#but they require special drives to read and write to

[netscapenavigator-official]

I love DVD-RAM discs out of a place of nerdship, but this is unacceptable:

I’m so glad USB flash drives took off, instead. My heart goes out to all you people in Japan who grew up with these.

[chocosvt]

HER | part one.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.5k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

potentially triggering scenes within the fic are NOT MARKED in advance

the content is already quite mature, so pls heed the warnings!

bolded and italicized text implies characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts

everyone's patience and understanding has been endlessly appreciated! you have no idea ;_; i give you all shining stars 🌟

⇢ part two | part three | part four | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed a very short disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

Wonwoo had one very distinct memory of you: creative writing with Mr. T. It had been an elective class he took amongst all his compulsory maths, and at the time it was a much appreciated break when Wonwoo grew apathetically bored from looking at matrices and confidence intervals and equations that engulfed the length of his notebook. Professor T was late one day in the fall.

And that’s when Wonwoo remembered you walking in.

There was a sort of sharpness about your presence that pulled everyone’s spines straight. People tended to angle themselves away from you, though they did it subtly, feigning an adjustment in their seat or a plunge into their bookbag for something that wasn’t even there. Wonwoo lacked the words to describe you. To be honest, he most likely could if he put that infinitely expanding lexicon of his to work, but even then, he feared that everything would fall flat.

Some scruffy looking guy had made the mistake of sitting in your seat—someone who probably skipped most lectures and only happened to find himself near Gildan Hall purely by chance.

It was the seat squat in the middle of the small auditorium.

He remembered the hand propped on your hip as you sashayed up to him—you always sashayed places. Wonwoo found it funny, like there were paparazzi stuffed behind potted plants and vending machines waiting to spring out with their blinding flares, just to capture you picking up a half-empty bag of flavourless popcorn.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no.”

“Hm?”

“Excuse me? Yes, hello. You—can you get up please?”

“Up...? Why?”

 “Who are you?”

  “I’m sorry… what’s this about?”

 “Are you a first-year or something? Never bothered going to class until now? All the moshing and beer pong and ending up in some random basement of a friend of a friend of a friend is done so you’re deciding to actually get your money’s worth? Well, let me tell you this—I’ve been showing up to class punctually, and this is my seat. I always sit here. It’s my unofficially-assigned-assigned seat, which seems to be a known fact to everyone in this room except for you. Everyone has one. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to sit in other people’s seats. I don't care who you are. You could be my own mother. You could be my best friend, even. President of the universe. That doesn't make it okay, 'cause it’s a respect thing. It's one of those assumed societal rules and you just fucking kicked dirt all over it.”

Whoever he was, he never came back to another lecture.

Since then, Wonwoo had dually made it his mission to never cross paths with you, look at you, or even so much as huff one single carbon-dioxide filled breath in your general direction, just in case that was some degree of unbeknownst personal law he might violate.

Seokmin had royally screwed it up for him.

What could you possibly want to write a book about, anyway?

—MARCH 26TH.

Wonwoo didn’t know how he was expected to find you in this gigantic mall. As he brushed through the streamlines of people, bumping their shoulders and mumbling the driest, most insincere apologies, he couldn’t stop looking at his phone. Seokmin had given him your number with the instruction that he could find you, here, on a busy Saturday afternoon. So far, Wonwoo had sent you four texts, none prompting a response or the grey-dotted bubble, even. Fuck, why did he agree to this? He couldn’t stop thinking it.

Why did he agree to help you, whom he was beginning to not even like, or want to be aquatinted with, write a book, when he’d been struggling to fill the same page of his own story for months?

Squeezing the phone tighter in his fingers, Wonwoo’s broad shoulder then smacked into someone else while he was busy steeping in his misfortune. It earned him a wildly disgusted look.

“Maybe watch where you’re going," the stranger grumbled, some man with an engrained scowl and big, bewildered eyes.

But Wonwoo ignored him.

He didn’t fucking care, and he was sick of wandering through this mall. It made him feel overstimulated, like his clothes were sticking to his skin differently, like the back of his head was swelling, and like all the smells in his nose were somehow making him warmer.

The stranger just stared at Wonwoo as he walked away.

Ding!

A text, but not from you—Seokmin, instead. Apparently, you were in some clothing store on the second floor. Wonwoo stepped onto the escalator, pressing himself into the barrier to make room for the especially speedy people who couldn’t simply stand and wait. He felt a random touch on the back of his head. Scrunching up the glasses on his nose and turning around, Wonwoo stared at the downward escalator, locking eyes with a pretty dark-haired girl he’d never seen before. She wiggled her fingers at him with a flirtatious smile, the scent of her perfume still lingering. Fresh roses, he thought.

He blinked at her once, twice, then turned back around.

Never in a million years.

It was funny, though.

Once Wonwoo stopped outside the clothing store you were supposedly inside, he felt the myriad of distractions and scents and noises dampen behind him. The irritability he couldn’t shake was slowly transforming into nerves. He’d never met you before, unless half-glances controlled by fear from across the small, basement auditorium that hosted creative writing counted.

Focusing on one breath, and then another, followed by a deep, self-soothing inhale, Wonwoo attempted to convince himself that he was in control, not the emotions quivering at his fingertips.

He cracked his neck and walked in.

After a minute or two of confused isle-pacing, Wonwoo rounded a corner, his eyes immediately fixating on a girl who was picking through a neatly assorted dress rack, her head tilted elegantly and her lipstick glimmering under the sterileness of the lights—you.

He gulped. Just suck it up.

She can’t be that bad. You can’t be that bad.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Wonwoo. I know we have a mutual friend in Seokmin. Lee Seokmin. He’s in one of your seminar classes or something, and, uh…. anyway. I believe I’m supposed to help you with a book you’re interested in writing… that’s what I was told, at the very least. And… I know we’ve never met but… um… I guess…” he trailed off upon noting your lack of acknowledgement.

Suddenly, he was taking a step back, letting you progress further along the clothing rack, your fingers hopping between each hanger and your eyes scanning their corresponding fabrics.

Wonwoo jerked on the inside with panic. He hated the situation already, though he somehow found the resounding courage, or perhaps, humility, to address you again, even if he’d rather die.

“So, I’m not sure if you—”

“Can you move, please? Over here or something? I want this dress.”

He kept his mouth shut in order to avoid spilling out any obtuse nonsense, instead watching with a nervous, analyzing gaze as you removed the hanger and shook out the purple, wine-coloured fabric, its sparkles rippling when you stroked your hand along it.

“Woah. This is too pretty.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, unsure if you were speaking to him directly. You already had a bundle of dresses tossed over your arm. Why would you meet up with him when you were clearly busy?

“Hey, what did you say your name was?”

“Me?” He found himself echoing.

“No, the mannequin wearing that hideous plaid mini skirt. Of course I’m talking to you. Should I get you a q-tip or something?”

“No... I don't need a q-tip. It’s Wonwoo.”

“Wonwoo?” You exercised the name slowly on your tongue.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, just so you’re aware, it’s 11:35. You were supposed to meet me outside the boutique at 11:30. I can see you’re not very punctual, so that’s noted…” for a moment, you stood back, and the searing line of your gaze judgmentally raked him from top to bottom. “Anyway… you’ll have to assist me with some things now, thanks to your big delay. I got all bored waiting for you, so I decided to do a little self-indulgent shopping."

It could have been wiser to continue biting his tongue, but even Wonwoo, who had practically vowed to avoid you for all eternity  due to his fear, felt compelled to challenge your unorthodox logic.

“Big delay? I don’t mean to be rude, but I did take the bus to get here, and their timing is never right. I feel like five minutes is a reasonable time to wait. Not that I’m saying you’re impatient.”

“Well, here’s the thing…” your back turned to him as you took a few slow steps down the clothing rack, probing between the different, pricy materials for anything exuberant you might have missed. “That is what you said, isn’t it? That I’m impatient? I mean—jeez—why bother dancing around it when you can just say it?”

He watched you face him again, except he was keeping perfectly silent, clutching his hand into an anxious, balled fist.

“Well, I suspect you lack urgency, making you apathetic, so therefore you have no sense of initiative. I’m sure you’re already aware, anyway. I can be slow, too, with certain things. Like, when I’m icing a cake. Or painting my nails. But I don’t walk slow, ever. That’s for unmotivated, pointless people who will probably go nowhere in life.”

“… Pardon?”

“Hold this, please.”

Suddenly, you draped the wine-coloured dress over Wonwoo’s shoulder. And he left it there for a second, still gobsmacked, chest shuddering from the pressure of his pumping heart, and wondered how you were even a real person. Once you began walking elsewhere in the store, Wonwoo questioned a very understandable escape toward the exit, though, for some reason, he snapped from his stupor and quickly paced after you, now folding the dress more straightly over his arm. He realized he was too afraid to surrender.

“I’m supposed to help you write a book,” he stated, feeling his lungs dig deep for air, “Seokmin said you needed help.”

“Okay, I’m tired of holding these two. Here—” you again blanketed the dresses into his arms, “—please keep this olive one in good shape, no crinkles. I have yet to find this colour anywhere else.”

Swinging back around, you began heading toward the change rooms, your uncomfortably tall looking heels clicking with each step. Wonwoo stuttered, and he couldn’t stop doing it—just, absolutely baffled by you and your consuming sense of worth. He didn’t know what to say, he could only follow, producing bits and pieces of sentences that you were either ignoring or genuinely hadn’t heard in comparison to the monologues in your own head.

“At what point will we discuss why I’m here?”

Finally, he spat out something coherent.

You paused, and for a fleeting moment, flicked your very intense eyes up and down in an examination of Wonwoo, who felt like he was being intrusively picked apart under a microscope.

 He swallowed tautly, “I’m just wondering… that’s all.”

You pressed your wallet against the top of his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the white leather stool placed just outside the fitting rooms. He sat, too, fighting the urge to wipe his clammy palms on his jeans—even worse, the dresses you’d dumped on him.

“Let’s talk after I try these on, ‘kay?”

There was something different about your voice. It fell lower, sweeter, and he shivered with the thought that you had quite possibly just hypnotized him. He looked up at you, nodding his head.

“Good. Everyone calls me Her, by the way.”

“I know.”

