray already waiting for you. Your heart warmed at the sight, and you skipped over with an infectious beam.

Felix, always quick with banter, smirked at you, "Look who decided to grace us with her presence. You missed the riveting conversation about Hyunjin's newfound muse."

Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, whose cheeks sported a subtle shade of pink. Felix couldn't resist the opportunity to tease, "He wouldn't shut up about her just before you arrived."

You slid into your seat, the playful glint in Felix's eyes not escaping you, "Oh, really? What did I miss?"

Felix leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Our dear friend Hyunjin here has developed a massive crush on the new girl in his class. Couldn't stop talking about her smile, her laugh, you know, the works."

Hyunjin shot Felix a mock glare, but his eyes twinkled with an undeniable excitement, "Felix is exaggerating, as usual. I just mentioned her once or twice."

The three of you were engrossed in the conversation when, like clockwork, the cafeteria doors swung open. Hyunjin's head snapped up, his gaze fixating on a girl who entered with an effortless grace. She was undeniably beautiful—Lia, the new girl who had captured your friend's attention.

"There she is." Hyunjin whispered, as if afraid the mere mention of her name would make her disappear. Lia glided through the cafeteria, a radiant presence that drew the attention of many. You couldn't deny the allure; she had an undeniable charm that seemed to captivate everyone in her vicinity.

While Felix seemed excited for Hyunjin, you couldn't shake off the inexplicable discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach. You smiled, or at least you tried to, but it felt forced.

As Lia joined a group of students at a nearby table, laughter and animated conversations surrounding her, you couldn't help but wonder why the idea of Hyunjin being enamoured by her left you feeling strangely uneasy.

Oblivious to the atmosphere shift, Felix continued to prod Hyunjin about Lia. But as your eyes met Hyunjin's, you sensed a vulnerability beneath his excitement—a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. The unspoken truth lingered in the air, and you couldn't escape the realisation that your heart seemed to protest against the prospect of him falling for someone else for reasons you couldn't quite comprehend.

In the following days, you found yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. You tried to rationalise the unease that had settled within you, convincing yourself that it was merely a consequence of your friends growing up. After all, it was only natural for them to develop romantic interests outside your tight-knit trio.

You repeated the logic like a mantra, assuring yourself that this discomfort was nothing more than an adjustment period.

"It's just new," You told yourself, stirring your food absentmindedly during lunch. Felix continued his good-natured teasing about Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia, blissfully unaware of the internal struggle you were facing, "They're growing up, finding other people. It's normal. You'll get used to it."

Yet, as days turned into weeks, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You grappled with the notion that the dynamics of your friendship were shifting, and it wasn't centred solely around the three of you anymore. The idea of someone else occupying Hyunjin's thoughts in a way you hadn't witnessed before tugged at a thread of discomfort deep within you.

"It's just silly jealousy," You scolded yourself in the quiet moments of introspection, "He's my friend, and I should be happy for him."

Deep down, you couldn't ignore the hope that Hyunjin's crush was just a passing phase—a temporary diversion that would fade with time. You yearned for the days when your trio's world revolved around shared laughter and inside jokes, not about some new girl that caught your friend's attention.

One day, as you all gathered for lunch as usual, Felix couldn't resist poking at Hyunjin once again, "Come on, Jinnie, just admit it. You're head over heels for Lia."

Hyunjin sighed, his cheeks tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and genuine affection, "Fine. I like her, okay? Happy now?"

Felix's victorious grin was matched only by the subtle tightening of your chest. You forced a smile, attempting to mask the twinge of disappointment.

As the conversation continued, Hyunjin's genuine excitement about Lia became increasingly evident. Felix's teasing took on a more playful tone, but every word seemed to emphasise the growing reality that your friend was genuinely interested in someone beyond the confines of your trio.

Each day that passed, Hyunjin's interest in Lia became a constant presence in your lives. While he physically joined you and Felix for breakfast and lunch, his mind seemed to linger elsewhere. Conversations that were once filled with silly jokes now revolved around Lia—her interests, her quirks, and every mundane detail that seemed to captivate Hyunjin's attention.

The unintentional distance you felt from Hyunjin left you perplexed and, admittedly, frustrated. Despite your attempts to rationalise these emotions, a growing sense of unease settled within you. It was as if the equilibrium of your friendship had been disrupted, leaving you feeling somewhat adrift.

One day, after Hyunjin had passionately detailed yet another encounter with Lia during lunch, you found yourself unable to contain the frustration any longer.

In the quiet corner of the school courtyard, away from prying eyes and curious ears, you decided to confide in Felix. As you sat on the familiar park bench, the one where countless secrets had been shared among the three of you, you hesitated before finally breaking the silence.

"Lix, I don't know what's going on. I mean, I should be happy for Hyunjin, right? But every time he talks about Lia, it's like... I don't know, something's off. It's like he's here with us physically, but his mind is somewhere else."

Felix regarded you with a knowing gaze, the crinkles in his eyes softened with understanding, "Feelings are complicated. It's okay to feel the way you do. Maybe it's just an adjustment period. Things will settle down."

You sighed, grateful for his calm demeanour, "I've tried telling myself that, but it doesn't seem to be getting any better. It's just frustrating. I miss the way things used to be."

Felix leaned in, his tone gentle, "Change is hard, especially when it comes to friendships. But maybe Hyunjin needs this. Maybe it's his time to explore something beyond our trio. And who knows, it might just be a phase. People get caught up in new crushes, but that doesn't mean they forget their old friends."

You nodded, appreciating his perspective, "I just wish I could understand why I feel this way. It's like... I'm happy for him, but there's this nagging discomfort that won't go away."

Felix placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. Sometimes, feelings need time to catch up with logic. And in the meantime, know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

In the days that followed, you made a conscious effort to follow Felix's advice. You reminded yourself that Hyunjin's sudden obsession with Lia was his first experience with romantic feelings, and it was only natural for him to be caught up in the excitement of it all.

Trying to be understanding, you even forced a smile when he recounted every interaction with Lia, assuring yourself that this phase would pass.

But just as you began to convince yourself that you had your emotions in check, things took an unexpected turn. Hyunjin, who had always insisted on walking you to class, suddenly approached you with an apologetic expression.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry, but I can't walk you to class anymore." He admitted, avoiding eye contact.

The unexpected blow left you momentarily speechless, "What? Why?"

Hyunjin sighed, looking genuinely conflicted, "It's just... I don't want Lia to misunderstand our relationship. I mean, she might think there's something more between us, you know?"

Your initial shock gave way to a slow-burning frustration. While you wanted to be supportive of his budding romance, the abrupt change felt like a direct hit to the heart. The walks to class, once a cherished routine, now seemed like a relic of a time when your friendship hadn't been overshadowed by romantic entanglements.

Forcing a tight smile, you responded, "Sure, Hyunjin. Do whatever makes you comfortable."

As he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, you felt a sense of abandonment. The once-predictable rhythms of your friendship were now distorted, and the realisation that you were no longer a priority stung more than you cared to admit.

Felix, perceptive as ever, noticed the change in your demeanour. As he joined you in the hallway, he raised an eyebrow, "What's up with Hyunjin? I thought he was going to walk you to class."

You sighed, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy on your shoulders, "He said he can't anymore. Doesn't want Lia to get the wrong idea about us."

Felix's expression shifted from curiosity to a mixture of understanding and concern, "I know this is tough, but maybe he's just caught up in the excitement of his first crush. It doesn't mean he values your friendship any less."

You nodded, acknowledging his attempt to console you, "I get that, but it still hurts, you know? It's like our friendship is being redefined, and I don't know where I fit in anymore."

Felix offered a sympathetic smile, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. I'm sure things will settle down eventually. And in the meantime, you've got me. We'll figure it out together."

As Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia intensified, you found yourself grappling with the remnants of the once-familiar routine that now seemed like a distant memory.

One afternoon, as the final school bell echoed through the hallways, you made your way to the usual meeting spot where you and Hyunjin would walk home together. However, your anticipation gave way to disappointment as you saw him engrossed in conversation with Lia, the two of them making plans to spend time together after school.

Felix, who had been watching your expression closely, slung an arm around your shoulder, "Hey, don't let it get to you. You know, it's okay to feel upset."

"I'm not upset." You retorted, but the hurt in your eyes betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "You can't fool me, idiot. It's written all over your face. You miss your walks home with him, don't you?"

You sighed, giving in to the acknowledgement of your feelings, "Yeah, I guess I do. It's stupid, though. Friends hang out with other people. It's not a big deal."

Felix squeezed your shoulder gently, "It's okay to feel this way, you know. And there's nothing 'stupid' about it. You're allowed to miss your friend."

As you walked home with Felix that day, the silence between you spoke volumes. The absence of Hyunjin, once a comforting presence by your side, left a void that seemed to echo with the uncertainty of changing friendships.

The following days only deepened the ache.

Your attempts to be the supportive friend, cheering Hyunjin on as he pursued Lia, felt increasingly like a façade. The more you tried to suppress your feelings, the more they seemed to claw at the edges of your consciousness.

It was during one of your late-night conversations with Felix, the dim glow of streetlights casting shadows on your faces, that he broached the subject with a keen intuition that caught you off guard.

"You know," Felix said, his gaze fixed on the stars above, "It's possible you're jealous because you have feelings for Hyunjin."

Your immediate reaction was a vehement denial. How could you harbour romantic feelings for your childhood friend, especially when you had always prided yourself on being the voice of reason within the trio?

Oh hell nah, ain't no freaking way.

But as Felix turned to look at you, his eyes filled with understanding, you felt a sudden vulnerability. Despite your initial resistance, you couldn't escape the possibility that he was right. Your feelings for Hyunjin might indeed transcend the boundaries of friendship.

"What? Are you hearing yourself, Lix? That's insane!" You laughed incredulously, dismissing his implication with a wave of your hand. The idea of having romantic feelings for Hyunjin seemed preposterous to you, and you were determined to push aside any inkling of such emotions.

Felix, however, frowned at your attempt to brush off the subject. He could sense the unease beneath your laughter, the subtle deflection in your words, "I know you better than you think. You can't deny what you're feeling."

You scoffed, refusing to let his words penetrate your resolve, "Me? Having feelings for Hwang Hyunjin? Did you hit your head or something?" You chuckled, playing off the notion as absurd.

But as you met Felix's serious expression, you recognised the gravity of the situation. He was about to talk some sense into you, to unravel the emotions you had been desperately trying to suppress. But before he could utter a word, you beat him to it.

"Just watch me, Lix. I'll prove you wrong." Your tone carried a determined edge, a promise to yourself that you could navigate these confusing emotions without succumbing to what seemed like an inconvenient truth.

Felix sighed heavily, realising that there was little he could do if you were determined to turn a blind eye to your own feelings. He knew that sometimes, facing the truth required a vulnerability that not everyone was ready to embrace.

As you gathered for your breakfast routine one morning, Hyunjin began his usual recounting of Lia's latest escapades, and you found yourself unable to bear it any longer.

"Hyunjin," You interrupted, the words escaping before you could reconsider, "I'm sick of seeing you pine after Lia. It's distracting, and I can't focus on anything else. So, I've decided to help you win her heart."

Ecstasy washed over his face, "Really? You'd help me?"

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Yeah, I mean, why not? You deserve to be happy, right?"

Hyunjin's eyes lit up, and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, "Thank you! You're the best! I'll buy you the next Assassin's Creed game when Lia agrees to be my girlfriend!"

As he cheered, Felix observed the scene with a mixture of disbelief and realisation. It dawned on him that your seemingly selfless act of playing matchmaker wasn't entirely altruistic. A smirk played on his lips as he shook his head, understanding the true motive behind your plan.

"So, this was your way of proving me wrong, huh?" Felix remarked, his voice carrying a note of amusement.

You avoided his gaze, the charade now exposed, "I just want him to be happy. That's all."

Felix chuckled, seeing through the act, "Sure. Just remember, you can't run from your feelings forever."

Later that evening, you walked home with Hyunjin for the first time in what felt like ages. But the reason behind his company left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn't because he missed your walks or longed for the friendship you once shared. No, the only reason was to strategise about his mission to win Lia's heart.

As you strolled down the sidewalk, Hyunjin excitedly started talking about his plan, "So, I was thinking maybe I should join some clubs or events that she's interested in. What do you think?"

You pushed all unnecessary thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. We need to figure out what she likes and find a way for you to connect with her."

The mention of 'we' felt strangely out of place, a reminder of the changed dynamics between you and Hyunjin. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings aside, determined to help your friend succeed in his pursuit of happiness.

Felix, who had been watching the interaction with an amused smirk, couldn't resist commenting, "Look at you two, planning Hyunjin's love story. Who would've thought?"

You shot him a glare, not appreciating the smugness in his tone, "This is for Hyunjin, Lix, not for your amusement."

Felix raised his hands defensively, "Alright, alright. I'm just enjoying the show."

As you neared your doorstep, you took a deep breath, ready to lay out a rough plan for Hyunjin, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. First, we need to find out more about Lia's hobbies and interests. Once we have that information, we can create opportunities for you to interact with her in a more meaningful way."

Hyunjin nodded eagerly, trusting you with the details of his mission, "Leave it all to you. You're the best."

As you arrived at your doorstep, Hyunjin gave you a thankful hug before skipping off to his home just a few blocks away. Sighing deeply, you feel a twinge of emptiness. The hug felt different, less like a shared moment between friends and more like a transaction—gratitude for a service rendered.

With renewed determination, you wasted no time. The moment you stepped inside your room, you pulled out your phone and began stalking all of Lia's social media accounts. Your mission was clear: decipher her likes, dislikes, and everything in between.

Little did you know that this quest, seemingly straightforward, would lead you down a path of self-discovery and unexpected twists, challenging the boundaries of friendship and forcing you to confront emotions you had long been trying to ignore.

As the days unfolded, you immersed yourself in the role of the ultimate wingman. Your efforts to assist Hyunjin in winning Lia's heart were meticulous, each action carefully calculated to showcase his best qualities. Despite the outward display of support, a quiet turmoil brewed within you, a storm of conflicting emotions that threatened to break through the carefully constructed façade.

In your quest to prove Felix wrong, you inadvertently delved deeper into the complexities of your own heart. The more you tried to suppress the whispers of your own feelings, the more they seemed to echo in the quiet moments of self-reflection.

As Felix watched you navigate this internal struggle, he wished you would just confront the truth instead of burying it beneath the guise of friendship.

With your careful planning and Hyunjin's sincere efforts, you watched as he began to get things right. He made it a point to learn about Lia's favourite snacks and beverages, surprising her with thoughtful treats that garnered appreciative smiles. Conversations shifted from superficial exchanges to discussions about her favourite pastime activities, creating a connection that seemed to grow with every shared moment.

You watched from afar as he transformed himself, aligning with the qualities he knew she admired. He became more attentive, more considerate, and tailored his actions to better appeal to the type of guys she was attracted to.

While the genuine nature of his intentions was evident, each successful move felt like another layer of separation between the Hyunjin you knew and the person he was becoming for Lia.

Then came the pivotal moment.

Fueled by newfound confidence, he approached Lia and managed to ask her out on a date. From the way he pumped his fists in the air in victory, it was clear that she said yes. As he turned around to look for you, a beaming smile on his face, he spotted you observing the scene. With a thumbs up and eyes filled with excitement, he acknowledged your silent support.

Despite the clenching in your heart, you smiled back and clapped, showing him that you were genuinely happy for his success. The internal conflict between your desire to see your friend happy and the undeniable twinge of discomfort lingered in the background.

It was a bittersweet moment, a celebration of his triumph in love, overshadowed by the realisation that the dynamics of your friendship had undergone a significant shift.

During lunch, the three of you gathered as usual, but the atmosphere was tinged with an unspoken tension. As you sat with your tray, Felix shot you a look, his expression a mix of disapproval and concern. You avoided his eyes, focusing on your food and pretending not to notice his silent judgment.

The news of Hyunjin and Lia's upcoming first date buzzed around the table, and despite the apparent excitement, Felix's gaze lingered on you. He wished you knew that he was only trying to protect you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. Deep down, he feared that all this effort might lead to you getting hurt in the end.

As the conversation flowed, Felix couldn't contain his disapproval any longer, "So, playing matchmaker seems to be working well for you and Hyunjin." He remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before averting your gaze, "Yeah, I guess it is."

Felix sighed, the concern etched on his face, "I hope you know what you're doing. Playing with emotions is a risky game."

You could sense the genuine worry in his words, but a stubborn determination held you captive. You knew there was a risk involved, but you've already come this far. It was as if a self-imposed obligation drove you to see this through until the end, no matter the consequences.

As the lunch bell rang, signalling the end of the break, Felix shot you one last look—a mix of caution and understanding. The unspoken conversation between you two lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the uncertainties that lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The journey you embarked upon had no clear destination, but one thing was certain: you're committed to helping Hyunjin until the end.

As the final bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, you gathered your belongings, preparing to head home. Just as you were about to make your way through the crowded hallway, Hyunjin rushed up to you, grabbing your wrist in his haste. Startled, he twisted you around, and for a brief moment, your eyes rounded at the close proximity between your faces.

His eyes widened in realisation, and he immediately stepped back, stammering, "S-sorry, I was just—"

You shook your head, feigning nonchalance despite the racing of your heart, "It's fine, what is it?"

Hyunjin beamed at your question, his initial awkwardness dissipating, "I need your help in picking an outfit for my date this weekend."

You ignored the sharp stab you felt in your heart at the cruel reminder. Suppressing your emotions, you nodded, "Of course, I'll send you some ideas tonight."

But he shook his head, a hopeful glint in his eyes, "No, I was hoping you could come over before the date and help me put together something nice...?"

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected request, "Why not get Felix to help you with that?"

Hyunjin pouted, swinging your arm around playfully, "Oh, come on, you're the one who promised to help me until the end, right?"

Sighing, you realised he was right. It was your commitment, not Felix's. Relenting, you nodded, "Alright, fine. Sheesh. I'll see you then."

Hyunjin cheered, thanking you profusely before running off, presumably heading to spend time with Lia. As he disappeared into the crowd, you couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort that settled in your chest.

Hang in there, you can do this.

Standing in front of the mirror, you scrutinised yourself for the umpteenth time before questioning your actions. Why did it matter how you looked to Hyunjin? After all, you'd literally grown up together, and he'd seen you at your best and worst. The reflection staring back at you seemed to mock the unnecessary anxiety that had settled in.

The sound of your phone's notifications going off snapped you out of your thoughts. Unlocking the device, you found texts from both Hyunjin and Felix. Hyunjin's message was playful, urging you to hurry over, 'Bestie, get your ass over here already!!!😭'

Felix's text, however, carried a different tone, one of understanding and support, 'Hyunjin told me you're going over to help him. I know nothing I say can change your mind, but I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll be here for you.'

Reading Felix's words nearly brought tears to your eyes. It was a reminder of the loneliness that came with keeping these feelings to yourself. In that moment, you realise the weight of the emotions you've chosen to carry alone. But there was no one else to blame; you made the choice yourself, and now it was time to finish what you started.

With a deep breath, you locked your phone and shook off the lingering self-doubt. Adjusting your outfit one final time, you muttered a quiet affirmation to yourself and headed towards Hyunjin's house.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by his infectious excitement, "Finally, you're here! I need your expert fashion advice."

Suppressing the internal turmoil, you forced a smile, "Alright, let's get this over with."

As you entered his room, surrounded by the familiar scent of his space, you felt a twinge of nostalgia. The memories of your friendship flooded back, but now, they were tainted with a layer of complexity.

The process of picking an outfit began, with you providing suggestions and Hyunjin trying on various combinations. Looking at him more closely now, you hated that you suddenly found him so attractive.

You watched as he struggled with some of the buttons on his shirt before looking up at you with a pout, "Some help would be nice?"

His request cut through the air, and you couldn't hide the inward sigh. The situation was already complicated enough, and now he was making things even more difficult. Rolling your eyes in a feigned display of annoyance, you walked up to him, determined to maintain a facade of indifference.

As you carefully worked through the buttons, your concentration remained fixed on the task at hand. Hyunjin, however, couldn't help but let his gaze remain on you. His eyes naturally drifted downward, taking in the familiar sight of you deep in focus. At that moment, he found you adorable, with your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips and a small frown between your eyes.

Huh, guess not much has changed.

Standing up close, he began to notice details he hadn't paid attention to before. Your eyelashes were surprisingly long, framing expressive eyes that held a history of shared laughter and secrets. The baby fat in your cheeks had disappeared after the braces, leaving behind a more defined and mature look. He also noticed how pink and soft your lips appeared.

The realisation hit him like a wave—have you always looked this pretty? The question lingered in his mind, surprising even himself with the depth of observation he was suddenly making. It wasn't that he hadn't considered your attractiveness before, but in this moment, with the proximity and the shared history, it became more pronounced.

Finished with the last button, you stepped back, offering a casual comment, "There. All set."

Your best friend, however, remained silent for a moment, his thoughts still lingering on the newfound awareness of your features. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, unspoken sentiments hanging between you two.

Standing at his doorstep, Hyunjin, ready to go on his date with Lia, smiled down at you, "Thank you for your time and effort," You shook your head, "No worries, good luck and have fun." But as you turned to leave, a peculiar sense of unease settled in him; it didn't feel right watching you go by yourself.

Before you could take more than a few steps, you were surprised to find him beside you, matching your pace, "What are you doing? You'll be late if you don't go now."

He shrugged, unable to fully grasp his own actions but feeling the need to do this, "It's fine, Lia can wait a bit. I'll walk you home. You came all this way to help me. It's the least I could do."

Your heart skipped a beat at that gesture. For the first time since Lia entered your lives, he was putting you first, prioritising you over her. But the conflicting emotions only intensified; it wasn't making things any easier for you.

Reaching your home, you shooed him with a teasing smile, "Alright, I'm home safe. Now, hurry and go get your dream girl."

He smiled back but didn't move from his spot. You shook your head and playfully pushed him, "Go, you idiot. What are you—"

Suddenly, he pulled you into his arms for a hug, his lips close to your ear, "She may be my dream girl right now, but you'll always be my number one."

Your breath hitched at those unexpected words. Before you could react, he pulled away and ran off, leaving you standing there, a mix of confusion and warmth swirling within.

Stop doing this to me, Hwang Hyunjin.

The restaurant was adorned with soft lights and a pleasant ambience, the perfect setting for a romantic evening.

But Hyunjin was struggling to enjoy his first date with Lia as much as he had anticipated. Despite having dreamed of dating her for so long, his mind seemed to be preoccupied with thoughts that he couldn't fully understand.

As Lia spoke, sharing stories and laughter, he felt a subtle distraction, his mind involuntarily drifting back to you. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and he found himself unknowingly comparing his date to you. Of course, Lia was undeniably beautiful, a fact that anyone with functioning eyes could see. But she just wasn't... you? He didn't know about anyone else, but to him, you were prettier.

Realising the direction of his thoughts, Hyunjin mentally slapped himself for disrespecting Lia in such a way. Determined to salvage the date, he forced himself to focus on what she was saying, pushing away the distracting comparisons.

However, as the evening unfolded, he couldn't shake off the subtle feeling that the date wasn't going as well as he'd expected. He blamed himself for the disconnect, fully aware that he was the one responsible for the disarray of his own emotions.

Attempting to be present in the moment, he engaged in conversation, trying to enjoy the company of the girl he had dreamt of for so long. But the shadow of conflicting thoughts persisted, casting a pall over what should have been a joyful and momentous occasion.

As the night progressed, Hyunjin found himself immersed in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Despite his efforts to be present on his dream date with Lia, a growing sense of unease crept in. The realisation dawned on him like a quiet storm—he wasn't being entirely honest with her, and perhaps, more importantly, he wasn't being true to himself.

The version of himself that Lia had come to like was a meticulously crafted persona, tailored to fit her preferences. They engaged in activities she enjoyed, ate food she liked, and talked about subjects that captivated her. He even dressed in a way that he believed appealed to her tastes. In the process, he wondered if Lia liked him for who he truly was or merely for the version of himself he had presented to win her over.

If he were to be himself, would Lia have liked him at all? The sincerity of their interactions seemed to be overshadowed by the facade he constructed. It made him question the authenticity of their connection.

Aside from that, a more profound doubt surfaced—he questioned whether he genuinely liked Lia for who she was or if he was just infatuated with the idea of her. Was he captivated by the fantasy he created in his mind, rather than the reality of the person sitting across from him?

That night, the weight of the evening's revelations lingered as he collapsed onto his bed after sending Lia home.

Sighing heavily, he thought about the missed opportunity. He hadn't kissed her goodbye like he used to imagine. Instead, all he managed was a simple 'goodnight, see you at school next week' before leaving her doorstep. It wasn't the romantic farewell he envisioned, but the weight of his internal conflicts restrained him.

In the solitude of his room, he decided that it was time for a change. He acknowledged that the version of himself he'd presented to Lia wasn't sustainable, nor was it fair to either of them. With a newfound resolve, he made a decision—he would give her another chance, but this time, he wanted to be genuine, to be himself.

Perhaps, if he allowed Lia to see the real him, and if he took the time to genuinely understand her, there might be a chance for something more authentic to blossom between them.

With this resolve in mind, Hyunjin closed his eyes, attempting to push all thoughts of you out of his mind. You were his best friend, and he had to remind himself of that fact. As sleep claimed him, he envisioned a future where the real him and the real Lia could find common ground, unburdened by the illusions that initially clouded their connection.

