#and they keep telling new hires to ring the bell 20 times as a joke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

Hoping for the Best - NSFW

Grouping: Lifeguard!Reader x Lifeguard!Hoseok

Word Count: ~24.3k lmao

Warnings/Themes: Friends to enemies? to lovers, SLOW burn, Descriptions of bullying, unrequited love???, Making out, Cunniligus, Fingering, Penetrative sex, Dom!Hoseok if you squint, spanking, use of the epithet brat ;), Lack of communication, Idiots who don’t talk about their feelings

Summary: “He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.”

A/N: This piece is for the BSC 1000 Followers Writing Project! based off prompt 14: Pretending to drown to get a kiss from the hot lifeguard / “Actually I’m drowning please save me.” ALSO! the coffee shop joke makes a little more sense if you think about it in chinese but oh well

Even after four years of coming and going, the gentle warmth that you feel seeping into your tired bones when your shuttle returns you to your hometown every summer never seems to dull. Certainly, you will never tire of the smell of the household laundry detergent, weaved into the threads of your parents’ clothes, after two long semesters away. The same scratch of threadbare sheets across your skin as you lay in the bed you’ve had since you were 9 is always a welcome feeling to wake up to on the first morning back. The smell of porridge, a dish you’ve come to appreciate, greets you as well.

“There she is,” your father smiles at your stumbling figure over the newspaper. His eyes crinkle and he holds you in his gaze for a long few beats. There’s something bittersweet about the way the eye adjusts to the film that time lays over loved ones that have been away. Despite this, he can still clearly see the outline of your past self, much smaller but with the same bedhead and swinging feet at the dinner table. “The princess has finally awakened and decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Good morning, dad,” you yawn widely.

Your mother passes you a steaming bowl of porridge and a plate of cut fruit. She sits down with the mail and begins to sort through the small mountain of bills. Half of them she waves at your father for him to appraise as well. This reminds him.

“Say, kiddo,” his tone is careful and it wakes you up from your dreamy haze quicker than you would like. “You thinking about doing work at the marine lab again?”

“Honey, she just got back yesterday. Let her rest. You can talk about all that later, can’t you?”

“Talk about what?” Pushing your bowl back, you straighten up in your chair and turn to your father. He looks a bit guilty now that you’ve pinned him with your stare.

“Your mother and I were just wondering if you were going to renew your internship with them. They paid you the last couple of times and…If we’re being honest, we could use a little help this summer.”

“Are you guys in trouble with the house?” Alarm colors your voice and for the first time since you’d arrived, you look around carefully.

The house doesn’t look like its changed. It’s still cozy with its warm-toned exposed wood and painted cabinets. Your parents haven’t changed either. They don’t look much older than they did when you were home last. Your mother wears her favorite cardigan to protect from the chill that creeps up on her when she wakes with the sun. Your father wears a simple pair of khakis and a short sleeved polo, a regular work outfit. Perhaps it’s because you haven’t cast off the last vestiges of sleep that you don’t immediately realize it’s odd for your father, a retired school teacher, to be working in the summer. A divot forms in between your brows and you wonder how long they planned on keeping you in the dark about money troubles while spoiling you after graduation.

“Of course not, baby.” Your mother lays a soothing hand on your shoulder and pats. “Things are just a little tight lately. Your uncle needed money again, this time a little more than usual.”

“Now that you’re all grown-up, we thought you might like to try and help out a little more around the house. Fun, right?” Despite the gravity of the subject, your father still manages to smile softly at his own joke with a deep laugh.

“I actually got an email from them a weeks ago,” you return to your porridge in hopes that it’ll dislodge the tell-tail lump you get in your throat before crying. “They’re giving priority to the PhD students this year, so they won’t have any funding for interns not already affiliated with the college.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. We both know how much you loved that place,” your father frowns and your expressions mirror one another. But while his face expresses sympathetic disappointment, yours shows resolution.

“No. No, it’s totally fine. This is good. I should probably keep on applying to real jobs now, anyway. And I need to be able to pay rent somewhere, so I should get a summer job too.”

It’s your mother’s turn to frown. “Oh, baby, you know you could stay here, if you want. We wouldn’t ever dream of charging you for rent.”

“No, mom,” you stand up from the table, “I should start taking responsibility. I’m gonna go out and find something simple so I can focus on job apps, but I’ll bring you whatever check I get.”

Silence falls over the room as you wash your dishes at the sink. Over just the sound of the running water, your parents exchange meaningful glances at one another. You press a kiss to both of their heads before you ascend the stairs to your room to get ready. Your father’s hand envelopes your mother’s. You’ve grown well.

The first thing you do after you’ve finished getting ready is head over to a local coffee house. It’s the most student-friendly place in all of your sleepy suburban town. What can only be described as an acoustic/hip-hop hybrid flows from hidden speakers, drowning out the sound of the bell on the front door tinkling when you step inside. The cafe is full of other enterprising 20-somethings, so no one’s eyes raise to follow you as you find a seat by the shop window.

You open your laptop and pull up your resume file. Luckily, you’ve been diligent and it’s been looked over and updated. Opening up a webpage, you begin to fill out applications for various companies looking for new hires. Some of them are just companies you think you could handle the workload at, but a few of them are positions for doing research to improve and preserve marine life, which is a passion of yours. Time passes you by quickly and you’re so involved in emailing your research advisors at your place of internship and professors who praised you in undergrad that you don’t see the man who enters the cafe; nor do you see the way all the staff behind the counter hurry to greet him.

Jin goes to retrieve his apron from the back room before coming out again to start work. He does a visual sweep over the cafe, looking for any customers who look like they’re not enjoying their experience, any spills, or display sets that are out of order. He walks over the small side table that houses a meticulously stacked set of shining chrome thermoses with the minimalist cafe logo embossed at the bottom. One of the containers is leaning precariously out of alignment and threatening to spill the entire arrangement on the poor girl working studiously nearby. Quietly, he walks over, making sure not to walk too loudly and startle the customer.

It takes a careful hand, but he manages to organize the display pyramid once more without too much clanking. A quick glance to the side informs him that you’re not a regular customer. He’s come in to work every single day since the cafe open 15 months ago, and he’s certain he’s memorized all the familiar and loyal faces. Another glance tells him that you haven’t bought anything—judging by the lack of pastry crumbs, crumpled soiled napkins, empty drinks or characteristic ring of perspiration on the table surface. But you’re clearly deep enough into your work that you can’t have just arrived either. Jin shakes his head with a reminiscing smile. College students and their desperation for a place to work. He debates going over having one of the baristas tell you that loitering isn’t allowed, but since you’re new and still a potential customer he leaves to go brew a cup of coffee instead of shooing you away.

The sound of a text notification from your mother inquiring about how you’re doing disrupts your tunnel vision. You finish uploading your CV onto an online application to a research facility in the nearby city and shoot her back a text telling her you’re at the new cafe in town. Her responding notification comes quickly, the first few lines asking “isn’t that where your friend-” before cutting off. Before you answer her, you figure you should stretch your legs as an excuse to buy a sugary drink. You stand up and push out your chair, about to turn around and head to the counter, but your chair bumps against something. The something yelps and takes a few shuffled steps back. You turn with imploring hands already out, ready to apologize and curse yourself for being too in your own world. You’re not expecting to see Kim Seokjin standing behind you with a takeaway coffee and fixings looking equally shocked to see you.

“Jin? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long!” A smile splits your face and you gesture towards your table while clearing some of your stuff to the side so he has some room to put his things down.

“I know. I was wondering if you were gonna be one of those people who skips town forever after they leave for college, but I guess you’re not.”

“No, that’s not quite me,” you duck your head bashfully, “What about you? Do you work around here?” The takeaway coffee sits in front of him, steaming. He looks to be on his way out. “Or is that where you’re headed now?”

“This is actually for you,” he chuckles. “But if I’d known the free-loader sitting out here without buying anything was you, I would'vr run down to a Starbucks and got you one of those candy drinks instead of this blonde roast.”

“I see you’re still a coffee snob.” You take the coffee anyway, though. A rigorous four years at college made you less discriminatory about your caffeine choices. If it would keep you up, you would drink it. That being said, you still hate the taste of plain coffee and are immediately grateful when you notice the sugar shaker and tiny cream pitcher that Jin brought to the table as well.

“I see you still have the palate of 4 year old.” His nose wrinkles as he watches you ruin the perfect coffee he made for you with too much cream and a heinous amount of sugar.

You stick your tongue out at him before taking a careful sip of the hot drink. It tastes like hot, coffee-flavored ice cream, so you’re satisfied.“If you’re not going to work, what brings you here?”

“This is my work. I own this place,” he says with a smirk and grand sweeping movement of his arm towards the rest of the cafe. You look at the store’s logo printed in metallic yellow characters throughout the space—GoldJin Coffee. Your eyes widen and you look back down at your blonde roast. Blonde roast…golden coffee…GoldJin Coffee. You groan at the horrible pun and his sudden squeaking laugh tells you he’s delighted that you get the joke.

“I see your sense of humor is still terrible. Good to know,” you deadpan.

“But the coffee is good. You gotta admit it’s good.”

“It is,” you nod as you take another sip, eyes closing partially at the taste and partially at his awful dad-sensibility. “I guess it has to be if you’re going to found this place on such a shitty joke.”

He leans in conspiratorially, making you lean in too. “If I’m being honest…when I explained the joke on the company instagram page, we lost 20 followers. But the sales never dipped, so I’m fine.” He waits until you’ve put your cup down before asking, “What about you. Are you working?”

“Yeah. Well, actually no. I’m trying to find some work for the summer, but I was also applying for longer-term jobs before you came over.”

“I heard you were working at the BTU marine department,” he says with furrowed brows. You sigh at the mention of the internship again.

“I was, but they’ve decided to give actual BTU students priority. Which I totally understand. But I need money, so I can’t really afford to do a free internship right now. Hence the frantic job applications during my precious summer break.”

“Oh, well why don’t you work at the country club? My dad says that they could use some help over there. He still remembers you, I’m sure.”

“What kind of work?”

Although you’re fairly equal-opportunity when it comes to jobs, you’re not about to spend your break picking up after rich people, even if they produced people like your high school friend Jin. He picks up on your wary tone and laughs.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing too degrading. They need help at the children’s pool. Can you still freestyle like you used to?”

He grins at you fondly, fairly sure the answer is yes given that you became friends because he recruited you himself to the swim team in your freshman year. As one of the handful of upperclassmen there, he was assigned to you as your practice and tournament mentor.

Memories of the smell of chlorine saturating the air and sunburns on your shoulders dance across your mind’s eye. Almost as if it were happening right then and there, you remember the sound of Jin yelling at you as you pushed your body to slice through the water faster and faster during practices. You remember the feeling of pressing a cold pack to his shoulder after he pulled a muscle training in the weight room too hard and couldn’t make it to the very tournament he’d been prepping for. You remember Jin cradling your tear-stained face and laughing with you after you beat your record by more than you could have ever imagined. You remember the two of you sharing a seat and blanket on the bus during winter meets. You remember Jin sneaking into the girl’s bathroom to bring you the tampons you left in your locker only to get caught by Lisa, the girls team coach, and forced to do 50 laps.There’s no way you could forget any of that.

Your eyes get a little misty. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“Great,” he says after a beat. “If you pass the lifeguard test and get picked, it pays 20 an hour and some of the parents leave tips.”

“Are you serious? Since when do people tip lifeguards?”

He shrugs. “It’s the country club. They do it because they can. They’re testing today at four, you know.”

You check your phone and see that you have just enough time to run back to your house to grab some swim stuff and get to the club in time for the test. Pulling out a 10 dollar bill, you thank the universe for sending Jin to you in this hour of financial need.

“Here’s a 10. I don’t know how much this coffee costs, but knowing you it’s probably overpriced.”

“You don’t have to pay—” he gapes before you cut him off with a smile and dismissive hand wave.

“Just take the money, Jin. I’m going over there right now. Wish me luck.”

He can only nod, picking up the empty sugar packets and wiping down the few stray droplets of cream you left on the table while you pack. You’re out the door before he can actually get any words of encouragement out, but he’s certain you won’t need it. It’s not until he comes back with a spray bottle to properly clean the table and sees the 10 dollar bill that he realizes he probably should have warned you who you might see at the pool.

The pool, as it happens, has its own sector at the club and its own parking lot. Both the regular pool and the kiddie pool look onto the rolling green of the golf course that is rumored to have won national gardening competitions. The parking spaces are ample and you are glad for this. For some reason you feel it would be doing your vehicle a disservice if you were forced to park it next to what looked like a 2020 Bentley. Driving in your father’s two digit year-old compact car past the valet makes you realized it’s been a while since you’ve been on the wealthier side of town.