He held his breath as you reached out to take a dress, the wine-coloured one, which was more like a dark, nightly amethyst now that Wonwoo was observing the fabric up close. So, what the hell was he supposed to do? Just sit there, twiddling his thumbs and shaking his knee while you busied yourself with fitting into all those wildly sumptuous dresses? There was a plethora of other things he’d rather be doing—too many to name, in fact. But he wasn’t going to bother slithering away now, chiefly because you petrified him too much and he wasn’t in the mood to be further guilt-tripped by Seokmin.  

Throwing his head back, he blew out a tired huff and looked at the ceiling. Why the fuck was he doing this? He just couldn’t stop thinking it. What on earth could he possibly gain from being terrorized by your weird authority.

“Hey, I’ve been there, for sure.”

Wonwoo noticed an older man waltzing past him, probably in his early thirties or so, who’d spoken in a sympathetic tone. He seemed very polished and clean-cut, made apparent by his sleek suit, and as a university student who was routinely on the verge of going broke after most rents, Wonwoo knew money when he saw it.

“Pardon?”

The man stopped and smiled.

“Waiting for your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no. I’m just—”

He was interrupted by the squeak of the change room door.

“Be honest. How does this look?”

You had stepped out to examine your silhouette in the large, full-body mirrors against the wall, taking advantage of the heavier lighting to scrutinize every divot and ruffle that textured the amethyst dress. Wonwoo wasn’t sure what to say in the moment, and the man he was explaining himself to had wandered off into another aisle to answer a phone call. He watched your fingers pick and pull at the material so it could be readjusted in certain places, your bottom lip pursed as you angled your hips and tensed a leg to make a pose.

There were at least three other dresses strewn in his lap, and you were most definitely going to make him sit there and judge each one. Now, he could be honest. The dress was glittery yet sophisticated, something like a gloaming, purple-stained sky and its first emergent stars encapsulated into fabric, though he wasn’t completely sold on it. But he also wanted to leave the mall as quick as time would allow, so rather than being verbose, he shaved it down.

“It’s pretty, not great. I don’t really know.”

“Hmm…” you mumbled, keeping your eyes fixated on the mirror, “not great? What’s not great about it? The frilly parts?”

“Yeah, the frilly parts.”

God, he wanted to go home so bad. Warm tea would be nice right now. There were crinkle-cut fries in his freezer.

“Ugh, but I love the colour. I’m getting conflicted. Maybe I’ll toss it aside and think about it again later. Yeah, I’ll do that... okay, let me get the white one next. It’s a little short but I can make it work.”

 Wonwoo carefully pulled out the white outfit from the bottom of the pile and handed it off to you. The skirt was notably cropped.

Again, you strode back into the change room and softly clicked the door shut behind you. Wonwoo pulled out his phone almost immediately, navigating to his texts with Seokmin. His thumbs blasted against the screen, tapping out literary warfare that expanded into a decent sized paragraph Seokmin would most likely respond to with an apologetic smiley face. It might take a day or two for Wonwoo to cool off, but he always forgave him. Mr. Sunshine.

When he heard the door rattle, Wonwoo quickly hid his phone back in his pants pocket; however, he severely regretted that decision because holy fuck—that vinyl white skirt was indeed short and tight and the winding, crossed straps of the top were just maintaining your cleavage. He needed something to help avert his eyes because Wonwoo felt them itch with the urge to stare at your body despite how uncomfortable he was. The floor tiles—count the floor tiles, or count the lights—something, anything to distract his brain.

“Okay, this is like—if I bend over, I’m flashing someone.”

He prayed you wouldn’t ask him his thoughts.

“But like—okay, I can make this work, right? This has potential. If I stand really straight, and proper, and, just… pull this down a bit here—okay, fuck, that was too much. Don’t look for a second… don’t look…. don’t look… m’kay, fixed it.”

Wonwoo wanted to cradle his head in his hands. And, right when he swore that the situation couldn’t sink much lower, the wealthy, black-suit man returned from his phone call. He paused the second he saw you in the mirror, watching intensely as you fiddled with the vinyl and attempted to adjust the x-shaped top a little higher over your cleavage. Except he wasn’t exactly modest about his gaze. It was drinking you in like some sort of insatiable alcohol.

“This is tough,” you huffed, pressing your hands against your chest, “the top is super sexy. I love how open the back is. But it’s such little fabric considering the price. It sucks that I look so hot in it.”

Horrendously, Wonwoo noticed a jewel bracelet slip off your wrist onto the tiled floor. Even more horrendously, he watched in the tensest position possible as you began to bend over and grab it.

No. No, no, no, no way.

The last two dresses spilled in a silk and cotton heap off his lap, nearly tripping him during his rush toward you. He managed to cover your backside in the most heart-hammering nick of time, his hands accidentally brushing in static sparks against yours to help you pull the tight fabric back down your hips. Knowing the man was still watching in the mirror, Wonwoo clasped onto your arm and dragged you back toward the fitting room, his cheeks turned to rubies.

“Fuck, you need to be more careful,” he rasped, “the skirt is too short for you to bending over like that, alright?”

“I’m not leaving a gifted two-hundred-dollar bracelet on the fucking ground. Should I have just kicked it into the change room?”

“Gosh…” Wonwoo rubbed along his neck with tire and lowered his voice. “Bending over in a skirt that short, especially when there’s a fucking weirdo watching you, is not the best procedure.”

“So, it’s my fault he’s a creep?”

“Okay—that wasn’t what I—um—”

“Do you even like this outfit?” You deadpanned.

Wonwoo chuckled in disbelief, “I’m not answering that.”

“This is useless." Your eyes agitatedly rolled. “I’m changing.”

“Great, whatever. Do that.”

He gently pushed you further into the change room and closed the door with a smooth, loud shutter. His heart was still racing.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let my girlfriend wear that either.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Wonwoo didn’t care that his tone was snappish and clearly tired as he collapsed back onto the stool, making a point to ignore the perverted bastard until he left.

“Wonwoo!” You called his name after a few minutes of silence from the fitting room, “please bring me the green one!”

He wanted to utterly vanish, have the building collapse and crush him in a pile of dust plumes and rubble. Sliding the dress through the small gap in the changeroom door, Wonwoo found himself pausing.

“Why don’t I just hand all these to you?”

“Because, I’m using the hangers in here for my clothes.”

“Why can’t you just pu—”

“Thank you!”

Impatiently, you nabbed the dress and shut the door.

However, that dress was the last one you tried on, and Wonwoo couldn’t have been any more relieved. Talking to you seemed like it might give him heartburn or a hemorrhage.

He thought the shiny colour of olive green suited you best.

The dress was silken and long, slightly form-fitting, with a slit cut far up the right thigh and thin spaghetti straps at the shoulders.

You picked the first three dresses to take home, and left the last shimmery one on the rack.

“We’re leaving now?” Wonwoo asked, cracking his fingers.

“Yes, after I pay. Don’t seem so eager.”

“With all due respect, this place isn't really my scene.”

“Your attitude isn't really my scene.” You swiftly corrected him.

He stood next to you at the counter, observing as you zipped open your small black wallet to pull out a credit card. If you were shopping at a store like this, you must be making bank. But Wonwoo was somewhat nosey, and when you set the card on the countertop, he glanced at its embossed name. It definitely wasn’t your name.

Kim Mingyu.

It was your boyfriend’s.

[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm ]: Goddammit Seokmin answer me

[ Wonwoo | 1:15 pm]: I’ve sent you at least ten texts

[ Wonwoo | 1:16 pm ]: Truly how do you do anything with this girl? I feel like she’s somewhat psychotic and you just fucking had to flash your sad mopey eyes at me in that café so I would break and help her write her book. I’m sitting here with dresses in my lap, pretty much acting as her unpaid personal assistant. Why the fuck is she asking me about dresses, anyway? Did you help her orchestrate this bullshit? I’m actually pissed at you. I want an entire paid lunch.

He wasn’t all that surprised you made him carry the matte silver shopping bag (with these twine handles that he absolutely hated because of how they suffocated around his fingers), and by a certain point, Wonwoo just didn’t give a damn any more. What little social battery he’d maintained since leaving his apartment had officially depleted, for he could feel it weighing in the plaza air around him like an imperceptible mist. Unfortunately, you weren’t lying about being a fast walker. He’d never seen someone stalk with such vigor.

It was nearly an endurance test to keep at your swaying hip, and the few times he fell behind, you would pause and beckon for him.

But Wonwoo discovered that even you needed to stop, to eat and drink like a normal human rather than the disguised cyborg he fleetingly speculated you were. Your touch was so abrupt—a hand had curled around his bicep and suddenly Wonwoo found himself being jerked into a café on the bottom floor of the mall. Of course, you had to pick the most expensive place to buy food in the entire fucking vicinity, and since Wonwoo was penny pinching at the moment, he opted to stand back and let you order.

But then he saw you flick open your wallet, waving Mingyu’s sleek yet flashy credit card between your fingers with blatant enticement.

“I can pay for you.”

He shook his head, muttering a careless, “no thanks.”

“Don't BS me. What do you want to eat?”

Wonwoo couldn’t stop staring at the credit card.

“What’s the limit on that thing?”

“Enough.”

“You haven’t burned through it already?”

“These openly snide comments you’re making aren’t appreciated, you know. Now, please give me an answer before I break off the temples to your glasses so I can use them to stir my drink.”

“… What?” Wonwoo mumbled, completely lost.

“Pick something!”

“Okay, fuck. I’ll just get a coffee, then.”

He took a step forward to examine the menu boards that the employees were wildly scuttling around underneath, browsing down their chalk-written cold brews until he picked one at random.

That was all Wonwoo asked for.

You bought a lemonade and some sandwich he didn’t catch the name of, toasted on panini bread. It felt amazing to sit down. Wonwoo let the silver bag slide completely off his arm and hit the floor, to which he could sense your gaze stinging over him in disapproval. He should have gotten a sandwich himself, but Wonwoo still wasn’t sure how he felt about using the money on your boyfriend’s credit card.

Wonwoo relaxed in his chair, angling a glance down at his phone that he kept below the table, checking for any Seokmin texts.

None. He was supposed to be Wonwoo’s stupid life preserver in this situation with you, and so far, he’d been left for dead. Taking a lengthy sip from his drink was the only way he could stomach it.