The following week at school, you and Felix were surprised by Hyunjin's demeanour. He didn't exhibit the expected excitement that typically followed a successful first date. Instead, he seemed to have reverted to his previous self, the Hyunjin you knew before the Lia obsession took centre stage.

Your surprise was evident when, out of the blue, Hyunjin began walking you to class again. His laughter rang out as he snickered at the puzzled expression on your face, and without warning, he playfully ruffled your hair, "Stop looking at me like that." He teased.

In response, you whined and swatted his hand away, "Not the hair, you jerk!"

His laughter continued, a sound you've missed, and he couldn't hide his happiness at seeing this side of you again. Deep down, he knew he pushed you away with his previous behaviour. Slipping an arm around your shoulder, he spoke, "Look, I'm sorry for the way I behaved previously. I know you must've been hurt. I promise to make it up to you."

Before you could inquire about the details of his date with Lia and the sudden change in his attitude, you arrived at your class. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before leaving, "See you at lunch."

You nodded, still slightly confused but undeniably happy. Maybe the date didn't go as well as he'd hoped? The possibility filled you with hope, and you couldn't shake the optimism that bubbled within. You found yourself looking forward to lunchtime, eager to uncover the mysteries behind his change of heart.

The lunchtime rendezvous brought an air of anticipation as the three of you gathered at your usual spot. Despite Hyunjin's seemingly improved attitude, a sense of unease lingered in the air.

As you exchanged casual banter, he finally broached the subject, "Guys, there's something I want to talk to you about." His tone carried a weight that immediately caught your attention.

"I've been thinking," Hyunjin continued, his gaze shifting between you and Felix, "About Lia. I want to take a different approach with her. I've decided to be myself, the real me, around her. I want her to like me for who I truly am."

Your heart sank at his words, a sinking feeling of déjà vu washing over you. The hope that had briefly ignited was swiftly extinguished. It became clear that Hyunjin's newfound determination was geared toward pursuing a more genuine connection with Lia. While on the surface, it seemed like a positive step, the implications were disheartening.

Felix, however, expressed his support, "That's a great decision, Jinnie. Be yourself, and if she likes you for who you are, that's even better."

While Felix's words were encouraging, his eyes betrayed a different sentiment. They shifted to you, a subtle expression of concern. He understood the implications of Hyunjin's decision, knowing how you probably felt at that moment.

Another week passed, and Hyunjin, beaming with pride, announced to you and Felix that he was going on a second date with Lia. While you feigned happiness for him, Felix saw through the facade. The strain of suppressing your true feelings became apparent, and Felix, unable to watch you suffer in silence, decided it was time to intervene.

On the night of Hyunjin's second date, Felix took it upon himself to keep you company and distract you from your thoughts. Together, you baked brownies and indulged in a fun movie night. As the credits rolled on the screen and the room dimmed, he turned to see you staring numbly ahead, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

Sighing, he reached across and placed his hands over yours, "Talk to me, please. I want to be there for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? What are you trying so hard to prove, hm?"

The concerned look in your best friend's eyes finally broke through the walls you'd built around your emotions. With a heavy exhale, you crumbled, unable to hold back the feelings that had been festering within.

"It's just... I don't understand why I'm doing this to myself," You admitted, "I keep pretending to be okay, to be happy for him, but every time he talks about Lia, it just hurts. I don't know why I'm trying so hard to prove something. Maybe I'm just scared of losing him, of things changing between us."

Felix listened attentively, his grip on your hands offering both support and reassurance, "You don't have to go through this alone, you know?" He said softly, "It's okay to feel the way you do, and it's okay to talk about it."

With those words, the floodgates opened, and you poured out the conflicting emotions that had been plaguing you, "You were right... I guess I do have feelings for him."

Felix listened with a soft, understanding smile, his eyes reflecting a sense of calm assurance. He wasn't at all surprised by the revelation, having sensed the undercurrents of your emotions for some time.

"I don't even know when it started or why I feel this way," You confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability, "Hyunjin has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and suddenly everything feels so complicated."

Felix squeezed your hand, "It's okay, you know. Feelings can be messy, and they don't always follow a logical timeline. What matters is that you're opening up about it now. You don't have to do this alone, and I'm here for you, no matter what."

He smiled softly, a reassuring warmth in his gaze. Felix didn't have all the answers, and he knew that unravelling the complexities of emotions wasn't a straightforward task. But he was determined to be the support you needed, offering a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, and a friend who understood.

Meanwhile, on his date with Lia, Hyunjin couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

Lia was a nice girl, but as the evening went on, he began to realise that she might not be exactly his type at all. It wasn't something he consciously thought about before, but as he spent time with her, he couldn't help comparing her to you again.

You, with your unladylike antics that he always teased you about but secretly cherished. Lia, in contrast, seemed different, and the more he pondered on it, the more he realised that different wasn't necessarily what he was looking for. He missed the easy banter and shared interests he had with you and Felix.

During their conversation, he noticed how Lia appeared bored or uninterested whenever he brought up stories about you and Felix. It struck him that, unlike your friendship, their discussions seemed one-sided, revolving mostly around Lia and her interests.

As she excused herself to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to check his phone.

Scrolling through Instagram, he stumbled upon Felix's story. The images and captions painted a vivid picture of a cosy evening filled with laughter—something he found himself envious of. At that moment, he realised that he wanted to be there with you.

As Lia returned from the bathroom, he felt that something was missing, and for the first time, he questioned whether pursuing a relationship with her was the right path for him.

Determined to move on from your feelings for Hyunjin, you decided to refocus on the things that once brought you joy – your love for gaming. Despite Hyunjin's announcement of giving up on Lia, a part of you understood that he was and would always be nothing more than your best friend.

Regardless of how things worked out with Lia, your feelings for Hyunjin would remain unrequited.

Returning to the library's gaming section, you immersed yourself in the digital worlds that always provided comfort. It was there that you met Seungmin, a fellow gamer who shared your passion for virtual adventures. The two of you quickly bonded over your favourite games, strategies, and the thrill of defeating virtual foes together.

Felix noticed the positive change in your demeanour and was relieved to see you returning to your usual self again. The laughter and excitement you shared with Seungmin during gaming sessions became a refreshing break from the emotional complexities that had weighed on you.

However, Hyunjin struggled to come to terms with the shift. Every mention of Seungmin stirred an unsettling feeling within him. He found it hard to reconcile the fact that you were forming a connection with someone else, and it left him grappling with emotions he hadn't anticipated.

Despite the internal turmoil, he understood that your happiness was most important. He tried to be supportive, but the subtle twinge of discomfort lingered whenever Seungmin's name came up.

After school, you excitedly ran up to Hyunjin and Felix, who were waiting for you by the school gates, "Hey, losers, sorry I can't walk home with you guys today. Go on without me; I'll see y'all tomorrow!"

Before you could dash off, Hyunjin's brows furrowed, and he reached for your wrist. Twisting you around, the moment felt like déjà vu from the day you helped him with his outfit. Both your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and Felix cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.

Hyunjin blinked rapidly before sputtering, "Wh-where do you think you're going, young lady? Your parents will be worried if you don't go home now."

You pulled away from him, rolling your eyes to feign nonchalance, "Jinnie, please. Do you think I'm you? My parents already know I'll be out after school today," Felix chortled to help lighten the atmosphere, "Hate to admit it, but she's right, bro."

Hyunjin scoffed, "Well, I'm just worried. You know how clumsy you can get," Before you could respond, Seungmin called your name from behind, and you beamed, "Don't worry, Seungmin will take care of me." He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

Just as he tried to stop you from going to Seungmin, Felix grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"Let her go."

Hyunjin didn't understand why it felt like those three words held a deeper meaning. He watched as you joined Seungmin, the two of you walking away, laughter floating back towards them. Felix turned to Hyunjin, his expression unreadable.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Hyunjin couldn't shake the unease that settled within him as he continued to watch your retreating figures. It was a feeling he couldn't quite define, and for the first time, he wondered if his worry for you went beyond the bounds of friendship.

As the two boys walked home, Hyunjin couldn't shake the lingering discomfort. The unease prompted him to turn to Felix, needing some clarity on the matter.

"Hey, what do you think about Seungmin?" Hyunjin asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Felix smiled knowingly, understanding the source of the inquiry, "Seungmin? He's a good guy. He's not just a gamer; he's dedicated to his studies too. I've noticed he's had a positive influence on our bestie, encouraging her to study harder as well."

Hyunjin nodded, absorbing Felix's words. He tried to accept his friend's reasoning and rationalise the situation for himself. Why was he feeling so unhappy about this anyway? Felix seemed just fine with your new friendship and even supportive of it.

Perhaps he should learn to be the same.

"Yeah, you're right," Hyunjin replied, forcing a smile, "I guess it's good that she's found someone who gets her interest."

Felix clapped him on the back, "Exactly! Seungmin seems like a genuine guy. Let's just be happy for her."

Hyunjin nodded again, attempting to bury the unease and be supportive like Felix. But deep down, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing something, something intangible yet significant, and the journey to fully understand those emotions had just begun.

Meanwhile, you made a conscious effort to push aside the thoughts and emotions stirred up by the encounter with Hyunjin.

As you walked alongside Seungmin, chatting about the latest game releases, you couldn't escape the replay of the moment when Hyunjin grabbed your wrist. Your heart still raced as you wondered about the desperation in his eyes.

Could he be... jealous?

Did he feel the same way about you, or was it just a reaction to your attention being diverted from him and Felix? Rationalising, you convinced yourself that it was probably the latter. After all, Hwang Hyunjin, the charismatic and charming friend, couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. It was safer to assume that he wasn't used to your attention being on someone other than him and Felix.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that you needed to save yourself from further misery. The idea of Hyunjin shifting his focus to another girl loomed in your mind. Sure, the Lia phase was over, but he could very well set his eyes on someone new at any time.

Perhaps it was time to guard your heart, to protect yourself from potential heartache. Resolute in your decision, you pushed aside the uncertainty and focused on Seungmin, someone who seemed genuinely interested in you for who you were.

Despite your best efforts, you found your mind involuntarily comparing Seungmin to Hyunjin, and you mentally scolded yourself for these incessant thoughts.

Urging yourself to stop these comparisons, you recognised that if your feelings for Hyunjin weren't clouding your judgment, you might have fallen for Seungmin instantly. He was everything you could want in a guy – your dream guy, to be precise.

Seungmin shared the same interests, hobbies, and principles as you did. He was attentive, considerate, and almost perfect for you. Although he might not have been conventionally the ideal type for most, he fits your ideal perfectly. So close to perfection, if only he was... Hwang Hyunjin.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Seungmin called your name, informing you that he would be back in a bit as he went to collect your food order. You softened at his gentlemanly gesture, realising that you were being unfair to him by comparing him to Hyunjin. Seungmin was his own person, and you were determined to appreciate and like him for who he truly was.

The realisation hit you hard, and you resolved to give Seungmin the attention and consideration he deserved. After all, he had done nothing but show kindness and genuine interest in you.

Seungmin walked you home that evening after a day filled with fun and laughter. Arriving at your doorstep, you turned to him in gratitude, "Thank you so much for walking me home. Gosh, you really didn't have to. It'll be late by the time you get home."

He grinned, teasing, "Aww, are you worrying about me?"

You scoffed, "What if I am? It can be dangerous to be out late alone."

Unable to resist, he wrapped you in a hug. You stilled for a moment before lifting your hands to hold onto him, "You have no idea how happy I am that you care this much about me." He admitted, and you couldn't suppress your smile at his words.

"Of course, I care about you, Kim Seungmin. What kind of friend would I be not to?" You replied as he pulled away, a genuine warmth in your words.

He seemed to contemplate something before gathering the courage to ask, "H-hey, I was wondering... are you free this Saturday?"

Just as you were about to answer, a new voice interrupted you both, "No, she's not. She has plans with me, sorry." said Hyunjin, standing nearby and staring coldly at Seungmin. The unexpected interruption caught you off guard.

You glared at Hyunjin, annoyed by his sudden intrusion, "What? No, I don't." You retorted, not appreciating his assumption.

Hyunjin seemed hurt by your swift rejection, but trying to save his pride, he added, "Yes, you do. Felix got us tickets to see the latest Marvel superhero movie."

Furrowing your brows, you couldn't recall Felix mentioning any of these plans, "He did?" You questioned, feeling a bit perplexed.

Seungmin, aware that Hyunjin was your close friend, decided to be the bigger person, "That's alright, perhaps another time. I have to get home anyway. I'll see you at school." He said diplomatically, not wanting to leave a bad impression.

You nodded quickly, feeling bad about Hyunjin's borderline rude behaviour, "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

"I will." He beamed and patted your head affectionately before walking away. Hyunjin fumed from his corner, observing you watching Seungmin leave until he was out of sight. The tension lingered, leaving you with a mix of frustration and confusion as you turned your attention back to Hyunjin.

"Dude, what the hell was that?!"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes in annoyance, "What? Are you so upset that you don't get to go out with your little boyfriend again?" He retorted with a dismissive tone.

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden attitude, "Seungmin's not my—" You paused and took a deep breath, not wanting to entertain his childish behaviour, "What are you even doing here in the first place, Hyunjin? Did Felix really get us movie tickets this weekend?"

He gulped and looked away, unable to meet your eyes. That answered your question; he lied about the tickets. You sighed, growing tired of the drama, "I don't have time for this. If you won't talk, then I'm leaving."

Turning to enter your house, he quickly grabbed your wrist.

No, not again.

You distanced yourself before he could pull you close to him, determined to protect your heart.

But he couldn't hold back any longer. Frowning at the distance you deliberately put between you two, he exploded, "I've had it, alright? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Seungmin this, Seungmin that! I'm sick of hearing about him! Do you even care about me and Felix anymore?"

You laughed humourlessly at those words, tears welling up in your eyes, "So, now you know how it feels, huh?"

He froze at that, realising the hypocrisy of his actions.

Wiping your tears harshly with your sleeves, you continued, "How selfish can you be, Hwang Hyunjin? I kept quiet and supported you while you obsessed over Lia, even when you pushed me aside. And now that I've found someone I like, you can't accept it?"

He gulped and lowered his head in shame.

"So it's alright if you do it, but when I do it, it's outrageous and unacceptable, huh? I see how it is."

Not wanting to hear another word from him, you stalked into your home and slammed the door shut, leaving him outside, confronted by the consequences of his actions.

The following day at school, you refused to speak to Hyunjin. When he attempted to chase after you and confront you, Felix stopped him with a serious expression that revealed he knew more than he let on. Stepping aside, the two of them finally decided to address the elephant in the room.

Felix began with a sigh, "She told me what happened last night."

Hyunjin avoided his friend's eye contact, feeling a deep sense of shame. This was a repeat of what happened with you before, but now it was Hyunjin's turn to feel the weight of his actions. Felix deduced that Hyunjin must have returned your feelings, seeing his reaction to Seungmin's appearance in your life.

"You know, it hurt her more than anyone for you to say those things to her," Felix explained, his tone serious, "It's extremely unfair to her. How you felt seeing her with Seungmin, was what she went through when you had Lia. But she kept it all in and suffered alone. She didn't even confide in me. I had to beg her to lean on me, seeing how much it affected her."

Hyunjin felt an overwhelming wave of guilt with this revelation. He had guessed that you'd be hurt, but he didn't fully understand the extent of it until he experienced it himself. He neglected you even more than he realised.

Goddamnit, I'm a horrible friend.

Felix, tired of all the charades, wanted his best friend to wake up to his own feelings. Firmly, he began, "Hyunjin, I want you to think carefully about this."

Hyunjin looked up at Felix's determined gaze, anticipating what he was about to say.

"Do you think that perhaps the reason you're this upset is because you have feelings for her?" Felix asked pointedly.

Hyunjin froze. The thought constantly lingered in the back of his mind, but he always refused to acknowledge it, let alone voice it out loud. It felt like it wasn't supposed to happen. After all, he had known you since you were all in diapers; you'd grown up side by side. How could it be possible that all of a sudden, he would be seeing you in a different light?

With Felix asking this question, Hyunjin knew the feelings must have been there for his friend to see through in the first place.

That would explain why he had been so unhappy to see you with Seungmin, especially when Felix seemed less than bothered by it. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt a mixture of confusion, denial, and a hint of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Felix placed a hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "I know it sounds crazy, but deep down, I trust you know the answer better than anyone else. Just... take your time and figure it out before deciding how you want to approach her. Whatever happens, I'm here for you, alright buddy?"

Hyunjin nodded gratefully, "Thank you, Felix." The weight of the realisation hung heavy in the air, and he couldn't deny that he needed to confront his feelings, as confusing and unexpected as they were.

As Felix walked away, Hyunjin took a deep breath, grappling with the newfound awareness that his emotions for you might be more complicated than he ever imagined.

During lunch, you decided to be the bigger person and chose not to ignore Hyunjin any longer. Instead, you opted to act like nothing had happened. You didn't want any confrontation and wished only to move on from the drama. Thankfully, Hyunjin didn't pester you, especially with Felix sending him warning looks.

As you sat down, you engaged in casual conversation with both of them, discussing topics that steered clear of any emotional tension.

Hyunjin found relief in the momentary peace.

He realised that this was for the best, a chance for him to figure out his own feelings for you without the weight of recent events clouding his judgment. The lunch table, which had once been a source of joy and comfort, now felt like a battleground of unspoken emotions. He couldn't shake off the guilt, but he was determined to navigate through the complexities of his feelings.

Little did he know, you were also fighting with your emotions, doing your best to maintain a facade of normalcy for the sake of the friendship you cherished.

That weekend, Felix decided to make a genuine effort to lighten the atmosphere within your friend group. He went and bought movie tickets for real this time, hoping that this outing could serve as a reset button for all of you, despite the underlying emotional tension between you and Hyunjin.

As you approached the two of them, your usual cheerful self, Hyunjin fought to keep his heart still. You weren't necessarily dressed up for the occasion, but in his heightened awareness of his feelings for you, he couldn't deny that you looked beautiful to him no matter what you wore. He tried to pull himself together as you threw your arms over both their necks in a group hug.

He instinctively reached his hand over your back, holding you against him. At that moment, he closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of having you close. The warmth of your embrace and the subtle scent of your familiar perfume made it difficult for him to ignore the growing realisation that his feelings for you were deeper than he had ever acknowledged.

The movie outing, intended to bring back the carefree dynamic of your friendship, unknowingly became a pivotal moment in Hyunjin's self-discovery.

Felix observed you two knowingly, shaking his head at how oblivious you were to each other's feelings. While you attempted to maintain a distance, Hyunjin made every effort to close the gap, taking a step closer every chance he got. Despite your attempts to push him away, Felix could tell that it was becoming increasingly difficult for you to deny your own heart's desires.

Throughout the entire day, Hyunjin took care of you in every possible way. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, handed you his jacket when the cinema hall got too cold, and even accompanied you to the washroom during the long movie.

You stared at him incredulously when he followed after you, whispering, "Jinnie, what are you doing? I'm fine going alone; I know where the washroom is."

He shushed you and gently pushed you out of the hall, saying, "I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you. Just let me do this."

Despite the flutter in your heart, you rolled your eyes and relented, "Ugh, fine. Don't blame me when you miss what happens in the movie later."

One of the cleaner ladies witnessing your banter chuckled, "Young lady, you have a wonderful boyfriend. You should let him take care of you if he wants to, not all men are like that nowadays."

Choking on your spit, you waved your hands at her, "N-no! You've got it all wrong, he's not my—"

Squishing your cheeks to disrupt your attempt to clarify, Hyunjin smiled politely at her before grinning mischievously down at you, "Listen to the kind lady, my love. She's right."

Once the lady was out of sight, you slapped his hand away with a glare, "You do that again, Hwang Hyunjin, and I'll kick you where the sun doesn't shine."

He burst out laughing at the threat, and you struggled to suppress the smile forming on your face as you entered the washroom.

The outing continued, and Felix marvelled at how Hyunjin's actions were a silent testament to his growing feelings for you. It was as if he had unconsciously shifted into a more protective and caring mode. Felix exchanged glances with Hyunjin when you weren't looking, silently urging him to confront his emotions.

Hyunjin's attempts to get closer to you were evident. He lingered beside you during breaks, shared his snacks, and even stole a glance or two when he thought you weren't looking. Felix hoped that this could be the turning point for both of you.

By the end of the day, as you bid farewell, Hyunjin's eyes held a certain warmth that hadn't been there before. Felix smiled knowingly, hopeful that the walls both of you had built around your hearts might finally start to crumble.

The two boys walked you home that evening. Upon arriving at your doorstep, you turned to bid them goodbye, "Thanks, Lix, for the movie, and thanks, Jinnie, for the snacks. I had a good time with you losers." You said with a playful smile.

Felix laughed, giving you a warm hug, "You're welcome, idiot."

Hyunjin, not one to be outdone, waited for his turn. As his arms enveloped you, your face pressed against his shoulder, you hoped he couldn't hear the frantic beating of your heart. Little did you know, his own heart was racing just as fast. Squeezing you in his arms, he pressed a subtle kiss onto your head and whispered, "Anytime, cutie."

You blinked rapidly, feeling a sudden warmth spread through you. Felix cleared his throat, and Hyunjin reluctantly let you go. You smiled and waved at the two of them, "Alrighty then, I'll see you both at school."

Waving back, they turned to leave. Unbeknownst to Hyunjin, Felix caught him muttering a quiet, "Can't wait."

A week had passed and Hyunjin was just glad you no longer brought up Seungmin again, perhaps you've drifted apart from the boy? Whatever it was, he was just happy to not hear that name again.

Ah yes, things are finally returning to normal.

Or so he thought.

The cafeteria bustled with students, the usual hum of conversation filling the air as the three of you settled into your regular lunch spot. Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, suggesting an idea for the upcoming weekend.

"Hey, let's do something fun this Saturday! I heard there's this new arcade opened—"

Before he could finish, your sheepish smile and the gentle rub on your neck halted him, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it. You guys can go ahead without me though."

Hyunjin furrowed his brows, "What? Why not?"

You sighed, conflicted about sharing the information but recognising the necessity, "I'm... going on my first date with Seungmin."

His cheerful expression faltered, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and disappointment, "Seungmin? You're still seeing him?"

You nodded hesitantly, your gaze shifting away, "Yeah, we've been hanging out quite a bit lately, and he finally asked me out. I didn't want to bring it up, but since you asked..."

The atmosphere grew tense, and Felix, who was listening to the conversation, threw a concerned look at his friend. Hyunjin tried to put on a brave face, forcing a smile, "Oh, that's... that's great. I hope you have fun."

Felix intervened, sensing the underlying tension, "Well, we can reschedule our plans. No big deal."

You offered an apologetic smile, "Thanks, Lix. I really appreciate it."

Hyunjin forced a smile, trying to mask the discomfort he felt, "Yeah, go have a good time."

His gaze lingered longingly on your retreating figure as you left lunch early that day. The once-clear path of friendship now seemed muddled, and the excitement for the weekend plans felt overshadowed by heartache.

The streetlights cast elongated shadows on the sidewalk as Hyunjin walked home, his steps heavy with self-pity. His gaze was fixed on his phone screen, flipping through your Instagram stories with Seungmin. Felix, catching up to his despondent friend, slung an arm over Hyunjin's shoulder.

"Dude, why didn't you wait for me?" Felix asked, noticing Hyunjin's distraction.

Hyunjin didn't respond, lost in his thoughts. Felix glanced over and sighed when he saw your stories playing on Hyunjin's phone. Swiftly, he snatched the device out of his friend's hands.

"That's enough. Will you keep wasting away while the girl you like is out there with another guy? Aren't you going to do something about your feelings?" Felix's words were firm, a mix of concern and frustration.

Hyunjin, taking his phone back, continued trudging home, "What can I do, Lix? All she sees is Seungmin. It doesn't matter how I feel."

Without warning, Felix smacked him on the back of the head. Hyunjin froze, rubbing the back of his head as Felix continued walking.

"Is that what you think? So you're upset with her seeing Seungmin because you have feelings for her. You do realise she felt the same way seeing you with Lia, right? So, what does that tell you?" With those words hanging in the air, Felix left Hyunjin standing there, the pieces slowly falling into place in his mind.

Wait, does that mean she feels the same?

The soft chime of incoming messages interrupted your preparations for the date with Seungmin. You checked your phone to find a series of texts from Hyunjin, desperation evident in his words. He insisted that he needed to meet you urgently, that there was something important he needed to discuss.

Sighing, you considered ignoring him, determined to focus on your evening with Seungmin. But the messages continued to flood in, Hyunjin's pleas echoing through your phone. You were tired of the emotional rollercoaster, the constant back and forth.

Just as you were about to throw your phone aside, a few more texts flashed across the screen. Hyunjin persisted, wanting to talk to you, to meet with you, 'Please don't go to him.' Frustration welled up in you, but you maintained your resolve.

With a firmness that surprised even yourself, you replied, 'Enough, Hyunjin. I'm going on this date with Seungmin whether or not you like it. You're not stopping me this time.'

As you hit send, a text from Seungmin arrived, informing you that he had arrived.

Fixing your hair one last time, you took a deep breath and made a conscious decision to put thoughts of Hyunjin aside for the night. Tonight was about you and Seungmin, and you were determined to enjoy the evening without the interference of unresolved feelings.