You reminisce as you follow the signs that lead you to the lifeguard test. The last time you were in the area, it was for Jin’s graduation party. There had been a large, beautiful, and somehow legal bonfire in the backyard of the Kim residence. It was probably one of the most genuinely entertaining parties you’d gone to, beating out nearly all of the drunk raves you’d attended during college. Most of the guests were family friends of the Kims, but the rest were swim team members. Given that you’d all become comfortable with one another while in a near-constant state of wetness and undress, there were no awkward party jitters. You all drank from red Solo cups and bonded over stories about Jin since he was the man of the hour. It would have been a perfect party if not for one person. Almost on command, you can feel your heart-rate spike at the thought of the most annoying boy you had ever encountered. He had been invited to the party as well and spent the whole night trying to get your attention, not unlike how he behaved when you were in classes together. You try to remain calm before the swim test and force the annoying memories back to the corner of your mind. Lucky for you, he wouldn’t ever bother you again.

When you finally make your way out of the winding women’s changing room, you’re greeted by the sight of crystalline blue water ebbing gently within the large outdoor pool. A gathering of about 8 other people are chattering amongst themselves while a single lifeguard looks over a clipboard. Most of them turn as you approach and you nod a bit shyly before the lifeguard checks the time and decides to begin the test. Any other time, you would be nervous but this isn’t an ordinary test environment. The only feeling swimming and being in water can give you is a sense of deep calm. This proves to give you a leg up because not even 5 minutes into the directions two people leave after the lifeguard says the pressure of the job isn’t for those who freeze up while stressed. More people end up getting cut when they ask you all to tread water without using your arms for 5 minutes. Suddenly you are glad that you kept a regular swim schedule in college to maintain your stress. Your arms are burning by the time they ask you to retrieve a brick from the 10 foot portion of the pool floor, but you make it through. By the end, there are only 3 other people who have finished with you.

You’re blotting at your skin with the towel you brought, waiting for your legs to stop feeling like lead so you can go back to the car, when the head lifeguard approaches you.

“I was paying special attention to you out there,” she says. Her voice doesn’t sound indicting, but it doesn’t sound laudatory either. She’s a stern looking woman, probably in her mid 30’s. Her nametag reads Stella, but you have a hunch that’s not her real name. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah,” you wrap yourself protectively in your towel, her gaze making you feel transparent. “My highschool coach used to make us take this test every year if we wanted to get on varsity and stay there. And I was the gym lifeguard during the weekends in college.”

She’s silent for a beat and squints, taking in your open expression. “Were you one of Sun’s pupils?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Of course. He was my coach too. You can always tell when someone has trained under him. It’s like their stress is water soluble or something.” She finally cracks a grin and you smile, relieved that she doesn’t have a bone to pick with you. “You know CPR?”

You nod and she smiles wider before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I like you. I’ll tell you a secret. We already had the first lifeguard picked out, but we needed a second one to meet pool standards.” You nod with understanding. “You just got hired.”

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.” Stella tosses her head back at your earnest confessions. “When can I start?”

“Tomorrow, if you can. But first come meet the other guy that way you all can start building rapport. You might know him. He’s another one of Sun’s kids. Small world, huh?”

She walks over to the lifeguard lounge and calls into the back.

“Hey! Send Jung out, will you? We found another Sun kid for the little pool, I want them to meet.”

A few moments later a guy with bright orange hair stumbles out of the lounge, wearing the standard red trunks and a matching life vest. When he’s only a few meters away your heart plummets into your stomach. Jung Hoseok’s eyes light up in recognition and he gives you a bright smile.

“Hey, long time no see,” he chirps. When you don’t say anything Stella raises a brow and coughs a little awkwardly. You speak up, remembering the job at stake.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Stella claps a heavy hand on your shoulders, sensing the tension in the way your voice shrinks over the syllables of his name.

“Well, clearly you kids know each other. Hoseok here can tell you about the hours and the jobs you have when you’re not on the chair. If there are any issues, come to me.” No one says anything, so she adds, “I’ll leave you both to it,” before heading to the lounge.

You watch her leave to avoid making eye contact with him, but when she disappears into the lounge Hoseok pipes up.

“This is really crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really is.” A headache is building in your temples at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that it’s deepened after nearly a decade, it still elicits the same curl of annoyance under your skin. “Stella said you can tell me about the hours and stuff?”

He doesn’t seem to pick up on your clipped, overly polite tone. “Totally. So, we come in at 7am, six days a week, and open up the little pool and put out the ropes.You know, stuff coach Sun would make us do if we were on our phones during practice, remember?”

You nod, eyes closed and the pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Then we’ll be up in the chairs for 90 minutes at a time. If no one gets hurt, then we can take 20 minutes to swim or take sun breaks. We close 3 hours early on Sundays, though. Oh yeah! They have sunblock and water in the lounge that we can use whenever so you don’t have to—what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

It seems easier to let him escort you to a bench by the poolside than to yell at him about personal space. Besides, under the clean scent of his deodorant, he smells like the the pool and sunscreen and sun warmed skin. The smell actually settles your nerves a bit and your migraine wanes enough for you to open your eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Jung Hoseok is leaning too closely into your space, but it’s been so long that the instinct to bark at him seems to have died away. Up close you can see, from a purely objective standpoint of course, that time has been kind of him. The faded orange of his hair tells you it must have been been dyed a while ago. The water probably also took its toll on his hair judging by the way his hair waves. Clearly, he’s already spent plenty of time in the sun because his hair has somewhat natural looking, almost blond, highlights and his skin is a smooth expanse of warm brown, free of the pimples he had during adolescence.

The bright red life vest doesn’t hide much of his upper half, which is lean and sculpted, the hint of abs visible as he curls towards you. But this is Jung Hoseok, so you quickly stop your clinical appraisal of his body and go back to politely looking at his face. The first thing you notice is that the characteristic set of braces he wore all through high school are gone and leave only a straight, white smile in its wake. You note that the little beauty mark that rests above his lip is still there. Duly noted. His face is still as annoyingly not-ugly as it has always been, though his jaw has filled out more along with everything else that’s broadened with age. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that Jung Hoseok had to grow up eventually. At least physically. Emotionally and mentally speaking, his growth has yet to be determined.

A water bottle suddenly appears in your face, nearly poking you in the eye. His grace, you decide, has not improved at all.

“Seems like you still get headaches if you push yourself too hard in the pool,” he says with a soft smile.

“What would you know about that,” you grumble, tone on the verge of impolite.

“You always used to get them when you were trying to shave your times. It was always kinda sad to watch.”

“Yeah, well…” You can’t think of anything to say. Clearly, he was observant, because you were good at hiding your ailments from the team. “What were you saying about swim breaks?”

He starts up again, telling you about where you could order your swimsuit and where you could get free snacks in the country club and that playing with the kids was the fastest way to get tipped. Your headache lessens as you continue to drink and let him chatter on in the background. After a while he exhausts all the knowledge he acquired after being on payroll for a week and your legs feel sturdy enough that you can walk back to the car. You stand, towel forgotten until it falls at your feet revealing your bathing suit clad figure. Fortunately, you wore one of your more conservative swimsuits since this was technically a job interview of sorts, but even in your one-piece you feel exposed in front of Hoseok. Nothing is subtle about the way his gaze follow the curves of your body or the way his mouth and eyelids drop slightly while staring. When he finally makes his way back up to your face, your fiery gaze and hot cheeks are enough for him to avert his eyes quickly.

“Guess you haven’t changed at all,” you mutter before pulling the towel back around you more securely and marching back to the car.

Jin has just served his last Goldilatte of the day when you coming bursting through the door. The bell alerting that a customer has arrived rattles shrilly and he curses himself for not just sending you a warning text, but he thought he had more time. He opens one eye cautiously to see you seething in front of him with dripping wet hair and a damp looking hoodie. There is still a little comfort for him, knowing that you’re not tall enough to climb over the cake display and throttle him.

“Did you or did you not know that Jung Hoseok was also taking the lifeguard position? Answer truthfully and I won’t cause an even bigger scene in the middle of your cafe.”

Knowing you, you probably wouldn’t actually cause a scene but he still checks behind your shoulder cautiously and sees that some patrons have taken off their ever-present headphones to eavesdrop on the conversation. With the poise of a businessman, he silently removes his apron and comes from behind the counter to guide you to his office for some privacy. You sit back in the chair facing him, pouting at him expectantly.

“I did know. My father mentioned it while we were having dinner last week.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.”

“Honestly…I just forgot. The cafe is busy and it had been a week since he told me, so it was kind of just old news. I certainly wasn’t expecting to run into you. If you had let me know you were back in town sooner, I would have probably remembered to tell you.”

“So this is my fault now?”

“No, but I don’t think anyone is really at fault. How bad was it? Seeing him, I mean.”

Your mouth is open and you’re ready to complain about Hoseok just like the old days, but you can’t think of anything he’d actually done wrong while you were at the pool. In fact, he’d been welcoming...in his own way. He’d always been a close talker, even in high school, and if it weren’t him you wouldn’t be bothered. He’d even offered you water after noticing your headache.

“Do you remember the headaches I used to get,” you blurt out. Jin startles a bit at your outburst.

“What headaches?”

“I used to get really bad exertion headaches during practices.” Jin’s confused look has you brushing it off. “That was random, sorry.”

“Okay. Well, it sounds like he didn’t ask you out a million times, so maybe he grew up.” His hands spread in the air like the problem has dissipated into the atmosphere.

“B-but he still checked me out today when I dropped my towel. I had a bathing suit on and he looked like his eyes were going to fall out. What well-adjusted grown man acts like that?” You purposely leave the fact that you gave him a good look over as well. But that’s because what you did was different…

“Look,” he says, laying a sympathetic hand on yours, “He’s probably just going through all the feelings he had last when you were around. I’m sure he’ll get used to your presence and then realize the feelings are old and move on.”

The finality of the idea should be comforting to you, but something about the edges of it gnaws at you unpleasantly. You can’t figure out what it is about the idea that bothers you so much even as you drive your car back to your house, taking the scenic routes so you have time to ruminate and can stay out with the sun a bit longer. Breaking the news about your new cushy job at the country club pool gives your mind a break from the emotional puzzle because the relief that washes over your parents when you tell them your rate of pay makes you proud. But once you’ve had your fill of scrolling through social media and are tucked away in your bed, you can’t stop thinking about Jung Hoseok.

It would be less confusing if hindsight wasn’t 20/20. Looking back, you realize that maybe you made Hoseok out to be a bit more of a nuisance than he actually was. You’d gone to the same elementary school once upon a time. And you’d had quite a few play dates at each other’s houses when you were really young, but that changed when you turned 12. He moved away for middle school because his parents wanted him at a new place where he could dance. On the night before he’d moved away, you’d both cried in each other’s arms and when your father finally came to pick you up, you’d kissed his cheek and told him not to forget you. He’d squeezed you hard and said he wouldn’t. Two years later, you were starting high school and heard rumors that he had come back and was staying. You remembered your wish and hoped then that he hadn’t forgotten, but it seemed that he must have. He was a completely different person.

On the first day of each year, an assembly for all the students was held so that new students who didn’t come from the local middle school could come up and be seen and welcomed.

He’d been up on the stage and he’d looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize him as he crossed in front of your spot on stage as one of the new student tour guides. As he passed you, he made eye contact with you, making hope bloom in your chest. After everyone was seated, each new student was asked to come up when their name was called and stand so the student body could see them. At the sound of Hoseok’s name, a deep and raucous applause coming from a few of the boys in the audience sounded. You could recognize the voices of some of the boys in the crowd, the rowdier ones that caused trouble for teachers but remained like idols in the eyes of many students. That they had taken Hoseok in surprised you. He didn’t seem like their type of recruit—he was too open and caring. The principle then asked the student tour guides to come up to the front of the stage and introduce themselves as well, and you suddenly worried you’d stutter or do something to make the kids in the audience act up again. Your clothing choice, your hairstyle, your gait all suddenly became potential areas for critique as you walked to the microphone, but it was too late then. You just had to make sure you gave a normal introduction.

“Hello. I am one of the student guides. If you have any questions and you see me, don’t be afraid to come up and ask.”

A false sense of security settled over you when you just got regular polite applause. It was a short introduction, and it was ordinary enough that no one could say anything. You gave a quick curtsy to the audience, as was encouraged of students when they were on stage, and a long low wolf-whistle sounded out. Blood rushed to your face and you turned quickly to find the source. Hoseok froze mid-whistle, not expecting you to turn around before he was through. At least he had the decency to look ashamed, but it didn’t do anything to assuage the rolling laughter that was coming from not only the rowdy boys in the back of the auditorium, but most of the students below. With flaming cheeks, you rushed back to your seat with the other guides. One nice girl assured you that your uniform skirt more than long enough to cover anything and that you didn’t actually flash anyone, but that wasn’t your concern. Instead, you were dealing with the fact that your last words to Hoseok as a friend hadn’t meant anything.