“You should put your phone on the table. Screen down.”

“For what reason?” Wonwoo responded in a dull tone, quickly checking his social media with impatient swipes of his thumb.

“So we can have a conversation.”

At that, he almost gagged, slapping down the coffee cup he’d just picked up.

“Now?” Wonwoo laughed, his deep voice reverberating louder than he intended around the café, “you want to talk now?”

“Uh, yes,” you answered, picking up one half of your sandwich and readying it before your mouth, “why is that shocking?”

“Because—you—ah, whatever.”

“You seem crabby. Is that your normal shtick or are you just hangry? Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

He was in a worse mood than usual, but that could be blamed entirely on the mall and how exhausted it made him feel—everything about its environment sucked out his soul. It was most likely the reason he was even daring to act so impatient. You took another bite as you waited for him to answer, and the delicious crackling sound of the toasted bread managed to fissure something inside him.

“Your eyes tell all. Here’s the other half.” You offered.

Finally, he’d experienced his first flares of contentment that day, though he wasn’t expecting it to be from a panini sandwich with what he could taste to be lettuce, mayonnaise, tomato, and different types of melted cheese.

“Thanks.”

“Well, I’ll at least give us time to finish eating.”

[ Seokmin | 2:30pm ]: I can do one paid lunch :)

[ Seokmin | 2:30 pm ]: Her’s not psychotic she’s just uhh

[ Seokmin | 2:31 pm ]: She probs did it to mess with you 

[ Wonwoo | 2:37 pm ]: She thinks being 5 mins late warrants putting me through one of the worst experiences in my life.

[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Awwww

[ Seokmin | 2:37 pm ]: Who doesn’t like a little shopping??

[ Wonwoo | 2:39 pm ]: It wasn’t shopping it was torture. You owe me so much more than a fucking lunch.

—MARCH 29TH.

Unfortunately, Wonwoo never got the opportunity to discuss your book that Saturday. In the middle of eating, your phone buzzed with a brief call that had interrupted your peculiarly passionate rant on the different cup sizes at the movie theatre (Wonwoo had listened without saying anything, mostly because he dreaded the circumstances that may come from peeping a word when you were so fixated on explaining that ‘the medium is too much but the small is too little and they’re both obnoxiously priced’).

He then watched cluelessly as you launched up from the table, collecting every little belonging between your fingers, babbling about some wax appointment that had escaped you.

It was just that simple—you were gone.

In the beginning moments of your absence, Wonwoo had sat there without much inclination of what to do next.

He’d worried it was another test, and that he was supposed to dutifully follow you to said wax appointment and continue bending to your every endeavour with no retaliation throughout the day. He had also found the silence across from him unsettling, in a way.

Nonetheless, if you weren’t there, then Wonwoo figured he didn’t need to be there either. So he left, taking the fifty-six back to his apartment, and you hadn’t contacted him since.

Wonwoo actually knew his landlord quite well.

Her building was comprised of four apartments, which sat above her pottery shop on the ground floor. She wasn’t a very bothersome landlord and it was fairly easy to connect with her whenever something broke or caused problems.

When he first moved in three years ago, Wonwoo had ardently adored living there, constantly studying the shelves of shiny glazed vases in addition to the beautiful water colour paintings that were created by his landlord or her students. It had been an inspiration supernova in terms of his personal literature, and he was able to start writing his book. Though, at the time, Wonwoo hadn’t been living alone in his apartment, and it was an inescapable fact that the only reason he began writing his book was with the hope of eventually presenting it to his old girlfriend-slash-roommate.

Now, it was just him.

And as Wonwoo pushed up from his grave of rumpled bedsheets, feeling lethargic and empty, he tried concerningly hard to pinch those thoughts from his mind. It was nearly lunch. He knew damn well he shouldn’t have allowed himself to rot that long in bed, but the other half of himself, the self-sabotaging kind, just couldn’t be bothered to fucking care. Wonwoo reached for his glasses that lay half-opened on the nightstand, raking them onto his face while brushing the hair from his eyes. The first thing he properly saw was his tall, skinny, orange bottle of venlafaxine. No. He was ignoring it.

Wonwoo had been ignoring it for the past few months.

Whenever he got particularly sick of staring at the bottle, he’d shove it in his drawer, making sure to bury it deep under old, amply-scribbled notepads and inkless pens that he’d worn to the bone. At last getting up from the bed, Wonwoo experienced his entire body sway and he caught the room spinning at the distant edges of his peripheral. But he walked through it without a care in the world, utterly too used to the feeling of imminent nausea even without his medication. He decided on a shower, then dressing himself, one Poptart, a swig of water from the kitchen tap, and almost walked out the apartment door with the minty toothbrush still in his mouth.

After walking three blocks down from his apartment, Wonwoo stepped across the dead, spiky grass and into the lacklustre parking lot behind the bowling alley that always smelled like stale pizza.

He knew the vanilla Camry well enough to identify it—stalled smack and centre amongst the emptiness—the licence plate being chiselled into his head like his old locker combination from high school (16-12-24, because Wonwoo for some reason liked fixating on prehistoric details that were glaringly useless in his present).

Early two-thousands R&B was blasting from inside the outdated-looking car, though it was thankfully turned down once Wonwoo threw the door open and shimmied inside.

The odor permeated Wonwoo’s lungs in a heartbeat.

“I thought you were getting this dry-cleaned,” he sighed to his friend, Vernon, who was busy rifling through a backpack.

“Uh, didn’t happen. Didn’t wanna pay all that. M’gonna find someone else to do it that’s not taxin’ my ass. Air fresheners are all dried n’shit so you’re gonna have to deal. My bad, Glasses.”

Glasses. That nickname had always made Wonwoo huff a little half-chuckle, and almost instinctively, he pushed the glasses a bit higher back up his nose. He was introduced to Vernon at a New Year’s Eve party he was forced to attend back in December, though it had been difficult to speak with him because he was blitzed out of his fucking mind—not to mention the choking pain of ignoring the girl who had been sliding her hands along the divots of his shoulders and chest from behind, kissing at his neck.

But Vernon was branded in tattoos, and had all kinds of metal in his face, and was blessed with concupiscent, honey-burnish eyes magnetized every woman in the vicinity straight to him.

Somehow, Vernon had become Wonwoo’s plug in the mix.

“Now, what are you gettin’, Glasses? The usual quarter ounce, right?” Vernon’s tongue poked between his blistered lips as he dug a heavily-inked hand further into the backpack seated in his lap.

“Yeah, quarter ounce.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Found it. This one.” Vernon exchanged the plastic-bagged ounces of weed with Wonwoo’s cash. “Gimme, gimme. I know it’s all here, but let me check… “ he flaked out the tinted bills with a satisfied head nod. “Prettier than a princess. You’re golden.”

“Did you just say princess?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said… what?”

“I’ve never heard that.”

“It’s not princess?”

“It’s picture, isn’t it? Prettier than a picture.”

“Really? Oh. That’s not how I remember—why the fuck are we even talkin’ about this? Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Now, that’s gonna last you if you’re cute,” he said, throwing his notorious bag into the seat behind him, then tapping at his busted radio with a thick strip of tape across it, the next song rasping through the speakers, “don’t go crazy on it with your meds and shit. Do you still got enough papers?”

Wonwoo scoffed dryly at Vernon’s assumption while he hid the plastic bag within an inside pouch on his navy-blue jacket. A second later and his phone buzzed with a text message.

“Fuck the meds, honestly,” Wonwoo grunted, shifting his hips up in the seat to remove the phone from his back pocket.

Vernon itched his dark eyebrow. “Alright. Just askin’.”

Wonwoo opted to say nothing as he checked the text message without much expectation, and he was thankful that Vernon was the type to drop a subject easily. Instead his friend transitioned into a different conversation, something about another tattoo that he’d been debating, but in the kindest way possible, Wonwoo wasn’t listening to a goddamn word. You had texted him. Finally. For the first time. After three days of radio silence. And Wonwoo didn’t know why he’d suddenly exploded into such a fidgety, heart-pounding mess. You wanted to meet up again in order to discuss the book’s details.

“Who the fuck is that? Jesus Christ?”

“No,” Wonwoo laughed, clasping his right hand into an anxious fist, “um, I dunno. Just—Seokmin’s got me doing this thing with a friend of his. She’s trying to write a book and he kinda threw me into helping her. We’re supposed to meet up and talk about it.”

“Oh,” Vernon answered, leaning his elbow against the window and sweeping a hand through his black tresses, “do I know the chick?”

“Maybe?”

“She got any social media? An Instagram?”

“Yeah.”

“Ou, let me see.”

Wonwoo wasn’t following you. Then again, he was hardly following anyone. His Instagram had remained completely empty since his girlfriend left him, which had prompted Wonwoo to archive every single picture and delete all the ones that contained her, even the ones that captured mere traces of her in beaded bracelets and hair ties and white socks left on the carpet.

Wonwoo used Seokmin’s account to find you. Honestly, he hadn’t ever looked at your Instagram before. Without gleaning a single photo, Wonwoo thrust his phone at Vernon.

“Oh, yeah, I do know this chick,” Vernon chuckled, thumbing through your profile with a growing smirk, “Her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, yeah. Know her. Tried to fuck her. Didn’t work at all.”

Snapping his head to look at Vernon, Wonwoo gaped, “what?”

“Yeah, I mean—” Vernon adjusted himself in his seat, pulling up his knee to rest a tattoo-coated arm across it, “—ran into the chick at a party that some rich dude at your university threw. Sweet-talked her for a bit until I realized she had a stupid boyfriend. She told me a million different ways to kill myself. Yeah, she’s somethin’, for sure.”

“You’re lying.”

“Ha—a little. She didn’t tell me to kill myself,  just scolded me for about ten minutes. God, she was wired as fuck though. Her boyfriend—fuckin’, Mingyu, or whatever—he gets her coke. I’ve seen her take a line like it’s pixie dust, man. This was like, over a year ago, though. Dunno if she’s still that loopy. I don’t care. She’s pretty hot.”

Vernon then flashed him a picture from your account, a full body picture of you sprawled across sparkling white sand in a bikini, meanwhile Wonwoo could only stare at it with the blankest possible expression as his brain splattered with computing Vernon’s story.