Except it was harder than you think.

The cityscape sparkled with lights as you walked beside Seungmin. Despite the vibrant atmosphere and your date's engaging company, every corner of the city seemed to whisper memories of Hyunjin. You couldn't escape the nostalgia that flooded your mind, remembering the countless times you and your childhood friend had roamed these familiar streets together throughout the years.

It became a bitter realisation that, no matter how much you tried to focus on Seungmin, your mind wandered back to your best friend. The restaurants you passed, the park you strolled through, every place held echoes of shared moments with Hyunjin.

To make matters worse, your phone vibrated incessantly with continuous messages from him. Despite your decision to ignore him, his texts continued to flood in, each one a reminder of his persistence. It tugged at your heartstrings, making it harder to immerse yourself in the date.

As the night progressed, you found yourself in a constant battle between the present and the past, between Seungmin and Hyunjin.

Just why are you doing this to me?

Letting out a tired sigh, you pushed your phone back into your pocket after seeing yet another text from you-know-who. You managed a convincing smile for your date, trying to push away the distraction of Hyunjin's persistent texts. But Seungmin's concern was evident as he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Hey, everything alright?" He asked, his eyes reflecting genuine care. Your heart twinged with guilt for letting your emotions surface so easily. Nodding your head, you quickly regained your composure.

"Yep, all good. Ooh, let's go see that over there!" You pointed towards an intriguing stall, its shelves filled with peculiar items. You hoped the novelty would distract Seungmin—and, in turn, yourself—from the underlying tension of the night.

As you both explored the colourful array of trinkets and curiosities, you did your best to be present, banishing the persistent thoughts of a certain someone. Little did you know, Seungmin observed your efforts with concern, hoping to make the evening memorable for you.

Fingers intertwined with yours, he gently tugged you away from the crowd to a quieter corner by the beautiful Hangang River. The distant city lights reflected on the water's surface, casting a serene glow on both of you.

There, you stumbled upon a talented busker passionately pouring their heart into a soulful melody. Seungmin's eyes sparkled with delight as he guided you to a spot where you could enjoy the performance undisturbed.

In that moment, surrounded by the soothing music and the gentle night breeze, you smiled shyly. His presence felt warm and comforting, and for an instant, all you could see was him. He truly was a great guy, someone who could be the perfect boyfriend.

You could see it, see yourself being happy with him.

Until you couldn't.

The busker's next song struck a chord deep within you, a familiar melody that wrapped around your heart like a haunting echo from the past. It was your song, the one you and Hyunjin had dedicated to each other; it signified how much you meant to one another.

As the singer's voice carried the tune, memories of late-night talks, stolen glances, and the warmth of Hyunjin's presence flooded your mind. It was a bittersweet reminder of a connection that ran far deeper than you'd allowed yourself to acknowledge.

You knew you were hopeless when a voice you knew too well from behind you called out your name.

Hwang Hyunjin stood there, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of emotions that mirrored your own inner turmoil. The shattered fragments of the future you envisioned with Seungmin lay scattered like a broken mirror, and there was no escaping the truth that had resurfaced with the haunting melody.

Turning to face him, you knew you were a lost cause the moment you laid your eyes on him. You had no control over how your heart instantly reacted to merely seeing him.

Seungmin's smile faltered, his grip on your hand loosening. The sudden shift didn't escape your notice, and when you looked up at him with tearful eyes, you found a bittersweet understanding in his gaze. His hand gently patted your head, a comforting gesture that carried an unspoken message.

"It's okay. Follow your heart, go to him," He said, his voice soft and understanding. His reassuring smile attempted to dispel any guilt you might feel, "Don't apologise, please. From the beginning, it was clear that your heart belonged to someone else. I knew that, and I just wanted to try my luck winning it over. But it's alright; I can tell this whole time, it's still with him."

His words lingered in the air, carrying both acceptance and a touch of melancholy. Hyunjin, who had been silently observing, began to view your date in a different light. Felix's insight had been right; Seungmin was a great guy.

Giving your hand a final, supportive squeeze, Seungmin nodded encouragingly at Hyunjin before walking off into the night.

The atmosphere around you seemed to shift, the distant sounds of the city melting away as Seungmin left you alone with Hyunjin and the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Great, he's gone now. Are you happy?! What is it that's so freaking urgent that you had to ruin my date—"

Before you could process the mix of emotions, Hyunjin closed the distance between you. Your anger bubbled up at his apparent interruption, but he cut through your words with a revelation that shook you to your core.

"I'm in love with you, okay?!"

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, the world stopped. You looked at him, your heart pounding, thoughts racing.

The truth that lingered beneath the surface had finally surfaced, leaving you both vulnerable and exposed. As the weight of his words settled in, you found yourself at a loss for how to respond.

Time seemed to come to a standstill.

You stood there, eyes wide, trembling, as the weight of his words sank in, "Wh-what?" You croaked, almost disbelieving. You feared your mind might be playing tricks on you.

Hyunjin softened, reaching gently for your hands, "I said, I'm in love with you. Always have been. It's... it's always been you. I should've known when I couldn't stop thinking about you even when I was with Lia. I'm sorry it took me this long to realise."

Your eyes rounded at the sincerity in his voice as he continued, "And I know that you feel exactly the same way I do."

You scoffed lightly at his confidence, "And how would you know that?"

He smiled, his gaze unwavering, "Tell me I'm wrong then. Tell me I've never once crossed your mind while you were with Seungmin."

You huffed in defeat, and he brought a hand up to cup your face, making you meet his gaze, "It has been painful watching you be with him, but I deserved it after making you watch and help me chase after Lia. I'm an idiot. I don't know how I've been so blind to my own feelings all this while."

You chuckled, placing your hand over his affectionately, "Believe it or not, I'm not much better. I didn't realise I loved you until Lia came around too."

His heart skipped a beat at your words, and he rested his forehead against yours, "Say that again."

You frowned, "Say what? That I'm no better than you?"

He laughed, "Not that. What you said after that."

You blinked slowly, "That I... love you?"

He nodded, biting his lip, "Again."

You blushed, murmuring, "I love you, you idiot."

His heart soared at that, "I love you too." Before you knew it, you were both leaning in, and your breath was taken away when you finally felt his lips pressed against yours. The world seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of you and the shared realisation of a love that had been there all along.

Hyunjin took you home, and the journey was a blur of stolen kisses, laughter, and the promise of a future that was now crystal clear. He kissed you dizzy at your doorstep, a sweet and lingering moment that left you breathless.

As you unlocked your front door, still feeling the warmth of his touch on your lips, you couldn't shake the need to address things with Seungmin. Despite the confusion of your emotions, you felt responsible for any unintentional hurt you might have caused.

Pulling out your phone, you composed a long text to Seungmin, expressing your sincerest apologies for leading him on, even when that wasn't your intention.

His reply came not long after, and you felt relief as you read his understanding words. Seungmin reassured you that he cherished the friendship you both had and was genuinely happy for you. You sighed, grateful that he handled it with such grace, and responded with a heartfelt thank you.

The weight on your shoulders lifted, knowing that at least one aspect of the situation was resolved amicably.

As the night settled in, you found yourself sitting by your window, a gentle breeze carrying the promise of a fresh start. Texts from Hyunjin lit up your screen, each message carrying a piece of the happiness that now coloured your world.

You smiled, realising that sometimes, the best things in life were the ones that took time to unfold.

The following week, you and Hyunjin walked into school hand in hand, a couple at last. The shift in your relationship wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. It has always been clear to most people that there was something slightly more between you; Hyunjin's protective nature and constant presence by your side made it obvious, that the love he had for you was different from Felix's platonic one.

The subtle hints that hung between you two over the years were now out in the open, and the school could finally witness the natural progression from best friends to something more.

Felix, stationed by his locker with an amused smirk, "Finally! I was this close to losing my patience waiting for you fools to realise you belonged together." His words carried a teasing tone, but there was genuine happiness in his eyes as he looked at the two of you.

Hyunjin chuckled, "Thanks, Lix. I won't lie, we probably wouldn't have been together yet if it weren't for you."

You nodded in agreement, "For real, you're the best," Grateful for the support and nudges from Felix, you jumped into his open arms, embracing him with genuine warmth. He grinned teasingly at your boyfriend as he hugged you back tightly, "I sure am."

Hyunjin, feigning jealousy, cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, that's enough! Hands off my girlfriend." He pulled you back into his arms, giving you a playful glare. You giggled, basking in the joy of finally being able to show your affection openly. The three of you shared a moment, knowing that this new chapter in your lives had been a long time coming.

The laughter-filled atmosphere at the lunch table spoke volumes about the comfort and happiness that had settled into your lives. With your boyfriend sitting by your side and your best friend across from you, the three of you enjoyed the moment.

Felix, ever the playful instigator, decided to bring up a memory, "Hey, remember when you said you had no interest in dating? Funny how things turned out, now look at you."

You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes at his persistent teasing. Just as you were about to feed Hyunjin some of your kimchi fried rice, you paused midway, giving Felix a mock glare, "How many times have we been over this? Give it a rest, will you?"

Hyunjin whined at the interruption, and you turned to feed him with a coo, making him smile. Felix burst into laughter, thoroughly entertained, "Nope, I'll never let you live this down."

Your boyfriend swallowed the food in his mouth before throwing a tangerine at Felix, "Leave her alone and pick on someone your own size, Lee Yongbok."

Felix shook his head amusingly, catching the fruit in his hand, "Okay, okay, sheesh."

Amid the laughter and light banter, Felix suddenly shifted the mood, his expression turning serious, "Hey, on a serious note, you two. I just want you to know how genuinely happy I am for both of you. I wish you nothing but the best, and I hope you'll be together for a really long time. You both mean the world to me and your happiness is what matters most."

Hyunjin wrapped an arm around you and nodded, "I promise, Lix, I'll take care of her for as long as I'm capable of doing so."

Your eyes grew a bit wet at the sincerity of their words. Just as the moment was turning emotional, Felix, in his typical fashion, couldn't resist adding a touch of humour, "Oh, and by the way, if you have a kid, name them after me. Felix has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

You and Hyunjin stared at him, unamused, for a brief moment before bursting into laughter. Without missing a beat, you both reached over to give him a playful smack, "Dream on, Lix."

Deciding to go on a date after school, the two of you waved your best friend goodbye before skipping off in the opposite direction.

Swinging your intertwined hands, Hyunjin couldn't help but pout at the thought of your gaming plans with Seungmin over the weekend, "Can't you hang out with me instead of gaming with Seungmin, hm?" He asked, a playful whine in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, a teasing smile playing on your lips, "Jinnie, please, you're the one who told me the importance of maintaining our own lives outside of our relationship, right?"

He sputtered for a moment, caught off guard, "W-well, I mean, yeah, I did but—"

You shook your head, cutting off his protest with a gentle finger pressed against his lips, "No 'buts.' I'm playing with Seungmin, and you can't stop me."

Turning to continue walking, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you against him. With a gasp, you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, "Really? You'd rather play games with some other guy than do this with your own boyfriend?" He murmured, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of something more.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, kissing you with an intensity that caught you by surprise. Your knees buckled, and you would have fallen if it hadn't been for his strong hold on you. Your eyes fluttered closed almost instantly as you melted into the kiss, all thoughts of gaming and Seungmin fading away.

When he pulled away, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, he gazed at your dazed state, "Tell me, is gaming better than this, hm?" He teased, his voice carrying a playful tone.

Lost in the trance of the moment, you shook your head, feeling his lips brush against yours before he kissed you again. The sensation was electrifying, but if Hyunjin thought he had won you over with that, he was severely mistaken.

Because when the weekend came around, and you were immersed in your gaming session with Seungmin, no amount of kisses from Hyunjin could distract you from the digital world you were exploring. As much as you loved the moments with your boyfriend, your passion for gaming was a part of who you were, and it was a promise you intended to keep.

But you did let him come over while you game.

Hyunjin pouted as he watched you talk excitedly into the mic on your headset, your enthusiasm evident in every word you spoke to Seungmin. Despite his initial playful complaints about being abandoned for games, he couldn't fight the smile that grew on his face.

As you laughed and strategised with Seungmin, Hyunjin appreciated how genuinely happy you were in these moments. He understood that your passion for gaming was a significant part of who you were, and he respected that.

Seated beside you, he immersed himself in his own world of sketches and drawings. The atmosphere was filled with the sound of your laughter and the clicking of his pencil against the paper. He was content, knowing that you were both doing things you loved, even if they were very different. Being by your side was all that mattered to him. And as he glanced at you with a soft smile, he thought, maybe, opposites do attract after all.

He couldn't resist leaning over to plant a kiss on your head as you played. You winked at him in response, making him laugh.

When the long match finally ended in your favour, you jumped up, arms thrown around his neck in triumph, "We won, Jinnie!" You exclaimed, and he cheered alongside you, savouring the victory.

As you celebrated, Hyunjin sneakily wrapped his arms around you and whispered, "Should I reward you for doing such a good job?" A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

You gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth when you heard a loud groan through your headset. Seungmin's voice echoed, and you realised he could still hear you with the mic unmuted, "Ew, I really didn't need to hear that. My day's completely ruined now, thanks."

"Shut up, Seungmin. You've been hogging my girlfriend all day. Can I have her back already?" Hyunjin scolded, and your face turned a shade of red.

Seungmin laughed good-naturedly, "Fine, she's all yours."

Hyunjin grinned in victory as you ended the call with Seungmin, and he wasted no time pulling you back into his arms as soon as you logged out of the game.

"Damn right, she is. All mine."

I'll be honest, this slightly strayed from the initial direction that I was gonna go for, but I'm happy with how it ended.

Thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

#edenesth #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids hyunjin #non idol au #high school au #best friends to lovers #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot

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ericshoney · 4 months

Text

Late night drive ~ Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: Lack of sleep/insomnia, anxiety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another normal day you had spent with your favourite people. The triplets had been filming a vlog during the day, which you appeared in as well since it was just all of you going out and about. You had loved the day with the guys and as usual, planned on spending the night at their place.

However, the past few weeks, you have struggled with your sleep. You knew the guys would stay up till the early hours of the morning before sleeping until the next day, which you would also do. But recently you have been staying up longer than the boys and sometimes not sleeping at all.

You tried to pin point what the cause of it could be. You knew work had been stressful lately and your anxiety had been going up and down, you also didn't want to burden the guys, knowing they had their own things going on.

So here you were. Another night of probably little to no sleep. It had just turned 5am and you were sat on the sofa scrolling through your phone. You hadn't slept the day before, so you were hoping all the scrolling would help you doze off.

"Hey."

You jump slightly as you see Matt walk in from his room, wearing a white t-shirt and blue pyjama bottoms.

"Hey." You replied quietly.

"Your still awake." Matt stated as he walked over, his white socks silent on the floor.

"Um, yeah. I was about to go to sleep." You lied, trying to make it look like you were setting the sofa up to sleep.

"One, you always sleep in either mine or Nick's bed and two, your a terrible liar." He said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Just can't sleep." You mumbled, playing with your phone.

"For how long?" He asked softly.

"Few weeks." You admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He asked, sitting next to you.

"I didn't want to burden you with it. You all have your own things going on." You answered.

"Kid, your our best friend, my best friend. If your struggling you know I'm always here for you, so are Nick and Chris." He said gently.

"I know, I'm sorry." You apologised.

"Don't be sorry. How about a drive?" He suggests.

"You sure?" You asked, worried about his own sleep.

"Positive, come on." He answered, pulling you up of the sofa.

You both slipped some shoes on as Matt grabbed the keys off the hanger as you both got into the car, Matt starting the engine as he drove off.

It was quiet in the car, music played softly at a low volume. You looked out the window as Matt just drove, not having a particular place in mind.

After an hour of driving, Matt glanced at you to see your eyes slowly closing. He smiled knowing you had finally started to drift off to sleep, so he began driving home.

When he parked up in the garage and turned the engine off, Matt looked over to see you fully asleep now. He got out and slowly picked you up, being careful not to wake you as he carried you to his bedroom and taking your shoes off. He kicked his own off before laying besides your sleeping form.

"Night sweetheart." He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo fanfic #fluff #platonic #friendship #xreader #fem!reader #best friends #au #sturniolo triplets #insomina #anxiety

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l0mljeonjungkook · 2 years

Text

Reward (JJK X Reader)

Summary - Loving Jungkook secretly is what you have been doing for years. Your best friend never left your side, and neither did you. You received the e-mail, you two were waiting for. Granted, you don't wanna leave his side, not now, not ever. So, concluding to give this heart-clenching news to Jungkook, you're here standing right outside his glass window, however, what's in front of your eyes isn't what you expected from him, not today at least.

Guess what worst could happen? When he finds you, drooling behind the glass window? Wrong timings, poor you. You were here to surprise him, except the reward he offers you isn't in the way you desired it to be, however, you can't deny it.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, dom!jk, hair pulling, choking, fingering, spanking, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, without protection, aftercare, praise, clit spank (a lot of spanking actually) (I'm sorry)

Genre - best friends to lovers

Pairing - Jungkook / reader

Rating - 18+ ( MINORS DNI 🔞)

Word count - 10k+

Masterlist || Wattpad || ao3

You're so heartwarmingly cheery to fill his not only ears with the news but lips with a bright beam that only lightens your day and soul, but the same news shrinks your heart at the same time, why??

Going to University, sure that's what you dreamt of for so long before your heart agreed that the affection you feel for your best friend is not just some care or friendship but - love, but forthwith your dream which you fed with your love, your sweat, your tears, your hard work, and your time is in your hand right now, on your mail.

You certainly want to share it with him, but you aren't sure about it, whether you should or not, surely he'll be the happiest and maybe more than you, and thats what shakes your soul, questioning you.

Are you really prepared for going to the new place where you won't even get a sight of him the way you get right now?

Every day?

The answer is a million times - No!

Are you ready for that? Certainly not!

Will you survive? Not even a heartbeat!

In your heart, you two are together in there living happily ever after with your best friend, who's living next to your apartment, except that there's a wall between your apartments. A bridge of stones between two souls, a dam between two hearts overflowing with love for one another, two friends who are wildly in love with each other yet oblivious.

You two are like one body and two souls, never alone. People know if they saw one of you at parties there's no shadow of a doubt that the second ain't there. Jealous filthy whores, burn on smolder of their burning hearts with envy, on seeing you with the sexiest yet kindest guy at your university, and you ain't less than a fucking bitch, clinging to Jungkook's arms around them made your blood tainted with serene reach to all the ends of your body.

You two, unhesitatingly and tirelessly stood by each other - through every thick and thin, shared every emotion, every little secret which was meant to be buried was ever buried between you two, defending each other not merely in front of douchebags but also, in front of your teachers, and parents too if all else fails.

This is what you treasured since kindergarten, you two had an unbreakable bond. Then why won't anyone be jealous of you two?

But this guy had an issue with you whenever you were in a relationship with someone, Jungkook never let you breathe in peace.

"You've changed",

"you're my best friend first then his girlfriend",

But your favorite to date - those words that still pool the heartwarming rush of warmth between your legs "leave him, we both are enough for one another" and whatnot.

Save for the fact, this guy won't let you stay here after knowing what this really means to you, but he doesn't know this about your mind, you left that dream, the day your drunk neighbor - your best friend confessed what your heart's been alarming you.

That - "I love you, since the day you came in my life y/n when we were friends, then you followed me", he took a sip of wine from his cup, " all the way from Busan to Seattle," he chuckles, "with-- your bags in one hand and the keys in another to the apartment next to mine, since then my-- my life--".

This is what he whisperingly confessed in your ear and all the drunkenness you wooed from boozing six cups of wine all that headed to the hills at those three words. Hereafter, your soul screams at those unsatisfactorily unfinished words and now you curse your bestie Yoongi every fucking night for bringing another cup of alcohol that led him to eat those words back again. You don't get it why is Jungkook has been treasuring those words? My life - what my life, you want to know what all he has in his heart. Those three words, I love you - seeped into your soul, have been living there with your love for him, since then.

But the heart-shattering truth - that asshole doesn't remember at all.

That sometimes soothes you but 99.999% time heats your soul, your skin, and your body to the nuclear level.

Jungkook, still waiting for the news of you being accepted to the University with receiving a full-tuition scholarship, was only making him quiz you every fucking day. This was not solely yours but now his dream too as if he wants you out of his sight or mayhaps... mayhaps is waiting for what you have been waiting and it's better to put an end to those questions.

And the reason why you decide to jump from your balcony to his is that's what you two always do. At any time of the day, whether day or night, though you don't intend to interfere in either's privacy you two haven't learned anything than being the irksome element in either's life. Not banging the doors to meet the other, you two jump from your balcony to the other and bang the windows of either room.

Whenever you peep inside through the window, you either find him eating or playing fucktons of games on his mobile. Presently, you were going to hammer the window to make him know who's here, but, today, it's different, you retreive your hand back as your mouth forms an O, and by different, this is not what you expected him to do.

A fever of epiphany laced with ardor cruised through your skin vibrating all your senses to the core as your eyes couldn't believe what they are beholding, they yearned to see for so long.

Jungkook lying on the bed, his eye shut, his breaths rushing at high speed, his teeth grinding, as you absorb the dark shadow of his jaw and the defined curves of his cheeks. Groans vibrate in his chest as moans claws out of his lips, the way you want to consume them inside you.

His bare chest makes you drool every time you eye him to no length, heaving breathlessly, and his hand... His hand is what your eyes are hungrily fixed at.

His - hand - on - his - groin, actively on a job you dream to do for him every day but beyond that, it's for you. "Oh, boy let me do that for you", you murmur under your hitched breath, choking on your spit.

And seeing him like that, only so much makes you imagine yourself getting wall-banged by your best friend. That look on his face is making you touch yourself as the heat between your legs is pooling your heartbeats that are floating, there's always a but and it is at present too, you're probably standing outside of his bedroom you have two choices either bang his door and ride it.

Or,

Turn around, and follow the path that leads you here, make your way to your room and do what you have been doing for years since you learned about your feelings for him.

Yes . Go . Back . And . Toss . Yourself . Off. Is what going on in your head!!!

Your hand ached to be where his hand was, touch it, put it in your mouth and suck it --- "JESUS, enough", you hiss, was that loud? Retrieving your hand which was between your thighs a second ago "I need to learn, whatever this is, it's from my side, probably he doesn't see me more than his friend."

You're not around him, but you can feel his proximity like an electric hum. Just seeing him masturbating, flares a firestorm inside you heating your reproductive organs, making them hungry for him touch, for his mouth.

Oh, that mouth, you saw gasping minutes ago, the same mouth that laughs with you, kisses you sometimes but makes you want to kiss them every time you're with him, his head dropped back and those unholy lips roar your name like no other person ever could, laced with honey syrup, but not right now, presently, not lacing your name with honey but the darkness in his voice, hearing your name from those lips sends a shiver through you. The potency of your name on his lips, his heavy breaths, and his moans rile you up, sending waves of heat down to your core. You feel the dampness between your legs.

Jungkook jacking off his meat, eyes shut, and his lips summoning your name in a countless filthily unholy way. . . decimating the pictures of his innocence from your mind and voices of him calling you awfully sweetly.

But what you just saw cools down the fire to zero and can't be misunderstood because that was the last thing you wanted to happen amongst every other stuff.

"Oh, fuck, did he just see me", taking a step back, you murmur, because face this, your JESUS, enough actually slipped through this glass window across the room to his ears. You wonder why didn't he react, waiting for an honest answer to that question, looking back at him you find him zipping up with one hand, and picking up his phone with another.

Your phone rings in your hand, and you glance at it, dread seeping through your wide alarmed eyes. You look at him, then your eyes fall back on your ringing phone and back at him again.

He's eyeing you, does this call means he knows I saw him jerking off? Holy shit. That heart-stopping grin on his face, tells you nothing more than a yes in return for what you asked.

You meet your eyes on the glass, reflecting the enormous expression of shock in them. The only glass creating a distance between you two, the only thing that kept him from your filthy drooling mouth minutes ago or might change those words to - the only glass that let you watch him like that.

You blink your eyes twice looking directly into his seductively dark eyes through a glass window, that unfamiliar darkness in those brown eyes, his furrowed brows, is alien to you, as you're friendly enough with his puppy eyes. The ringing phone in your hand channels you back. He's still watching your every moment biting his pierced lips, and motioning you over with his fore and middle fingers. God, I want them deep inside me. Shut the fuck up.

You open the door and force your shivering feet into his room, "hey", strengthening your usual way of meeting him like you both usually do, with a bang on his door, letting him know about the storm you are, is at his place to suck away his peace for the rest of the day. But you hate the quiver in your voice.

Today you're every other synonym of dumb, every other name for vulnerable, and every coy term for being terrified as you notice your shaky voice, yet you kept walking towards him, your damp thighs rubbing together transporting you right behind the glass window and your lustful eyes are to be blamed for what is going to happen next, you do want this but never like this, you didn't wish - for this - like this, never.

His eyes track your path to him watching your exposed thighs as you're wearing nothing but his shirt which you took without his permission, last week to be precise, "Ugh, I -- I--", you wave your hand holding the phone, unintentionally showing off the mail, displayed on your phone's screen, gripping it hard to dear life, this is the only moment to let him know why you were here in the first place, "this uh Jungkookie I got--".