After the speech, he tried to find you. But he couldn’t. You were lost in the sea of students leaving the assembly and his new friends were too excited about how well the joke went to let him go. He endured a few playful headlocks and punches until he made up a solid excuse about not wanting to stick around for the principal to find him. They all dispersed after that, but he never got the chance to tell you it was just a joke, that it was just what he needed to do to get into their clique. He never got the chance to apologize, to tell you that he still remembered what you told him. He was certain that if he could just get a moment alone with you, he would be able to right his wrong, but you were determined to never give him the time of day again.

Because you hadn’t given your name in your introduction speech, no one really knew it was you on the first day of school who seemingly flashed the new students, but you still couldn’t shake off the other conflicting feelings. It seemed that from that moment on, the universe was determined to put you near Hoseok so you could never get peace of mind. He was in so many of your classes, always trying to be desk partners, study buddies, lab mates and you’d thwarted all the offers that you could. When you couldn’t avoid him, you tried your best not to chat to him. You would hiss at him if he attempted conversations, about movies you liked or music you listened to, or asked you if you still liked things he remembered from when you were both young. Every time you would shut him down, but he seemed fueled by that. He followed you everywhere. He even followed you to swimming.

Two weeks later, on the day of tryouts, you saw Hoseok sitting on the bleachers next to your recruiter and went back into the changing rooms immediately to put on a t-shirt, knowing it might slow your times and keep you from getting on the team. But it was worth the protection from him wolf-whistling or any other form of public humiliation he had for you. The shirt worked for a few laps since you were pushing yourself to go harder than usual to make up for the drag in the water, but the coach pulled you aside and told you that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that the shirt was slowing your times and there were no shirts allowed at races. Averting your eyes from the rest of the students watching the drama unfold, you pulled off your shirt and swam your heart out for the rest of the day, putting all your anger and embarrassment into the laps until you were gasping. You’d made it onto the team, but it almost didn’t feel worth it when you saw that he would also be on the team with you.

Your phone chimes, alerting you that you should go to sleep soon if you want 7 hours before getting up with the chickens the next morning for your first day of work. Sighing, you turn over in your sheets, suddenly too hot. When you wake up in the morning, you realize you dreamt of something, but the only thing you can remember is the very end. You recall being 13 and running from something in your high school hallways and into a pair of warm brown arms. The clock on your phone tells you that you have 6 more minutes of sleep, but you resist the tease of a micro nap and hop in the shower instead. It’s not until you’re back out and clean that you realize your work uniform isn’t coming until the next day and your only one-piece is still wet because you forgot to switch the laundry loads. Groaning, you hunt for your most demure suit and find some high waisted bottoms and a sportier cut top from your dresser and hope for the best.

The sun is out and high when you arrive at the little pool. You’re already sweating in the hoodie you threw over yourself as last minute effort to cover up. On the other side of the lattice gate separating the two pools, Hoseok sees you walking in. He gives you a big wave and runs back inside to come greet you, bangs bouncing when he runs over. He’s amazingly chipper for someone at 7 in the morning but tones it down a bit when he sees that you look like you had a rough night.

“Ready to lay out the ropes?” His eyes are big and bright, and most importantly, on your face.

“Sure.”

You follow him through the lounge, taking in the stacks of boxes of pools supplies and the senior lifeguards drinking coffee or dozing off since the larger pool doesn’t open until a little later. Stella gives you a thumbs up from her little glass cubicle where she’s on the phone. Hoseok jumps into the water, already in his typical red board shorts with the club logo embroidered onto them, and swims with the dividing rope across the width of the pool.

“You should come in. The water feels great and it’ll be the only time today its not filled filled with people’s pee.”

Trying to remember Jin’s theory, you push down the instinctual suspicion towards him wanting you to get in the pool with him. To aid some of your nerves you turn around before stripping out of your hoodie and jump quickly into the water before swimming a casual distance over to him. Not too close but not too far.

“So, what made you—”

“About yesterday—”

The corner of your mouth tugs up in spite of yourself when you both start talking at the same time. You gesture for him to go first and he looks at you a bit nervously before continuing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him, focusing on the silly way his hair lays flat against his head to diffuse the tension. “It’s only natural to look at stuff for a second when it just…appears.”

“No, no. I mean, there’s no real excuse for it. I guess I still—”

“I get it, it was a knee jerk reaction to something you’re used to doing. It’s cool. It’s been years. The slate is clear. Let’s just forget about it and make this not awkward.”

“But it wasn’t just—”

His cryptic speech sends you into a panic and you do the first thing that comes to mind, which is curl into fetal position so you can dunk yourself underwater. You drop a few feet to the bottom of the pool, knowing that he can still completely see you and reach you. A hand curls around your arm, surprising a few bubbles out of you, and pulls with an impressive amount of strength. At the surface you gasp out of indignation and wipe your eyes.

“Shit! Sorry, that was a lot but I really would like to explain—“

“I swear to god, Jung, if you don’t—“

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says suddenly with a small voice. The water around you appears to have nearly frozen in response to the tension in the air. Not even the smallest ripple dares tip the tenuous balance of the moment.

Your breath hitches and you wonder if maybe you both stayed up thinking about the same thing last night. But that couldn’t be it. That would be too much of a coincidence.

Hesitation has his arm trembling as he reaches out towards your stiff form. Maybe you won’t run away this time and he can get everything out. But the movement of his arm breaks your stupor and sends you stumbling back a foot in the water. The palms of his hands come up as a sign that he’s not trying to hurt you.

“Do you remember before I left for middle school? What you said to me that night? Because I do. And I didn’t break my promise, I didn’t forget you.”

“You sure about that?”

“What? Of course I didn’t. Don’t you remember all the times I tried to talk to you and start where we left off?”

“You may not have forgotten about me,” you practically spit the words at him, “But you broke your promise to me the minute you pulled that shit at the student assembly.” He winces and you feel emboldened. “And let’s not forget that stunt you pulled in the cafeteria in the front of literally everyone.”

Hoseok enters the lunchroom with his friends and automatically scans the room for you.

“You looking for your girlfriend, Jung?”

“No need. I already know where you mom lives,” he says lightly, still searching for your a glimpse backpack or the blue tracksuit you wore that day for the race you had later.

He finds you in the lunchline, debating between milk and water while the student in front of you haggles for an extra serving. Running over, he uses the intimidation factor of him and his two larger friends’ presence to cut in front of the student behind you.

“You should pick the chocolate milk. It’s your favorite.”

He can practically see hairs on your neck stand up when you hear his voice and he’s certain that if you had claws they would be out and poking holes through the little cardboard container in your hand. You put the carton back down in its ice bucket and take a water.

“Coach said dairy will slow us down,” your answer is curt as you move forward in the line. The lunch lady loads up your tray how you ask and you run to the cash register to pay before he can even pick up the milk.

Steeling himself with determination, he follows behind, trying to make sure he doesn’t lose sight of you. When he gets to the register, all he sees is your ID card where you left it in your hurry. Quickly he retrieves it and looks over the cafeteria, watching your head bob away. He finds you soon after, seated at the end of the swimming table next to Jin. His two friends follow behind more slowly, one carrying his tray.

“You ready for the race, squirt?” Jin puts chicken strip on your plate as he usually does, worried about your protein intake.

“I think so. If I get to the gym early to stretch it should be fine,” you mutter thoughtfully around your fork.

“I’ll go with you and we can do some circuits together.” You look to your left to see Hoseok smiling brightly, his braces glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

“This table is full. You’ll have to sit with your mob boss at his table,” you snark. Jin is about to intervene and give you both the talk about team inclusivity when Hosoek playfully brandishes your ID inches away from your face.

“Come sit with us and you can have this back.” At sight of the plastic card, you pat the pockets of your suit frantically before coming up short. You stand up. You’re sick of Jung Hoseok always bugging you.

“Give it back,” you say lowly so only he can hear.

You’re already making a scene by standing in the middle of the cafeteria, but people don’t notice just yet because the lunch period has just started and plenty of others are still getting settled.

“Come sit with me, and I will.”

“I don’t want to sit with you. Just give me the card.”

“Not until you sit with me.”

The way your heartbeat picks up probably isn’t healthy, but you’re so frustrated that you’re ready to burst. You try playing his own game, seeing if embarrassing him will get him to comply.

“Why are you always following me around, huh?” Your voice cuts through most of the chatter and people quiet down to turn ans watch the two of you. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

A hush of low murmurs runs through the room and you can hear people giggling to themselves. Even though it was supposed to target him, you face still feels hot.

“Yeah, I do.”

The crowd erupts at his boldness. The same boys from the day of the assembly cheer him on. You stand there, shocked and humiliated. Being inexperienced when it came to crushes meant that you were completely unaware that all of Hoseok’s constant bothering might have been him trying to get you on his arm. Angry tears rapidly fill your waterline and you have to work hard to keep a straight face so you don’t completely break down in front of the student body. You keep your face turned towards him so as not to let anyone else know that you’re crying. Hoseok’s expression goes from proud of finally confessing to you to horrified at seeing you cry. The smile he had slips off immediately and is replaced with terror and he can only look up at Jin helplessly as he comes up behind you. The upperclassman holds out his hand, in which Hoseok places your ID. Jin silently takes your tray from you and lets you bury your face in his matching tracksuit top to hide from the gossiping onlookers.

“It’s okay,” Jin says softly. Hoseok only hears a pathetic high noise leave you before you’re back at your table, clutching at Jin with your shoulders heaving from embarrassment.

His friends tug on his sleeve until they get him to stumble blindly over to their table.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Jung.” One of the boys says, eying your table with a mean smile.

“How come you have two milks,” another asks before quickly stealing the brown carton marked ‘chocolate’ off his tray.

Thanks to a great deal of suppression, you hadn’t thought of that fateful day in the cafeteria for years. But it’s crystal clear in your memory now. Your hands are balled up under the water’s surface and they’re shaking with unresolved rage and pity for your 14 year-old self.

“I can explain that too.” He runs a hand through his hair, wetting it again and turning it a deep russet.

“Of course you can. Nothing is ever your fault.”

You swim away from him before stalking to the lounge. The sound of a second set of splashes lets you know that he’s following after you, but you don’t care. Stella has finished with her phone call by the time you make your way to her cubicle. You knock harshly on the glass door and several other life guards can sense something is wrong as they watch Hoseok come dripping over.

“What is it, kid?” Stella looks quickly between your thunderous expression and Hoseok’s defeated one.

“Something’s come up. I have to go. I just wanted to let you know so someone could cover my shift. Maybe I can come back some other time and cover a shift at the big pool.” You turn on your heel and leave, not even bothering to rinse off in the showers or pat yourself dry with a towel.

Stella and Hoseok watch you storm off. When the sound of your car’s engine starts, she turns to him.

“Explain yourself. Now.”

Usually, you would have your phone connected to the car’s speaker system with an aux cord to listen to some music while driving and enjoying the scenic small town roads. But bumping heads with Hoseok like old times calls for silence instead.

Rumbling in your stomach reminds you that you skipped breakfast to get to work on time—a bad habit that college had instilled in you. You decide to head to the grocery store and pick something fast up for lunch before heading home and taking an anger nap. Sleep probably won’t solve your problems, but your sure that about 8% of your irritation is from having gotten up so early after such a shitty night’s sleep.

Halfway to the grocery store you see your mother walking on the sidewalk, carrying recyclable shopping bags. You honk and pull over so she can ride with you.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

“Hi, mom."

The smile you give her is small, but genuine as her cheery mood lightens yours a bit. Being your mother, though, she can still tell something’s wrong as you drive through the narrow roads slower than normal. While playing hooky, no less.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re not at the country club for your first day of work or would you rather I talk to you about the weather?” You sigh, but decide that it’s better to rant instead of keeping everything bottled up.

“It’s nothing too big, really. There’s just a classmate at work that I—”

“Oh, yes! Little Jung Hoseok, right? Poor thing. I just saw his mother this morning while I was mowing the lawn and she stopped for a chat. She told me all about his-,” she stops to search for the right word, “his rough patch when he was younger.”

You chuckle dryly. “She told you about that?”

“Yes! She told me all about the hard time he had when he moved away. I can’t believe they bullied him out of the dance academy. All because they were jealous he was a presidential scholar invited from outside the district. Poor baby. Frankly, I can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything all this time.”

The light changes from yellow to red faster than you’re ready for and you hit the brakes a little too hard as you process what your mother told you.

“I, uh, thought you were talking about something else. I didn’t know about that part.” You try to sound as casual as possible, knowing that with the right prompting tone, your mother will let out all the secrets like a floodgate. “What else did Mrs. Jung say?”

“She said that was the reason he came back to the neighborhood high school. Apparently, he would cry himself to sleep. Said he knew he couldn’t do the rest of the program at the high school, but they begged him to stay for middle school. And he did, but as soon as it was over he transferred back here.”