“Is she still with him?” Vernon asked.

Wonwoo cleared his throat and sat with his spine rigid against the leather, nearly forgetting where he was and what he was doing.

“With who?”

“Lady Liberty. Mingyu.”

“Oh… yeah. They’re dating, still.”

“No fuckin’ way,” his friend lamented while he continuously plunged further into your pictures, thumb pressed to his chin, eyes glimmering, “you coulda flipped this book thing on its head and actually got some fuckin’ head, especially with that deep ass voice you got there. I know it’s gotta feel good. I mean, look at her lips—”

“You’re being gross as fuck,” Wonwoo groaned, swiping his phone back and stuffing it away, “get a girlfriend yourself, man.”

“I’m tryin’ to clean up my act a bit before I do that.”

“That’s definitely a work in progress, I’m assuming.”

“Asshole,” Vernon’s voice was gritty as he coughed into a fist, slipping his knee back under the steering wheel and proceeding to crank his stereo until the music was practically suffocating Wonwoo, “now get the fuck out. You’re not my only deal today. Sorry, Glasses.”

“Later.”

Wonwoo pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cold afternoon breeze. He sucked in a long, relieving breath. At times the fresh air disgusted him, especially when he cozied into one of his mental ruts and everything in the world seemed so grey it was soul-crushing, but Vernon’s car smelled like straight fucking cannabis.

Fresh air was heavenly.

“Don’t forget to text your girl!” Vernon laughed just before Wonwoo slammed the door shut to swallow up the melodic lyrics.

He wanted to make a snap comment before the boy drove off to his next endeavour, but he didn’t care enough to think of one.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: hey wonwoo, it’s her. I think we should finally settle a date to talk about this book thing. let me attach a pic of my schedule and you can pick any open slots

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]: 145_348.JPG

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:35 pm ]:  seokmin isn’t going to be our communicator anymore, so u can stop complaining to him about it

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: Okay, thanks.

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm]: I’ll take a look soon.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:45 pm ]: I’m excited to see you again

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: no likewise?!

[ Wonwoo | 1:50 pm ]: Likewise.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 1:50 pm ]: ugh. thx

—APRIL 1ST.

It was around six in the evening and Wonwoo was seated in the SRX building, the sky rolling with lambent, hazy-toned pastures of peach in the windows behind him. He had arrived about an hour ago, taking the staircase up to the third floor. It was much quieter there, making it easier for Wonwoo to endlessly stare with glazed, void eyes at his laptop screen and the cursed document he couldn’t finish. After tapping his fingernails in a bored, repetitious pattern against the shiny white table, he felt the urge to delete each and every paragraph as if he hadn’t poured months of earnest love into them.

You would be meeting him soon.

He could still remember looking at your schedule, pinching into the screen and examining all the different colour-coded blocks: dinner parties, SSA meetings, gym sessions, errands—how the fuck you managed to juggle those things and more left him marvelled yet terrified. You were pretty on point regarding your arrival time, to which Wonwoo could immediately identify you before even seeing your face due to the heel clicking and the sounds of tapping jewelry on your bag.

Emerging onto the floor with a very intense scowl and a notably crushing grip on your drink, you were to say the least, angry. Wonwoo gnawed slightly on his tongue as you sat down.

Your purse clunked like a cinderblock onto the table.

He watched you inhale a slow, shaky breath, raising your hand with the expansion of your chest in order to calm down.

 “I’m going to kill myself.”

Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, subtly trying to establish more distance between you. He flicked a glance at his laptop.

“Damn. Why is that?”

“Because of stupid, incompetent people.”

“Yeah?”

“I just—I don’t get it!” You laughed, though it wasn’t a particularly jovial sound and more than anything it seemed like you were going to start smashing glass. “I don’t get how people are unable to understand that we don’t do walk-ins unless one of the stylists are free—” you dug a hand into your purse, pulling out a straw, “—which in the salon’s case, is almost never! I tell them we can’t in my very sweet, established customer service voice: ‘I’m sorry, but the only way to receive a chair is to book online.'”

Wonwoo tilted his head, grinning a little.

“Blah, blah. I tell them the entire story in the kindest way I can, even though I want to grab them by their fucking neck and drag them over the counter to show them our website.” You slipped out your laptop next, accidentally dragging out a lanyard along with it that you agitatedly shoved back into the purse. “And then, they get all uptight and pissy when we can’t wriggle them in! Sorry, our makeup artists are busy! Working with people who made scheduled fucking appointments! The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you!”

You scraped the drink toward you, slamming the straw straight through the plastic film lid with such force that several people ended up turning their heads. After taking a long sip, you gulped and glared until they probably realized it was you and pretended not to care.

For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t know what to say, so he’d folded his arms instead. Considering that Wonwoo worked the late shift stocking shelves at the pharmacy department, your predicament sounded like an entirely new world to him.

“Ugh, I’m sorry to bring all this negativity with me,” you apologized, still exasperated, “I don’t need this fucking tea—I need straight vodka. I’m seriously frazzled.”

“Seriously frazzled?” Wonwoo repeated, finding your choice of words funny as he resumed leaning forward, arms still crossed.

“Very, seriously frazzled.”

“I’m sorry about your day.”

Again, you sighed deeply while removing your long, warm jacket to drape over the chair’s spine—it was a rather elegant reveal of the strapless pearl dress underneath, tinted by the evening light, peach-pink as it rained from the ceiling length windows and framed your body like you were some sort of resurrected angel. Tension at last started escaping your shoulders. Wonwoo quickly realized that he'd been staring, and his fingers curled into a nervous fist.

“You’re actually such a good listener.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Um, thank you.”

“I like that you don’t interrupt me.”

Settling his elbows on the table and ruffling the back of his messy black locks, Wonwoo felt himself panic a little on the inside.

“Well,” he heaved in, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know," you chirped, posturing yourself confidently, “anyway, the book. We need to talk about it.”

“Table’s yours.”

Wonwoo’s knuckles pressed softly into his cheek while he waited for you to prepare your laptop. His own document was glowing at him, and he swore the emptiness of the page made the screen brighter (in the absolute worst, most mocking way).

“Okay, I’ve got my ideas and such pulled up.”

He expected you to continue and introduce the concept, but you had suddenly stopped, and Wonwoo thought you appeared almost smitten and somewhat timorous. It was strange, because from what he’d known and gauged so far, you were nothing akin to that.

“Well, promise that you won’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“That’s why I want you to promise!”

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses and sighed, “I will need to be honest at some points you know, depending on what kind of help you want from me. Not that I’m going to be a straight-up dick.”

You scoured at him from over your laptop.

“Whatever.”

“I’ll promise if it makes you feel better.”

“Just—shut up." You wiggled your hand at him dismissively and proceeded to tug the laptop closer. “I don’t even care anymore.”

Once you spent a moment affirming the document to yourself, you looked up at him and smiled. “I’m going to write a book for Mingyu. Our fifth anniversary is coming up in the winter—it’s actually on Christmas Eve—the day he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. I just want to write him a little memoire thingy that tells our story. I want it to walk through the events of our lives, and how I remember them. First encounter, first date, first kiss, stuff like that. I’ve already collected some good memories to include. I have… somewhat of an outline? But my problem is the writing. I can spew nonsense from my mouth at a million miles an hour, but when I try to actually write? It’s crickets.”

You sat back, a hand poised thoughtfully at your cheek while one leg folded over the other. Wonwoo knew you were granting him the space to speak and at least offer a slice of his thoughts, yet, in that moment, he found himself to be drowning. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny or anything of the delusional like; however, hearing you explain the exact premise of a story that he had been successfully writing until a certain breakup—it had shaken him, and Wonwoo felt like the universe was smearing salt fresh into his unsewn wounds.

“So…” your head cocked to the side. “Can I at least an ‘okay’ or a head nod or some sign of life? Or are you just too disgusted?”

What could he say? What was he supposed to say?

Wonwoo was genuinely clueless on how to help you write a story that he’d been utterly failing at writing himself. And, sure, maybe Wonwoo should just give up completely. His ex-girlfriend had ripped out his heart without a single indication that it would happen, and then exited his life in the blink of an eye, disappearing so fucking abruptly that Wonwoo could have said she was a shadow that he imagined in pure lunacy. But he hadn’t dropped the story because there was this very stubborn, unwilling part of his being that could not move on from her—her, who had been his love, and breath, and bones.

He’d decided to finish the story as a manner of easing into closure. If that closure never came, then so be it.

“Are you seriously fucking ignoring me right now?”

His silence had promptly disturbed your peace, and now you were glaring at him with the beginning licks of fire and hell in your eyes.

“I don’t think I can help you.”

“What?” You pronounced sharply. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said while closing his laptop and sliding it back into his shoulder-sling bag, “I just—I’m not the right person to help you. I’m not, and you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“Seokmin told me you could write fucking anything. He made it out like you were some literature God with a golden quill. And—great, you’re just packing up fucking everything. Are you serious? Am I even allowed more of an explanation or are you gonna leave it at that? Wonwoo, you couldn’t have told me this at a worse time.”

“I didn’t plan for it to be like that.” He could hardly push the syllables up his diaphragm. “It can’t be me. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t lift a finger to stop him from leaving, though the wavelength of your incinerating stare was felt like a hot, melting scratch down his neck. This was terrible, he was terrible—Wonwoo already knew that about himself. He wanted to go home. He wanted to shut himself away in his room and sink straight through the sheets until he was swallowed. His anxiety was webbing around him. It was pulling him down into the soil and earth like he belonged there.

He truly hated this part of himself.

More than anything, he truly hated when other people saw it.

Especially people like you.

—APRIL 8TH.

Wonwoo didn’t think you would ever speak to him again, in person or over text message. In retrospect, he was fine with it. You were rather overwhelming and especially tiring for someone like Wonwoo who would be perfectly fine never seeing another human in his lifetime. Not to mention he was freed from helping you with your book, which he learned was a technical love letter to your boyfriend in addition to a romance he wanted a nonexistent part in. Going down that path once was already excruciating enough, and given his anxiety attack that saw him locked in a cold washroom stall last week, it was best you just forget about him. He assumed you already had, anyway.