"Call me, Jungkook", his voice is rough, as he stands in front of you, holding your unblinking gaze, but that seductiveness you saw earlier is picking up the pace.

Oh shit, is he angry. You don't want this. Speak up you bitch, spill spill spill, god dammit. Sweat trickles down your spine, and you can feel it running down the lane.

Is this his heat-raising gooseflesh on my skin, or his eyes that are poking holes into my soul, or his deep throaty voice to call him Jungkook? But why, he's your friend, it's up to you whatever you please to, you can.

"Jungkook, I can explain, I'm sorry I didn't mean to--"

He saw your phone and probably understood the reason why you were here in the first place, raising his hand between you both motioning you to place your phone in his hand.

I won't, moreover, I don't have to do this, he's probably going nuts, let him be. I'll do what pleases me.

You rather like this Jungkook, pissing him off is now your favorite thing to do every day. You cross your arms around your chest keeping your phone from his sight, you certainly dropped your brain at his doorstep before entering.

"I won't repeat." His voice is above par right now, "Your phone. Right now. On my hands."

"But you'll have to listen to me first Kook, don't assume fucking shit when you actually dont know the real--"

He motions himself closer to you, just an inch away, he leans his face close to your ears, "I said call me Jungkook, and assume? Really Y/N, you wanna know about my assumptions about what I saw, or let's talk about your sight?"

Closing the distance between you two, he moves closer to you, leans and his breathy words melt away all valor from your body turning it into sweat dripping from your forehead, gliding down to your cheeks. He rubs it away with a demonic grin on his pierced lips, "don't get nervous, and don't make me make you go all wet, from head to all the way down your spine, to your pretty toes, princess", he looks deep into your eyes, then his gaze falls on your lips, he grazes your lower lips with his thumb, "now, give your phone."

Without wasting another second you do what he expects. You hold your breath and avert your eyes, "I got selected Jungkookie I--", your voice shivers and you press your eyes shut, just to open them, "I mean Jungkook--"

"I know, and when did you get this?", lifting his eyes from your phone in his hand to your face, his face glowing in the heat of lust you haven't seen earlier - bedroom eyes, drowning in hunger and sin. This is the look I saw when he was in the throes of orgasms -- jerking off, luscious and wild.

"Can't recall", you try to calm your voice, "probably an hour or a few maybe", noticing a wicked glint liting his eyes makes your blood heat and your cheeks daubed in the pink flush and warmth oozing through his body.

Closing the distance between you two, he slowly ominously directed his footsteps towards you. Setting one foot before the other on the move. You abstractedly backpedal, whilst he didn't break the pace, he pursued you.

Touching the ground of your friendship, chasing you - whenever you get angry or trying to invest more of your time in your stupid exes. Since day one, he never let you stay off.

He possesses the power over you, habitually, the language of his eyes is only known to your eyes, he doesn't need to drop the words out of his luscious lips, your eyes are better at unriddling those unavowed words. The main cause of jealousy growing roots and venomous flowers into the sour heart of all the girls out there who are crushing on your best friend, your love, is seeing - the intimacy between your eyes, between you and Jungkook.

You kept backtracking, and he never ceased to advance, his features stern and somber, a heart-halting grin on his pierced lips and his tendons hiding his dark eyes hindering your sight, to eye those sinful gazes.

You swear to god, you saw an emotion you have never seen in his pristine and flawless features, ardor in his lustful gaze.

Bang, your back hit the door to the cage you break into, you gasp, and your hands obliviously uprise in defense. He seizes them and pins them right atop your head.

In an eyeblink, he spins you away. You wiggle with your back to him and your sweaty palms with the heat between you two are flat on the wooden door, "Jungkookie--", you only manage to utter his name before he shushes you.

You feel his chest vibrating against your back breathing roughly heatedly, his lips meet your right ear as a shiver runs down to the south. He blows out a breath lashing at your neck. When he speaks in his deep husky voice, "I said call me Jungkook. You lost dominance of calling me Jungkookie from", his free hand travels from the south of your body to the north - your lips, by tracing them with his thumb, "these precious little lips", you feel his rich baritone vibrating in his chest sipping out and ingress into yours through the seam tangling your body with his.

"I. . . I'm sorry Jungkook, listen to me on--"

He hushes you again, as he leans his face deep, "it's not the correct time to call me Jungkook, either", he commands in his gruffly sexy voice making you lock your legs to keep them from wobbling, "call me what pleases me."

"I. . . don't know, your girlfriend might be familiar with what pleases you, call her to fill yourself with all your needs, Jungkook."

His free hand swims back to your thighs gathering the hem of his plaid shirt around your thighs in his fist, heaving it up just above the waistband of your black thongs, bunching around your waist. "I know, but what if I'm bored with her, her presence, what if I want," he grabs your ass and pinches it, "this, right now", he rubs his lips against your ears, "what if I want every word from your lips."

His hands travel back between your plump thighs caressing your cotton-like skin, his gentle nuzzles are barely a caress, unleashing the beast you locked in you.

Drawing circles between your now damp thighs. Each seam of contact between your skin is nothing more than a hot melting wax on your skin, with just a mere touch it just not burns but bruises, a bruise you want to savor every second of your day, you want to earn from only him.

An unendurable yet satiating pressure pinching inside you, simmering, tingling, intimidating to burst. As you clench your thighs together, wriggling with urgency,"Kook, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt y--"

"You should have thought this before covering this body with my shirt", he leans, as he whispers, "before watching me jerking off", he presses his body against your back, meaning to remind you of your deeds, "stop calling me that, I warn you for the last time", he grabs your ass, "I'm throwing off two options in front of you", he presses his body hard this time, harder for you to ignore, "either daddy or sir, whichever works for you." Words puff out of his mouth laced with a warmish breath that ruffles your hair brushing against your skin.

Your eyes widen at the mere word daddy because you love to call him daddy when you touch yourself. The word sends waves of heat across your ass.

His fingers curl around your waist, touching your skin like it's sacred for him to touch, hooking into the waistband of your thongs but this time you give him what you craved for so long as you yank your butt tight against his thick erection. Your body instantly reacts to his body even though his starched pants failed to separate you two. Heating, pulsing, thumping desperately waiting to explode. You arch your spine, pressing your hips against his cock.

His left hand on your wrist atop your head snakes down your arms, unhurriedly, rising chill bumps to wherever he touches as he grabs your hips. Your flat palm on the door, warm and sweaty, you tightly close your fist, fingernails biting into your palms. You yank open, as your fingernails burry into the wooden door making a shrieking sound.

His mouth goes back to your ear, tracing it with his tongue, sailing down to your neck, teasing and kissing sensitive skin, rousing you with the rush of his heated breath, "told you millions of times before, this is probably the last, feed this in your head - there's nothing between me and Hana."

Tilting your head for him to earn his kisses on every inch of your neck, "your room smells like her", your eyes shut, as you murmur, unable to conceal the ache in your voice, "Probably she'd be on her way."

"She's getting engaged to Minjun next month, don't bring her name right now," he continues kissing and licking your sensitive skin below your lobe, his groans filling his room.

"Mhm"

"So what did you decide," he whispers and the next thing makes you moan as he bites your lobe.

"Kook... Fuck." You breathe heavily as he presses a kiss on the blade of your shoulder, "did you... Did you just say something?"

"Daddy or sir?" His warm breaths tingle your skin.

"Da-- daddy"

"Good girl", his commanding voice vibrates the air around you two.

"Koo--, Dadd--", you submissively shut your eyes biting your lips, he hums resting his chin on your shoulder, briefing you to continue, "Daddy, I-- I'm nervous", you whisper.

"Oh," he bites onto your shoulder blade, "you should be, princess", he kisses you.

Standing right behind you, body-to-body, his chest to your back, his hard dick pressing against your ass and you wish nothing more but to feel - skin-to-skin for his shirt is the only barrier separating you two. He unbuttons his shirt on your skin, motioning from south to north, from the last button around your waist, then the second last, in an unrushed motion. "Y/N", he whispers into your ear.

And you hum, eyes still shut, you don't want this to fade away it looks like nothing but a dream to you.

"Do you wanna know what am gonna do with you", barely the first three buttons left for him to unbutton.

"Ye-- Yes", you choke on your breath.

He halts his motion of unfastening the buttons, sliding his veiny tattoed hand inside your shirt with a thought to unhook your bra, but your bare breast makes him flinch, very unexpectedly.

"I'm gonna tear your pussy in half," his voice raging with heat, lust, and sin.

You groan, trying to hide it you hold your breaths.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe", he whispers into your ear and you do as he says, you take a deep audible breath that makes him rub his dick against your ass.

The next thing is unexplainable, you didn't expect him to do this... Just minutes ago you felt he was doing nothing but playing with you, his usual touching, kissing you on every exposed part that's in front of him, but this... His huge veiny tattoed hand sank into your thongs, Jesus Christ his cold fingers... Fuck his cold fingers slide over your warm clit pressing into your folds, "yesss", you moan shutting your eyes. Your fingers curl harder, messing up for you to stand on your toes.

Coating his cold fingers with your warm wetness as he pulls out his hand, "fucking wet, because of me jerking off?", moving it beneath your shirt, he grabs your soft nipples, between his fore and mid-finger concealing your bud with the wetness he just daubed his fingers into, "Jungkook, fuckkk."

His other hand grabs your throat, yanking your head back to his shoulder, "say daddy". All the while his mouth continues nipping your skin, biting below your lobe, and licking the bruises to calm the delicately sensitive spot beneath your ear.

"Daddy", an unholy grin on your lips, as if calling him daddy satiates you above par.

He's jarring his unseen dark side to your senses, briefing you with all the dark concealed secrets of him, stored in a box and locked, kept deep inside his soul.

"Do you wanna know why?"

"Yes",

He presses his hard groin against your ass, "say, yes daddy," he hisses.

"Ye-- Yes, Daddy", you mirror his words submissively, very unlawful of you.

"You did a great job princess, got selected, and made me proud, so you need to be rewarded and your desires to be satiated. So this is your reward, princess. A reward, I was hungrily waiting to leave on your body, mark on your skin, bury inside your soul and bruise your skin for you to relive every time you feel them on your skin."

"But Jungkook, I don't want to leave this place, leave you here", you are awfully sad about the fact that you won't get a sight of him, after leaving this place, but right now the unworldly lust, thirst, and hunger for him has taken you over from all the other-worldly reasons of you not being with him, only making you focus what you're getting right at this moment.

He hushes you, "be with me right here, right now, I'm not leaving you anytime soon, Princess." He kisses your shoulder, his words akin to your heart, and this time you not only feel the care in his words but a promise, an unbreakable promise.

He flattens your spine against him, his hand leaving your swollen nipple and sinking his hand under your thong slowly teasing you, working his veiny hands and expert fingers on your pretty little swollen pussy, you soak up your damn thongs, as he plays with your slit and teases your opening.

"soaking up your panties, princess", he groans against your hair.

The palm on your throat now feels warm on your skin, keeping your head tucked against his shoulder.

Playing with your dousing clit, you squirm abstractedly as you're bumbling to stand on your toes, his body and the door are the foremost help for your body. Noticing your struggle, he makes it arduous for you to lean onto him as he pushes two stiff yet cold fingers inside you.

Jesus, Your heart halts, vision blurs, knees gave out, and your lungs - cave in.

You have never felt more alive. You wonder if this is a really real heaven.

He's invading you, assaulting you, crashing into you with his heat, stroking you with his touch, his digits sinking through flesh and his thirst consuming your whole being.

The next what he does makes your senses active as he shoves your thongs to your thighs as soon as the cool air around you two hits your warm pussy drenched with all the wetness, he fingers you making you whimper, flooding his pink neon-lit room with your moans and heavy breaths. You ache to look into his beautiful eyes, and you see nothing but the wooden door in front of your lewd eyes, "Jungkook, please", you moan for release this time.

But your please halts his every motion, his breath as you feel his heavy chest paused at your mere please as if waiting to release it, and you know, you know if weakness had another name it would be, please for him at least. Not just right now, but whenever you want something from this guy you just need to utter please as whisperingly as you can.

Then he uncovers your barely covered body heeding to your please, shivers, quivers, shakes, trembles, flutters, you felt everything every fucking thing you ever read in books that made you feel all of the same, right now, Jungkook your best friend gave you every shiver, every quiver, every shock, every flutter by just uncovering your body, a yes sounded more like a moan, escapes through your lips giving him all the thumbs up he wanted right now from you.

He sank his hand back between your legs, teasing you, provoking you for you don't know what. Collecting every drop around his fingers as if he isn't in the mood to waste a dripping drop.

Quivering and naked, in front of your best friend - Jungkook!!! You always had your kind side, helpful heart, and been a friend you never have been to someone else - for him, you never reckoned this, but to be honest, you sure yearned for his touch however, this will come so soon to you is in itself a huge shock.

Throbbing heart or pussy or call it your heart is in your pussy right now, thumping dangerously. You grip the doorknob, staring out of the glass window, allowing the street light to pass through it as the light fills up and mixes with pink neon in his room beside the door. The room in neon sounds wild and looks romantic.

"Fuck, Is this real?" You moan, rocking your hips, riding the thurst of his now warm fingers inside you.

"Looks like a dream to me," he presses his body to let you know everything between you two is for real, "don't wanna wake up from this beautiful dream", he whispers into your ear, "do you?"

"Never, but the most beautiful thing is, this isn't a dream kook," you press hard on the doorknob mirroring his motions inside your pussy. His breaths are heady and savory and spicy to your skin as they burn your skin wherever they touch.

He surrounds you. Arms, hands, lips, and his masculine need, his every touch channels your every sense warning you about him everywhere all at once. Your body reacting to him as though you're made for his touch, for him, for Jungkook, your childhood best friend.

Everything he is doing, every kiss, every caress, is a long exhausting ride in the game of torturing, teasing, and seduction. Meanwhilst, you're craving for him to throw you onto his bed that smells of her, you between his fluffy bed and his warm body, and fuck you in every fucking position right away.

You try to hurry him along, but he ain't allowing it. He pins your hands when you touch his hard dick. Instantly smacking your ass as you ground against him. You want to kiss his lips which are right beside your ears, but he isn't going to give them to you, yet. Man won't let you turn around.

Making you filthy little whore for him, desperate to surrender to his will. So standing still, with holding onto the doorknob with dear life, your feet spread apart, and spine arching back at his pull, licking you, kissing you and torturing every inch square of your naked body.

Dropping your head back on his chest, the support of his arms around your body. He cups and knead your breasts and your breath turns heavier with his every kneading, you always wanted him to touch you perhaps this is awfully better than your visions. He pinches your nipples, outlines your breastbone, and strokes the curve of your neck, "they fit perfectly in mine", his hands fuck yes they are! He says seductively into your skin as you feel his words sinking into your skin.

His steely jaw bruises your temples, while he's resting his fingers on your throat and outlining your lips with his thumb. Your head lay back on him, neck stretching back and exposing the valley between your delicate breast as your mouth opens adjusting heavy breaths.

Whatever he is doing, you're basking at this moment, and whatever he wants to do to you you're happily inviting him. He's gliding his feather-light fingers across your cheeks, into your hairline, and around your throat, and back into your hairline he pauses "tell me how much you want this".

"As much as you,"

He yanks you back with his tight grip on your head, "what did you just say?"

"As much as you," you grin knowing what he wants to listen to however, pisssing him off is your game right now.

"You want daddy to play this game hard on you, no?"

"Da-- daddy", you choke on your spit this time, "as much as you want, Daddy", tears escaping from the corner of your eyes.

"Love these tears on your pretty face," he kisses the corner of your eyes, drinking away your tears.

The collar of his hand around your neck, bruising your skin, the only mark of him declaring that you're his. They ain't hurt you but soothe your skin, sliding over your mouth and cheeks again, and suddenly he yanks you back, as you're now backpedaling, he throws you onto his bed, holy shit as his look at his face expression dark with passion.

Climbing onto the bed, his eyes never leave yours. His tongue pokes inside his cheeks. Thirst dripping through his dark brown eyes and you wonder were they really this dark earlier. The bed dips with his weight on it.

Does sensuality, lewdness, lust, and love shifts the color, or is it just you mayhaps you never looked deeper into his eyes earlier, however, you doubt yourself because even in dreams you know every curve, every outline of not only his eyes but his face and now his body and his every other part.

He straddles your thighs. His erection, oh good lord, his erection right between your thighs, you feel like it's poking a hole through his gray sweatpants, that are soaked up with his precum.

You grin, mouth dries up as if that's what you want to quench your thirst.

He mirrors your eyes, as he looks at his soaked pant, leaning closer to your face he grabs your jaw, "what's so funny about it?"

You're still grinning, "you're all soaked up... I'm thinking about your punishment", you arch an eyebrow, "What could it be? What about girlfriend finds out her boyfriend filling his best frie--"

His grip tightens on your jaw, cocking head, leans to your face, and bites your bottom lip, "shut your fucking mouth, don't make me force my cock into your filthy mouth, is that understood?"

You nod.

He doesn't free his leaking cock nor look at it, his eyes voyage from your exposed wet swollen pussy to your eyes then travels back to your bullet-like nipples and back to your lips. He's currently eye fucking you, and you doubt if he is the same Jungkook who was horny like minutes ago. A shiver runs across your exposed body as the air around you suddenly feels icier than before, and his gaze is desirably hot.

His lips separate with the force of his heavy breaths, eyes drifting over you like a vast ocean, heavy and deep, sinking you in lewdness.

"You can't imagine, how many times I've imagined this past few years, you on my bed naked and beautiful, every time I saw you in that yellow dress of yours, I only controlled myself from not ripping it off and grabbing these precious breasts right away," your hands clench hard by just envisioning what he disclosed on the sheets below your body, he leans forward his hand travels from your waist to your breast pinching your nipples a little hard this time, "I wondered what they would feel like, taste like, how would they look with all the hickeys I wanna give, how pretty they'll look all red and bruised up, or how will they look between my teeth", he leans down taking your right nipple between his lips sucking it for few seconds before biting it to the point, to leave a mark, his mark on your nipple.

"Daddyy", your eyes tear up, arousal between your legs torturing you.

He looks right into your eyes, grinning "I love those tears, on your face, for me, get used to it Princess", his chin just above your breast, he continues, "I was envious of your exes, they touched you when I should have", he places a feather-light kiss on your nipple, unknowingly you moan as your thighs clench beneath him he notices but doesn't flinch a bit. "You're mine, princess."

"I've imagined you, too daddy." You finally blurt out, expecting a reaction from him but he gave none. Lifting your hand to reach for his hard length straining his gray pants.

He catches your wrist and lunges forward, his breath hits your skin, his chest hovering on yours and his voice hoarse, "if you touch me, it's all over. I'm barely hanging on." You chuckle, looking at him switching from daddy to your kook within a heartbeat.

His shaky breaths, but cold hand, traces the outer edge of your breast. His other hand traps in your hair as he leans, his eyes on your lips and yours on his, then he tastes your lips.

Gliding his tongue inside your mouth, voyaging every corner of your mouth and you let him, mirroring the motions of his filthy tongue, but you get nothing, but the flavor of his tongue is familiar, you recall while kissing him as he hunts down your tongue catching it and tangling it with his. You follow him, hands on his head, moaning into his mouth licking your taste from his.

The bed frame creeks as he kisses you deeper this time, pulling you closer, seeking you with his fingers, tongue, teeth, and breaths like you are nothing more than his oxygen, silently demanding you take everything he's giving you like you two have been waiting.

"Dang, you actually know how to kiss", you say breathlessly between your kiss, as he pulls back, "now I'm envious of your exes, who tasted you as I should have already."

He chuckles, and just the sound of his chuckle vibrates your body, lighting your body with the rush of love hidden behind your heart all these years.

He leans back grabs your tits and places another kiss, a soft kiss on your lips.

"You taste like strawberries, daddy" your words invite an evil-like grin on his lips.

"Now I taste like you", his words swarm your stomach with thousands of bees.

He places kisses right below your ear, taking a lungful of your cologne, then on your neck deeply breathing in your scent on your skin, your moans fill up his room, and your hands gently roam on his back to his shoulder, achingly wanting to feel his bare back and the other on his head pressing him into your skin. And suddenly, his kisses turn into licking and then biting on your soft skin, unconsciously you dig your nails into his covered shoulder, and your other hand pulls his hair, "daddy, fuckkk, Jungkook", you whine, at the awfully rousing pain, he just gave you. Your arousal drips out of your cunt, warm.

"I need you, Daddy." Tears flood your eyes, as the words tumble out of your quivering lips breathy and unbidden.

"you have me, princess" he softly says into your skin as you feel his warm breath hitting your neck.

He lowers his head and bites your nipple, you yelp, devoured with pain, shaking against unseeable manacles and heading nowhere.

He chuckles and bites again, pulling on the bud with his unholy teeth until it stretches out of shape.

When he moves to the next one, you hold your breath and shake your head clueing him up to not repeat his demonic act. A grin conceals his kindness, as his lips graze your nipple, torturing and his eyes find your eyes with so much need floating in his dark brown eyes.

"Breathe, princess."

The minute you do as he says, he sinks his teeth. You shriek in ache and agony as you buck your hips. You feel his teeth tearing into your sensitive skin, sucking on it harder and boiling your already heated body to the nuclear level.

"Daddy, sto--, stopp Jungkookie. Fuck", your voice shrieker and breathes heavier than before.

Rolling his tongue, he licks the ungodly, unearthly, unholy burn, his voice rasps, "you really want me to stop, Princess."

You shake your head, because you know this, you wanted this for so long and can't deny the fact only from him.

Tears flood your eyes, body achingly shivers. He leans closer to your face and bares his teeth, "say it, and I'll stop."

You suck on your bottom lip and look down on his covered chest, wishing nothing but to tug his t-shirt out of his body.

God forbid, it feels like he sliced your nipples off, but they're right whole on their position, huge, motherfucking hard and rose red. With no drop of blood, he knows what he's doing.

"Where's my little bratty princess from just minutes ago?"

"You bit my poor boobs!" you whine still in incurable pain.

"You just increased your punishment," his thumb rubs on your cheeks softly, "so, take that upon yourself, if I decide on going hard on you, is that understood?"

Jungkook slides off your thighs, to lie beside you, facing you, and kisses you passionately. The heat between your thighs, makes you squirm and the pain in your bruised nipples transports you back to his sinful deed.

The hand on your hair clenches tighter, and his lips stay with yours, each bite of his teeth and roll of his tongue drops an electric shiver to your tongue traveling down to your heated core, making your hands run between your thighs, as you start circling your clit drenched with cum before you go any further he grabs your wrist harder this time and you know it's going to bruise black and blue.

He yanks your hand, with his placing between your swollen lips, you moan into his mouth, and your moan vibrates in his chest. Your fingers grasping at his shoulder.

The station of his thumb stuns you, and your clit throbs against the fiendish pressure he rubs against it. He sinks one, then two fingers inside you, and you squirm against his hand, "Jesus, Jungkook", he loves to remind you, what you need to call him, as he does by pulling out his forefinger, and pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the second finger still inside your warmness.

"Fucking say my name again, say", his finger moving in and out.

"Daddy," you whisper but sounds like a whimper, your skin hot, sensitive, and bare beneath his sinister-like gaze.

"Good lord, you're so wet," he kisses your jawline, slowly placing butterfly kisses on your neck licking your skin softly to your breast as his lips graze above your nipples you jolt with shock noticing you shake, his heart-stopping grin laces his face beautifully, his fingers never rolling out your pussy.

Your hands slip down to reach for his tee. Daring to uncover him, and he didn't fight you this time. His fingers tickles, dancing over your skin, inching every corner of your skin. He leans closer to your lips sucking at your bottom lip, his breaths into your mouth, and you want him now, you want him more than you'd ever wanted anything in your life, more than every intake of oxygen.

He break away and you moan.

"Please, no daddy," your breath hitched, tears escaping your eyes and disappearing between your hairline, "please don't stop."

You fumble at the hem of his tee, clingingly desperate and wild to see him, but he calms your rushing fingers, taking your hand in his, he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles and guide your hand away. Your stomach turned upside down until you realize his grin.

He hushes you, "I'm going to make you mine."

"Make me yours", slipping your hands down to his erection, trying to stab a hole through his pants, "I want to see... You."

"Soon, princess", he says, kissing his way down to your belly, plucking away from your clingy grip, his fingers dancing around your skin.

Sucking your breath like the last drop of water as his fingers snake around your belly, unhurriedly slipping down your thighs, wittingly snubbing your swollen pussy, his mouth atop your wet pussy wilfully hitting his warm breaths on your hot skin, and your stomach twists with his wet kisses on your left thigh.

He leans closer to your pussy, watching the closeness of his mouth around your vagina your hands move into his hairline grabbing them, "I can smell you, princess. So wet." You moan, when his words slip out of his lips.

"Only for you, Daddy."

Your thighs are hot and clammy. You shake when his finger outlines the slit of your pussy, raising cold shivers across your body. Teasing your sweet pussy with nothing but his breaths, pressing his palms against your thighs, caressing and coaxing you wide for him to inhaling deep lungfuls of your wet.

"Swollen and all wet for me," he spreads you with his fingers. His hands caressing your skin, and yours nuzzling his hair.

Your tender pussy glistens with the pink neon lights and appears in all shades of pink.