You pull into the parking lot slowly so you don’t have to devote too much attention to parking correctly and can listen to all the details.

“But it sounds like things didn’t get better right then. He fell in with some of those wild kids. I think one of them was that Kim Taehyung’s older brother. Gorgeous boy, ugh. What ever happened with him. Did he go to college?”

“Mom, wait. What about Hoseok?” You drag her by the arm into the lobby of the store, carrying the basket on your other arm.

“That’s right. Hoseok. What was I saying?” She turns to look at you after she throws some lettuce in the basket.

“You were saying he got involved with the wrong crowd?”

“Right, right. Well she said that when he came back during the summer he started hanging around with them. At first it didn’t seem so bad because she and his father were just glad he finally had friends and he didn’t seem to be misbehaving much. Just following them around because he was invited. You know, stuff like that.”

She hands you the grocery list while gesticulating with the flow of the story and you scramble to grab the items from the aisle you’re in while she wanders off. You have to chase her without spilling the contents of the basket.

“But once school started, she said he started acting out. He would get pulled out of class with those kids for being disruptive, and she said one particular student was always asking the teacher to separate them because he wouldn’t leave her alone.” You blush, realizing she’s describing you. “If it weren’t for the fact that most of the teachers knew what he was really like from elementary school, I’m sure they would have locked him in detention for the whole four years.”

You feel sad for Hoseok, but there’s also a pang of guilt forming in your gut. “Did she say why they didn’t? Punish him, I mean.”

“I think she said something about when they asked him why he kept bothering that student, he said he was just trying to get them to remember him. They felt bad because he was trying to get his friend back. So they just gave him warnings.”

“Well,” you say, trying to keep your voice sounding light and uninvolved as you play devil’s advocate, “Even if his intentions were good, shouldn’t the teacher’s have taken stricter action? Since he was making that girl uncomfortable and all?”

You mother stops her stroll through the frozen food aisle to turn back at you and fix you with an unreadable look.

“Normally, I would right there with you on that. But I remember little Hoseok when you all used to play on the rug in the living room. He would come in from outside and put the flowers he picked in your hair and tell you that you looked like the fairies in his books at home. Bullying can sure harden someone, but I don’t know if it can completely change who they are. At least, it doesn’t sound like that’s what happened here. Seeing as, once he came back, he made a beeline straight for his favorite person. Every chance he got.”

She plucks the list out of your grasp and steps forward to stand in front of you. When she lays a hand on your cheek, you can’t meet her gaze. Instead you look down at the way her loafers point directly towards your sneakers.

“How is Hoseok, by the way?” She turns her back to you and looks for the frozen bags of fruit that you always use in your smoothies.

“He seems a lot better,” you answer back honestly.

After arriving back at your house and helping your mom, your hands itch and you find yourself feeling restless. Talking things out with your mom would probably help, but you don’t want to feel small and fourteen again while you do it. Jin’s work schedule is still a mystery to you, but you guess that he’s the type of boss to come in most days, if not everyday, and drive over there to see if he has time for you.

Jin takes in the way your shoulders hunch as you walk into the door and immediately starts up on a warm drink he knows will cheer you up. It involves too much milk, cocoa powder, a disgusting amount of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. He has to pull back his coffee snob persona while he makes it. But the way you immediately run a finger through the mountain of cream, eating half of it in one breath, tells him that you’re not broken beyond repair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think that…maybe I was, I don’t know, too hard on Hoseok when we were in school?”

“Absolutely,” he says with zero hesitation. When your eyes widen with uncovered guilt and your mouth drops open, he’s quick to amend his statement. “I mean, you have every right to be mad about the times he put you on the spot. But I think there’s things you don’t know that would have made it so you both could have been friends in the end.”

“Are you talking about the bullying thing at his middle school?”

“What the—he told you?”

“No,” you whine and drop your head onto the table, covering your head with your arms. “I found out an hour ago. From my mom, of all people.”

“Wow. Moms really do know everything.”

“I know. It’s annoying.” Jin lets you sulk for a moment before steering the conversation back in the direction it needs to go.

“So I guess you know about how he kind of fell in with the wrong crew after coming back as a protective strategy, right?”

“Yeah, I mean…I wasn’t sure? But it seemed like that’s what that was because those kids really didn’t seem like his type of friends. I could tell even back then.” You play with the little cardboard sleeve around the still warm cup. Made from 100% biodegradable materials, it reads.

“Without giving too much away—because this isn’t really my secret to tell—let’s just say that they knew he wasn’t like them, but they were intrigued enough and wanted to test his loyalty. So to speak.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, gears turning. “What, like frat hazing or something?”

“Bingo,” Jin shoots finger guns at you. “That’s all I’m gonna give you, though. I’ve already said too much.” He reaches forward and takes a sip of your drink before immediately spitting it back into the cup. “It’s a wonder you still have functioning tastebuds. God, that’s disgusting. I can’t believe I created a monster.”

“That was my drink, asshole.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t pay good money for it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes before putting your phone and keys back in your pocket. “You’re really leaving because of the drink?”

“No, you narcissist. I’m going back to work.”

“Oh. Gonna go have a Nicholas Sparks moment in the middle of the kiddie pool?”

Confusion pinches at your features. “Who’s Nicholas Sparks?”

“No one,” he says quickly. “It’s just, uh, an old saying. Go to work.” He pushes you out of the door quickly before you can ask why he has his lying voice on.

The drive back to the pool feels completely different from the one you took this morning. You don’t feel happier, necessarily, but you feel less weighed down by some invisible and perplexing force. For the first time in 48 hours you feel like you can name your feelings a little more clearly. Like you made a mistake, but you also feel like you can fix it.

You make it to the lounge before Stella ambushes you with a firm grip around your arm dragging you away from the entrance to the kiddie pool.

“I see that you’re back and I’m not going to question you for leaving, because I’m pretty sure I know why now. You go out there and try and do your job, and I’ll understand if it’s tough for you. But if you pull something like leaving work because it’s hard being star-crossed lovers again, I will give your job to the next person who knows what a pool looks like. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” you breathe, not even bothering to correct her assumption that you and Hoseok are star-crossed lovers even though it’s not 100% true. The first step you take is a hesitant one, but when Stella doesn’t say anything, you head out to the pool.

Hoseok and some other lifeguard are seated in regular pool chairs because the pool is small enough and shallow enough that they can survey the layout and the tiny swimmers without the added height of the usual chairs. Normally, Hoseok would be chatting away with his shift partner while watching the children swim, but he’s silent as he watches with a hand squishing his cheek, deep in thought. His shift partner looks so bored out of their mind that when you tap their shoulder, they don’t even bother looking to see who is replacing them before running to the lounge. He turns when you’ve settled and his eyes grow impressively round.

“You came back?”

You look out to watch a mother sitting at the edge of the pool dunk her baby’s feet in the water. “I needed to talk to you. Or I guess listen and then talk.”

“So...you’ll let me explain?” Incredulity making his words come out slowly.

“Yes. But you should know that, uh, your mom told my mom some stuff. And my mom told me. And then Jin from the swim team told me some stuff.”

“How much do you know?”

“Just the vague things. I heard you had a hard time at the dance academy and that kind of sparked everything.”

“I should still probably start from the beginning, though.” You nod.

“I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to continue dance, but I didn’t want to leave all the people I met behind just because the school was willing to pay for my tuition. My mom thought it would be big and they convinced me that I could still have friends, while practicing, so I said okay.

But it turned out to be a boarding school thing, so I never got to see anyone from home and when I got there, the instructors treated me special. None of the students there liked that. If I’m being honest, they kicked the shit out of me a few times. And when they weren’t doing that they were putting nails in my dance shoes or locking me in supply closets and the teachers just wanted me to ‘use the pain to power my dancing’. My parents only found out because I started dropping weight really fast and wasn’t sleeping enough to be able to make it through the daily practices without fainting. Of course they were mad, but they also thought it was something that would eventually go away when the other kids grew up a little. They thought that it would stop when the high school program begun, but no 12 year-old getting bullied is that patient. I made them a promise that I would wait until the middle school program ended and then I would decide. But it just got worse as time passed.”

“Hoseok,” your voice breaks and you realize tears have been threatening to roll down your cheeks without even realizing, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I couldn’t have been that brave when I was 12.”

“Yeah, well, it was all thanks to you. I kept thinking that if I kept dancing, maybe I could get famous and come see you and make you proud. But obviously I didn’t make it that far.”

He gives you a bitter smile that’s so hollow and empty, you almost don’t recognize him. It’s then that you realize every smile he’d given you before this one was genuine. Even the ones he gave you when you when he was bothering you in school.

“W-what happened after the program ended?” It takes a great deal of effort to drag your eyes off his face and go back to looking after the swimmers, but you have no choice. Remembering that you’re at work, you wipe your arm across your eyes quickly so you can see clearly.

“I’d changed, I guess. I think if I stayed any longer I would be a completely different person. I got really dark and kind of mean. Sometimes I would surprise myself with the thoughts I would have, even at that age. Even when it was towards people who had done me wrong.”

“Is that why you started hanging out with those guys?”

He sighs, not proud of himself at the moment. “Yeah. I knew that high school would be just as hard for me if I came back with open wounds, so to speak. But I couldn’t stay and just keep rotting away. So I made myself a compromise. I would do what it took to get protection so I could eventually get better and not need it anymore. I figured...what better way to do that than to basically get myself a security team? I knew no one would mess with me if I could just find a way into that group.”

“I was wondering about that, to be honest. It didn’t make sense that did a kid like you would fall in with kids like them. Like even after all you went through, you still weren’t a bully like them.”

“Well, they told me that I would have to prove to them that I had the balls to be in the group. They said it had to be big. The first thing that came to mind was causing a disruption of some sort. At an important place.”

“A place like the center stage of the annual new student assembly,” you whisper as the pieces of the puzzle connect. Anger automatically rises at the memory of the day, but you clamp down on it with a few careful breaths. He senses your automatic reaction and winces.

“I hope you know I’m not telling you all of this so you feel guilty, like you have to forgive me. If it makes you feel any better. I’ve never stopped hating myself for that day.”

You smile darkly. “That doesn’t really make me feel better. But tell me about it anyway.”

“When they realized I would be on stage that year, they wanted me to flip a girl’s uniform skirt while I was up there to prove that I could be one of them. I hated the idea. I couldn’t even fathom doing it but I said yes at the start because they wouldn’t budge on the idea.”

“That...makes sense. Why me, though?”

“It wasn’t logical. I didn’t think you would be up on stage, and when I saw you looking at me, I thought maybe it was worth a shot using you instead of some random girl. Somehow it seemed better to do it to someone I knew than with a stranger.”

“You’re right. Doesn’t sound logical at all,” your tone holds almost palpable annoyance. “But I can see why that would make sense when you’re stressed and 14. I guess.”

“But that’s also why I couldn’t go through with the whole skirt flipping thing once I realized it had to be you. I couldn’t do that either. I still remember how in fourth grade you would cried every time the teacher called on you and you didn’t have the answer. You hate being the center of attention.”

You hum, neither in agreement nor in disagreement. You’re not quite ready to speak as you consider the situation from his point of view.

“It was a huge risk. Both not pulling the whole prank and pulling the prank, but it was just enough that they let it slide and let me in. I figured that maybe I could explain it away to you right after, but I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s because I was in the bathroom. Crying my eyes out.”

“God. I’m so sorry. You have to at least know that.”

“No, I know you are.”

“I thought about laying low for a while and giving you some time to cool off, but then we had so many classes together. And I was still planning on giving you some space then, but I—” he trails off.

“Then you what?”

“Then I saw you up close for the first time in two years and I just couldn’t stay away,” he says quietly.

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?” You roll your eyes and sneer, ignoring the way your heartbeat picked up at the tortured rasp in his words.

“I mean it!” He turns in his seat to you but you nod your head at the pool and then he’s turning back sheepishly. “The only reason I got through middle school was because I thought about seeing my best friend every day. It had been two years and I was so curious about you and how you’d changed. And I remember thinking how pretty you were. I felt like I was going crazy.”

“You should have just left me alone. I’m sure I would have gotten over it after a few days if you gave me some space and we could have talked civilly. Could have avoided all of…this,” you gesture with your hands to the tense air between you.

“I realized that a little too late, I think. When you didn’t want to talk to me—which was completely understandable and I deserved it—I was worried you hated me. So I thought that if I just acted like we were 12 again and everything was normal, maybe it would go back to being normal. I guess even though I hadn’t changed too much I did get really selfish.”

Part of you agrees that it was kind of selfish for Hoseok not to give you the space you needed. But another part of you thinks back to all the times he ‘bothered’ you and you have to ask yourself if you really minded it.

“Hoseok, I,” you lower your head so you don’t have to face his piercing gaze, “owe you an apology as well.”