After he stocked the last red bottle of sinus medicine onto the shelf, Wonwoo used his boxcutter to break down the cardboard package and fold it flat with the others he’d opened. It was time for his break, and then he would only have one more hour until the pharmacy section closed for the night. Once it hit ten o’clock, the store was automatically still and hardly anyone came in—minus the few student couples whom Wonwoo had to point in the direction of pregnancy tests or plan b. But it was a Tuesday night. He was at the bare minimum appeased he didn’t have to console a sobbing, snotty-nosed eighteen-year-old girl imploring for a First Response.

When he collapsed down at his favourite seat in the breakroom, Wonwoo pulled out his phone. He had sent Seokmin a text yesterday evening about going studying at the SRX building for their upcoming math midterm, though Seokmin had yet to respond and Wonwoo couldn’t evade wondering if you were pulling some strings behind the curtain.

He opened his bottle of juice and spent the remainder of his fifteen listening to music and jittering his knee.

Wonwoo took his earbuds with him back onto the floor, sneaking the wires under his shirt to pull out his collar. There were only a few boxes left on his cart that required stocking, and whatever didn’t fit would have to be scanned into storage. That shouldn't take long. Wonwoo could almost taste the crisp atmosphere of the night air and feel the gentle chilliness soon to ghost against his face.

However, halfway into shelving the cough drops there had been a polite tap on his shoulder, and Wonwoo wanted to wither up and lose his head right there on the tiles like a sundried rose.

He didn’t know who to expect when he turned around, pulling out a single earbud while the other continued to blast his music.  

“Oh, shit—I didn’t know you worked here.”

Fuck. He wanted to kill himself.

“Yeah, started a couple months ago, actually.”

Mingyu.

It’s not that Wonwoo didn’t like speaking with him, because they had definitely exchanged cordial conversations in the past, particularly when they both took that Probability Poker elective last semester and Wonwoo learned that Mingyu was a pretty decent bluffer. Unfortunately, Mingyu’s belief that he was a great bluffer was actually the one indication that he was indeed bluffing. It showed in his overly confident eyes before a twitch of the lips or a subtly shifted foot, meanwhile Wonwoo was able to sit there the entire time like he was an Easter Island statue incarnate.

Put simply, Wonwoo had always preferred to avoid Mingyu because he was your boyfriend, and per routine, he attempted to slip around most people that were associated with you.

“Cool.” Mingyu smiled and the flashes of his pointed teeth caught the light. “Stuff’s got switched around in here again.”

“New mods came out last week,” Wonwoo answered, placing the last cough drop box onto the shelf and facing it straight.

“Well, don’t know what the fuck that means,” his tone was brassy as he laughed, “I just came to ask where the plan b is now.”

 “Two aisles down, check the endcap.”

“Appreciate it, thanks—oh, condoms?”

“Next aisle.”

“Got it.”

“Just come get me when you’re done,” Wonwoo said, grabbing his boxcutter and running the blade along the taped seam of the cardboard to satisfyingly slice it open, “I’m the only one in pharmacy right now, so I have to ring you up.”

As soon as Mingyu disappeared around the corner, Wonwoo tossed the flattened cardboard onto his cart with the loudest, most life-draining sigh that could be harboured. He wasn’t the kind of person to cultivate those racing, panicky thoughts that consumed his brain like a merciless hurricane, rather it was typically one single thought that was an eternal black space to swallow him. But Wonwoo had to admit that seeing Mingyu had triggered something of the latter, and now he was feeling sick with the fact you possibly told Mingyu about his episode at the SRX building last week. To Wonwoo it had been the shackles of his anxiety, though it probably came across as a very ill-mannered, abrupt rejection from your perspective.

Mingyu didn’t take long picking out his items. It was clearly a run of the mill routine for him at this point—a mere grab and go.

At the register, Wonwoo mentally questioned why Mingyu had grabbed such a plethora of condoms. He didn’t mean to be vulgar in his thinking, but how often were you getting fucking railed?

Either that, or Mingyu preferred being well stocked.

Vernon would be bruising his knuckles on his steering wheel right now, considering how devotedly he attempted to seduce you.

As payment, Mingyu pulled out that godforsaken credit card that you had borrowed during the dress shopping. Wonwoo felt nauseous just looking at the damn thing. He swiped all of the items into a small plastic bag which he then handed to Mingyu with a notable impatience, wanting to whisk the boy out as quick as possible.

“G’night, man. Thanks for the help.”

“Night,” he answered in a deep, tired sigh, watching Mingyu’s head of thick and bouncy black hair disappear toward the aglow exit.

Well, clearly you weren’t wasting anytime thinking about him despite the dramatics pertaining to the situation last week, not even in the most marginal fraction. Mingyu must rail it out of you every night—not that Wonwoo would be surprised to learn such a thing considering the tall boy’s physique and your openly lascivious nature.

Well, good luck to you both, he supposed.

At least it was closing time.

Wonwoo had always suspected there was something ever so slightly off kilter about his body, especially in the way it reacted to certain situations and emotions. He knew it probably wasn’t the most mundane, ordinary act—locking himself in his aunt’s washroom the day of his sixteenth birthday, sliding down onto the cold, hard tiles, feeling his heart jolt, punch, and thump again his chest like a battering ram. There had been a pattern of rubber ducks on her eggshell blue shower curtain, and Wonwoo remembered counting them row by row, over and over, until his breath managed to steady.

Twenty-four ducks. He could still recall the number.

A doctor’s visit about three weeks later had granted him the diagnosis and a scribbled venlafaxine prescription. Wonwoo was already collecting his sweater off the tissue sheet bed, ready to leave.

In the beginning, he was strict about his medication. He organized them into pill cartridges and set alarms and always ate them with cooked, warm meals. Understandably, his habits dwindled every now and again, however, Wonwoo was quite pious to the routine for a good couple years. But then he met his most recent girlfriend in university. She was shy and reserved. All about the books.

Cute as buttons.

He fell in love.

And it was all such a rush of rose petals and sweet symphonies that Wonwoo became distracted from his healthy habits.

Of course, everything crashed and burned once she abandoned him. He capitulated in an instant, and the sight of the orange bottle made him paler than winter moonlight. It’s not like he wanted to suffer, or despise the way his body put him through a neural hell beyond his own control. The fact of the matter was that Wonwoo just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take those stupid pills.

It was a mountain. Every. Single. Time.

And for the third time that week, Wonwoo found himself awake at an ungodly hour, rifling through the black lunchbox he kept in his closet with his glasses about to slip off the fine point of his nose.

He pulled out the baggie filled with the quarter-ounce, his silver grinder, and his rolling papers. Moving to his desk, Wonwoo clicked on the small overhead lamp to illuminate his space, in which he tapped some of the weed into his grinder and began twisting the lid until he was satisfied. He liked preparing joints to smoke on the roof. It wasn’t particularly hard to access, anyway. Right outside his bedroom window was a balcony with a short ladder attached to the brick, and once Wonwoo had discovered it, he made a habit of climbing up to spark his joints so that their pungent aroma could be carried away by the fresh winds usually stirred up at gloaming.

Honestly, it was the only thing he enjoyed.

Just before he slipped out the window, Wonwoo grabbed a pair of black jeans he’d worn earlier in the week, discovering the lighter he’d accidentally left in the back pocket.

The ladder shuddered slightly when Wonwoo gripped it, though if he were being candour, he didn’t care whatsoever if all the bolts suddenly loosened and he were to splatter against the sidewalk like an uncooked pancake. In fact, the fall probably wasn’t enough to kill him. Maybe a few broken bones and scrapes, some blood staining the street akin to little patterns of rain, bruises that signatured violets into his skin, but Wonwoo would still be painfully, vividly alive, enough to see the stars if the glasses didn’t snap off his face.

It was a colder night, so Wonwoo made sure to tuck on his beanie and huddle into his thicker-sized coat. He sat with one leg dangling over the building’s edge, feeling the wind whiplash against his back and crawl in these chilly, indecipherable whispers from his shoulders to his neck, almost tickling him, like it had missed him.

An orange flicker popped to life from the butane of his lighter, which he used to lightly singe the joint perched at his lips. Wonwoo then tilted his head back, blowing the cloud and its loose, airy curls straight into the sky’s deepest purples.

He loved being alone.

Even when his ex-girlfriend had moved in with him all those months ago, there was an unyielding part of him that hadn’t been ready to forfeit all his space and privacy.

But, over time, his love surmounted the sacrifice.

He would wake up to her sleeping face, and with thoughtful nudges, clear the hairs off her cheeks. He would spend an hour working on his homework or writing his story while waiting for her to stir so messily in the sheets that it became graceful. He would tease her with his cold hands as she boiled up tea in the kitchen, pinching at her hips with the utmost softness and giggling huskily into her neck when she would twist in the arms that bracketed her body against his chest. He would trap her between the counter, sunshine striking the room aglow in these nearly blinding seas of light, mouthing at her throat and tugging at her shorts and hitching his fingers so deep into her heat because all Wonwoo wanted to do was make her feel good.

Opening his eyes again, Wonwoo saw the stars rather than her face. The high was disseminating past his lungs and mingling with the pain that festered in his heart, concocting something that hurt so wonderfully, in all the right places, in all the right spots.

He was a fucking mess.

It wasn’t sustainable. But he didn’t care enough to fix himself.

 —APRIL 15TH.

Why did Wonwoo keep coming back to that café? The number of times he’d sat down with conviction that today would be fruitful—today, the eloquence would flow from his fingertips like perfectly pitched music notes and the symphony would read as beautiful and mellifluous as it sounded in his mind. Today, he was going to write.

Except, he accomplished nothing of the sort.

Repeatedly tapping his index finger against the space bar, he waited for the right adjective or phrase to leap out—to grasp him in a headlock even—whatever it took, Wonwoo was willing to sit there all afternoon until one fucking word conjured in the infinite blankness that was his imagination. He reached for his drink, only to take a sip of dry air that smelled like his earlier cocoa. Wonwoo realized the cup was empty. Had he wasted this much time already?

It pricked similarly to a bee sting. His passions felt impossible. A sigh upheaved from his chest and fingers curled into his hair, musing up the already disarrayed strands and slowly warping himself to look more and more like a mad scientist. Wonwoo removed his glasses and slumped back in the chair, rubbing at the reddish prints left on his nose. Writing had soaked itself in agony and he was going to remain in the storm of it until the bitter, ungratifying end.