Teasing you, like no one, running his thumb around your heated vagina, so gently, touching everywhere but your clit and your ragged breaths feeding him, boosting his lust.

"Daddy, please..." Your whisper.

"I always imagined your pussy, thought it was pretty but this in front of me is beautiful, princess."

"Jungko--... Daddy touch me."

He runs his tongue along your wetness giving your clit the faintest stroke. You shiver, and shock conceals your expression as your hands reach down and hold him to yourself.

And now he won't stop, he kisses you, sucking your wet dripping out as he's moving his tongue up and down, from side to side, in every direction every inch square of your swollen pink clit giving you jolts of currents that climbs your spine, and you arch. His tongue gives wet strokes until you're moving with him.

Jungkook's wet his finger and pushed one inside, but your tight pussy, clenches. You catch your breath. "Relax, princess", he whispers to soothe you. He looks up at you, your eyes are shut.

"Princess, look at me", you slowly open your eyes and met his breathtaking dark brown eyes. And you wish nothing but him to be yours.

"Just relax", he soothes you again, "enjoy this."

He works his fingers so slowly, teasing another inside, but you're so tight he couldn't push it in. He uses his mouth, tickling and sucking in a smooth rhythm until all the tension leaves you.

You begin to grind at his face, however, he continues at the same pace, keeping his moments steady enough for you to enjoy and for him to feel you taste your sweetest offering and the feel of your tender skin.

You crest without dramatics, your whispers, your gasps of breaths, your tensing muscles, and you could feel the tightness in your belly.

You twitch and arch your back, your feet curling and pressing against his back. He pauses and moves away.

Jungkook's hands are on his waistband, sliding his gray pants shaded with pre cum down his thighs.

Your eyes grow wide drowning in thirst to taste him, as you feel his huge cock against your skin. This is gonna be a painful ride.

"Are you on birth control?" He questions.

"No, why would I be?"

"But now you'll have to, princess."

"Yes, daddy," you teasingly innocently blink your eyes.

"Put your hands above your head, eyes on me."

You nod.

"Good girl",

You're nothing but a desperate little cunt for your best friend, wriggling, moaning, wobbling, squirming and aching for him.

A wild mess of hormones with pussy aching for his dick.

And it is heaven.

A demonic heaven, just yours and his.

You're his angel and he's your devil.

"Spread your legs. Daddy needs to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours, spread them," he slaps your thighs, opening your thighs wide for him you're bare to him, beautiful pussy glistening in wetness, you look into his eyes they sure are drowning in lust but there something more in those eyes.

"My submissive little princess, daddy needs to spank your drenching pussy with his hard dick, you have been nothing but an impious wilful brat",

You nod, his words make your eyes flood with tears.

"Take it like my princess."

Jungkook spanks your pussy with his hard dick, one two three and you lose count, as you can't recall the spanks you just received, shivers running across your skin, and breaths are just ragged with thirst.

His touches, his skin rubbing against your skin isn't new, feeling him deeper inside you is unusual.

And when your eyes are shut, he imperiously forces his cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes are now wide open, "Fuck, daddy I can't take this", you shut your eyes at the pain, "kook,"

Jungkook takes his dick out, "eyes on me princess", he whispers, "calm down, relax princess. We can stop if you want me to, I can't see you like this." Without another word, he starts pulling out ever so slightly.

You look into his deep dark eyes, "No, I want you, I'm ready", you hold his wrist, stopping him before he pull out, you have hungrily waited for this.

"Are you sure? We have a lot of time for this I just need you to enjoy this moment, you get me?"

"Yes one hundred percent," you say with a nod.

He slowly, pushes his thick hard cock inside your hole, your dripping pussy clench around him, and you know your orgasm is near.

"Fuck, y/n relax, don't cum until I say, understood?"

You nod.

He pushes it at a slow pace, slowly in and slowly out. Reading your expression that is calmer than before. He increases his thrusts.

Jungkook presses himself against you, you feel him rub himself back and forth inside you teasing and pushing. It hurt for a moment, and you feel yourself open up. He leans to your neck, and his breath is quick and warm, "That's it, princess. You're taking it well."

You grab his shoulder, nails sinking into his skin.

He moves his hips and pushes against you again, and it hurt again, but then he stops.

You clench and wriggle around him, "Don't stop, Jungkook."

Tears won't stop escaping your eyes, "let me wipe away those precious tears off, for you to look into my eyes", he wipes away your tears and kisses your cheeks, "my princess."

Your pussy squeezes around him, with his words, "you are taking it so well, y/n", he groans, "I'm not finishing until you're red and puffy with pussy dripping out my cum."

You clench around him at the thought of his cum inside your pussy.

"You like the idea of your pussy filled up with my cum?" he murmurs with his breathy raspy voice.

His hips circle, small motions in and out, so gently, opening you up just to push deeper, and he stops again when you flinch.

"Fuck, Jungkook don't stop please, don't", you beg in your raspy voice.

You reach for him, pulling him close, letting him know how much you want him inside you.

"Take me," you breathe.

He kisses you on the lips and pushes. He pushes harder, and it hurts. He thrust again and again, deeper inside to feel you, it hurt but you want it so much, you don't want him to stop not now not ever, "YESSS".

"My princess..." you both are on the edge he can feel you clenching around him. You feel the warmth of his body against your bare skin, you are full of him, you feel him everywhere inside you.

You feel everything, clenching around him as he kisses your forehead. And it felt like heaven, your dream come true, Jungkook - on top of you was all you imagined every single night.

"Fuck," he hisses. "You feel so fucking amazing." He moves his hips and it feels whole inside, your heart filled with love, eyes flooded with his frame, your pussy with his hard dick, hard enough that you hold your breath, but you're so wet, you could hear it. You hear the noises as he slides in and out of your pussy.

You tightly wrap your legs around him and make yourself move, your sore body feeling incredibly weird and really intense but you're on cloud nine, euphoric.

Jungkook kisses your forehead sinking into you as you groan. You look up at him, his dark eyes burning with seductiveness. You gasp as he thrust in harder, but now you don't feel pain, his thick cock is adjusting inside your tight pussy, making your pussy his home, not painful enough like it had been, just him and you, heavy breaths and cock deeper inside you.

A beautifully slow rhythm that is making a home in your heart. He moves and you move with him. You feel him, feel him everywhere, and his everything - his breaths, his kisses, his heartbeats, his skin against yours, and his cock deeper in you.

You feel his breath on your lips, his eyes on yours, and the tension in his legs as he's pushing in and out of you. You feel so close to him, closer than you ever felt not even when you shared secrets that were meant to be buried inside your heart.

He kisses you like you're the only person, like his girlfriend, his lover, a real lover, like he wants you more than anyone else in this universe.

He tilts his hips and that's it. You suck in your breath and feel a flutter inside, and it aches a good pain until it didn't hurt at all.

He grunts and pushes hard, and the rhythm is faster than before. You hear his skin, slapping against yours, a delicious sound, and you can't stop squirming.

"I'm going to cum, princess", he whispers into your ears.

You nod, nod into his neck, pouring a wet kiss on his neck, letting him know that you're ready, his body shudders and jolts, slapping against yours. He hisses out his breath, shoving all the way in and you feel his heartbeat against your chest, and it's mirroring yours, faster.

One push and,

He shoots his come inside you.

You feel him, his warmth, his excitement. You feel the way he needs you, the way he loses control, the way he wants you, and everything between you two.

His breaths are heavy and his skin is hot and sweaty and the weight of his body pins you to bed. He is still inside you, feeling him makes you feel complete.

You are throbbing around him, and he too. You cum with him still inside you. The idea of him cum mixed with yours inside you, tingles you.

He kisses your lips and cheeks and your eyes - heavy with sleep.

He kisses all of you.

He slowly pulls out, carefully, covered with your cum mixed with his, dripping down his dick.

His hot cum starts to drip down your thighs mixed with yours and you're at the peak of vulnerability.

He picks up some wipes beside his bed, carefully wiping you off. You hold his wrist, "it's embarrassing kook, I can do this."

He hushes you, and he inches his body closer to you, tucking you and himself under the covers.

He keeps an arm around your belly as he lay beside you, kissing your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

"I love you, with everything I am, Y/N", he hugs you and drifts into sleep.

"Kook we need to talk", exhaustion weighs heavily on your eyes.

"Not until tomorrow, right now you need to sleep, y/n,"

"But",

"No buts and ifs, you want daddy to spank you, mhmm", he whispers, a grin plastered on his lips.

"Yes", you mirror his expression.

"I really can, but looking at you seems you're breathing sleep. Sleep, princess."

"Mhmm", you nod.

He tugs you under the blanket.

Waking up at the midnight, with his cold fingers on your bare skin, you look at the side of his bed only to find what time of the night you're suddenly awake. It's 3:30 in the morning, taking a deep breath that shakes your body a little, you try to go back into a deep sleep until you feel his thumb and forefinger drawing your attention to the motion on your abused nipple, pinching it between his tattoed fingers, turning your soft buds to sharp and hard bullets.

You both had an exhausting yet unquenchable night in the history of your life. Body - worn out, pussy - swollen, cock - squishy and limp. To satiate your hearts and soul, maybe this life isn't enough for you two your hunger, probably the next life and even the next of the next might not be enough to quench your thirst.

Your breath hitches, making him wobble, "Has he been doing this for hours." Even though he's in deep sleep, his fingers don't halt for a second. You wonder if you're going to be living with him, you'll have to get acquainted with this habit of his.

Sleep did wonders, and as of now, you're ready for another round with your daddy. You trace his tattoed fingers over your nipples and this time he pinches hard as you gasp for air. Heat oozing out of your pussy maybe summoning his name as you feel him hard against your ass.

Jungkook's warm and tingly breath touches your cold cheeks, giving you chill bumps while prickles run down your spine, reaching to your swollen yet abused pussy for taking him for hours is still thirsty for his unholy touch, for his biting mouth and venomous tongue and more of his filthy hard cock waiting for a quenchable fuck.

Sure you're still a bit drowsy but not enough to not invite another exhaustingly painful sex, with the man you have only loved for years. A roughly sleepy groan vibrates inside his chest, as his tattooed arm on your breast pulls you back against the warmth of his chest. He bites your ear, placing soft kisses down on your shoulder, "why are you still awake?" His hoarse voice sends chills across your skin.

"I just woke up, and now I can't sleep." You breathlessly answer him.

"Why?" He pulls you tight against him, taking a deep lungful scent from your hair, and making you feel every inch square of his body.

You turn around to face him, to look at his sleepy yet flawless face because what you're going to say next you need to drink him in, his cosmos of emotions, which he never lets out. "When you wake up tomorrow, I'll be already gone. So I was just savoring this moment of you being by my side, your warm breaths against my skin, your touch, your everything, Jungkook", you thumb caressing the scar on his cheek.

"How dare you think, that you'll stay there by yourself and breathe peacefully," he pulls you closer, pushing his leg between yours as he places a kiss on your forehead, "I won't let you breathe, princess. Like we always do." His words throw you back into the pool of love you both felt hours ago making your pussy clench at the mere image of being fucked by him for hours begging for release yet enjoying the denial.

"Are you coming with me?" You question his.

"I'll come but not before you come."

"Jungkook", you slap his arm softly, and a giggle slips out of your lips swollen with his hungry kisses.

"I love you, princess"

"I love you, daddy", paying heed to these unholy words from your lips makes him press his lips against your lips and this is only the beginning of another unquenchable round.

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

A continuation of the childhood sweethearts first kiss fic...

Eddie is 10 when he get his first kiss. A lot of people wouldn't consider it a real first, It's a dry press of chapped lips, chaste and sweet, but it remains the best kiss he's ever had, the one that means the most.

It's the summer before he moves to Hawkins--spending the school break with his Uncle Wayne--before he's known to the town as a loser weirdo freak, and he makes a friend. A boy golden bright as the sun, who steals Eddie's heart at first glance and keeps taking it again and again and again--not by force, but by his pure kindness, by his surprisingly wicked sense of humor, by the joyful way he experiences the world.

They run through the woods of Hawkins, ride bikes until the streetlights glow, swim until they fall asleep on a pool lounger, spend their nights in a tent in the wide Harrington backyard. He's not known around town yet, so the parents don't hate him, call him trash, fear for their child's reputation. He's just a boy still, his faded clothes and worn tennis shoes can be blamed on northing more than the consequences of a summer spent outdoors. Though, maybe it's just that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington aren't around enough to notice.

On his last night before he returns home to his parents, they make a fort in Steve's bedroom, find all the blankets and pillows in the house, create a cozy structure just big enough for two. They share all their secrets, their hopes and dreams, and as night becomes morning, Steve whispers, "Eddie...can I kiss you?"

Yes is the only possible answer he can give, and as Steve's mouth touches his, Eddie knows he will never love anyone else, not for as long as he lives, not if they never even see each other again.

He belongs to Steve Harrington, body and soul.

---

Eddie moves to Hawkins a year later. His first day of school, two months into the semester, he sees Steve in the hallway. Eddie's whole face lights up as he sees his friend, but--Steve's eyes slide right past him. He sees Eddie, no doubt about it, but there's no light of recognition, no excitement, no joyful reunion.

After a few years he accepts that Steve will never acknowledge him. He almost succeeds in not letting it bother him, and it's for that reason that it doesn't break his heart when Steve falls for Nancy Wheeler. It doesn't kill him to see Steve's beaten face after his fight with Jonathan Byers. It doesn't keep him up at night, watching Steve lose all his other friends. He doesn't hate jocks and rant on cafeteria tabletops just in the hope that Steve will look his way.

Everything changes after Nancy and Steve break-up and Hargrove beats the shit out of him. Whatever high school social cachet Steve still has disappears overnight, but dethroned King Steve still doesn't notice Eddie. He's made his peace with it. Moved on. He's an adult now, basically. He's going to graduate high school and move to the big city and he'll meet so many guys and never ever think about Steve Harrington ever again.

---

He's smoking a cigarette in the little-used bathroom up by the auditorium. His eyes are half-closed, imagining shapes in the tendrils of smoke.

The door bangs open, shocking him upright, the cigarette falling to the floor.

Steve Harrington stumbles inside, hands covering his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

"Steve!" Eddie yelps, can't help it when there's blood, when Steve is hurt.

Like always, he doesn't even bother to look at Eddie. It shouldn't shred his heart to pieces but Eddie's always been weak for Steve.

"What happened?" He asks, even though he knows he shouldn't care.

"Doesn't matter," Steve answers. He's standing at the sink, blood splattering the white porcelain red.

Acting against each one of his sharply honed instincts, Eddie rushes to the nearest paper towel dispenser, ripping half the roll off.

"Move your hands. Relax your head." He's surprised when Steve does as he says.

Eddie uses the paper towels to staunch the flow, pinches at the bridge of Steve's nose with his thumb and index finger. "How do you not know how to fix a bloody nose?" he mutters.

"I know how," Steve argues. "I just--" he pauses, swallows hard. "Why are you helping me?"

He doesn't know how to answer this question. He shouldn't be helping Steve.

"I don't know."

They don't talk again, not until the bleeding stops, and then Steve says, "It was Hagan, the motherfucker. He shoved me into a locker and I didn't have time to get my hands up."

"He's a dick," Eddie agrees. "It's not broken, though."

Steve shrugs. They fall silent again, neither moving. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't look at Eddie.

"Would have done it for anyone."

Those hazel eyes stay fixed to the linoleum as Steve nods. Eddie doesn't know what to do next. If he should leave or press for more that he shouldn't want.

But then Steve lets out a gulping kind of sob, is falling against Eddie's chest, and Eddie wraps his arms around him, holds him so tight even he can't breathe.

"Oh, Stevie," he whispers, and without really thinking, he pulls them into the nearest stall, shutting the door behind him.

Between his cries Steve repeats, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Eddie can't tell him that it's okay, so he combs his fingers through Steve's hair and holds him, fighting off his own tears.

Eventually the sobs stop and the tears dry up, but Steve doesn't break their embrace.

"I shouldn't have ignored you, Eddie," Steve says into the quiet. "You didn't deserve it."

"Why did you?" Thinks it's his right to an explanation, after everything.

"I wrote to you. After you left. Was gonna visit Wayne and get your address, but then my dad found them. He said, 'boys don't write letters,' and ripped them up. He told me if you ever showed up in Hawkins again we weren't allowed to be friends. The next week he'd signed me up for every available sports league in town.

"I was so excited when I saw you at school, Eds. I couldn't believe you were here. I panicked, though, and decided to pretend like I didn't recognize you. It was easy, not having to decide what to do, so I just...kept doing it. I wanted my dad to be proud of me."

"I'm sorry he did that to you, Stevie. For what it's worth, I would've loved to get those letters. I would've written back."

Steve laughs a little. "I know. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I've regretted it every day, but I had no idea how to make it right."

Eddie shouldn't want more. He knows that he's lucky they've even had this moment, but he always needs to push.

"You could try now," he says.

"Hmm?"

"To make it right. You could try now."

A smile illuminates Steve's perfect face. "You mean it?"

Steve's hand slips against Eddie's cheek, moving up to card through his hair. His thoughts scatter like fractures of light, as Steve touches him in a way he only imagined in the midnight depths of his wildest fantasies.

Their second kiss is just as soft and sweet as the first, their lips coming together in a gentle press.

They separate, and his fingers immediately go to his mouth. "You--did you--" He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths. "You can't kiss me like that unless you mean it, Steve. You can't just--"

"I meant it. I meant every second. I never stopped missing you. I hated that I made it impossible to be your friend. It's been eating me up for years. I want to make it right."

"I need time," he says. His voice trembles. " I want that too, Steve, but after everything, I need to know I can trust you."

Steve nods and gives him a small smile. "I'll do anything, Eds."

---

They hangout almost everyday, and Eddie finds that, underneath all that King Steve bullshit, he's still the boy Eddie fell head over heels for at 10, golden and bright and so lovely. Still mean, still funny, still owns Eddie's heart.

Steve doesn't kiss him again, and that's for the best no matter how much Eddie longs for it.

A little over a month later, Steve invites Eddie to his house again.

He follows Steve up to his bedroom--just as terribly plaid, just as empty of things that made it Steve's--except there's a pillow fort built against the bed.

"What's this?" Eddie raises an eyebrow and stifles a smile.

Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what. C'mon, get in."

They're a little too big for a fort now, but they squish inside, limbs tangling until they end up in a giggling heap.

"A fort, Stevie?" Eddie asks once he can talk again.

Steve's smile is soft. "These last few weeks have been the best of my life. You're my best friend. And I was just wondering--" he falters here for the first time, breath stuttering. "Can I kiss you?"

Sparks erupt in Eddie's chest, his smile so big that it hurts. What a fool he was, to think he would ever stop loving Steve Harrington.

"Please," he answers.

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jiminrings · 2 years

Text

fifth wish

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 18k

glimpse: jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead?

alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

[ angst, unrequited love (at first), emotional constipation, jk is Very Frustrating to be with, so much pining, the constant repetition of the notion that one must amount to something to be deserving of love, rlly wholesome fluff, mentions of blood n injuries, whole 360 redemption arc dw i am not evil ]

notes: i’m back :) this belongs to the take five universe (take five feat. yoongi, nine to five feat. jimin) n although it’s a completely different jungkook, it’s still on the same vein!! thank u for waiting for me <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Jungkook reminds you that love is unfair.

He reminds you that love is unfair in the same way you remember that you don’t belong to his world. He’s the walking proof that it’s possible to have everything without suffering, and as much as it isn’t his fault that he was born to it, it irks you.

You don’t hate Jungkook, no. It’s much more complex than that, something to do with the bitterness in your mind and heart from doing everything only to barely equate to what Jungkook– people like Jungkook — get for doing nothing.

You don’t hate Jungkook, he’s tolerable. He’s loving to the people dear to him; stuck-up most of the time but won’t go out of his way just to be an asshole. He can hold conversations with you, sometimes steering outside the parameters of you being his bodyguard and him being your boss. He’s rude at times but he’s tolerable — it’s the best of what you could get from people like him.

What you hate about him is that he probably hasn’t had a bad day ever in his life.

You don’t know him to an intimate degree but you know, you know that Jungkook has not worked extremely hard for anything ever in his life. He hasn’t fought for anything because he didn’t have to.

Maybe it’s just a bad day for you today, accidentally scrolling past an article that detailed about your abrupt exit from the fighting scene. It makes your throat constrict when you skim through it for a second and register the exact words that have once crossed your mind before in a fit of insecurity; you were cowardly and cheap for leaving the octagon to become a glorified babysitter for Jeon Jungkook.

Perhaps it’s such a bad day for you today that even when you think about how your job as a bodyguard pays so much more than your occupation as a fighter, it does nothing. The lack of fatigue from guarding a nepotism baby outweighs your body more than the injuries you’ve gotten throughout your career.

Despite being stagnant in the water instead of flailing around, you have never been more afloat than now. You’re financially and physically stable more than ever and it’s because you protect, not fight.

Even if you hate him sometimes, you protect Jungkook with your whole life. You guard him like your life depended on it because for so long, it’s been ingrained in your head that it was either do or die. That if you don’t work hard enough, there won’t be food on the table. That if you don’t fight desperately and harshly enough, no one would be able to take care of the people you’ll leave in your wake.

You do your best when you follow Jungkook to bars and assess everyone in there in the process, prioritizing your regard for his safety more than his remarks of you being a cockblock. You adhere to instinct and hold him by the waist in crowded places, even if he grumbles that you’re spoiling his game.

You pour your all when you accompany Jungkook to a private fitting and wait for him outside of the dressing room, patiently anticipating what he’d look like in a suit meant to accept an award for being one of the most influential individuals in this generation. You don’t know exactly what constitutes to him being influential besides being himself, but perhaps his existence itself is what’s most outstanding about him.

You pour so much of yourself that when Jungkook steps out of the dressing room, you smile at him fondly, sincerely.

You give so much of yourself that protecting Jungkook has become synonymous to falling for him.

You think love is unfair because it’s biased. It’s cruel and it chooses because love is simply not for everyone. Love is not for the weak.

Love is unfair because it finds its way to you in the form of him. You are what makes love weak, and Jungkook is what makes it cruel.

Jungkook’s parents aren’t too bad.

They’re filthy rich to start off, but they do have the grasp of when and when not to let the smell of money block their sinuses. They’re even kinder and more self-aware (surprisingly) than their son and for as low as the bar can go when it comes to people in the one percent, they exceed your expectations and more.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon listen to whatever you have to say. They give you and the staff gift baskets for no reason, each one different from the other and handpicked by themselves because even their personal assistants are surprised with their own. They’re attentive and have no qualms in giving paid leaves whenever someone’s involved in personal difficulties.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon value your opinion too much that they’ve become casual to the point that they could have uncoded conversations in front of you, no matter how concerning the context could be.

“Jungkook badly needs an intervention.”

Mrs. Jeon says it casually like she’s just pointing out that the clouds look like sloths driving a pickup truck and whatnot (her husband calls them ‘my wife’s silly sloth thoughts’), shallow wrinkles present between her eyebrows.

“That boy seriously needs to get his act together,” she adds, sighing as she slouches further to the couch. Mrs. Jeon tuts, crossing her arms and turning her head to Mr. Jeon, you presume. “Our son really needs intervention, don’t you think? Right, Y/N?”

The thing with Mrs. Jeon is that she has a penchant of talking to herself, obvious to where Jungkook got it from. She still looks so dignified and obscenely rich to you as she’s sprawled messily on the couch and in her sweats with ice cream stains on it, but with the sudden mention of your name, you realize that you’re not so intimidated anymore.

You look back at Mr. Jeon (in matching pajamas) who’s just nodding at you to agree, because regardless or not if he baited you to agree with his wife, you would’ve coincided with the head of the house nonetheless.

Jungkook, in simple terms, has been out of control lately.

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon.”

It’s no surprise that Jungkook’s a little hard to reign in, but what shocks you the most is that his parents even gave him a fighting chance to prove to them that he’d do fine by himself without any security detail. Even before you came into the picture, Jungkook’s been complaining for years that he can’t move outside without being shadowed. And he was listened to, of course he was listened to, but the past week is testament to how he can’t do well by himself.

A week, just one week of Jungkook proving that he can fend for himself without bringing any unnecessary drama to himself and his family name.

Night after night for the whole week he ends up on the news. Last night it was him being recorded singing his lungs out on top of a table while being piss-drunk, found relatable by most people because it humanizes the Jeon Jungkook, but repulsive by everyone else. The night before that, it was him gate-crashing a wedding reception with a suit that trumps even the groom himself. He wasn’t drunk, no – he simply felt like it. He wanted to play evening golf despite hating the sport, heard that the place was booked by a couple who worked half a decade to secure the place for their future wedding, and decided point-blank to buy a suit and show up unannounced.

He was being harder to reign in, even harder to do so in the process because he’s such a public figure.

“He needs someone to repair his image,” Mrs. Jeon sighs with resignment, knowing that her son might take change from someone other than family for a change. “Someone strong enough to handle him, both publicly and privately.”

“Like a bodyguard, you mean?” Mr. Jeon chuckles, throwing his head back in laughter. “Dear, we already have Y/N for Jungkook.”

The two of them giggle at the realization that they just had a long-winded conversation in describing a bodyguard, to whom Jungkook already has in the form of you.