“For what?”

“For snapping at you. Not the first few times,” you amend. “Not when the embarrassment was still fresh. But after those first few days passed and I was still angry. I wasn’t angry about the assembly then. I was angry because I wanted you to tell me sorry and why you would pull such a stupid prank on me. I think it was the waiting that made me resent you. Granted, I was waiting for an explanation you decided you didn’t want to give me in the end. An explanation that you owed me.”

“I get that,” he says quietly. “Look, I was stupid not to realize you didn’t want to talk around it.”

“It’s not all your fault. If I had just told you that I wanted to talk it, things probably wouldn’t have gotten bad like they did. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

Your throat feels tight at the end of your confession as you think of all the times you must have unknowingly broken his young heart. Every time you’d denied him when he tried to carry your books. Or walk with you to your locker, to swim practice, to wait for your dad to pick you up at the end of the day. He still attempted all those things, but he did it with you turning to snap at him for doing them every step of the way. How he managed to smile brightly every morning is still a mystery to you. The good thing is that now your chest feels more open and light than it has in years. It feels good to finally understand everything and not hide your frustration. He must sense the new lightness because when he laughs this time its full of mirth, no bitterness weighing it down. You’re secretly grateful his laugh is still the low hiccuping sound it was when you were children.

“Hell, if you’d told me that you wanted the moon, I would have given it to you. If it would bring you—my friend back to me.”

Clearly, all the issues hadn’t been addressed just yet. There was still the fact that he developed a crush on you despite all your snapping during those four years. You feel awkward again, but now its because you don’t know how to address his old feelings for you. It would be a shame to let that fester between you as well, so you go straight for the jugular.

“What about the day—”

“In the cafeteria?” You nod.

He’s about to hunker down and explain when a two year old whose mother signed them in about an hour ago waddles up to your chairs wordlessly. You move to get up and try and guess which person to call from the sign in sheet but Hoseok simply scoops the child up and plops them in his lap before bouncing a foot so the child bounces with it. The kid laughs and claps, sprinkling some of the pool water dripping off them onto your arm. Despite the heavy conversation, the high, bubbly sound has both of you smiling on command. He removes his sunglasses and gives them to the child to play with.

“I was telling the truth. I knew you were trying to call my bluff, but I was being honest because it had been eating at me. Plus, I was mad, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you hated me. But I just—I couldn’t find it in myself to leave you alone at that point. And I knew. I knew you weren’t mad anymore about the assembly. I mean it had been years and I knew you didn’t care about it at that point.”

“Were you mad because I didn’t like you back?”

“No…I really don’t think so. I think I was just mad because you were becoming more and more amazing every day and I just sat there and watched. I couldn’t—couldn’t grow with you. You were pretty and athletic and studious and nice… when you wanted to be.”

You chuckle and let yourself look at him for a brief moment. He’s smiling at the child who has now decided to stand in his lap. Hoseok’s orange hair baffles the baby and a chubby hand goes to grab at the strands out of curiosity. He looks handsome, you can’t deny it.

In another timeline, in some alternate universe, maybe he could be your best friend and boyfriend today. Maybe seeing him interact with the little kids would have you blushing and thinking about a not too distant future together. Maybe you would be trying to earn money to save up for an apartment together in the city. Maybe this would be a regular day for the two of you and after work he would take you out to dinner and you’d buy him ice cream afterwards and then maybe after that you would…If it weren’t for everything that happened maybe you would…you would.

“What’s wrong?” Concern mars his delicate features before he looks over the child to see if the problem lies with them.

“Nothing! I was just thinking. I’m kind of ready for all this to be old news.”

His smile is slow and warm, but subdued. “You’re not just saying that because my stupid crush made you feel awkward right? It’s okay if it did. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you don’t like me like that.”

A protest rises in your throat, but you clamp it down before it can leave you. You’re not sure what you’re protesting.

“No. I just want to start over again,” you say after a beat.

You go home that day with a $40 dollar tip that technically wasn’t even intended for you.

Almost as soon as you both called for a truce in your near decade war, the child in Hoseok’s arms quickly started crying after realizing their mother was nowhere to be found. You deftly swept them into your arms and rocked them around the pool for the rest of your 90 minute shift, letting them whine quietly into your neck until they dozed off. While Hoseok herded the rest of the children and a few mothers out of the kiddie area, you managed to get the child to tell your their full name so you could narrow down the list of parents to call. Eventually you found the right person and handed the child back to Hoseok so he could distract them further by drawing shapes on his belly with sunscreen. The child’s mother came soon after you hung up and pulled out her wallet as soon as she saw Hoseok playing with her child. He thanked her for the tip and, once she left, went and curled the bills into the palm of your hand, saying “That was all you”.

The day closes off quietly. You pack up your things and go to clock out in the lounge, only to find no one else looks like they’re leaving despite the fact that both pools had closed 20 minutes prior. When you ask what everyone else’s plans are, Stella informs you that the staff often go to visit the people working in the kitchen to get a free meal in exchange for keeping the pool open for an hour after all the club members left. It was a nice little arrangement that took place every day during the summer.

“You’ll come, right? It’s free food directly from the chef and his team,” Stella says as she locks her cubicle office.

“I don’t know. Aren’t they sick of cooking after doing it all day?”

She huffs, “They cook after the last customer leaves anyway so they can eat too. It’s not that much trouble to cook for us. Especially when they get to take a swim after being on their feet all day.”

Hoseok steps behind you as people begin to file out of the lounge and head to the club restaurant. “You’re not avoiding me, are you? I thought we were friends again,” he teases good-naturedly.

“Of course not! I meant what I said, I just…” He looks down at you thoughtfully when you trail off. “My parents are probably waiting up for me, you know. They wanna know how my first day went and all that.” You say your goodbyes to everyone before heading back to the car knowing that your parents will be out late seeing a movie.

The next morning, you get there before Hoseok, but you have a key to open the gate. So you get ahead on getting the ropes set out on both pools. To kill the time still left before the kiddie pool opens, you try to remember the combination to your employee locker so you can try on the company suit you ordered. It fits well, and the red will go nicely with your skin as the summer progresses and your tan deepens. You do a little spin for the lifeguards laying around the lounge and they humor you and clap sleepily. Stella gives you a thumbs up, busy on the phone in her cubicle as she always is.

Boredom compels you to go and sit in your seat early. With the extra time still left you put on sunscreen. Very carefully. You put on a visor, then decide you don’t want to deal with it if it gets wet by chance. Then you put it back on again because why not. You’re starting to worry that you’ll have to do the shift on your own when Hoseok stumbles in with a few parents coming to sign their kids in to the pool.

“Sorry,” he throws himself into his seat.

An apologetic frown twists his mouth, but the plushness of his pout goes unnoticed because you’re focused on the smear of white near the hinge of his jaw. You reach out on instinct to wipe it off, but stop midway and gesture to it instead, reeling your hand back in slowly. He wipes at it roughly.

“Why were you late?”

“Got in a fight with my mom last night. She took the car keys from me so I had to take the bus here. Were you waiting out here long?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

He grimaces guiltily and looks up at the sky directly because there’s no nice, big beach umbrella to shield your heads from the heat like there is for the guards at the adult pool.

“Geez. That must have sucked in this heat.”

“Not really. The sun’s not at its strongest yet. Maybe in a few hours I’ll get mad at you,” you joke.

“Promise?”

“Nah. You thought I was mean in high school? You better hope you don’t want to see me mad now. Completely different animal.”

“I don’t know,” he drawls, a fox-like grin coming out. “I think, if anything, I might have developed a taste for it.”

“Eyes on the pool, horndog .” The banter elicits a small smile from you. It’s only small because you’re working to contain it. You can’t believe how easy it is to be around him when you’re not at each other’s throats.

The day passes by quickly in companionable silence until around noon, when the heat gets almost unbearable. Hoseok suggests then that you move to sit in the actual pool and watch from there. If it’s really just an excuse to watch your red-clad figure move in its entirety for a brief second, you can’t tell. The next string of shifts is spent with both of you seated in adjacent corners to let the water lap at you and calm your heated skin. Occasionally a child will make their way over to one of you and you’ll play with them for a bit until they get bored or their parents return. The sight of the babies climbing Hoseok to grab little fistfuls of wet, orange hair is heart warming. And the way he scoops them up to blow raspberries against their round cheeks makes something clench in your gut a little, too intense to be the fluttering wings of nervous butterflies. As a distraction you let one curious child attempt to chew on the whistle around your neck. Not like you’ll be using it anyway.

“You gonna duck out again and skip dinner today, too?”

His question comes out of nowhere and startles you from watching a young girl of around 4 years old try to doggie paddle on her back.

“I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t know anyone enough to be very good company while I’m there.”

“You don’t have to be a hostess, you can just sit there and eat.”

“But then it looks like I just came there for the food. I don’t want to seem antisocial.”

“You kind of are, though.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need the others to know.”

“You could just talk to me, you know. I mean…it would make you look like you’re there for the social activities in addition to the food. And it would make sense if you talked mainly with me since we’re shift partners and have a, uh, history.”

“I guess when you put it like that I don’t have much of a choice.” You’re not quite sulking, but the little waves you’re making with your hands under the water nearly knock a toddler over.

“No, you don’t. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess so.”

Once the sun sets, you get out of the pool first, worried that you’ll have permanently pruny fingers and toes if you sit there any longer. You don’t bother toweling off and instead get to work on stuffing the tips you made in the pocket of your hoodie. Hoseok locks the pool from the inside and jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the gathering of lifeguards and Stella.

The interior of the country club dining room is incredibly lavish and it feels like a crime to walk on the shining wood of the polished floors with some drugstore flip flops you bought and used as shower shoes for the last four years. There’s even a table that’s been freshly cleaned and set that the kitchen staff has laid out for you. A lanky boy who apparently goes by the name of Namjoon comes around to take everyone’s orders and you stiffen when you realize you don’t know the menu.

“What are you getting,” you hiss nearly into Hoseok’s armpit as you try to remain calm. Namjoon is leisurely taking people’s orders and chatting people up, but you want to be ready when he gets to your end of the table.

“I’m getting the pork cutlets,” he whispers back, to which you hum thoughtfully. Meat seemed like a basic dish to get at such a fine establishment. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “You might like their shrimp tacos. Still like seafood, right?”

“Y-yeah, I do.” He smiles to himself, proud that he still remembers all these little things about you. “I don’t know which to get. Shit.”

He chuckles at your frantic tone. “There’s no need to panic. I’lll let you have some of mine if you feel like you’re missing out.”

“Thanks,” you let out a sigh, head slumping to the side and nudging his arm lightly in the process.

You tell yourself that if it weren’t for the way the sun zapped your energy you would be sitting up properly. And you do once Namjoon comes around to your end of the table. You stutter out that you’d like the shrimp tacos and when he responds that there’s only trout left, you panic and say that��s fine instead of getting something you know will be good. Like pork cutlets.

“Calm down, I can feel you overthinking things from there,” he whispers after Namjoon returns to the kitchen with the table’s orders.

“Screw you. I’m not overthinking.” You burrow further into your artfully upholstered chair and look away from him.

He fixes you with a stare that tells you he doesn’t believe that lie for a second. “Whatever. Have a drink and stop stressing.”

You’re grateful as the person on your right offers to fill your cup with wine. It’s red wine, but you can’t complain because its’ free and you’re not really drinking much anyway seeing as you’re still in possession of your dad’s car as a means of getting home. However, due to unforeseen circumstances—that is due to the fact that you actually don’t like trout—you follow the half taco you eat with more wine to fill your stomach. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your wine consumption, but doesn’t say anything as he carves out a healthy portion of one of his cutlets and plops it onto your plate. He follows it with generous spoonfuls of the rice and vegetables that came along with his dish to make sure your stomach is lined with a barrier if you drink more. And much to both his and your chagrin, you do drink more wine.

Once everyone has finished eating, you pour out of your seat to follow the kitchen staff and lifeguards out to the pool once more. Before you came in, there was still light in the sky that came from the last strong rays of setting sun, bathing everything in pink and orange. Now, the sun has set and everything is bathed in blue; even the lights lining the inside of the larger pool that are usually reserved for night events thrown by the country club glow a soft, pale blue.

Although you’re tipsy, you’re still somewhat practical, so you opt to sit by a well-lit corner and dip your feet in the water. It’s too cold and you’re too out of it to be able to swim safely or comfortably. For the few moments that you’re alone, you find peace in watching the chefs and waitstaff who’ve now changed into their swim attire frolic in the water. Someone brought a beachball and it’s being bounced around the pool. It takes all of your concentration and hand/eye coordination but you manage to give a successful volleyball inspired hit and keep the ball’s momentum. Hoseok’s feet appear next to you a beat later.