‘Till death do us part.

 And then, something struck.

Though it wasn’t what Wonwoo had hoped for.

Literally—it was your hand hitting the glass of the café window, which had jerked Wonwoo out from his self-pitying.

He scrambled to fix his glasses back on, your face clarifying in an instant. You smiled at him with your glossed lips, and he didn’t like the nuance of your countenance one bit. Watching you enter the café was jarring and uncomfortable and his fist immediately clenched, his index nail picking at the ruined cuticle of his thumb. Two weeks ago—that was the last time you had spoken. At the SRX building.

“Hey!” You sounded friendly. “Can I sit here?”

“Well, uh—”

“Great, thank you.”

You pulled out the chair across from him, then set your bag delicately on the windowsill. Wonwoo watched with nervous, fluttering eyes as you smoothed out your cropped skirt before sitting down, ensuring it was tucked under yourself appropriately.

“How are you?”

Gulp.

“Fine.”

“Good. That’s really good. I’m glad.” Your nails drummed once against the table. “I actually didn’t plan on coming here, but I saw you as I was crossing the street, and I thought, ‘I should stop by and check in on him’ because, y’know, we haven’t been talking.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Slap your hand against windows to get people’s attention.”

You swept something off the table with your palm, and this sunshine-like laugh turned your entire face to sweetness, but it wasn’t entirely earnest, and Wonwoo bit into his lip because you fucking terrified him. He caught your sparkling eye and wanted to melt.

“Did I scare you? I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re good.”

“What are you working on?”

“A paper.”

Obviously, he was going to lie. Whether or not you could pick up on his lie was beyond Wonwoo’s control at that point. He didn’t know what you wanted, or why you were interrupting the flow of your very organized scheduling system to seemingly toy with him.

You didn’t respond to his paper comment. There was a thick silence between you despite the distant clattering of dishes, bubbling coffee machines, and conversations that coalesced into one big buzz.

Wonwoo bit the bullet.

“Something you want from me, yeah?”

“Not… exactly… I mean, after you left me at the SRX building, I wanted to get very angry about the whole situation. My day was terrible, and you responding to my idea with that sickly look on your face didn’t help. But I thought about it. You said no. I can’t ask anything more of you, y’know? I have to respect what you said.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo unclenched his fist, stretched out his long legs a bit more. “Yeah, sure. I get it. Thanks for understanding.”

“I just didn’t think my idea was that bad.”

“Well… no. It’s not bad. It’s not bad at all.”

A twitch to your lip suggested you didn’t believe him. Wanting to clear the air a bit, Wonwoo stopped slouching. He sat straighter and lowered the lid of his laptop, inviting the space between you.

His mouth opened, and then closed.

Fuck, just breathe you idiot—he cursed at himself.

You did that little head tilt thing, half-smiling at him, looking radiant underneath the café sunlight and so oddly patient with his tied-tongue that Wonwoo was miraculously able to find his words.

“There is nothing wrong with your idea. I made it seem like there was. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to help you write a romance story, for personal reasons that would be useless explaining. But you seem very confident in everything you do. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Hm, well, thank you for believing in me. Romance can be a touchy subject—I didn’t think of that, and I get it… I guess I felt more insecure about your reaction because writing is the one thing I can’t ace. I do need help with my story, even if I don’t want it. Well, it’s just the truth, isn’t it? There are some things I can’t do!”

You chuckled at yourself, and Wonwoo thought it to be actually endearing. All your hard edges softened in that moment.

“So, I haven’t made any progress in my story, which sucks because I’m operating by deadline—” reaching into your bag, you unveiled a small, compact mirror, using it to remove something invisible from your eyelash, “—do you have any writer friends that would help me?”

Wonwoo scratched his nose.

“Uh, with the book?”

“Yes.”

“None.”

“What?” The mirror snapped shut as you gagged at him. “How do you have no writer friends? Isn’t that your major? Literature? Do you even have friends that aren’t Seokmin?”

“I’m a math major for fucks sake.”

“You’re fucking joking, Wonwoo. Please, tell me it’s a joke.”

He leaned back, folding his arms and propping an ankle onto his knee. You were still gaping at him, and he wanted to smirk.

“What’s wrong with math?”

“Nothing. Math is… math,” you gritted, shoving the mirror back into your expensive-looking, gold-buckled bag, “but why math? Why straight math? I thought you wanted to be a writer.”

“Man, Seokmin really didn’t tell you fucking anything, did he?” Wonwoo chuckled. Or, maybe you had only heard the things you wanted to hear, which was what Wonwoo assumed.

“Like I have space in my brain to remember the multiverse of information that constantly comes out of his mouth.”

“So what is there space for then?”

“You're toeing a dangerous line.”

“Well, I like math and writing.”

"And what kind of papers would you be required to work on as a math major? Did you stumble across some quintessential theorem that nobody else really cares about except for you and all the other pocket-protector wearers out there? Or is this a Good Will Hunting scenario? Even better—are you waiting for someone to walk by behind you and see all that really complicated mumbo-jumbo on your screen and think to themselves, 'woah, this guy is really smart. He's working on a paper with numbers, and I only work on papers with words. Where did I go wrong in my life?' so you can develop some sort of alternative complex that writing just isn't giving you?"

Wonwoo cocked his head at you, perplexed.

“What the absolute fuck are you talking about?” He felt a laugh in his chest, but he pushed it down. Wonwoo had never met anyone like you before. “You made up everything you just said.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I go on tangents. It’s just something I do.”

“Damn. I can tell.” Wonwoo rubbed at the corner of his eye and slipped the ankle off his knee, further spreading his legs. “You like hearing the sound of your own voice, yeah?”

He always hated when people bothered him at the café, especially when he was trying to write. Today, it was different.

“Well, that’s true.” You beamed at him so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. “The most beautiful sound in the world, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

“Thought so. Ugh, I just can’t believe you have no writer friends to hook me up with.” He watched you slouch forward, slapping your arms across the table. “I’ll have to go wait outside Gildan Hall and start ambushing all the smart-looking literature majors.”

Wonwoo found himself examining your perfect nail polish.

“Good luck with that.”

“Can you at least try to sound more sympathetic?”

“You don’t seem like a person who appreciates sympathy.”

“Pft. According to who? I like being comforted when the time is right, and you’re not being very comforting.” You groaned into the table.

“You like being comforted?” He scoffed.

Your head popped up, and you were pouting. “At certain times, yes. Most times, no. It’s a complicated system. No one’s really cared enough to learn it except for Mingyu, and that was by force, and I think even he hates it. But I’m not asking for the moon. Just a reasonably sized chunk of it. I have to be worth something, right?”

“What’s life without someone catering to your every whim at the drop of a hat, huh?” He couldn’t help but mutter with sarcasm.

“Yes, exactly! See—you read my mind.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue.

“Ugh, now where’s my stupid phone?”

It was in your purse. Immediately, your eyes lit up.

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna be late to my electrolysis!”

Like a burst of lightning, you shot up from your seat and quickly fixed the cream-white purse back over your shoulder. It reminded him of that time at the mall. One second you were engrained into a tangent, and the next you were scrambling about, attempting to recover the lost time in your meticulous schedule.

“If you think of anyone, please text me!”

Wonwoo nodded his head.

Now, there was a vacant seat before him, left slightly tugged from the table due to your hectic departure. For a moment, he just sighed, feeling the breath emerge from somewhere so deep in his chest that it ached. That was the thing about you—in a confusing turmoil, you managed to fill him up when he felt empty, but then empty him once he felt full.

He didn’t know what kind of person you were.

But there was an odd thrill to it that Wonwoo couldn’t articulate.

—APRIL 18TH.

Sat with Seokmin at the boy’s dining room table, Wonwoo popped a purple grape into his mouth while flipping a pencil between his fingers. The two had been staring plainly at their last problem from the math homework, but the question was horribly long, and his handwriting had morphed from legible penmanship to the most slurred hieroglyphics. Wonwoo wanted to dump a ramen packet into some boiling water and call it a night. He’d devoured a whole stem of grapes. His head was pounding and his stomach growled for a meal.

“Oh! You see—this is what gets me every time!” Seokmin exclaimed, leaned over his scattered papers, shoulders hunched with strain, “I mess up one multiplication in a matrix, and it screws me all up! Now I have to go over—uh! My fucking pencil just snapped.”

“Good,” Wonwoo mumbled, pressing a hand along the groove of his stiff neck, cracking it, “take it as a sign to give up.”

“We’re so close.”

Scooting the chair back to stretch his legs, Wonwoo then snatched his phone off the table. It was nearly ten at night.

“I’m hungry, and I don’t care anymore.”

Seokmin sighed, “are you going to eat now?”

“Yeah. Any ramen left?”

“It’s in the box sitting on top of the fridge. Soup broth is in the cupboard beside the microwave. I think there’s some eggs, too.”

Wonwoo easily grabbed the noodle packet off the fridge. He asked his friend if he wanted a bowl as well, and Seokmin agreed, abandoning their math homework after his defeating pencil-snapping incident. While they waited for the water to start bubbling over the stovetop, Seokmin had joined Wonwoo in the kitchen, though he leaned against the counter, holding his phone six inches or so from his face. Wonwoo had never seen anyone text that fast.

Gosh—he didn’t even need to ask who it was.

Noticing a few smudges on his glasses, Wonwoo lowered them down to the hem of shirt, beginning to massage the marks away.

“Our math final is the twenty-eighth, right?” Seokmin asked.

“Should be, yeah.”

“Thanks. If it’s on the twenty-eighth then I can definitely go.”

Wonwoo slid the glasses back onto his nose.

“Go to what?

Taptaptaptap—Seokmin’s fingers were practically electric.

“Uh, this thing that Her is having… at her parents’ house… like… a big dinner party… I’m helping her plan it… just need to make sure… I’m free those days… there! Okay, all settled.”

At last, Seokmin had clicked off his phone and slid the device back into the pocket on his sweatpants. Wonwoo folded his arms, staring at his friend with a deeply furrowed yet confused brow.

He sucked in a helpless breath.

“I don’t get you, Seokmin.”

“What—why?”