It was just like yesterday when you were the esteemed MMA fighter, barely realizing that it’s already been half a year since you left the octagon. Six months ago you were bruised and bloodied yet you were winning like you usually do, the night being every other high-stakes fight night except the only difference was that Jungkook was sitting in front row.

You were the talk of the night as much as he was because despite already winning the fight against your opponent, another fight broke out just minutes after. The fighter from the undercard match stuck around in the venue until your main event finished, then angrily charged at Jungkook because he apparently slept with said fighter’s girlfriend. (Read: Jungkook did sleep with the girl but in his defense, he didn’t know she had a boyfriend — much less a professional fighter for one!)

Before you knew it, you were already jumping the fence to cut your interview short and to get Jungkook away from the commotion, instead taking the hit for him yet before you could retaliate, the impromptu fight was already called off — the fighter who attacked you was suspended, and you became the subject of praise.

Do you know Jungkook from the news? Yes. He’s the one and only nepotism baby. Do you know Jeon Jungkook personally? No.

The clip of you jumping in to defend Jungkook has garnered so much attention that it became the talk even outside of the MMA scene, your following ridiculously growing overnight. Jungkook’s parents, from sheer and excessive gratitude and remorse, offered (more on insisted) to give you a monetary award privately, but also a job.

A job that would pay you more than professional fighting ever could, and a job that even extended to Seokjin, your handler who’d go with you until the ends of the world — who’s now the head of security for the whole detail of the Jeon family.

It’s a little complex; just a slightly funny, extremely-worrying turn of events from the past six months that flipped your life and pushed you where you are now. Not bruised and bloodied while wearing a uniform, listening to Mr. and Mrs. Jeon casually talk with you and in front of you.

“I mean a girlfriend, dummy. Maybe love could change Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon shrugs, racking her head for any possible candidates.

“A fake girlfriend for the cameras? Or do you wanna actually marry him off to someone?” Mr. Jeon seems hesitant, making you realize that he cares more for his son than he lets out to be because he isn’t as affectionate as his wife.

“No, not that far of course,” she remedies instantly, sitting straight on the couch. “Just a fake girlfriend.”

“It should be someone we can trust though,” Mr. Jeon hums, literally looking up at the ceiling as if there’s a word bubble to physically show that he really is thinking, yet another quirk that Jungkook also has. “Someone unproblematic and lovable by the media too.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Mrs. Jeon agrees instantly. “Jungkook needs someone humble. Someone kind.”

“Jungkook needs someone stronger than him.”

You’ve been so engrossed in their conversation that you notice the moment the atmosphere changed, two heads turning to look in your direction with wide eyes.

“This is private, I’m sorry. Excuse-…” you blurt because you realize you’ve just been caught eavesdropping, their lightbulb moment yet to shine on you.

“No, no. It’s not private,” Mrs. Jeon placates you, a breathless chuckle leaving her. It makes sense — it makes absolute sense. A fake girlfriend for the cameras: someone already bearing aforementioned qualities standing just five feet away from them.

“Sit down, dearie,” they coo with the same wide, excited eyes, practically pulling you down to sit between the two of them. “Hear us out.”

It’s surprising to know that at the prospect of a perfect candidate for a fake girlfriend, Jungkook’s parents’ first choice is you.

Some of the parameters of the contract were already brainstormed on the spot, including the obvious non-disclosure nature of it, your even higher pay, and the duration of it only lasting for six months. Your personal information besides the bits that the public already knew of from your fighting career (and the bits you aren’t comfortable in sharing) would be safeguarded. The living situation didn’t need much clarifications, considering you already resided in Jungkook’s residence anyway, in the main house and right on the floor below his bedroom (instead of the employees’ quarters) given the nature of your job.

Dropping the honorifics isn’t that big of a shock either, you already talk shit about Jungkook to Seokjin anyway whenever he was especially difficult.

What’s more surprising is that you agreed.

In the same way that you don’t know what possessed you when you took a hit for Jungkook six months ago, you agreed. You’re still Jungkook’s bodyguard, technically, working two jobs at this point. You can’t decipher if it’s greed or genuine eagerness that compelled you to be this invested, but you let it happen anyway.

What’s most surprising is that Jungkook seemingly has no qualms with the whole thing.

In an effort to acquaint with him better, you knock on his door to call him down for dinner instead of texting him, his eyebrows raised when he sees you waiting for him outside his door. He just knew of the contract his morning and signed it at the same time, the fake dating contracting being agreed upon as quick as the idea of it was pitched.

“Are you gonna put me on a headlock when I run away from you or something?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, his irritation as transparent as his face now that it’s evident he was fresh from a shower, seemingly the reason why he took so long to answer and not because he hated you — you hope.

“No, it’s stated in the contract. Even if it wasn’t, I won’t use force on you, y’know?” you laugh, feeling lighter now that you know Jungkook isn’t in a prissy mood today. You’re amused until your eyes wander, sinking in that Jungkook’s wearing clothes that aren’t pajamas, his watch that he only wears outdoors adorning his wrist. Now that you think about it, Jungkook’s hair is glistening not because he took a shower, but because he’s spent minutes styling it with gel.

It takes two seconds for you to put things together, and it takes Jungkook three to realize that you already caught onto him.

You know he’s planning to make a run for it so you pull him back with your hands snug on his waist, Jungkook barely making it two steps away from you before being trapped. “Except for this though. This one’s in the contract.”

He groans and tries to wriggle free but to no avail, staying rooted with the grip you have around him. If he uses his brain just a second more and thinks of you as a girlfriend instead of a bodyguard, technically, you are hugging him from behind.

“Your parents personally told me to hold you back from partying.”

“What a filial bodyguard,” he sighs, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “You’re not exactly making your boyfriend happy at the moment.”

“Sorry,” you squeak, feeling Jungkook budge against you. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to make a run for it.”

“I’m not promising shit to you,” he huffs, giving up on making you let go of him and crossing his arms instead.

Maybe Jungkook does have qualms.

“Do you want to get out of the house?” you ask to test the waters, getting the sentiment that Jungkook’s tired of his own walls and going out is his way to keep himself sane.

“Bodyguard, girlfriend, and detective? Wow, look at you go,” he mutters, the warmth creeping up to his throat little by little because you don’t seem to notice that you’re still holding him.

“Dinner with me in a restaurant outside, or dinner by yourself at home?”

“A knife so I could stab myself in the pancreas.”

You sigh at your silly thought that Jungkook would even give you a decent response, about to apologize when he utilizes your split second of distraction to break away from you, only for you to tug him back to your embrace even tighter to the point your chest touches his back.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” Jungkook snickers, putting your hands away from his waist as he waves you away to get his dinner so he could eat it in his room, finally getting free. “Barely the first day and you’re already in love with me.”

( ♡ )

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

Wrong. Absolutely incorrect, wrong, and falsified. When you’re in Rome, do as what Jungkook does.

Jet lag, despite being in a private one without the stress of sharing the same cabin air as screaming toddlers and feet-on-the-armrest passengers, is still jet lag. However, if you are a nepo baby named Jeon Jungkook who acts as if your throat would close up if you do not wander as soon as you land after a 19-hour flight with two transfers, your bodyguard who’s also your (fake) girlfriend’s jet lag doesn’t mean shit.

You would be more inclined to look at your surroundings and let yourself get swayed into buying trinkets if only Jungkook doesn’t get antsy if he stands in one spot for more than two minutes. Your head’s pounding from the fatigue more than it would pound in a headlock, getting blisters even if your shoes have been worn-in already. Seokjin was back in the hotel, probably having the time of his life knowing that he didn’t have to escort the brat.

“What business do you have here? In Rome, of all places?” you ask curiously, knowing that he had no official matters to attend to.

“None of yours,” Jungkook quips playfully, finishing with a scoff and throwing a look behind his shoulder.

Oh. You look absolutely spent.

Jungkook relents when you completely stop behind him with a dead look in your gaze, no longer following him even if he tells you repeatedly that he’s going to walk without you. He would push through with it, if only he didn’t feel unsafe without you shadowing him. He beckons you over, sighing heavily to give you an answer that wasn’t snarky. “One of my exes is the daughter of this guy who owns this brand. There’s a show.”

“A little more specific, please?” you hum, regaining the energy to walk side by side with him. The streets are noisy tonight, lively and warm and cold at the same time but you will yourself to only focus on Jungkook, your (fake) boyfriend who’s only getting more ticked by the minute. In fact, you don’t even know where and why you’re walking, you’re just following Jungkook because it’s obvious that this isn’t his first time here. “You’re this excited over a show? Didn’t you say couture was another term for fugly?”

“I’m getting laid tonight with my heiress ex. Yay!” Jungkook finally bursts, sounding ultimately sarcastic with his delivery but by the way he screws his eyes shut and sighs, you know it’s only truth underneath it.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, steps faltering that even he notices your sudden shift of mood. “We’re supposed to be dating.”

You don’t say it with anger but you say it with resoluteness. If only you could hear yourself right now, you would hear just how upset you sound, physique devoid of your usual playfulness. You are upset, you just don’t know if you have the actual right to be.

“Fake dating,” Jungkook corrects, subduing his tone to match your somberness. “There’s nothing in the contract that says we have to do it for real, obviously.”

“But it also says there that we shouldn’t jeopardize our relationship in public even if it’s for the cameras,” you counter, sounding more sure of yourself because you’ve spent days analyzing the contract, knowing each in and out of it by heart.

“Well it’s not like I’m gonna fuck Sumi in a park bench outside,” he snorts, tucking his hands into the coat of his pocket with a hint of anger. Jungkook clenches his jaw as if you were the one who insulted him, pointing upwards right beside him. “We’re fucking here.”

You look up to see your hotel, realizing that the two of you just walked around the whole four blocks for him to do what he pleased. “Here? In the same hotel we’re already at?”

“In my room, duh. I’m not stupid enough to get another room under my name.”

“But Jungkook I’m in our room! I’m the supposed girlfriend!” you exclaim much louder than you intended to, earning his hand over your mask for you to pipe down. Neither of you are making any move to enter the hotel just yet, instead in the middle of the plaza where you feel like one of your veins is going to pop.

“Seokjin’s room is just right down the hall. Just stay with him for the night,” he says it like it’s the most obvious alternative and the plan from the start.

“But-“

“Sumi already knows about the whole ordeal! She keeps secrets, she’s safe, we’re safe. No one knows anything,” Jungkook rants, his eyes speaking for his giddiness despite being disguised underneath a cap and a mask.

You stare at Jungkook for a good minute. There’s no telling whether it was a minute or an hour but for the time you have Jungkook now, until he kicks you out of your shared suite to accommodate his ex, you try to think how the next six months of your life would go.

Jungkook feels bare and vulnerable underneath your gaze, his hand covering his nape as he clears his throat, remembering why he’s in the middle of the plaza. “Speaking of safe, I need to buy condoms.”

“Just get Seokjin to do that for you,” you quietly reply, certain that seeing your (fake) boyfriend buying condoms not meant for you right in front of your face is just gonna add more insult to the injury.

“Nah. Don’t want to disturb the guy.”

“But you want me to crash in his room suddenly?”

There’s a knot in your throat you don’t bother clearing, choosing to look away when Jungkook buffers in his movements from looking at you to marching to the convenience store. You feel small in your uniform, maybe even a little helpless. Your heart shouldn’t ache this much, it’s probably just all of the jet lag crashing down on you.

Jungkook returns to your side without a fuss, holding a plastic bag that you don’t even want to take a peek at. You don’t move until he does and well, Jungkook doesn’t even know how he’s gonna take the short walk to the hotel without all your usual chattering.

He walks tentatively, trying to take a peek at you from any reflective surface. You only walk behind him when he’s three steps in and in his haste to look at you again, he becomes instantly distracted, halting the both of you again erratically like he did with all the shops earlier.

“Wait, wait! Wishing well!” he almost shrieks, forgetting that you’re not in the fuzz to rush him in the first place. You jog behind him, his steps jittery because it’s been awhile since he’s seen the Trevi Fountain.

Jungkook dodges past the tourists (it’s his tenth time here, he feels like he’s a better tourist than everyone) and gets right in front of the fountain, digging for the spare change he had in his pocket. He clasps his hands together tightly, screwing his eyes shut as he mumbled under his breath, finally throwing his coin.

In this light, Jungkook looks the most human you’ve ever seen him. He looks the most relatable and tangible version of himself that you’ve ever seen; his hands clasped praying his wish upon a coin, trusting whatever it is to luck.

Wishing, when it comes from Jungkook and people like him, is trivial. Wishing, when it comes to people to the likes of you, is hopeless.

Maybe you’ve long stopped wishing when your birthdays didn’t even have cakes and candles to wish upon, or when your pockets had no change at all to begin with. Wishes didn’t get you where you are now — your pain did. You don’t know what Jungkook could ever wish for with everything in his grasp, and perhaps that’s what makes you curious the most.

“What’d you wish for?”

Jungkook smiles faintly, a strength behind it that you can’t discern.

“To break up with you.”

Seokjin likes having you around — that much you can tell because when you left the fighting scene, so did he.

He does love having you around but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t question your presence, especially when he thought all this time that he’d get this deluxe room all to himself but here you are, starfished in the middle of his bed that he just sprayed his sleeping mist on.

“By the way, why are you here?” he finally addresses you thirty minutes after you knocked on his room, hugged him, took bites of his dinner, showered, and passed out on his bed.

“Jungkook’s fucking his ex in our room.”

Seokjin hums in acknowledgement, not exactly surprised. He repeats your words in his head but halfway into it he backtracks, titling his head in confusion. “Our?” he laughs, perplexed by how you worded it. “It’s a suite alright, but the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms.”

“It still counts. That’s our room,” you huff, your frown visible even if you’re still face down on his sheets. “My boyfriend’s dicking down his ex right now.”

“Don’t get too carried away, Y/N,” Seokjin sing-songs, knowing by now that your wording isn’t just a fluke. “You still have that crush on him?”

“I do, fuck!” you enunciate in a sudden burst of frustration, hammering your legs down on the bed that makes Seokjin laugh because it looks you’re doing a half-assed worm. “Something must be very wrong with me.”

Seokjin hasn’t seen you this unsure and vulnerable for a long time.

Your friend chuckles, oblivious to how he’s worried for you because you genuinely think you’re going to sleep in this position.

“Mhmm. You’re right,” he jokingly agrees, using his surreal strength as your coach to flip you so you wouldn’t suffocate, flicking your forehead afterwards. “Something must be very wrong with you.”

Jungkook’s perfume irks you.

It’s too floral and too sweet and clearly does not belong to him, making you hold your breath for the brief second that he walks past you. It doesn’t smell like him and what’s worse is that you can practically taste the proof of Sumi in your mouth, reminding you that Jungkook did kick you out of your shared suite two nights ago and it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

“Jungkook, your engagements are all up,” Mrs. Jeon exclaims, tilting her head every now and then at her phone.

“Aren’t they always?” he chuckles dryly, awkwardly pinching his ear out of habit because he felt that you were too quiet.

“Well I mean yes, but all for the wrong reasons as you can tell lately,” she counters, a slight bite to her tone before she gets distracted again by yet another positive comment about her son. “But lately it’s good,” Mrs. Jeon hums. “All great, really. People love now that Y/N’s in the picture.”

“I don’t care what people say about me,” he murmurs, conveniently defending himself as soon as your name was mentioned. His mother raises an eyebrow, the both of them knowing that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“Okay maybe I do care a little.”

“What did they say?” you pipe up shyly, Jungkook jolting in his seat and gaining the sense to move a little so you could take a peek at his mother’s screen. Mrs. Jeon becomes even more energetic at your participation because she did notice that you’re uncharacteristically stiff, huddling closer to Jungkook so he’s squished between the two of you.

“That you’re perfect together,” she lists, putting her phone farther so you could read. “Wow, I never knew that MMA champion Y/N Y/L/N would end up with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but if they break up, I will be lining up at her door.”

Jungkook scoffs under his breath, unknown to himself if he’s scoffing because he isn’t the only one at the center of attention, or because people think that he’s just that disposable to you.

“An odd match at first really, but I bet Jungkook fell in love first! If you had Y/N as your bodyguard, who wouldn’t?”

“Next,” Jungkook grumbles.

“I hope Y/N knocks out Jungkook into next week-“

“Okay, okay, I get it! These people want you to stomp on me so badly,” he frowns, sparing a glance at you who has an amused smile on your face. This isn’t the first conversation you’ve had since his night with Sumi, but it’s the first interaction you had where you aren’t irked when he’s looking at you.

“I won’t do that,” you assure him, politely fetching the device Mrs. Jeon hands you, Jungkook perching over your shoulder this time. He still smells like her and unlike himself but you’ve learned to tune it out, pushing yourself to be indifferent.

“They’re sweet about it,” you mumble to no one in particular. “Do we look sweet to them?”

“Somehow we look sweet,” Jungkook answers, unconsciously scooting over to invade your space more to the point that his head’s almost bumping yours. “They’re freaking out about your hand on my back. Isn’t that what all bodyguards do?”

“I’m not only your bodyguard though,” you remind, voice lowering towards the end but quickly put it up before you get upset again. “But yeah, a little over the top. They’re screaming about us bumping shoulders but you don’t even hold my hand.”

Mrs. Jeon gets her reaction out even before her son could defend himself, eyes widening. “You don’t even hold Y/N’s hand?” “Hold it! Try it right now.”

She snatches Jungkook’s hand quickly, beckoning you for yours and entangles them together like you’re preschoolers being forced to make up after a fight, the whole abruptness of the situation making you choke silently.

There’s an awkward bout of silence between the two of you (three if you count Mrs. Jeon but she’s trying her best not to breathe so she’d blend into the background) that you can’t grasp, only being broken as soon as Jungkook says the first thing in his mind.

“Your hands are rough, ew,” his eyebrows furrow, late to register the look in your face that is so heartbreaking, it makes you recoil. “Get a manicure or something.”

You tug your hand away roughly as if you’re physically burnt to the touch, balling both of them into a fist and keeping them at your sides as small as you could, away from sight. Jungkook’s right, they are rough. You don’t have to open them to know that there’s callouses and faint marks of cuts and bruises on them.

They’re hard and beaten from work, not needing to look down on them again to know that perhaps in Jungkook’s life, your hand is the roughest he’s held. They’re not like Sumi’s and most certainly not like the hands of the people in his life — manicured, flawless, and graceful.

“Jungkook,” his mother hisses to scold him, belatedly realizing that you’re back to being quiet again from the single comment that left his lips.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Mrs. Jeon apologizes, throwing a venomous look to her own son at the side. “Did Jungkook give you a hard time in Rome? Any incidents?” she asks with kind eyes, lips enveloped because she can’t move past Jungkook’s dumb comment about your hands. “You can tell me whether it’s from a girlfriend perspective or a bodyguard perspective.”

Jungkook looks at you, eyes slightly ashamed, waiting to see if you’d tell his mother about him. If you’d rat him out for kicking you out of your shared suite so he could get laid by his ex-girlfriend; if you’d tell her about how he brought you along to buy condoms for the exact occasion.

But the thing is, you don’t. Just as rough as your hands are, you answer quickly and as sincerely as you could, excusing yourself right after.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Jeon. Jungkook didn’t give me any worries.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook knows to himself that he’s insufferable.

And for some odd reason unknown to him, you still stay with him despite being insufferable.

He knows when a job is a job with the way his previous bodyguards would hold him with an iron grip to weave through crowds that weren’t big in the first place. He knows when a task is a task with how as soon as his schedule for the day is finished, there won’t be a single inquiry or care allotted for his wellbeing.

He knows when people care for him just because they do.

Nobody forced you to jump in to ultimately defend him from getting knocked out on live television. Nobody forced you to take his parents’ offer of working for him, and most importantly, nobody forced you to stay.

You were dutiful to say the least, but for odd reasons unknown to him, you’re passionate even for the things that seemingly are just passing things in your life.

He’s pretty sure you caught onto him zoning out and staring at the side of your face, feeling your inquiring gaze turn to him to see if he needed you or not.

“Oh,” Jungkook snaps out of it, redirecting to make it seem that he’s thinking of something else entirely. “You’re not dressed up?”

“Do you want me to?” you return the question, looking outside the limousine to see if you’re close to the venue and if you had time to change in case Jungkook wanted you to.

“Nah, do what you want. I don’t really care about it,” Jungkook says a half-truth, realizing that his “save” gave him even more reason to think about you. “I was just curious about what you looked like when you aren’t wearing that.”

There were only three uniform options available — one’s a black polo shirt with tactical pants for when it was a casual outing (but Jungkook’s outings were barely casual), the other’s a button-up with trousers for when media’s expected, and the last is what you and Seokjin were wearing now; a well-fitted suit for high-class events wherein you had to accompany Jungkook and need to escort him closely regardless of the audience.

“Why are you dressed like a bodyguard anyways? Aren’t we making an appearance together?”

You resist the urge to smile, an odd reversal of roles because it’s Jungkook who recognizes now that you’re his (fake) girlfriend and not only his bodyguard.

“I still need to show that I’m serious about my job.”

“When are you not ever serious about your job?” he questions seriously, brows furrowed because he genuinely can’t recall any instance where you didn’t put him first.

“Your safety’s still my number one priority,” you answer truthfully, hearing the emerging chatter now that you were getting close to the drop-off. Your eyes inconveniently follow one of Jungkook’s numerous exes who wears an elegant designer dress, one that you wish you could wear in your lifetime. You snap out of it soon enough. “My holster would be visible if I wear a dress.”

“That’s kinda hot,” he snorts, “Do you still want to dress up? Regardless if people cared about your holster showing?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “If I dressed up though, that means I’d walk beside you.”

It’s a nice vision to think of, something you don’t even know would come to actuality if the time comes.

“Do you want that? Me walking beside you?”

“You always walk beside me,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, a giggle leaving him heartily.

“Have you ever learned how to read between the lines?” you return the playful attitude, clearing your throat. “I mean, do you want me to walk beside you as your girlfriend in a pretty dress?”

“Honestly?” he repeats, fixing his suit. “No. I don’t think so.” (Read: even if the circumstances were different, I don’t think it’s worth having you around me.)

You’ve only ever walked beside Jungkook in your uniform, as a bodyguard. Not a girlfriend.

You’re too busy and you still haven’t gotten a manicure. They’re still riddled with callouses from sparring with Seokjin to keep both of your skills and physique in check.

All you know is how to fight and to protect. You know how to love, that much you know, but you don’t know if Jungkook knows how to accept love if it’s coming from you.

“Come on, having me as your girlfriend isn’t that bad, right?”

You ask thickly, head tilting as if it would help gauging the answer out of Jungkook better. You don’t have to adjust your head though; with the way he gives you a pitiful half-smile, you already know.

You wince inwardly, masking the lump in your throat as a laugh.

“It is?”

“A little,” Jungkook relents, finding the will in him to joke around with you. “Don’t get angry with me. Don’t headlock me like you did with Son at that 2019 fight.”

“You know that fight?” you answer with a chuckle, the random detail catching you off-guard.

“Duh. Everyone and their mother knows about that fight. A knockout on the second round? Jeez.”

Jungkook sounds the most attainable right now despite being worlds apart, the physical boundary between the two of you apparent. He sounds warm, just as domestic as a boyfriend in a car ride who knows random things about you.

“Having me as your girlfriend isn’t that bad if you know these things about me.”

“Your fights are public knowledge.”

“Then what’s so bad about me being your girlfriend?” you question, tucking your lips together to not let out any whimper in case he knocks you off-guard again.

“You’re too strong but you’re just so sensitive, if that makes sense. Too committed. You don’t have an off switch. You’re just so you,” Jungkook blurts out, careful of his words but at the same time frantic to say them outloud because he never thought you’d ask him this. “You just don’t know when to give up.”

It’s like Jungkook knows every insecurity you’ve ever had from the way he said it.

“Okay,” you meekly answer, the resignment in your voice lying underneath but the tiny bit of hope sinks it further. “If I wasn’t your bodyguard, would you still date me?”

“Fake date,” Jungkook corrects, chuckling because you always seem to forget the word that defines your status. “No. I don’t think I’d date you.”

Jungkook moves far on too quickly with his words that you’re unable to process the momentary heartbreak that comes along with his admission, blinking away the inevitable shock.

“How about me? If you weren’t my bodyguard, would you agree to fake date me?”

“Yeah,” you answer without a doubt, the careless shrug that tops it just cementing that there’s no thought needed. You answer just when the car nears to a stop, making Jungkook halt before the driver even hits the brakes. “I’d date you.”

The numbness starts from your hands, moving into autopilot as you meet Seokjin and the rest when Jungkook comes down. The impromptu intimate conversation should be the last thing in your mind — it shouldn’t matter to you when it doesn’t to Jungkook.

Everyone’s lively as you tail him until he gets to his assigned seat, stopping instantly when he sees the giant centerpiece of a fountain in the garden.

“Coins! Give me coins, please,” Jungkook urges you, either oblivious or uncaring to the sudden weight in your steps from his words.

“Don’t you have your wallet with you?”

“I do, but I don’t carry coins.”

You sigh in defeat, fishing out your wallet from your pocket where you keep some loose change.

In the same manner of his first wish, Jungkook screws his eyes shut and clenches his fists together, whispering to his hands before he gracefully throws the coin to the illuminated water.

“What was your wish?” you silently ask just like the first time, either oblivious or uncaring to how his answer would sting like it did in Rome.

“For my parents to dissolve this stupid contract with you.”