“Did you see that? That was a good spike, right?” You look up at him standing next to you. “You look like the pillsbury dough boy from this angle,” you say, prompting him to sit down.

“Is that something you’re into?” He smiles at your profile. The dim lighting does wonders for your features and he’s secretly glad he gets to see you in what he thinks may be a rare state.

“I like bread, but not that much.” He snorts at your joke.

You turn to look at him as best you can. This is the first time in a short while that you’ve gotten to really take a good look at him since you’re whole job is about looking away from him and at the children in the kiddie pool. If you squint, you can kind of see what he used to look like still there, under the surface. His cheeks were a bit rounder and softer, even when you were seniors in high school and technically ‘adults’. His hair was different too. For the majority of high school it was dark and laid flat against his foreheard. While it didn’t look bad, it didn’t do anything to flatter his face. It wasn’t until the end when he started experimenting with product and color. Even when you were younger and hated him, you were still able to appreciate the day he came into class during one winter morning of junior year with it parted and swooped messily off his forehead and dyed a warm brown with golden highlights. You and 30 other classmates had appreciated that day very much. It suited him and the brooding badboy thing he had going on.

“Thanks,” he says, surprise coloring his voice.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know you liked the brown so much.”

Sober-you would have been having a conniption at the idea that Hoseok might get even the slightest whiff of your teeny-tiny attraction for him. The wine running in your veins has you relaxed enough to just concede the compliment to him, but steer the subject away from you.

“What made you dye it red?”

“Ehh, it was just a kind of coverup for a bad blond dye job my ex gave me last year.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why? Do you think I should I dye it brown again?” You pause and look him over, trying to imagine the color from before on him now.

“No. The way you are now is fine.”

Your comment makes him sit back, a little stunned. When he looks back at you, you’re eyes are drifting closed. He’s pretty sure you drove yourself, so he lifts your arm and helps you stand up before hobbling over to Stella to let her know that he’s going to take you home.

“Alright,” she says, clearly enjoying her game of Marco Polo with the head chef. “But you had better get her home in a condition no worse than the one she’s in right now. And don’t think I won’t ask her tomorrow what she remembers happening after she left here, Jung.”

All he can do is salute her as your head lolls forward and you try to go back to being less upright.

Taking you home is more effort than he thought it would be. First, it takes a while to get you awake again so he can tell you he’s taking you home and ask you where your stuff is. He manages to get your locker open but only after waking you several times to get each number of the combination because you were too sleepy to give it to him in full. Then, he has to get you in the car without looking like he’s kidnapping you because at that point he’s carrying your dead weight. Just heaving you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry would be easier, but he’s worried you’ll throw up down his back. Once you’re in the car, the hardest part is over. From there it’s just pestering you again to get your seatbelt on and have you remind him of your parents’ address. Another bolt of pride shoots through him when you sleepily mumble the street and house number and it’s what he thought. After that it’s pretty smooth sailing. He finds your house with ease, the front light illuminating the number and the doorway.

Your mother comes to the door, father wandering in behind her to see why you’re coming in so late. When they see a pair of silhouettes walk across the lawn and up to the door, they quickly come out to see what’s going on. Your dad realizes you’re the one slumped over and moves quickly to take you off the stranger’s arm. Soon he realizes that the stranger is Jung Hoseok, the boy his only child used to play with.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“Nothing bad. There’s just dinner for the lifeguards after the pool closes everyday and I think she filled up on wine instead of her food. I worried about her so I just drove her home. I hope that’s okay.”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but I’m glad it was you and not someone with an ulterior motive,” your father says with a pointed look at him.

Your mother holds the door open and looks on in sympathy at your clammy, sleepy face and ushers your father inside before ushering Hoseok in as well. As much as he would like to be able to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom like he used to when you were small, your father’s back can’t handle that much rigor and he opts for trying to lay you out onto the couch. He accidentally drops you on your face, but it’s not a steep drop and the cushions break your fall, so he just makes sure you’re facing to the side with a foot on the floor to keep you from rolling off and hurting yourself or choking on your vomit. He moves into the kitchen to find his wife pouring Hoseok a glass of water.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing our baby home safely, Hoseok. You know, I was just thinking about you yesterday.”

“Is that so?” He politely sips at the water, very uncomfortable.

“Yes. I saw your mother recently. We were talking about how both of our nests have stopped being empty for the summer,” she laughs.

“Yeah, she told me she saw you.”

“It’s been a while, son,” your father says as he goes to stand next to your mother. Both of them pin Hoseok with stares filled with different emotions.

“Oh, it really has. You’re grown into such a handsome man. I suppose it makes sense, since you were such a beautiful boy.” All he can do is chuckle awkwardly before downing the last bit of water.

“Well, I better get going. I have to get up early to make it to the pool on time. It was nice to see you all.”

“It was nice to see you too, sweetie.” Your mother hands your father the car keys. “Drive Hosoek home, honey?”

“Sure.”

“It’s really no trouble, I was just gonna walk. I don’t live that far away.” His eyes widen at the thought of having to spend more making awkward small-talk with your parents and no way of escaping.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep than you already have. I’ll drive you and you can do us a favor and swing by and pick up our baby, alright? She probably won’t be fit to drive that day, and it’ll be an opportunity for me to drive my wife to her doctor’s appointment.”

He stutters a bit, looking for a way out that won’t offend anyone, before giving up. “Okay. Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, son.”

To say that the morning following Hoseok driving you home is the worst mornings of your life is probably an exaggeration, but it’s most likely a slight one. First, you had wake up with a bit of a hangover, which wouldn’t be so bad if you could get more time to sleep it off. Instead, you’re forced to roll off the bed at the sound of your alarm and shower. Your stomach is killing you, but you know you can’t skip breakfast and still make it through a whole day of sitting in the sun. The worst part of the morning by far is dragging yourself downstairs only to find Hoseok drinking coffee with your mother at the kitchen table.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you shuffling down the stairs looking half dead, but he’d much rather deal with you and your hangover than sit there and listen to your mom make thinly veiled attempts at asking him if he’d confessed to you yet. Your mother ushers both of you out the door with a fruit cup and spoon and you barely have any time to process the situation.

Five minutes into the drive to the pool is enough time for the cool early morning air and periwinkle skyline for you to wake up and take back the reigns from your lizard brain.

“Why were you in my house?” You poke a soft piece of syrup covered peach with your spoon and lay back in your seat. Mrs. Jung’s car is newer than your father’s so you don’t have to wind a crank to get the seat to recline.

“Do you remember last night?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Well, that’s why.” You pout for a minute, embarrassed that Hoseok saw you in such a state even though you were only a little past tipsy.

“Did my parents put you up to this?”

“Absolutely. As much as I’d like to be able to get you to voluntarily ride around with me, it’s not worth having your dad drive me home and spending the morning with your mom.” You snort at his candid tone. “No offense to your parents. They’re wonderful people.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What did my mom say to you?”

“Nothing much. She asked me how college was and if I had a job lined up. Asked me if I had a girlfriend. Asked me if you had a secret boyfriend. Then asked me why I hadn’t asked you out yet. You know. The usual.”

“Are you serious?” The pieces of fruit you had been half-heartedly munching on and get stuck in your windpipe. It takes a couple firm pats on the back from Hoseok but soon you’re eyes stop watering and you are able to look at him gravely. “Did she really ask you that?”

“She did,” he smiles self-deprecatingly, but it’s still a warm smile.

“W-what did you tell her?” At the sound of your quiet inquiry his expression sombers up quickly.

“Don’t worry. I just told her I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, though.”

“Well, I’m sure you would be if I was chasing you around like I used to.”

“Things are different now,” is all you can say without your face heating up too much.

He chances a look at you and the way you fiddle with your hoodie reminds him of the way you played with the hem of your school uniform whenever you were talking with guys you liked. After a few deep breaths, he decides to take a risk. The little booth where the parking lot managers sits to monitor employee traffic is visible at the end of the street once Hoseok drives past the country club gates. He drives straight past the attendant because he has an employee sticker on his car window. There’s a vacant spot in the far corner of the lot that he takes before parking the car so he can turn to face you.

“How are things different?”

You find it hard not to feel warm under Hoseok’s stare. Though it’s not the first time you’ve been the object of his hungry gaze, all the previous times were more diluted because he was just a young boy searching for just ounce of the comfort he once found in you as his childhood best friend. Those were the days where you were mad at him and could easily deflect the power of his stare with your own anger. Now, though, the air has been cleared, the slate wiped clean. He’s no longer a 14 year-old boy hoping you’ll forgive him. He’s 23 and wants nothing more than to strip you of all your pretenses and get as close to you as possible simply because he wants to be able to feel all you can offer and give you all you’ll accept.

When you can’t meet his eyes or answer him, he squares his jaw and leans into your space. He’s tired of this game of cat and mouse. Maybe it’s because he couldn’t sit back and pretend he didn’t still feel anything for you. Maybe it’s because he knows that in this situation he’s not really a cat or a mouse. He feels more like a beast with a strange amount of patience. But everyone knows patience has to run out sometime. Slowly, he brings a gentle hand to your chin and lifts your gaze towards his.

“Why are things different now?”

“Because…you don’t make me uncomfortable anymore,” you say, knowing that you’re being overly cowardly and vague.

He knows the desperation is clear in his voice, but he really thinks he’s been correctly reading the room and the way you look at him when you think he can’t see. He just wants confirmation. “Why are you comfortable now?”

“It’s not that I’m exactly comfortable with you,” you trail off looking for the right phrase. “I still feel like my whole body is tensed up when I’m around you.”

“Oh,” he says, trying to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment.

“But I like it.”

His head snaps up and suddenly he’s laughing. It sounds a bit too high and crazed to be anything other than manic laughter. You watch his shoulders shake and his hands rake through his hair before he sighs and turns to smile at you.

“Can I kiss you,” he blurts out. The surprised look on your face must be comical because he laughs more naturally this time before leaning over the center console to pin you to your seat with a softer, molten look. “Can I?”

Somewhere in the back of your head, a part of you wonders if kissing in the car is even allowed before 10 am, but you figure that the only way to know is to try. You hum affirmatively, not trusting your voice, but he shakes his head at you and retracts a little.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Are you happy now,” you huff. He rewards your half-effort with a warm hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, but doesn’t move any closer.

“‘Yes’ what?” His smile is dark and teasing. Almost mean.

“For fuck’s sake, Jung, just kiss me.” It’s too early for teasing and your hands come up to scrunch in the fabric of the front of his t-shirt like they have a mind of their own.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before swooping in and crushing his lips to yours.

Kissing Jung Hoseok is not at all like you pictured it. Then again, you’d spent the last 8 years pushing away the mere possibility that it could happen, so it’s not surprising that he passes all your expectations given that you had none. That’s not to say that your standards are super low and that he’s just a mediocre kisser, because he’s most certainly not. The moment your eyes close, his lips caress yours slowly and firmly. He opens your mouth with a few well-timed nips to your lower lip followed, wetting your entrance with a subtle swipes of his tongue. As he eases you open, your hands move to feel his torso and map out the planes and dips of his defined arms and toned chest. The hot glide of his tongue against yours has you reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. It feels slightly damp with the shower he must have taken before coming to pick you up and you scrape your nails lightly against his scalp as you comb through the russet waves. He groans into your mouth and presses forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he turns his head to kiss you more deeply. From there, you can’t stop your hands from roaming up his arms, his sides, his back. Eventually you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck and letting one hand wriggle under the collar of his shirt so you can rest your palm against the smooth skin of his back.

The feeling of your hand on his bare skin feels hot like a brand and pushes him to work harder to draw moans from you. Soft sounds of breathing and your lips meeting again and again fill the car. The cooler temperature of the outside morning air means that the car starts to fog up quickly. His free arm doesn’t stop moving. First he wraps it around your waist, then strokes your thigh before digging his fingers into the meat of it. Finally he settles on cupping your face with both hands to bring you impossibly closer as he ravishes your mouth. You let out a long breath that ends in a hitch when he decides to test out sucking kisses onto the column of your neck. His name leaves your mouth in a breathy sigh and suddenly he’s cursing and pulling back.

He looks fucked out with his hair a coppery mess from your fingers running through it, shiny, swollen lips, and a dreamy expression on his face. You drink in the picturesque curves of his profile, especially admiring the slope of his boyish smile as he grins to himself with his chest heaving. The neon numbers on the digital clock in the dashboard let you know that you’re 10 minutes behind schedule to opening up the kiddie pool.

“We’re late,” you mumble when you’ve caught your breath and the windshield isn’t so foggy anymore.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, why don’t you, uh, go in first, okay?”

He’s still smiling but he’s hunching over himself a little strangely, hands resting unnaturally splayed out in his lap. You’re suspicious, but nod and take your bag with you out the car to go get ready for the start of the shift. Stella and the other lifeguards are standing by the tiny coffee machine in the lounge when you come in, your hair is still a bit of a mess. Stella gives you a knowing smile after giving you a once over.