A few hot droplets of water had leapt from the pot, slightly scalding Wonwoo’s arm. He promptly ripped open the ramen packet and submerged the noodle brick, poking at it with chopsticks.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, “are you obsessed with her?”

Seokmin laughed, sounding astounded.

“No, I’m not obsessed. I’m just helping. We’re friends.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Setting the chopsticks beside the stove, Wonwoo turned around again, habitually crossing his arms low along the chest.

“I guess I don’t understand what you get out of that relationship.” He admitted. “Why can’t she do shit herself?”

“Ha!—That’s an interesting question.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s not that.” Seokmin lifted himself onto the kitchen counter, his head thumping back against the wooden cupboard. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that. And—I meant it’s interesting to see your interpretation of it. Like, my friendship with Her.”

Wonwoo nodded. He wasn’t going to coax anything out of his friend that he wasn’t already willing to say. In fact, Wonwoo had only begun talking to Seokmin back in the early, rainy days of September, since they ended up in the same discrete mathematics course and happened to choose seats right next to each other. Their bond had formed fairly quick, but they never really conversed about topics more intimate than school work and their own interests.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, don’t apologize. I mean, I totally get why you’re curious.”

Seokmin glanced down at his knees, scratched his chin.

“Uh—well, what did you say, anyway? Why can’t her do shit herself? I mean, her life is super busy. Her mom’s a writer and editor for that popular fashion and beauty magazine you always see at all those glamour stores—Stunning Monthly—something like that. Her’s dad is this business tycoon guy. He works with my dad, actually. I’ve known Her since high school. Our families are close, so naturally we’ve spent a lot of time together. Her family picked up all their stuff and moved into Hillcrest on account of her dad needing to relocate for work.”

Wonwoo remained silent at the revelation, even though he was urged by curiosity to badger Seokmin with questions.

“But, uh—without all my non-essential rambling—the relationship with her parents is tumultuous. Who doesn't have a shaky relationship with their parents, though? A few lucky souls, probably. But they've set things up for her quite well, in my opinion. Her mom got her a job at the Milestone—that fancy beauty place down Bank Street? She has a makeup chair from time to time and works reception. She’s definitely gonna graduate Cum Laude with some big fancy scholarship. Not to mention the little power couple thing she’s got going on with Mingyu. She just tends to be…” Seokmin winced, massaging his shoulder, “she’s just a bit unpredictable. It would be way too easy for things to start falling all over the place. She’s a busy girl so I figure it’s nice to help her out. Keep things organized.”

Wonwoo bobbed his head, thinking.

“I guess I’m curious about the book thing. I mean, if everything is so perfectly laid out for her, and she’s so busy all the time…. why write a book? That takes months, extreme dedication, planning out the ass… it’s loving everything you’ve written and then hating it so atrociously… I don’t know,” he sighed, shrugging with confusion, “if I were her, writing a book would be the last thing on my mind.”

Folding his arms, Seokmin leaned back against the cupboards and agreed. “I know. But sometimes she just lurches onto random things out of nowhere. One year she practically turned her entire living room into a freakin’ art studio and I slipped on an open tube of paint on the floor—nearly popped out my tail bone. To be fair, her passion projects never last long. She never has the time, as you said… I know you’re not helping her anymore. She’ll probably drop it without help.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin answered, smiling, “just like that.”

For some reason, Wonwoo gritted his teeth. He would hate for you to discard the feat so readily, just because he couldn’t pitch in as initially planned. Yes, writing was not always a fruitful cherry blossom tree and sometimes chalking down one sentence was equivalent to a month of effort and squeezing out all the creative fibres in one’s brain, but there was so much worth and occulted beauty to it at the same time. It was the art of expression.

Wonwoo thought it was quite cruel to deprive oneself of the ability to express and articulate things as they coursed through the fragile skin and the warm veins, and chiefly, the heart.

“Anyway, maybe I didn’t really answer your question,” Seokmin laughed, “but, y’know, don’t worry too much about turning down the book. You’re right. She’s got more important things to focus on, as I was telling her over and over, and—oh! Fuck, the ramen’s bubbling!”

Wonwoo quickly twisted around as the water began spilling over the edge and sizzling like fried meat. He lifted the pot off the piping hot, orange element, to which Seokmin joined him, twisting the stove dial to a much lower heat. Blowing at the white froth, Wonwoo waited a precautionary minute before returning the pot.

Once dinner was ready, they gathered back at the dining table, entwining the noodles with their chopsticks and hardly allowing a second for the ramen to cool before they were shovelling in burning mouthful after mouthful. The bite in Wonwoo’s stomach was gradually appeased. He soon felt warm, and full, and less tempered.

“Seokmin.”

“Hm?” His friend glanced up from his phone.

“So…” Wonwoo leaned back in the chair, his fist clenched. “I guess what—from what I understand—if I don’t help Her, or if she doesn’t find someone who can, then the book just won’t happen ”

At his observation, Seokmin nodded, seeming unbothered.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much.”

“That’s sad.”

“Hey, you two just aren’t destined for each other,” he replied, slurping his noodles, “you were right back at the café.”

Picking up the white and blue patterned bowl, Wonwoo prepared to drink the broth, feeling the delicious heat fan back against his face. Once he finished eating and helping Seokmin with the dishes, he planned to catch a late-night bus back to his apartment above the quaint pottery shop. He didn’t know if he would sleep or not.

Maybe, however, that would give him time to rethink some choices, even if he shouldn’t trust the musings his brain happened to curate past nine at night. Especially any musings concerning you.

[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: Sorry to message you this late.

[ Wonwoo | 11:45 pm ]: I’ll keep it brief: I’ve given your book idea some thought, and if the offer still stands, I’d like to help you write it. Though, I understand if you want someone else’s help.

[ Wonwoo | 11:50 pm ]: Goodnight.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: AHHHHHHHHHHH

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: good morninggg

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:35 am ]: no that’s so perfect

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: okay. OMG. there’s just so much we have to sort out. I’m trying not to overwhelm myself lol

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 6:37 am ]: thank u for giving it more thought. I’m excited to plan everything and see u again ofc :)

[ Wonwoo | 12:55 pm ]: Likewise.

—APRIL 24TH.

Since last November, Wonwoo hadn’t invited many guests to his apartment—not even his older brother, who had never stepped foot into the building after Wonwoo originally signed the lease. Seokmin visited once or twice, but everything was curt, and while there had been one time that Vernon slept overnight on the couch, it was hardly notable.

Knowing that you were going to be at his apartment in a few hours was a very daunting thought. Consequently, Wonwoo had done something he hadn’t properly completed in months: clean.

It wasn’t like he just threw out the garbage and wiped down the kitchen counter either. He legitimately cleaned, picking over his apartment with a fine-tooth comb, not allowing one coffee cup or coaster to seem even vaguely incongruous. He fluffed out the couch pillows and vacuumed the floors. He went through his entire room, tidying up piles of clothes on the floor and aligning every book on his shelf. For the first time in months, Wonwoo threw open his heavy curtains, pure sunlight engulfing the space in such a bright glare that his eyes stung and he hardly recognized his own bedroom. Most importantly, he remembered to hide the pill bottle in his nightstand.

After all the anxiety-driven cleaning was done, Wonwoo collapsed onto the couch and stared plainly at the ceiling, the reality of what he just accomplished beginning to sink into his pores.

What the fuck?

He doubted you would care even microscopically if his apartment wasn’t perfectly swept and polished and artistic like a photo from an interior design catalogue. But at the same time, it would have been impossible for him to leave it alone. The burst of productivity undoubtedly left Wonwoo rather hot and sweaty, so he opted to take a shower before you arrived. Standing beneath the cool water and taking slow, languid breaths helped ease his nerves.

And, for the first time in what he imaged to be—months, Wonwoo dried himself off with this feeling that everything was okay.

Not good. Definitely not great. But okay.

While he buttoned up a pair of blue jeans, Wonwoo heard his phone ding from his desk. Reaching over, he tapped the screen.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:05 pm ]: hi, I’m almost there

His chest fucking lurched.

Roughly jerking open his drawer, Wonwoo pulled out the first shirt he saw, tugging the white long-sleeve over his head before he wiggled his feet into a fresh pair of socks. Once Wonwoo found his glasses, he sat on the edge of his bed with his phone.

[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Okay.

[ Wonwoo | 12:08 pm ]: Would you like me to come down?

God—he felt like his stomach was going to collapse.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:08 pm ]: no that’s okay :)

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:09 pm ]: it’s really pretty down here

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm]: sorry I was looking at some of the pottery / painting stuff. it’s the staircase down the hall, right?

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:12 pm ]: unit 102?

[ Wonwoo | 12:12 pm ]: Yes.

He reminded himself to breathe. Calm and slow and lifting the pressure that dug so bluntly into his lungs. The webs began to burn away. It had been a narrow escape, but it was successful.

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 12:13 pm ]: heyy, I’m outside

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Wonwoo walked to the front door. His fingers brushed the knob in a flash of doubt, though his mind had already committed and now the door was pulled open and you were there, just as you said.

“Well, hello.”

He nodded at you, and then gestured for you to enter.

“Where should I take off my shoes?”

“There’s good,” Wonwoo answered, pointing to a textured mat in the corner that you proceeded to leave your simplistic heels on.

How absurd was this? Never in his life would Wonwoo imagine you at his apartment of all places—the one girl whom he adamantly tried to avoid because you were his gleaming opposite, and everything that you were, certain and in control, scared him. You were gazing around with your hands politely clasped together, ignited in the fulgurant sunlight, a small smile on your mouth.

“Wow, you’re very clean.”

Wonwoo stepped after you, maintaining a shy distance.

“It doesn’t normally look this neat,” he admitted, watching you readjust the strap of your tote bag, “I did clean for you.”

You turned to face him, and your laughter filled the space with a refreshing, long lost tone that made everything brighter. His fist clenched up anxiously and he knew his cheeks were pinkening.

“Um, cleaned or power-washed?”

He merely stared at you. Why couldn’t he fucking speak?

“Jeez, don’t look so afraid. I’m joking. And I obviously appreciate the effort.” You spun back around, continuing to walk past the coffee table and toward the kitchen. “It’s a lovely place, and it’s definitely got your personal touch. Oh—this is a cute mug.”