The party’s over and you take it upon yourself to voluntarily get out of your shared suite with Jungkook and crash in Seokjin’s room instead.

Seokjin can’t find it in himself to be annoyed at you, admitting to himself that he misses you especially with the knowledge that the two of you might have drifted a little since taking up your new jobs because of conflicting schedules.

The two of you no longer suffer together, already at a place in life where you don’t need to scramble in literally looking for a fight. He’s a mirror of you, if not more confrontational. He would’ve already asked you why you’re lingering around him more and less around Jungkook nowadays if only you didn’t look like a kicked puppy most of the time.

Seokjin shuts his mouth this time, letting you start the conversation this time around. It comes soon enough when the movie you were so engrossed in didn’t make sense in your mind anymore, a pressing question filling it instead.

“Do you regret being my handler?”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” Seokjin snaps instantly at the absurdity of you even asking him that, mumbling an apology later. “Of course not.”

He’s in disbelief with the way his eyebrows knit in the middle, a tension placed on his shoulders that even you can’t joke your way out of. He mutes the TV then and there, Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde no longer interesting him.

“Why did you follow me into this?” you ask in a small voice, wanting to sink to the floor because with the volume muted, Seokjin’s entire attention is on you.

“You liked the fighting scene. You loved coaching me,” you list down, going through all of your fond memories of practically growing up with him. “And now here we are. Bodyguards to a nepo baby.”

“We’re being paid higher here,” Seokjin shrugs carelessly, a giggle following his answer at the thought that he’s in the position to say that now. “I followed you here because we’re just as close as family,” he says it so easily that you have a hard time grasping it, an utter truth to it so he doesn’t stutter. “Where you go, I go.”

“Do you think I had a disgraceful exit?” you ask again, oblivious how your questions are snowballing more and more. “Saved Jungkook just one time out of instinct and I felt like that whole ordeal made more noise for me than my whole career did.”

Your voice trembles and you find it stupid why you’re suddenly getting emotional now, the weight of everything changing quickly in your life starting to hit. “Is it embarrassing? What I did and where I am now — is it embarrassing?”

“No. What you did and where you are now is just you,” he offers, sincerely. Even he doesn’t know why you jumped in to protect Jungkook either, but what he does know is that you would’ve done it for anyone else. “Do you wish you never left?”

“I don’t know either,” you sniffle, a cough leaving you pathetically and it makes you snuggle into Jin’s arm more. “I miss fighting now that I left it,” you admit. If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could imagine how much adrenaline you felt throughout your career.

“But my whole career of it, my whole life revolving around it,” you stress, admitting a truth that’s only been mere assumptions in your head for the longest time. “It’s been doing my head in even before Jungkook’s parents made me the offer.”

Seokjin listens — he always does. He does it in the way you want him to. You’ve confessed to him years ago that you think of him as a brother and that you wouldn’t fight if not for him, and he listened to you while wearing full gear during sparring because you didn’t want to be embarrassed. Months ago, you told him that you have a crush on Jungkook and you told him that through the bathroom door while he was showering so the water would drown your voice out. Some things are more stupid than the others but Seokjin does it and listens anyway — simply because you ask him to.

This time, Seokjin listens to you while he plays with your hair.

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about taking the offer, but I wasn’t fully sure either that I wanted to keep fighting. That’s why I accepted,” you murmur. “I said that I would leave fighting the moment it felt like a chore.”

“I remember you saying that,” he seconds, a brief chuckle leaving his lips. “How about Jungkook? Does he feel like a chore?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit whole-heartedly. “But he hates me, I think.”

“You still have that crush on him?”

“Still have the same, stupid, pathetic crush on Jungkook, unfortunately.”

You and Seokjin share a laugh, one that sounded like squeaking and choking at the same time when harmonized together. You’ve had a shit day and he’s already taken it upon himself to share the fatigue of it with you, unable to have it any other way.

Your happiness is cut short when there’s urgent knocks rapping on the door, too frantic that your heart would’ve leapt out of your ass if you didn’t hear the accompanying voice. “Jin! It’s me!”

Seokjin sighs in relief, clutching at his chest to hear that it’s only Jungkook. You sink to his sheets when he asks with his gaze if you want to be the one who answers the door, but he’s met with your head shaking no insistently.

“Did you see Y/N?” Jungkook asks as soon as Seokjin answers him, dripping wet after his bath and even in his bathrobe still. You told him you were just going to check out the snacks downstairs but an hour later after his bath (he managed to finish a documentary about cats), you still weren’t back.

“Why?” Seokjin feigns cluelessness, tilting his head at Jungkook’s nature of looking for you.

“She’s not in our suite. Is she there?” he sputters because he’s starting to think that maybe even Seokjin doesn’t know, meaning that nobody at all knows where you went.

Seokjin stands still for a minute, making Jungkook think that this is just a glitch in his brain and he’s still watching the documentary awhile ago where Seokjin’s the cat butler in this elite pet hotel.

“Uhm, no — wait, yeah,” Seokjin giggles breathlessly, snapping out of his trance. “She’s crashing here.”

“Oh,” Jungkook zones out. That explains it.

He’s unsure if you’ve ever gotten the snacks downstairs because if you did, you would’ve got some for him like you always did. He knows when a job is a job and he knows when people care for him — a bodyguard and a (fake) girlfriend like you wouldn’t have forgotten to get him snacks, right?

He tries to snap out of it too, trying not to think why you couldn’t have just told him that you didn’t want to sleep in the same suite; he didn’t even have anyone over. Jungkook swallows the disappointment, both for you and himself.

“Good. I thought she was kidnapped or something. Tell her to leave a note next time.“

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s soft.

He’s soft, maybe even despicable. Despite the hard-shelled and slightly bratty exterior, Jungkook’s more vulnerable than he paints himself out to be.

He’s soft in the sense that he would’ve taken a rose from a random woman’s hand in the street if not for you telling him that it’s 100% a scam, that he’d be hounded for money as soon as he accepts the flower. Jungkook was in shock at that when you explained the scheme to him, simply in the belief that love was just all around and people would randomly give out roses in the name of it.

Jungkook’s soft in the sense that when walking, he switches the two of you so he could be the one closest to the road instead of you. It’s warm and sweet for a second, until you remind him that you’re his bodyguard and you’re supposed to be there in the first place, and for him to never do that again.

He’s soft, from the way he scrolls through fundraisers to generously donate to and all the way down to silently and “accidentally” putting his snacks in your pockets when you aren’t looking.

Sometimes though, Jungkook’s definition of soft is weakness.

He’s weak to the point that Jungkook can’t even think straight because just a few words of flattery and he’s already weak in the knees. Jungkook’s weak as much as he’s emotional and irrational. He’s impulsive and ditzy and selfish, especially selfish with the way you’re prompted to intervene.

For the two minutes you’ve left his side, you come back to Jungkook kissing the daughter of his father’s rival, in a gala no less where literally everyone is watching. It’s stupid, beyond idiotic even for words that you drag Jungkook out into the garden where there’s no one watching, cutting his appearance in the function much earlier than intended.

Jungkook’s so weak. He’s laughable because it’s the one thing that’s unspoken yet beyond obvious — to never fraternize with rivals especially those of his parents’. It’s so, so stupid that you’re trembling with anger, just one stupid question away from speaking your mind.

“The fuck was that for?” he seethes, looking at you up and down with disgust in his face. Never did you use such great of a force on him, but for you to pry him by the arm in front of everyone embarrasses him to his core.

“Do you fucking know who you’re kissing?” you snap without missing a beat, just as irritated as he is but the difference is that he doesn’t have the right to be. “That’s Choi Haeri! Choi as in Choi Group Of Companies, your dad’s rival company!”

Jungkook scoffs, narrowing his eyes. He keeps dusting away the sleeve that you held onto as if you’ve contaminated it, rolling his eyes with disdain. “Okay? And I knew that, what the hell are you so pressed for?”

“I’m pressed because anybody could’ve seen you and you will be done for,” you grit, an accusing finger pointed at him. “You’re my boyfriend in public, Jungkook! Stop kissing other people!”

“You have a stick up your ass!” Jungkook spits, straying further and further away from reason. “No one in this room buys our act because they know I wouldn’t date you!”

Jungkook doesn’t immediately get a response back.

You only stand in front of him, unmoving and silent. The longer you look at him, the more his anger simmers and the more his regret seeps in. He doesn’t even know why he’s angry at you.

His throat tightens because this was the part where you say something equally as vulgar if not more demeaning, but it wasn’t happening. That part hasn’t even happened before. No, this was the part where you’re angry at him for good reason because you’re doing your job, and Jungkook responds to your reaction by telling you to go fuck yourself.

“I’m-…” he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you’re already interrupting him, pulling your phone out to dial the driver.

“We’re going home.”

“I don’t-…”

“That wasn’t a question,” you cut him off. “You’ve had enough to drink, you’re causing a scene, you’re endangering yourself. You’re leaving now.”

You pull Jungkook by the arm yet again with a force that’s not up for debate, trying to fight it with no avail until he lets himself be dragged along. It’s a long walk to where the pickup point is but you endure it, even when you’re still filled with so much anger and dismay.

He doesn’t make it better because as much as he lets himself be dragged along, he uses his other hand to fish out a coin from his pocket because he’s been carrying them lately, throwing it to the fountain that he sees on the way out. Jungkook proves yet again that he is weak, because he doesn’t even know why he does that.

You don’t even ask but Jungkook already explains with a sharp glint to his gaze, either to spite you or cowardly defend himself from your anger. But either way, the satisfaction after he explains his wish doesn’t ever come.

“For you to unclench.”

( ♡ )

It’s another trip outside the country when you find yourself in Seokjin’s room again.

“Confession time,” you hiccup, dehydrated after a full day of accompanying Jungkook with his shopping. “I don’t think it’s worth it liking Jungkook anymore.”

Even if you’ve said it out in the open, the concept itself sounds shaky. It’s either an impulsive lie or a hesitant truth, but either way, you know that you don’t like Jungkook as much as you did before.

“He told me to unclench.”

“You don’t seem like a butt clencher to me,” Seokjin furrows his brows, looking up from his phone now that you got his attention fully. “Stand up for me,” and you comply, turning around to indulge his playfulness. “Nope. Not a butt clencher at all.”

An attempt has been made to lighten up your mood and it’s working surprisingly, making you snort because somehow, Seokjin knows just how much you could take in the times you feel low.

You feel particularly clingy today, the proof of it being you trying to squeeze yourself in to the one-person chair that your friend’s occupying.

“This is fruitless,” you exasperatedly sigh, making Seokjin eagerly agree because the two of you are gonna break the chair until he realizes your minds are at two different places. “Liking rich, unattainable, disconnected-from-reality people is fruitless.”

“Hey, you’re rich. We’re also rich.”

“We got rich because we worked for it,” you correct him, acknowledging that although not Jeon family level of rich, you’ve come a long way. “Blood, sweat, tears, fractures, stitches-…“

“MRI scans. Don’t forget MRI scans.”

“Yes, thank you, MRI scans too. Jungkook’s old money and even though I’m slightly above average and closer to him, it means nothing!” you whine, finally giving up on fighting dominance for the chair and instead sitting on the carpet.

“Well is Jungkook’s social status the only thing stopping him from liking you back?” Seokjin inquires, the aforementioned surely one of the reasons but not the core of it.

“Oh no, far from it,” you snort, looking up at the pendant light above you and listing the numerous times you felt that you’re Jungkook’s actual girlfriend, and the other times you felt that you’re just a bodyguard that’s a thorn on his side. “I could also count the fact that Jungkook hates me to the core.”

“Does he feel like a job?” Seokjin hums, getting you to look at him. “Is it starting to feel like a chore being around him?”

Truth be told, you’ll rue the day that Jungkook feels like a chore to you. Whether it’s an impulsive lie or a hesitant truth, you believe Jungkook when he said that you just don’t know when to give up; both your greatest feature and flaw.

“A little.”

“Ah, that’s it then,” Seokjin somberly smiles, uttering the words he thinks you need. “You’re outgrowing him. You’ll forget that you even liked him soon enough.”

You don’t even know if you want to outgrow Jungkook.

“Spar?” you pipe in after a loaded silence to take the weight off of it, dying to have your mind somewhere else other than him.

“M’kay,” Seokjin agrees because he doesn’t have anything better to do either, standing up to fetch your gloves in his duffel.

“No, not in this room nor the gym,” you whine, a frown making its way to your lips. “In an actual ring, please? Don’t you have a buddy here that owns one?”

You look too soft, too fragile to even deny. It’s just a little thing to call around his friend in the area so Seokjin will do just that, as long as it means he can have the seemingly-permanent fatigue in your heart lighten.

“Okay, we can do that.”

Seokjin sees the way that you hang out with him more often, conveniently in the times that you’re upset with Jungkook. Each time you see him, the impromptu bonding ends with you begging him to train you.

The last time, it was you and him rewatching your old plays. Today, it’s sparring. Soon enough, you’ll ask more and more from Seokjin until it’s the actual fighting that you crave for.

It’s ironic that it was your fighting that landed you with Jungkook — and maybe, just maybe, it’s also the fighting that’ll take you away from him.

“There’s a pattern happening here though,” he calls you out for it, making you pause in your tracks. Seokjin sees right through you; on how you’re so frustrated with yourself as a product of being involved with Jungkook, that you’re slowly reverting back to the person you were before him. “Don’t think that I don’t see it.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s grandmother has a farm.

It’s massive, sprawling for hectares and even if the first few of the hundred are utilized for housing and hosting, it already tells you that Jungkook was ready for retirement the moment he was born.

You and Seokjin, along with the entirety of the staff, were invited by Mr. and Mrs. Jeon for a get-together. There’s no particular occasion but it already accounts catering and decoration into the details. There’s no grand gesture for it all, just the Jeon family and their employees in their bosses’ massive farm to celebrate togetherness for the sake of it.

None of you are in your uniforms, all free to dress. Everyone looks different to say the least, most of you seeing each other in your clothes of choice for the first time given your nature of work.

Jungkook’s eyes flit to you. He’s only seen you a couple of times in your pajamas, but this was different. A tank top that showed more skin compared to your uniforms (where practicality was the number one priority), and on top of it, a bright, bubbly cardigan that was the exact opposite of your black attires. It’s different. A lot more different than what he’s used to seeing. He doesn’t know how to explain it but you look more like yourself than he’s ever seen you, despite barely knowing you deeper in a superficial sense.

It’s been peaceful between you and Jungkook since his kiss with Haeri. You unclenched as per his wish, still fulfilling both of your jobs but without the strictness he was used to. You still cared, that much Jungkook knew and was grateful for, making a conscious effort to stop being irrational and pissing you off in the process.

It’s peaceful in the definition that there hasn’t been conflicts between the two of you, or there has been yet neither of you wanted to dwell on it in an effort to adjust for each other.

It’s peaceful but it was different; something changed between the two of you and Jungkook can’t discern what it is. He’s used his brain the most he ever did in his life yet he thinks understanding the shift in your dynamic doesn’t need logic — perhaps it’s heart.

Jungkook may be a little stupid, but he is stupidly committed when his mind’s set to it.

“Where’s the dirtbikes again, grandma? I wanna go to the creek,” he asks all of a sudden with a pitchy voice, praying inwardly that it’s not obvious that he planned a script for this to go about. It was a random thing to say, especially when you, his mom, and his grandmother were just talking about sheep in a secluded area.

For him to march all the way to where you are, asking about a dirtbike he most certainly knew where it was kept, makes his mother’s eyebrows raise.

“Just behind the stables, Kook. Also, you don’t know how to ride a bike,” his grandma answers, narrowing her eyes at her grandson who wants to ride all of a sudden.

It’s like he wanted you to hear (read: he wanted and needed you to), predicted by his mom who knows that not once has he ever shown interest in riding all the way to the creek by himself, much more on a dirtbike he can’t even operate.

“You don’t know how to ride a bike?” your eyes bulge, the question slipping past your lips in amusement. It’s too late for you to retract it, unintentionally making his mom and grandma laugh.

“Nope. Not at all. His parents tried teaching him, his grandpa and I took turns trying to teach him, his maids tried, everyone tried. Jungkook does not know how to ride a bike at all.”

“Okay, grandma. Thank you. I think everyone in the country has heard you now,” Jungkook mutters, knowing he signed himself up for a snide comment or two when he planned this, but he didn’t know he would feel this embarrassed.

His grandmother is all the more clueless but his mom quickly catches on, something at the back of her neck telling her that Jungkook needed you now.

“Y/N can take you there! Right, dearie? Seokjin told me you could drive anything,” Mrs. Jeon asks you sweetly, your eyes slightly widening at the sudden suggestion.

Jungkook’s mother looks at him with that look and he didn’t know how she caught on so quickly but he thanks her silently with the same gaze, trying to look indifferent for your impending answer.

“No problem, Mrs. Jeon,” you politely answer, wonder overtaking you because you don’t know what compelled you to agree. (Read: it’s because Jungkook indirectly asked you and if it’s him, you’d drop everything for him 7 out of 10 times.)

“You’re not on the clock,” Jungkook offers weakly, not having expected for you to agree in the first place. In fact, he didn’t even expect you to be civil with him at all since telling you that you have a stick up your ass — god, he really was the worst.

“I know,” you shrug, a gentle smile on your face. You lift your head for him to lift the way and he does, springing into action by walking beside you with his hands tucked in his pocket. “I just want to take you there.”

This is the first time you’ve ever been with Jungkook outside the context of work and he’s different. Not different in the physical sense because he still bears the visage and the aura of someone obscenely rich, definitely not that. He’s different in the sense that he’s more reserved; as if he’s walking with his feet for the first time and he has to take everything in around him in silence.

Additionally, this is the first time you don’t know which version of Jungkook you like the most now that you’ve seen him like this.

You like the prissy, talkative, slightly ditzy Jungkook of yesterday, one that apologized to you with words and talked your ear off with his own stories out of guilt. But now that you see him, you also like the quiet, subdued, and observant Jungkook of today, one that apologizes to you with his eyes and indirectly asks you to be alone with him.

You get on the dirtbike first, gathering your bearings before asking Jungkook to climb his seat.

He should be scared shitless right now because despite being an enthusiast for racing and vehicles in general, anything on two wheels feel like death traps to him. Jungkook should be scared and yet he isn’t, not when you’re in front of him; not when he’s so close to you that he can smell your hair and practically feel how soft your cardigan is.

“You can hold my waist,” you offer as you help him secure his helmet on, earning a playful scoff you haven’t heard in a while.

“Don’t want to.”

“I hope you fall off then.”

“What?” he asks with confusion in his tone but it later transitions into a shriek when you just up and rev, the playfulness of your response not really reaching his brain because he’s too busy holding onto your waist in a hurry.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me fall off on purpose,” he mutters as soon as he adjusts, taking his hands off your waist.

“I’m not doing shit,” you quip, threatening to increase the speed but it falls on deaf ears because once again, Jungkook got distracted by your change of attitude.

“Why are you being short with me?” he frowns in confusion, finally figuring out that hopefully it’s just the safety issue. “Will this make you less snappy with me?” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist again, gently bumping his helmet with yours intentionally.

You and Jungkook were complicated, but atleast when he wraps his arms around you and head bumps you with his helmet, things don’t feel as difficult.

“No comment?” Jungkook provokes harmlessly, making you nod hastily because you didn’t know that mere arms around your waist, Jungkook’s specifically, would make you want to light yourself up on a good note.

It stays like that for awhile. For the few minutes you have with Jungkook while the sun starts to set, you and Jungkook can act like you’ve always been this way; happy, warm, and committed.

“It’s right there. You could stop here,” Jungkook squeezes you by the sides, pointing to the creek he’s been talking about all this time.

“Hmm. Still pretty,” he comments to no one in particular besides the actual creek itself but it still makes you look up, taking off your helmet and turning off the engine. The creek doesn’t look anything special. Simply put, it’s just a creek. It’s strikingly mundane but for some reason, Jungkook speaks of it like it’s heaven on earth.

That’s the thing about Jungkook — through and through, you can’t read him and neither can he.

Jungkook digs into his pocket, throwing a coin to the shallow water that looks majestically clear. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, whispering to his entwined digits. “For you to stop following me around like a dog.”

The thing about Jungkook is that he’s a little empty; a little empty to not accurately predict when the perfect time is for a joke, a little empty to have never gauged the concept of being sensitive at all times for anyone’s sake that wasn’t his. A little empty that to make up for what he lacks, he’s extremely selfish.

“You don’t mean that,” you laugh humorlessly in disbelief, shaking your head because of course, as soon as you think Jungkook is completely fine the way he is, he goes ahead and make a wish that pushes you away.

“Do you really hate me that much? Be honest,” you add, the edge to your voice being something you find hard to control. “Because if you do hate me, then just say that.”

Jungkook blinks rapidly, proving to you that he’s slower than usual and is only now realizing that he’s said the wrong thing. Again.

“If you hate me, then don’t look for me when I’m not in our suite. If you hate me so much, stop walking behind me even if you’re with dozens of bodyguards in events,” you grit despite the lump in your throat. “Do you hate me so, so much that you can’t just say it to my face? Because I can say it to your face right now that I like you.”

And Jungkook freezes. He feels the dumbest he’s ever felt in his life.

“I like you but right now I fucking hate you,” you seethe, closing the gap between you and Jungkook to point at him. “I’m a dog? I follow you like a dog? Well guess what, I need to follow you like one because of this stupid-“

If it’s any proof that Jungkook can become even more empty, there’s barely any words from you that register in his head besides you liking him.

“You don’t hate me.”

Jungkook declares with certainty and it makes you quiver — because as much as you can’t read Jungkook, he can read you.

Your anger dissipates but there’s still tension in there, eyes locked with Jungkook in either a fit of stupidity or dumb courage.

“What do your lips taste like?”

Jungkook wonders out loud and there’s not one inch of a filter left in him, looking at you intensely to the point that he’s almost getting cross-eyed. You’re close, so close that Jungkook could inhale and you’d get attached to him. So he does it — he does what he’s an expert at and it’s to do without thinking; to act while empty.

Jungkook kisses you.

Jungkook kisses you as if he loves you, like it’s his first time hearing what it means and it’s his eager attempt to prove himself. He kisses you deeper with his hands holding you in place, as if you even thought about fleeing in his profession of love.

You and Jungkook were complicated, but atleast when he kisses you like he means it and tastes you so desperately that he wants to pass out, things don’t feel as difficult. Happy, warm, and committed.

But through and through, Jungkook is himself. It lasts like that for awhile until he comes to his senses, a little panicked that he really is kissing you, putting his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away.

You try to regain your breath and make sense of what happened while he walks away from you, sitting by the creek as he avoids your eyes.

You feel embarrassed, carrying way more shame than you ever felt is possible to bear. You don’t look at Jungkook either, preoccupying yourself by trying to focus on everything but him.

You get your phone out to call for Seokjin to accompany Jungkook instead when he chooses to go back because you don’t see yourself surviving the ride back with him, waiting for his reply so you can ride back alone with the excuse that you wanted to go to the bathroom.

The two of you neither look nor talk to each other but you could hear the sound of a light dip and splash. Jungkook’s empty, too selfish and too stupid, making his fifth wish in the creek with a mumble underneath his breath; oblivious to how you’re still within earshot.

“For us to never see each other again.”

( ♡ )

You know you have Seokjin — you just don’t know if you’ll still have him despite this.

He never liked riddles but the silence you give him already gave him his answers, your stay in his room tonight feeling different than every visit before.

“Seokjin?” you pipe from your corner of the room, sticking yourself to his chair you never even occupied. You occupy it now because maybe it’s the last time you’ll see it, a far too large bean bag that resembled a dog bed and didn’t fit the aesthetic of the room at all; maybe even miss it despite being the one item in his room that was misplaced and lacked attention.

“Hm?” he looks up from his phone he scrolled up and down for the past twenty minutes you’ve been here, far too tense to actually be absorbed in anything but what you’re about to stay.

“I get it,” you clear your throat, avoiding eye contact for the things that matter because it’s what you do best. “I’d get it if you want to stay.”

In your haste of listlessness for the past year, from your exit from the octagon to being a spontaneous bodyguard and then a contract girlfriend, you realize that Seokjin’s been with you through it all. That in your pursuit of what you think is best for you, you’ve been selfish not to think about what he wants to do separate from you.

“Less work, more pay. The environment’s not that toxic,” you chuckle, knowing that a few out-of-touch remarks here and there are lightyears away from the actual dirt you’d get thrown to your face in the fighting scene. “I just want to let you know, okay? I don’t want to leave you in the dark.”

Seokjin’s the most stable figure you’ve ever had in your life — you shouldn’t be selfish to drag him along if this is your new low. “I already have my letter of resignation. I’m handing it tomorrow.”

“I’m not trying anything with you by saying this,” you hurriedly explain, not wanting to make him think that this was a ploy to get his pity and do the opposite of what you’re saying. “Just wanted to say goodbye if this is the last time.”

Seokjin saw this coming.

The thing about you is that much like Jungkook, you’re oblivious to how there are people who would follow you to the ends of the earth to support you. You’re no old money baby, you don’t have millions of supporters ready to fight for you at your disposal.

But you have him. You’re so selfless, you don’t even know that Seokjin would be willing to orbit you until forever.

“Open the laptop.”

“What?”