“Glad to have you back,” her voice lilts and a couple people sticker.

“Uh, what do you mean? I didn’t go anywhere.” Trying not to not look guilty proves difficult when you can’t even manage a normal smile and can only give something that’s 80% teeth.

“Easy, lightweight,” one guard says, “We just didn’t think you’d make it here after how gone you were yesterday. Much less on time for your morning set-up.”

“I’m not a lightweight, I just didn’t end up eating any of my dinner,” you sniff, but relax the set of your shoulders a bit once you realize they’re snickering about your tipsy antics from the night before and not your amorous behavior in the parking lot just now.

Hoseok shows up while you’re in the middle of setup and doesn’t say much as he helps you with the rest of it. The kiddie pool opens like it normally does at 8am and young swimmers trickle in. Some more frequent guests waddle over to your chairs to show off their new floaties or to ask if you live at the pool. Your shift partner is still unnervingly quiet for the first few hours, not even complaining when the temperature steadily increases to an annoying high. He still doesn’t say anything as you move your safety equipment to the edge of the pool so you can both dip into the shallow water for relief. Quickly, you realize that you’re rather fond of his talkative nature and snap as soon as the toddler that was repeatedly jumping into his arms gets picked up by the last parent and you can break for lunch. You say a silent goodbye to your pride and finally turn to him once the gate to the kiddie pool is closed.

“It’s really warm, huh?”

His neutral expression breaks into a private smile to himself. “Yeah, I suppose it is. You’re gonna eat lunch right?”

“Yeah,” you say, still frowning at his short answers as you move to get up from the pool wall.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get yours too. We can just eat out here.”

You nod for lack of anything better to say. When he comes back with one sac you remember that you didn’t pack a lunch for yourself like you normally would the night before work. He sits next to you and opens his lunchbox silently.

“I forgot to bring a lunch. I’m gonna head to the tip jar and then run to the vending machine really quick.”

“No need,” he says, “Your mom packed this for you this morning and gave it to me.”

He hands you a plastic bag out of his own larger container before opening a hand-made sandwich and chowing down. You open the bag cautiously, not expecting the normal salad that you pack yourself usually. Instead, you find something that may be exactly the same lunch she used to pack you when you were in elementary school.

“I guess this is punishment for getting too drunk to take myself home,” you mutter down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carrot sticks.

He peers into your bag.“What’s wrong with carrot sticks,” he pouts and holds his own container of carrot sticks and hummus.

“At least you had the decency to pack hummus. She thinks I still eat the same way I did when I was 8.”

“I’ll trade you for your fruit punch.”

“What are you offering,” you give him the side-eye of a seasoned businesswoman.

“Just your favorite,” he shrugs, pulling out a small cardboard carton of chocolate milk. Even at your age, you still love chocolate milk, though you don’t indulge in it often. “Bet you haven’t seen this since we were kids.”

You nod frantically, remembering how you used to drink it whenever you could if there wasn’t a race that day. “Deal.” you say, tossing the tiny bottle of fruit punch and snatching the milk like he might not keep his promise.

The two of you give each other a look and break down into laughter at your childish behavior.

“Just like old times.” Your voice and eyes are soft as you watch him open the fruit punch with a little difficulty. Huffing, you nudge his hands out of the way before snapping the no-spill opening so he can drink from it with one hand.

“Almost.” He inches his face toward yours until you can almost count his eyelashes. His hand comes to run up your arm and lay on your shoulder blade, trying to get you closer.

You meet him halfway, turning a bit awkwardly at the waist so you can wrap your arms around him. If you’re being honest, you were worried that he was being so quiet because he regretted kissing you in the car and was trying to think of a way to take it back. But it’s clear that’s not the case from the way he coaxes your lips open with his own so he can lick into your mouth with a slickness that has your face heating. The reminder that your coworkers could see you at any moment has you beginning to pull away, but he knows you too well to let you escape.

“No one’s gonna see,” he whispers against your mouth before going back in to work your lips. Your eyes flutter shut again and the worries seem to dissolve a little.

“What if they do, though?” Somehow one of your hands always makes it back to his hair and you give it a slight tug when he sucks lightly on your earlobe. “This is unprofessional.”

“Yeah, it is.” He grins but still pulls back after pressing a somewhat chaste kiss on your frowning lips once and then twice.

“I haven’t even touched my lunch and the break is almost over,” you mumble. “Good thing there’s dinner after the last shift.”

“Don’t get drunk again,” he tosses his head back at his joke and you can only glare at him as you steal some hummus.

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. You and Hoseok manage to keep your hands off each other during dinner. And surprisingly during the ride he gives you home, which quickly becomes a daily routine. Your parents gave you a knowing look when you told them why you would no longer need to borrow the car to get to work, but they didn’t say anything.

The summer passes by quickly and slowly. Quickly because you have fun talking with Hoseok and time seemingly passes by faster when he’s making you laugh or smile while he plays with the babies. Slowly because he still manages to find moments to get in your face and steal a few kisses that seem to halt time itself. It seems like you blinked and then there were only two more weeks left of work at the pool left.

There’s about an hour before the pool closes and Hoseok has migrated over to a farther corner of the pool to engage little Jungkook, a pool regular who keeps gazing up at him with hero-worship in his eyes. You let yourself look over for a brief second before continuing your perusal of the other swimmers to make sure no one needs help. Sudden splashing gets your attention and Jungkook comes running into your field of view.

“What’s the matter? Did you drop your goggles again?” You let him take your hand, though you have to crouch so he can reach it.

“Lifeguard Hoseok is playing dead and it’s scary,” he looks up at you with big eyes and brings you to where Hoseok is managing to float on his back despite the low level of the pool water.

“Hoseok,” you put on an admonishing tone for Jungkook, “Are you playing dead and scaring the swimmers?”

He cracks an eye open at the sound of your voice and looks up at you. “Actually, I’m drowning. Please save me.” Jungkook watches him close his eyes again and stick out his tongue, imitating a body.

“He keeps doing that scary face. Is he dead?” Jungkook squeezes your hand and you kneel down so that you can look him in the eye.

“No, he’s just pretending.”

“Make him open his eyes, then.” You raise an eyebrow and he tacks on a ‘please, Ms. Lifeguard’.

“Hoseok,” you stage-whisper to appease Jungkook, who’s looking on with distress in his eyes, “You need to wake up. You’re making your friend here nervous about you.”

“Then you should save me so I can wake up. Right, Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah. Give him PPR to wake him up!”

“Yeah! Give me that sweet PPR, please.”

You roll your eyes. Clearly Hoseok is childish enough to know how to get actual children on his side. To make sure no funny business happens, you treat it like the training sessions you’ve attended and pinch his nose closed. His eyes crack open to glare at you but stay closed for the most part like a good faker. You lower your head and place a chaste kiss on Hoseok’s waiting mouth. He springs up and gasps like all the life force he lost has entered back into his body all at once. His hands come out to clutch you to him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you for saving me, Ms. Lifeguard.” He shouts into your hair, soaking your top half despite the fact that you’d managed to keep your hair dry all day until this point. “Look, Jungkook, she saved me.”

Jungkook is clearly smarter than Hosoek thinks and pouts at the two of you. “Hey! You weren’t really sleeping, you were just pretending so you could get a kiss!”

“How did you know,” your mouth drops open and a genuine laugh tumbles out. Jungkook attempts to cross his little arms but the floaties he’s wearing get in the way.

“Because my Dada always does it to trick my Papa when we go to the beach.”

“I’m sorry Hoseok tried to trick you, Jungkook. But, I hope that you’ll still listen when people tell you they’re hurting because it might be true next time.”

He nods and you reach up to ruffle his dark hair. He skips off to go play and you make sure no one is looking before you break the no-splashing rule and send a wave up at Hoseok’s face.

“What the hell was that?”

“What? I’m bored. I just wanted to play,” he pouts at you.

“Play later. We still have 45 minutes of work left.”

“Will you play with me,” he asks in your ear. You shiver a little at the feeling of his breath on your neck but push him away.

“Fine, but later. I’m not gonna get caught goofing off and lose this job. I really need it.”

“Did you not have a job lined up after school ended?” He sits down for real and adjusts his visor to shield his eyes.

“No. Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m start working at a JYP Banks city branch this fall.”

“Oh my god, ew. Were you an econ major?”

It’s hard to imagine Hoseok as one of the boys who used too much hair gel, smoked too much weed on the weekends, and wore suits to their business and math classes on your former campus.

“Yeah, why not? I’m good at math.”

“Since when,” your nose wrinkles.

“Since high school. It was one of the only classes I always had without you. So I actually ended up paying attention.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he gently tweaks your side, “You weren’t there at the board with your too-small uniform skirt for me to stare at.”

“Too small? Those uniforms were specially ordered for each student, asshole.”

“That doesn’t mean anything if you were a late bloomer and got the measurements taken when you were 13 and built like a grade-schooler.”

Your mouth gapes open and there’s a lot to unpack in that statement. The fact that he called you out for being flat as a board at the end of middle school. The fact that he called you out for not suddenly having boobs and ass when you were 15 like everyone else. The fact that he had bee paying attention to you well before puberty hit you like a truck in senior year, unlike other guys.

“I’m not a stick now, though,” you say and sit up a bit straighter to confirm to yourself that no one would confuse you for a child with your figure now.

“Nope,” he agrees, “You’re certainly not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Again with this?”

“We can’t all have the same metabolism that we’ve had since we were teenagers. You were skinny too, if I recall.”

“Yeah and there’s nothing wrong with that. But that old string-bean Hoseok is gone.” He’s half joking, half serious as he brings up a tanned arm to flex, showing off a surprising sized bicep. You reach out and squeeze the swell of firm muscle. “That’s gym and dance gains right there, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” you toss over your shoulder fondly as the final few parents and children leave the pool.

The two of you putter around and clean up the pool so its ready for closing. Hoseok goes ahead while you stay back to make sure none of the kids left any precious toys or swim gear behind. When you enter the lounge, the last few lifeguards are heading out towards the restaurant employee entrance while Hoseok waves to them.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”

Carefully you turn the sticky lock on your locker, trying angrily to get it open so you can put your things away and go eat. One of the chefs told you the day before that the final shipment of mango for the summer was coming and you’d be damned if someone else took some of the portions they promised to save for you.

“You said you’d play with me,” his voice is low as he presses against you. You let him close your locker for you and turn to give him a placating kiss.

“What about food?” He presses wet kisses along the skin of your shoulder before sliding the strap of your suit down with his teeth. His hand runs a course down to your ass. His fingers toy with the elastic hem of your one-piece, cheekily catching against the skin there underneath.

He lifts hooded eyes up to yours. “Are you hungry right now?”

“Maybe not now,” you say as you swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones, “But I would be by the time that they finished taking people’s orders. That’s not a super long time.”

“So maybe we should just get food later.” His tone is reasonable and the way he’s pressing against you is distracting. If you shift the right way, you can feel him through his shorts.

“Where are we even gonna go?”

“It turns out,” he takes you by the hand and leads you through the other exit in the lounge, “There isn’t a view of the adult pool from the windows in the dining area. We’re alone here.”

He hops into the water, dunking his head under before coming up right after. His hands slick back his hair and you’re suddenly disappointed that he only wanted to swim. You go in after him, electing to do a lap or two to stretch your limbs after hours in a chair. When you come back up he claps.

“Nice form,” he says as you paddle over.

“I’m missing mangos for this.”

“Don’t worry, I told them to save some for you. You’ve been talking about them all day.”

You beam at him, disappointment appeased now that you’re still going to get your fruit. He pats the wall of the shallow end of the pool.

“Come sit.”

You swim over and hoist yourself up on the edge. He wades up to the edge to rest his hands on your thighs. The smile on his face is wide and brilliant as he looks up at you and you can’t help but card your fingers through his hair. The red is fading and you’re a bit sad to see it go.

“Are you gonna dye it back again or are you gonna let it grow out for work?”

“Yeah, I think the red might have to go. But I might be able to do brown. Or even blond if it’s done well. What do you think,” he asks, laying his cheek on your knee.

“It’s up to you, I mean. I won’t even be there to see it, so you might as well do what’s best for the office.”

With the end of the summer nearing, what would happen between you two became a common topic of conversation. But the conversations never get too far because you still haven’t defined what it was that you are to each other. The idea of having split after all that you’ve been through, including everything before finding one another at the pool, makes your stomach feel cold and empty. This isn’t your average summer whirlwind and you both know that. But neither of you wants to be the one to end the fun.

“Who knows. You might be in the city for work. Or you could come down on the weekends. Or I could come up.” He looks up at you, eyes swimming in some emotion you can’t name. “I just don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“Can we not do this right now? It’s depressing and there’s still a little while left, anyway.”

“Okay.”