Seokjin snorts humorlessly when you squint to his answer at you practically spilling your guts out, rolling off his bed to push the laptop at the desk beside you.

“Just open the laptop. You already know the password,” he waves you off, sitting at the carpet beside you. You’re not drunk yet you’ve sobered instantly, eyes already watering for reasons you don’t even know.

“Jin?”

“Open.”

The thing about Seokjin is that he knew when to protect you and knew when to let you take a hit, his compass never failing either of you since. He would literally carry you on his back when you fall but he’d throw you back into the ring when it comes to it, all to prove a point to you that nobody stands without crawling.

And this time, Seokjin knows to protect you.

You open his laptop and the first thing you see is a finished word file, one that was eerily similar to yours and even carried the same date.

“See? Already finished my letter too. Just need to print it,” he smiles like usual, skimming his resignation letter when he noticed your eyes darting around.

“But why?” you whisper. “Why are you leaving too?”

“There’s no point in staying,” Seokjin shrugs, the most honest truth he’s ever said. “Wherever there’s you, Y/N. I’ll follow.”

Through and through, you’ll have Seokjin no matter what. It’s an overwhelming feeling of warmth that fills you, patching up the massive gaps in your life you almost forget even existed.

It’s a burst of pride that fills Seokjin because he’s able to say that now, the realization that he had the opportunity to grow with his platonic soulmate and land somewhere and not just anywhere making him more emotional than necessary. “You’re family now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so selfish,” you mumble over and over again when you embrace him, face buried to his chest. It’s a cry you’ve suppressed for so long that even you can’t believe the sounds that come out of you endlessly, weakly fisting his shirt to ground yourself.

You feel small; so, so incredibly small and pathetic. You’re perhaps the stupidest person you know because you’ve ran for so long only to stop disgracefully, suddenly being displaced. What you do with all your hurt is compress it into a tight box, stacking and stacking until you realize your pain’s never been compressed in the first place — you’ve just been building a puzzle out of it for the sake of calling yourself resilient.

“You’re not selfish,” Seokjin mutters, repeating it again and again until you hear him through your cries. “You’re the most selfless person I know. Besides myself of course,” he jokes, but it’s you who would know that he isn’t lying at all.

“Besides, I also want to leave too. I miss coaching. I miss the fighting,” he assures you, trying to get it through your head that there’s purpose to his intent. “The most action I get is pushing people out of the way when there’s crowds.”

“Jungkook and I kissed,” you admit as you’re still hugging him, not wanting to break away yet because that would mean you have to make eye contact. “When we were at the creek, he asked me what my lips tasted like so I kissed him-“

“TMI.”

Seokjin groans but still listens anyway.

“Then he just pushed me away. I-I don’t know why, when you drove him back and he saw me, he told me to pretend it never happened.”

“We went to the farm a week ago,” Seokjin reminds you the passage of time, shocking you for a moment because it meant that you’ve been moping for a week straight.

“Mhmm.”

“Have the two of you been talking?”

“No,” you chuckle genuinely this time, either out of doom or gratefulness, you can’t tell. “Not at all.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook feels every bit of the one-dimensional and empty person that he’s argued out to be. He’s royally fucked up so to speak, the guilt of pushing you away after being the one to kiss in you in the first place keeping him up at night.

It consumes him excruciatingly slow, as if fate wanted it that way because it’s preparing him for a pain that’s heavier than the one he has now.

Worst part is that he hasn’t apologized to you yet.

His urge to apologize is bigger than life itself but the problem was that he can’t think of one that you deserve, only a mindless string of words coming into mind because he’s said them to you numerous times before. He wants to show you just how sorry he is but he can’t either, too consumed by the possibility that nothing would ever suffice.

You haven’t been walking beside him lately and he can’t even blame you. For every appearance he does nowadays, you’ve asked another bodyguard to tag along to be his main one, with you remaining only in the sidelines to keep appearances yet maintain your distance away from him.

Jungkook feels uneasy.

He’s no stranger to your silence and distance yet this bout in time speaks for itself, something about your outright refusal to be even an arm’s reach away from him making him think that it’s a prelude to something far more painful.

He loathes himself for driving you away; for wanting you and always backing out at the last minute because you don’t deserve him — you deserve much better.

Jungkook cares, of course he fucking cares. He takes everything to heart and in that same vein, he wouldn’t know who nor what he is without his family name. With or without his affluence, he’s just painfully him. Jeon Jungkook who does not know who or what to be in life.

He’s stupid, he’s a hundred percent sure of that. Even if his latin honor in a degree he doesn’t even care about nor remember says otherwise, Jungkook thinks he still is. He’s listless and so devoid of what he cares for in life, he can’t even discern shit not unless it’s handed to him.

Until you.

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s built for love. He does not think that he’s built to care for anyone outside of himself and his family and the very few in his closest circle. He has a good life, so much of a good life that the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that he’s not deserving of the love he’s readily handed with.

Love is for parents to their children and care is for children to their friends. Love and care are exclusive to only the people you know and would trade your lives for because you’re bound by the same and same circumstances you were predetermined for.

Love and care shouldn’t be easily handed out; it shouldn’t be as easy as you taking a hit in behalf of Jungkook because you wanted to protect him despite not knowing him at all.

If only things were different, Jungkook would’ve been decked on live television for a reason that even he understands. But things weren’t different — fate put you in the way, literally in the way.

Jungkook used to believe that love is for the weak. Love is for the weak because it’s based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies.

In the middle of the mall he begged you to go with him without another bodyguard present, there lies a huge water fountain. He only stands from a distance yet he knows the familiar stance, seeing you throw a coin with the most dejected look in your face.

“What’s that for?” Jungkook asks, eyes desperately looking for yours.

“For all your wishes to come true.”

When you say it like that — when you put him above yourself again to wish for all his desires to come true, he realizes that he is what makes love weak.

Jungkook doesn’t even know if he’s deserving of your love.

( ♡ )

It wasn’t easy tendering Mr. and Mrs. Jeon your letter of resignation.

Mr. Jeon was in utter shock, not only losing an exemplary employee but also a dear friend he could consider as a daughter figure. You would indulge him in his rants about flowers and random facts, actually conversing with him instead of giving half-hearted hums and answers.

Mrs. Jeon was in denial, breathlessly chuckling as she rereads your letter again a few more times. She bestowed her trust and gratefulness for you the moment she saw you, and seeing you hand this in now, she can’t help but think it’s her fault for everything.

Truth be told, you didn’t even expect for the two of them to feel this way towards your resignation. You thought the default expression was for employers to be disappointed and acknowledge your letter, not so much hesitating in kicking you out after the two-week notice ends. But this was different — Mr. and Mrs. Jeon do care.

After a few tears and conversations, you’ve pleaded to them to not let Jungkook know about your resignation nor Seokjin’s. It wasn’t too much to ask for (you think) yet Mr. and Mrs. Jeon agree despite their uneasy smiles, now under the assumption that your resignation has everything to do with their son who caused you trouble and more.

Jungkook feels the same pain of unease, feeling like there’s been a shift of the way people move around him lately. He doesn’t see much of you nor Seokjin anywhere in the residence or even at his parents’.

For some reason, you’ve been coming home dead late into the night, not coming home at one instance until 2 in the morning. He knows because he keeps track, unconsciously having trained himself to know your footsteps from the time you’ve been with him.

It’s foreboding guilt that bites him first and loathing that chews him later on. He feels restless sitting by his door waiting for you to come home and at times when it’s just too late in the evening, Jungkook situates himself on the couch to watch the door open the second the lock turns.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The abrupt voice that questions you gives you the fright of your life, making you think it was about to trigger another nosebleed that’s just barely dried up. You freeze by the door, cussing and clutching at your heart and only realizing that it’s Jungkook-

Why would Jungkook wait for you to come home?

He’s cozy in his sweats but his physique is the furthest thing from it, the tension on his posture and the stress on his face clearly visible. It’s four in the morning, no reason for him at all to be awake.

There should be no reason for him to worry for you, wait for you to come home and yet here he is, looking distressed and relieved at the same time at your presence.

When Jungkook asks this time, it’s your turn not to answer. You won’t tell him you’ve just come from an underground fight and won, making it your practice before you make your comeback on the octagon once again.

The longer you freeze, the longer Jungkook tenses. His eyebrows are furrowed, hands on his waist. “Excuse me, I’m asking here. It’s morning! Why did you only come home now?”

“Why are you concerned?” you quip harsher than intended, the dim lighting making you seem angrier than you actually are.

“Uhm, why exactly am I concerned?! Because I thought you were mugged or kidnapped or like I don’t know, in an accident or something?!”

“I can protect myself,” your answer falls on deaf ears, overpowered by Jungkook trying (this is his attempt) not to freak out completely.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Is it so hard to send a text?”

“Fuck, why are you even awake?” you mumble in annoyance under your breath, this sudden concern for you being cloying, yet to your surprise, he hears you loud and clear.

“Because I couldn’t sleep from worrying over you, that’s why!” his eyes widen because it was the most obvious answer — everyone else would know if they were in his position.

“Jungkook,” you grit, exhaling shakily. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t give me a headache.”

He doesn’t seem deterred by you or your irritation towards him at all, cementing himself deeper to the ground.

“Where. Were. You.”

“None of your business,” you enunciate. “Also, sending you a text? Really? Why would I, your bodyguard, update you of my whereabouts? Do you know how goofy that sounds?”

“You’re not answering me,” he follows you, pausing when you look back at him in the threshold of your room. “Can you please just tell me what was it that you did for you to come home this late?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Jungkook knows that look, the same one he would give you when you were trying to communicate him outside his room.

“Don’t shut that-…“

…door.

( ♡ )

Jungkook can’t handle it.

He can’t placate himself anymore, no longer able to delude himself that his gut is wrong and there really must be something much more painful for him, for both of you, in store.

He acts upon every impulse and applies every unnecessary skill of blending himself into the crowd, tailing Seokjin first because he knew you must be taking extra steps for him to get off your back.

And he’s right — Jungkook’s right about his feared, drawn-out assumption that you were fighting again. He thought he was just seeing things last night, that the bruise near your eyebrow was just a shadow cast to your face from coming home late.

He wants so badly to be wrong this time. He hates that the only time he’s right, it would be at guessing that you were putting yourself in harm’s way intentionally.

Everything makes him want to churn, the moment he sees Seokjin and then your figure shortly join him to the entrance of an underground club so sketchy and rancid from the outside, it gives him vertigo. You can’t be doing this, there’s no way you’re doing this again so willingly.

He follows the both of you, already gaining weird glances when he was barely into the entrance. He’s made sure to look as unnoticeable as possible, wearing the sweats that everybody wears with even a mask on. Something about him was so distinct that it makes everyone think that oh, that guy looks eerily like Jeon Jungkook. He throws everyone into a loop because wait, there is simply no reason at all for Jeon Jungkook to be in an underground club, at a fight night no less.

Jungkook tries to stomach it; weaving through the crowd and trying to ignore the low ceiling, the lookouts at every exit, and the mentions of your name and the bets attached to it.

He holds his breath until then, until he forces himself into the backrooms while everybody’s too preoccupied and he’s right again — so right with his assumption yet beyond wrong with everything else, chest tightening when he sees you donning the familiar gear.

“What the actual fuck?”

Jungkook’s breathless, shrill voice immediately makes you freeze. Seokjin reacts quickly and evidently, head snapping to meet his figure. “Jungkook-…“

Neither of you pay attention to Seokjin, locked in a delirious gaze with each other that you still can’t believe he’s here of all places. Of all times.

“You’re fighting again?” he whispers, knowing that it’s a question that answers itself. You don’t answer, still frozen in your stance. The noise outside dulls in your ears yet it amplifies in Jungkook’s, a yelp getting caught in his throat. “Why are you fighting again?!”

“Please tell me this is not about the pay. My parents pay you even higher than when you were fighting in the league. I made sure of it,” he gritted, knowing that he pushed for them to pay you even higher.

He can’t rack his head for any reason for you to be here. You were fine — you were fine with him. You don’t have to fight for money and he made sure of it above all things — why would you fight?

You can’t rack any reason in your head for Jungkook to be here. He made it clear to you that he didn’t care for you and yet he’s here, in a place where he clearly doesn’t belong — why should he be concerned?

“Why the fuck did you follow me?” you grit, your tone reading more concerned than angry. “Go home, Jungkook. Right now.”

Seokjin leaves the two of you alone because he’s called by the organizer, taking it as your cue to try and get Jungkook out of here before the fight starts.

“They’re gonna recognize you here. Now’s not the time.”

“No, now is the time! You’re my bodyguard, why are you out here getting beaten up?” he stands his ground, bending and bracing his knees to make it harder for you to pull him away.

“I’m not getting beaten up out there, trust me,” you huff cockily, momentarily distracted by his insinuation to realize that Jungkook has more pressing matters in mind.

“That’s not the point,” he whines, turning the tables on you and holding you by the wrists at the brief second you bragged to him. “I know — you already know you’re good, you don’t have to prove anything. You have a new job. Your job is me. You have me. Why are you still going back to this?”

Jungkook doesn’t get why you want to revert to the old version of you so badly. He doesn’t get why you want to run into the face of hurt and to become the poster child of fighting again despite leaving that scene for him.

“Jungkook,” you swallow at the reminder that protecting him is no longer your job. “Now is not the time.”

He remains stubborn, letting go of your wrists yet he’s still not budging to leave.

“If you want to know why, please go home right now. I’ll explain it to you when I get there.”

“No,” Jungkook swallows thickly, feeling his heart twist because he feels it. He feels the impending doom — he doesn’t know what exactly is it, but he knows it exists. “Whatever it is that you have to say to me, you can say it now.”

“I go out there in two minutes!”

Seokjin hovers by the door, curiously looking and wanting to intervene so badly.

“Well then say it to me now!” Jungkook just about bursts, prompting you to do the same.

“The dating contract’s already been dissolved since last week. We don’t have to pretend we’re dating anymore so you can stop caring about me,” you rush, taking a deep breath before you continue. “I already terminated my contract too. I’m not your bodyguard. I’m training someone else to take over my position. I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the week, and the new hire will be in by Monday.”

Jungkook hasn’t fought anyone physically yet his ears ring.

His ears ring and his stomach hurts, his chest feeling like it’s collapsing.

“That’s everything. Now leave, Jungkook. Go home now.”

Jungkook’s frozen even when Seokjin pulls you out to enter the ring. He’s not numb because he can hear the roar of cheers and he can drag himself feet first to the main area to watch you hurt and get hurt.

You’re still fluid in the ring, your signature fighting style highlighting the sloppiness and volatility of your opponent.

Your fighting has always been this way and yet it looks different to Jungkook compared to the first time he’s seen you in the flesh. He isn’t queasy when it comes to watching fights, never — yet now, he feels sick.

Your moves are still quick, calculated, and powerful yet none of it registers to Jungkook because you’re not alone on the ring. He can’t see how good you are — he can only see how you could be hurt.

And you do get hurt. You’re graceful regardless if you deliver blow after blow or receive a few hits every now and then, but what Jungkook could only see is you being hurt. Of how you’re experiencing pain even if what you receive is barely half of the pain you deliver.

Jungkook watches you in a different perspective. Just about a year ago when he first saw you in action, he was cheering for you. Yelling with the crowd when you were overpowering and chanting when you were on the verge of finishing your opponent.

But now, despite you overpowering and finishing your opponent, he can’t find it in him to cheer. All he could see is you hurting and it brings tears to his eyes, unable to control his emotions even more because he feels like hurling.

You win. You win like always and as soon as your hand is raised and the bell is rung, it’s not Seokjin who gets to you first — it’s Jungkook.

You’re elated and running on pure adrenaline but you feel like crashing as soon as you feel Jungkook’s trembling hands on your face assessing you. You’re thankful that you’re able to grasp some sense, prioritizing in dashing to the backroom quickly so everyone collectively skips over the fact that Jeon Jungkook is here and just happens to be fussing over you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop even in a different setting, making you sit immediately while he examines the cut on your brow and the bust on your lip, either cussing or praying underneath his breath.

“I told you to go home.”

You try to breath stably, your high on adrenaline being a big jump to seeing Jungkook, the last person you expect to be worrying about you, examine you from head to toe.

“Are your ribs okay?” he presses on them, putting the back of his hand on your forehead. “Are you dizzy?”

He continues to ignore you. If only you didn’t consider yourself unworthy of his love and concern, you would realize that Jungkook isn’t ignoring you — he’s just running on autopilot. He’s not a medical professional and neither is Seokjin (the latter atleast knows how to properly do first aid). He doesn’t know how to care for you but he’s trying to, looking at you every which way.

“Jungkook.”

“How about your ankle? Could you still flex it?” he sighs, holding the warming skin on it. “That’s gonna bruise so badly.”

“Jungkook, stop.”

Your voice trembles but he just won’t listen. He just won’t quit fussing over you.

“Jungkook I said-…”

“How am I supposed to stop?” Jungkook bursts at the seams, your voice overlapping repeatedly in his brain belatedly. “How am I supposed to stop when you drop all of this on me at the same time?! How am I supposed to stop worrying when all I can see is that you’re hurt?”

“You should look at the other guy. I’m not-…”

He ignores you because there you are again. There you are with your pride talking and it irks Jungkook because it’s the only thing you’ve picked up from everything he’s spilled. He’s worried insane over you and the only thing you respond to was what you assume is a dig at the hits you’ve received.

“You haven’t been talking to me. You’ve been sneaking out. You’re back to fighting and all of a sudden you’re fighting again?”

“All on you?” your ears burn. “Has it ever hit you that I’m doing all this for my sake and not for yours?”

There goes Jungkook again with his self-centeredness, his insinuation that you’re doing this for him sounding deeply insulting to you.

“That’s on me? I haven’t been talking to you because after we kissed, you literally wished that we should never see each other again!” you repeat, in disbelief that Jungkook has the gall to bring up his sake.

“You heard that?” he pauses, frustration simmering instantaneously. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you mean it?”

“I don’t-“ he swallows. “I meant it at the time, okay? I didn’t know why I kissed you but I don’t regret it.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me after that?” you exasperate, head tilting back.

“I don’t know, that’s the thing.”

Jungkook’s frustrating.

Too frustrating that now you can’t filter anything that comes out of your mouth with the adrenaline still in your system, your eyes rolling so hard that Jungkook thought you were gonna black out for a second.

“That’s always the thing with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his voice gentle, not wanting to know what you mean by it if it’s to hurt him.

Thinking about it, Jungkook thinks that he may not deserve your love, but he does deserve your hurt.

“That you’re selfish,” you spit. “You’re the most selfish person I know, Jungkook. The worst.”

“I’m the worst person I know too.”

He agrees with you. After all, it’s not the first time things like these have been said to him. But now that it’s coming from you, Jungkook could confirm to himself that it’s the truth.

“Please let me be the worst one more time,” Jungkook breathlessly pleads, the tightness in his chest only wounding. “Please stop fighting.”

“I’m not begging you to be my bodyguard again. I’m not begging you to be my fake girlfriend. I’m not begging for my sake this time,” the tears fall freely from his eyes, trying not to shut his eyes because when he does, he’ll see you wincing again. “Stop fighting.”

You’re caught off-guard, the beating in your chest confused because at this point, Jungkook should be contradicting you to hell and back that he’s not the worst person you know.

“It’ll all catch up to you someday,” he warns gently. “You’re hurting now. It’ll hurt even more when you go back to the league,”

That’s it.

“Oh.”

The actual moment of realization that hits you doesn’t relieve you, instead, it makes you dizzy. You’re chuckling but it’s devoid of actual humor. Nothing’s funny about it.

“You’re begging me to stop fighting,” you smile, the same adrenaline that flows through your chest starting to tighten around your heart. “I thought you were begging me to come back to you because you love me.”

“And you don’t, right?” you ask with tears building on your eyes, tilting your head to gauge Jungkook. “You don’t love me, do you?”

Jungkook’s breathless. That’s not true. That’s the shittiest assumption he’s ever heard about himself. Before he can even explain himself, you’ve already made up your mind.

“You don’t want me,” you mumble. “You only want me around.”

You’re trying to get up and Jungkook’s trying to sit you back down, even going so far as to kneel in front of you to weigh you down but you tug him back up harshly, pointing him right at the door.

“Get out, Jungkook.”

“No,” he shakes his head no earnestly even if you’re stepping towards him with anger you can’t even explain.

“I want to become just like you,” you chuckle, pacing around with an accusing finger pointed to him. “I want to be the worst, most selfish person I know. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“So leave, Jungkook,” you say as sternly as you could, the crack in your voice giving away that perhaps it’s not only anger that you feel. You fish for a coin in your duffel bag with trembling hands, throwing it patronizingly to the floor, spinning and turning to land right at his feet.

“I wish you’d leave me.”

Jungkook doesn’t.

He shows up on your next fight.

He shows up for the third, the fourth, the fifth fight, and the fights after that.

Jungkook could be committed just as he is stupid, that much he knows. He let you become the worst, most selfish person you know (read: him) that night and left just as you wished — but only for that night does he grant it.

There was no other word to describe Jungkook besides desperate. It dripped off him the second you woke up the next day and you almost tripped the moment you got out of your room because Jungkook’s sleeping right outside it, true to his word that he would leave you alone for the night; and factually enough, it’s morning.

He’s so desperate to the point that it’s pitiful, equivalent to a dog sleeping at your feet and you having to work around in removing your shoe underneath the snout.

You don’t hate Jungkook, no, maybe not anymore. It’s much more complex than that. It has everything to do with how perhaps the two of you are emotionally constipated, one more than the other, and how the two of you think in your own twisted ways that you’re undeserving of love.

You don’t hate Jungkook, he’s tolerable. You attempt to tolerate him even if he literally pushes Seokjin out of the way to assess your injuries, his knowledge growing more and more for each fight that you get yourself into. He fusses over you more than you ever did for him.

You try to tolerate him and swallow the secondhand embarrassment you get from Jungkook sticking out like a sore thumb in the places you belonged to but he didn’t. Jungkook knows how just out-of-place he looks but he can’t bring it in himself to focus on the timidness he feels, only able to focus on your sake and on your hurt only.

He fits himself in places he doesn’t belong to in the hopes that he’d find you there; in the hopes you’d take him under your wing again and put a hand on his waist just like past times, a quiet understanding between the two of you that you’ve got him.

Just like now, Jungkook forces himself into the small couch of the backroom waiting for yet another fight, squeezing himself to lie down on your lap, gauging your reaction.

You smile.

Ah, you don’t look like you hate him.

“I did something by myself today,” he clears his throat, making you look up from your phone and back down on your lap because you almost forgot he’s invaded your space. Again. “I enrolled myself in a course.”

“Don’t you already have your degree?” you ask perplexed, distinctly recalling his diploma displayed in his parents’ living room.

“Yeah, in business. It’s a useless degree,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly, admitting it outloud. “After all, I’m a nepo baby, right?”

You tense at the random addition, feeling a little sorry because you know you’ve left quite the sting on Jungkook since your fight months ago. “Jungkook, I didn’t-…”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to become more self-aware these days,” he grins without malice, eyes crinkling and dimples appearing that you momentarily stop your explanation to just observe.

When you look at him like that, Jungkook knows when people care (and love) for him just because they do.

“Speaking of being self-aware, against popular misconception, I know how to love,” he makes a show of clearing his throat, delivering his line with utmost sincerity that it turns him meek. “I just don’t know when to stop.”

When Jungkook professes to you like this, he sounds the most attainable. He sounds soft; the most vulnerable of the vulnerable.

“Are you stopping?” you ask just as gently.

“You tell me.” (Read: no. Jungkook doesn’t ever want to stop loving you.)

It’s silence, always dwindles to it between the two of you but it isn’t the type that weighs the both of you down. Simply put it was just peace, a quiet understanding that love isn’t weak as either of you painted it out to be.

“Anyway, I enrolled myself because I want to study again. It’s something I wanna be an expert on,” Jungkook’s heart thrums in his ears, looking up at you who looks just as nervous and excited as he is. “I’m studying to become a paramedic.”

You smile warmly, head tilting in wonder.

“Why?”

“So I can help you. You protected me before, and it’s my turn to aid you now,” he chews on his bottom lip. “I can save you myself if worse comes to worst.”

Jungkook gets a pinch to his thigh for even thinking such a thing and it makes him giggle a little, a welcome break to the somber and serious thoughts he has regarding you career.

“I know you want to continue fighting. I don’t know when you’ll stop and if I could convince you to stop,” he pauses, looking down on your hands that are hovering just above his. “But for as long as you’ll fight, I’ll try to heal you.”

Against your belief, perhaps love is for the weak. Because as much as it’s cruel and it chooses, love is based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies — and if loving Jungkook means to be weak, then so be it.

“Jungkook.”

“You don’t have to cry,” Jungkook weakly reprimands you and yet he cries himself, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. “You took care of me. You’ve been taking care of everyone and everything but yourself your whole life.”

Against Jungkook’s belief, perhaps love isn’t for the weak. Because as much it’s based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies, love found its way to him in the form of you — and if loving you means subjecting himself to such cruelness, Jungkook would strive not to be weak.

“I can take care of you,” Jungkook whispers, more than willing to spend the rest of his wishes in giving everything you deserve. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t have to amount to something to be considered deserving of love — the moment you love, you amount to everything.

“I wish you’ll let me love you the way you love me.”

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