He nuzzles into the flesh of your thigh, mouthing against it even when your leg jumps up against the ticklish sensation. Leaning back, you watch him pepper your thighs with kisses in earnest. The higher up he moves, the slower they get until he’s only a few inches away from your core and your arms are protesting from holding yourself up so you can watch. You endure it because the sight of the faded auburn of his hair moving as he switches to the other knee and works his up is enticing in and of itself. His hands come to your hips and move you closer to the edge, his nose brushing against the hem of your suit.

“Here? Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” His voice is muffled from where his mouth moves to suck a bruise high up on your inner thigh. “Don’t you think it’s a little fun? The idea that someone could see?”

“I think mini-golf is fun. Grocery shopping is also pretty—shit,” you lose your train of thought as he presses the flat of his tongue hard against the the crotch of your suit. Your thighs clamp shut on either side of him and you whip your head around to check your surroundings.

“Will you relax, please? The cleaning crew doesn’t come until after 9 and they’ll be in there for at least an hour.”

“But I smell like the pool.”

“I do too. Don’t worry, baby.” He sucks a kiss onto the apex of your thighs before looking up at you through dark lashes. “Is this okay?”

You stutter for a moment before steadying yourself once more and nodding. He uses one hand to creep up to the singular strap holding your suit up and slides it down to get access to your breasts. He kneads a globe in his hand before plucking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. The other hand rubs at you over your suit with his thumb circling around what he hopes is your clit. Eventually the friction gets you swollen enough that he can better locate it. Dampness begins to pool at your center, forming a dark spot on your suit as you cant your hips up in time with the figure eights he rubs onto you. The wet material of your suit begins to bother you and you slide the top half down further, the evening air causing your nipples to pebble. With the suit now lax, he slides the crotch to the side and inhales deeply. The scent of chlorine is there, but he can still make out your natural scent underneath. Your arousal glistens subtly in the dim light and when he runs a finger through the slick to taste, you groan.

“What’s taking you so long? Put your face in it already.”

“You just want me to hurry up so we don’t get caught.”

“Maybe. But I want you to eat me out too.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He dives in quickly, collecting all the arousal he can on his tongue. Licking from your entrance up to the top, he makes sure to hollow his cheeks, and sucks your clit into his mouth. Your leg kicks out to the side of him, splashing water up quietly. Pulling back with a smack, he maneuvers both your thighs over the broad expanse of his shoulders and moves in closer. He laughs when you whine for him puts his mouth back on you.

“Is it good so far,” he asks, carefully sliding a slender finger into you.

“Mmm, it’s good. Add another finger, I can handle it.” He adds another finger and scissors them after a beat.

“You wanna feel stretched, baby?” You bite you lip, arms quivering until you have to lie on your back. “I bet you’d rather take my dick, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh my god, I want it so bad.” He twitches and hardens further as he watches you reach down to fondle both your breasts roughly.

“You’d take my dick so well, I know it. I wish I could have you bouncing on me so I could play with your tits myself. But you keep playing with them and imagine those are my hands.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, “I need more. Need your mouth again too.”

Determined to make you cum hard, he adds a third finger and presses down on your pelvic floor before thrusting them into you over and over, his wrist twisting sinuously. Once you start squelching from a sudden onslaught of wetness, he assaults your clit again. With the body of his tongue, he licks shapes onto your core. A particularly hard flick of his tongue as you gasping out, back arching and pushing into his face. The change in angle causes his fingers to press harder into the spongey patch on your walls.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Please!”

He crooks his fingers and grinds them into the spot as best he can while still scissoring his fingers so you feel full. You’re a sight to behold in front of him. Your legs part to reveal the your swollen and slick center. Your back arches beautifully and your breasts spill over your suit as you shudder through the orgasm he rips out of you. He withdraws his fingers carefully and marvels at the crystalline strands that stretch between his spread fingers. He sucks them into his mouth one by one with the other hand petting your thigh comfortingly.

“How do you feel about burgers?”

Hoseok can’t stop staring at the dewy glow on your skin and his burger sits unwrapped but unbitten as he watches you pluck a curly fry from the pile in the center of the table. Your eyes seem brighter and while he supposes that having an orgasm does that to a person, but he can’t help the swell of pride that rises up when he thinks that he had something to do with it.

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” you pick up a fry and bring it to his lips. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His lip graze your fingers slightly when you feed him the fry. “I already ate, remember?” His wry grin makes your heart flutter a bit.

“Well, you need your strength.” When his forehead crinkles in confusion, you clarify, “For dessert.”

“Look if you want it, I’ll give it to you, baby.”

It’s moments like these where he’s flexing in the middle of a diner and touching himself like he’s hot shit that you think it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not. Your phone rings, giving you an excuse to stop the show he’s giving the rest of the patrons as he grinds into the booth.

“Cool your jets, Hoseok, I have a phone call. Hello? Yes, that’s me.”

“Who is it,” he mouths.

“The research company,” you mouth back. “Yes, I could definitely do that. Within this month, even. Yes, of course, I’ll look for it. Thank you very much. You too. Goodbye.”

Your phone clatters against the table and you cradle your head in your hand, fingers of your other hand coming down to drum on the table. Hoseok looks on in worry, stooping to better read your expression.

“What did they say?”

“They said that if I move out there before the month ends, I have the job.”

“You got the job?”

“I got the job.” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling and the relief that washes over you takes a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t realize you were carrying.

“I wish I had suggested a nicer place so the rest of the dinner could be celebratory.”

“If you hurry up and finish your burger, we can still have some fun.”

Hoseok jumps at the feeling of your foot running up his leg under the table. Rushing up, he goes to pay the bill, taking his burger with him so he can just finish it later. Once the bill is paid, you clear off the table and drag him through the parking lot, eager to get him to the car and driving to a spot where you don’t have to worry about being found. This turns out to be the very back row of the huge parking lot behind the strip mall. All the big summer block busters have already come and gone, so there isn’t much traffic. As soon as you park, you and Hoseok make a beeline to the back seat. To congratulate you, he tells you that he’ll listen to whatever you say. Even though it’s supposed to be about you, he doesn’t think he can’t possibly lose in this situation.

“I want you on your back,” your eyes are dark as you shirk the clothes you’d only changed into less than an hour ago, putting them on after you showered to go to the diner.

“Sounds good,” he says, lifting his hips so you can slide his shorts off.

“So I can ride you.” you supply. You slip off your underwear.

“Great.” He’s already imagining the view he’ll have of your ass, and his dick twitches eagerly at the thought.

“But you can’t touch me until I let you. And I might not let you.”

“What? Why am I being punished?”

You roll your eyes and grab his shaft a little rougher than necessary when he continues to huff about the lack of justice in the world. He quiets down when you slide down on him, still wet from the when his hand wriggled down your own shorts earlier while you were looking for a spot to park to tease you. His hands automatically come up to rest on your hips and get you started on rocking over him, but you grab both his wrists and pin them both above his head. Ignoring his pout, you use his wrists as a handhold for leverage and begin to grind your hips in slow circles. Once the rhythm is right and you’re wetter than before, you start to really lift yourself up off him and then grind back down on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the pace you’ve set, because even through a latex barrier you’re hugging him snugly and slide down him like a dream. But it’s a pace clearly set for you, helping you increase precision so you can use his pelvis as a way to massage your clit. Every time you fuck yourself down on him, you let out a little whine and squeeze his wrists. He groans and throws his head back in frustration, arms and abs flexing with the effort it takes not to wrestle his hands over to you.

“Fuck, just let me use my hands, baby. I just want to make you feel good.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I feel pretty—ahh—good by myself right now.”

Hesitantly, you release your grip on his wrists, giving him a look that tells him to keep them obediently pinned above his head. For a few moments you lean back and use his legs behind you as support so you can drop yourself more forcefully down onto his dick. After a while of watching him grit his teeth and letting out choked out moans, you give him a cheeky smile before turning and repositioning yourself in the opposite direction.

“Be a nice boy and bend this knee, hmm?”

Hoseok plants his foot firmly on the seat so that his knee is bent. It takes some wiggling on your part but soon you’re able to grind against his thigh as you move up and down. The moans you let out get louder and louder but your legs start to burn with exertion and eventually you have to resort to merely humping his leg. It’s not enough and when you curse lowly he sees his chance. He’s a good team player so he’s willing to help you out if you’ll let him.

“If you just let me use my hands again, I can help you out.” You mutter something under your breath. “What was that?”

“I said fine. As long as you get me off, you can see whatever limbs you want.” Your tone is somewhere between whining and snapping but the sheen of sweat coating your back and arms lets him know how tuckered out you really are.

He sits up once he has your permission. His first order of business with his hands back in use is to land a blow down on one of the globes of your ass. You let out a pained moan and clutch his thigh tighter to your core.

“Did you have fun using me like a toy?”

“I did. It was fun seeing you so mad you couldn’t touch me.” He can’t see your whole face, but you look back at him over your shoulder with a feline smugness in your eyes and a smile in your tone.

He spanks you again. “Should have expected this from you. Always thought you wouldn’t know how to act once you finally got the fucking you’d been looking for.” You merely whine in response so he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls. “Why should I let a brat like you cum, huh?”

“Because I just got that new job in the city and you’re proud of me.” You push back on him as best you can when your legs feel like jelly.

“That’s a good answer, baby. I’ll let it go for tonight,” he says as he peppers your shoulder and the parts of your back that he can reach with kisses. “Get on all fours. Hurry.”

You scramble forward on your hands and knees, arching your back for him. He swats your butt again just because he likes the view. He pushes in with no warning, but you’re stretched sufficiently enough that it doesn’t hurt to be so full so abruptly. His hands come to grab both your hips and immediately he pistons forward and fucks you like a machine. Perhaps it’s a side effect of the blue balls he’d been harboring since work started this morning. Perhaps it’s because he has a hunch this is what you wanted the whole time. Perhaps it’s that you’re leaving to some mystery city soon and some part of him believes that if he fucks you deep enough, you’ll take a piece of him with you and that will mean you’ll be together again someday.

Hoseok is certain that this isn’t the last time he’ll see you. But he doesn’t know if it’ll be like this. Like a sort-of summer fling that has a long prologue and a confusing epilogue. He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.

He turns you around carefully, so as not to slip out of you, only so he can hold you as you both come down from your respective highs. Neither of you say the words that would probably be most appropriate for a moment like this one. But your hands do automatically wind around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and trace secrets into his back. And the skin behind and below your ear is in fact where you smell the most like you, so he presses his nose into the spot and just breathes. Hoping for the best.

(3 months later)

Hoseok carried the habit of waking up early from his lifeguard job to his real job in the city that’s a 2 hour drive north of his childhood town. With this extra time he likes to explore the different districts, taking a different way to work each day when he can. In doing this, he’s also able to sample all the different coffee shops that are en route to the office and pick up orders given to him by his seniors in the analytics department.

Today his phone is on the fritiz and didn’t finish loading the details to the coffee shop that he was supposed to visit today. Instead, he wonders the streets, still with a bit of free time on his hands before he’s supposed to arrive. A few people have passed him now with steaming take away cups of what is presumably coffee. It takes some intuition, but eventually he makes it to a bright, butter yellow sign and laughs. GoldJin Coffee. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembers liking a tweet from Jin saying that he opened up a second branch, but it didn’t register that it was in Hoseok’s new city until now. It’s unclear whether this was the place his phone intended for him to go, but he steps inside anyway. He knows the coffee here, having come to the original location a few times. With you. As ‘friends’.

Before the memory can rear it’s head, he shakes his head and moves to stand in line. Most of the other people in suits with briefcases stand in line as they wait for their liquid start of the day. The remaining few seem to be an older, graying couple deliberating over pastries while they wait their turn and another young person looking for fuel. The more he looks over the other people in line, the more Hoseok’s stare his stare lands on the other young person. They look familiar, but he’s not sure why. They’re not wearing a suit, so they can’t be working for his company. He must know them from somewhere else.

The older couple orders their pastries, and someone in a suit orders their drink, then it’s the young person’s turn. They come up to the counter and the barista hands them a drink already made. They thank the barista and move to the side to greet the cashier. Something about the way this person moves grabs Hoseok’s attention to the point where he doesn’t realize it’s his turn to order. He flashes the list of drinks at the barista, having learned from his mistake from trying to recite the flashy drink names himself. The young person moves to a table and as if their bodies are celestial ones, Hoseok gravitates towards the empty table behind them. He watches as they take out a large three ring binder and flip through it while taking sips of their drink.

“J. Hoseok? 6 drinks for J. Hoseok,” the barista calls, shaking him out of his singular thought process.

He gets up from the table to claim his drinks, feeling a little silly for getting so invested in a stranger so rapidly. When he turns around, you stare up at him with wide eyes full of recognition. He walks over to you.

“Hey, long time no see,” his voice is suddenly hoarse.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

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