He breathed out, unfurling his hand and stretching his fingers until the air in his knuckles popped. You began wandering in the natural direction of the bedroom, and so Wonwoo followed, his eyes drifting up the jeans that hugged your legs and your sashaying hips, to back of your delicious-smelling hair. What was that scent, anyway?

Manuka honey?

But it was just a trivial glance, really.

Nothing meaningful.

“Is this your room?” You asked, stopping at the doorframe.

“It is.”

Biting your lip, you peaked inside and started to grin.

“Do you care if I go in?”

 “No.”

He tried not to crumble right there on the floor. Wonwoo’s room was his sanctuary, a fortress, something that barred out everyone but himself and granted him the freedom to do whatever he pleased (whether it was self-detrimental or not). The thought of others in his room was a gash in that perfect sanctuary, in which he could see the walls bleed out all their comfort and familiarity. His ex was the last person to be in his room, typically sprawled across the bed with a good novel in her hand.

It was a sour, sour reminder.

“Oh, and there’s the bookshelf,” you pointed out, “how fitting.” That penetrating gaze of yours roamed his desk and his bed and all his knickknacks in between. “Hey, why’s there a balcony outside?” You then asked, settling your hands onto the window frame and leaning out, the wind fluttering minimally through the layered curtains.

“Just a remodelling error,” Wonwoo explained, “it was supposed to be removed, I think. Never happened.”

Allured by curiosity, you leaned further out, examining the ladder that led up to the building’s roof. He looked at you again, specifically the arch in your back and the way your arms were planted so firm at the windowsill. He looked at the sunlight rippling on your cheek and your lips that appeared to sparkle, like you had kissed glitter.

“You definitely go up there, right?”

“Yeah.”

Half-shutting the window as to keep the breeze flowing, you chuckled. “I figured… so, I guess we should stop dawdling and get to the meat and potatoes. Is here a good spot? Or do you want to go back to the living room?”

“We’re in my room anyways,” Wonwoo commented, pulling out his desk chair and promptly sitting down, “so, why not.”

“Cool. Let me get my laptop.”

You slipped the tote bag off your arm and sat on the edge of his freshly made bed, being careful not to rumple the sheets.

“Okay!” Your hands echoed a series of soft claps. “I’m all ready now. I’ll try my best not to ramble—oh, and please, please don’t interrupt me until I’m done. I’m going to be very pissed if I lose my train of thought and I’d like this meeting to remain pleasant.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I know.”

You flashed him a brief smile.

“So, as you know, Mingyu and I’s fifth year anniversary is coming up in December. My gift to him is this so far nonexistent book. We’ve been through a lot as a couple, and as individuals, and I want the book to fully capture this journey we’ve been on and how much I… appreciate him. Also, I’m going to introduce a second, special element—” a hand plunged into your tote bag and suddenly a video camera was revealed, “—I want to record some of our brain sessions, and, like, our voyage of figuring this shit out. I like mementos. I hope that’s okay.”

“… Do I answer?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Then, yeah. I’m okay with it.”

“Secondlyyy—” you lilted while scrolling a little ways down the notepad on your laptop, the video camera stuffed back into your flower-and-honeybee-patterned tote, “—there are a few places we’ll need to visit—not the actual places that Mingyu and I went to since we grew up nowhere near here—but places that more so have a strong resemblance to the ones in my memory. I feel like it will help me with visual aspects of the writing. I’m a very visual person. Y’know, setting up the scene and technical things like that. I like touching and feeling and seeing and breathing everything in. I want all my senses on fire, basically. Like… the way your lips feel after eating insanely hot noodles.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Wonwoo didn’t really care. He just agreed.

“Lastly, I want to make a schedule for us. So, I’m kindly asking you to set up a schedule of your own—work shifts, doctor’s appointments, tests—the like, so I can incorporate them into my own hectic life and make us one colourful, super writing schedule.”

And then, with a big, winded sigh, you shut your laptop.

“That’s it. Done. Thoughts?”

Honestly, the entire premise didn’t sound all that terrible. He had braced himself for the worst, but you were unsurprisingly organized and had pinpointed all your desires quite clearly. Of course, he knew it was going to be sheer hell—flames up to his knees and desert sun beating on his skin like a hot skillet frying butter. You were structured and dedicated and Wonwoo was none of those things.

No doubt, Wonwoo would have to learn to deal with you.

You would either be his trigger or his pulse.

But, even worse, you would have to learn to deal with him.

“I’m just following your lead on this,” Wonwoo announced, lacklustre of much interest, resting his hands against his stomach while he rotated back and forth in the swivel chair, “whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. How soon do you want the schedule thing?”

“Like, as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

“Do you really have no questions?”

Wonwoo scratched the side of his head.

“Uh, have you got anything written down yet?”

“Yes,” you propped open your laptop again, “an intro.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t question me. It was already difficult enough to write it, and I agonized over it for hours.” You pouted, slumping slightly.

He shifted up straighter in the desk chair.

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering. It’s good you started.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head at you. “Do I get to read it?”

Your feet crossed and twirled together. He didn’t think you had any nervous ticks, but that was something easy to pick up on.

“Um, not yet. Not until we officially start.”

“Okay.” He answered with a gentle voice, noticing your swaying feet still again and a bit of rigidity dissipate from your body.

Well, he didn’t really know what to do at this point. Wonwoo suspected you were constrained by more tasks for today and your time with him was limited. It’s not that you were sitting in an awkward, stifling silence, but he would rather occupy himself with something rather than nothing, because nothing left his heart to race.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

Glancing up from the laptop, you shook your head. “I ate before I came here.”

“Are you going to be leaving soon?”

At that, your face crinkled with laughter. “Sick of me already?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms. “No. Just asking.”

“Well, I have a wax appointment soon. I’ll be leaving in ten minutes or so.” Finally, you looked up, and your eyes clicked with his in a way that made the fine hairs along his neck prickle coolly. “Does that answer your question?” A subtle grin pulled at your soft lips.

“It does, yes.”

“You don’t like having people in your room, do you?”

He huffed at the observation and delved a hand through his black hair, feeling the dampness slide against his fingers. “Not particularly.”

“You should have just said that.” Rising off his bed, you closed the laptop and shoved it back into the tote bag.

Wonwoo’s entire chest jerked. It felt like a ten-story drop.

“Are you leaving?”

“Mm, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding.”

Why did his throat close up just then? Why did his vocal cords abruptly feel so coarse and tight? Why was his heart hammering? He didn’t mean to project the wrong impression. He didn’t hate you in his room. It just felt misplaced, and new. Like picking up a puzzle piece from the box and attempting to jam it into a different puzzle.

“It’s fine. Seriously. I should be early, anyway.”

Wonwoo stood up, realizing he needed to breathe. “Um… would you like me to walk you down?”

You stopped on your way out, faced him with a pretty smile.

“That’s okay.”

But then you did something rather strange; your hand sank into his firm upper arm and suddenly you were leaning into him, so carelessly close that he could feel the fanning, light warmth of your breath against his neck. Wonwoo’s head started to spin, and he thought a cloud had enveloped the room because his vision fuzzed.

“Sorry,” you took a step back, removing your hand, “you just smell really good. Like an ocean or something. It reminds me of this beach in Puta Cana. But your hair’s all damp and fluffy so that’s probably why. That was weird. I’m sorry.” Again, you laughed.

Why the fuck did you do that? He was almost angry. But not at you. At himself. For reacting in such a giddy, stupid way. Your touch and breath had burned him and there was this sharp, cutting flare inside Wonwoo that didn’t want to let you leave.

“All good…” he mumbled, sounding groggy and slow.

“I’ll see myself out then. Bye!”

And with a final chirp, you left, the front door closing in the distance while he could only stand there, shuddering and strangely hot and beyond confused. Wonwoo moved to swing the heavy curtains shut, the entire room succumbing into its usual shadiness. He sat on the edge of his very neat bed, removed his glasses, and buckled over while rubbing his veiny, pale hands through his hair.

The feeling was so lost and suppressed to his memory.

Wonwoo didn’t even know what it was.

He was relieved you were gone, but he also wished that you were still there, leaning out his open window with the wind and sunshine in your face. It was a sight so sweet and equally intimate.

Who are you?

What are you doing in his meaningless life?

—APRIL 28TH.

Wonwoo had finished his math final with half an hour to generously spare, and now, he was sitting, bored, sketching his pencil against the last page of the thick packet. The professor wouldn’t care.

Hopefully.

On one hand, Wonwoo knew he  should really just stand up and hand the damn thing in, but on the other hand, he hated—no, abhorred being the first person to return a test, especially an exam at that. Wonwoo was pretty smart. He knew that about himself and he never bothered to maintain the guise he wasn’t. Still, Wonwoo wasn’t pretentious. If he had to wait until the final fucking minute to hand the packet in, solely to avoid being the first student up, then so be it.

Besides, there wasn’t anything too pressing that required his immediate attention—minus the pertinent schedule he was supposed to make and have sent to you approximately three days ago. You had called him last night, to which the phone crackled with a loud, static bark of his name as you admonished him for his lateness.

“I told you three days ago I wanted the schedule! Three days! I can’t believe this. What’s so hard about making a schedule? Beep boop, you press some buttons on your laptop and it’s done. It would take ten minutes tops! Ugh, I’m so done with you, Wonwoo. In fact, don’t call me back—don’t even text me until you have the schedule!”

And then the line had collapsed, leaving Wonwoo to stare rather expressionlessly at his phone screen, the boy huffing out a breath of tendrilled smoke while he relaxed on the apartment roof. That had been his first experience sat on the receiving end of your seasoned quips, and it left him with this very profound emptiness, like his insides had been scooped out and the shell of his body was nothing but a wooden nesting doll. It had been such a long time since he genuinely cared about disappointing someone. Wonwoo had grown far too complacent with the feeling of disappointing himself.

That would never motivate him to do anything.

But you were different. In the sense that Wonwoo mostly remained proactive out of fear you might bite his head off.

From somewhere near the back of the room, Wonwoo heard chair legs scraping, and he eagerly flexed his fingers while observing a girl with the slickest ponytail he’d ever seen march past him to the professor’s desk. She set her packet down. He thanked her. She left.

Jesus Christ. Finally.

“All finished, Wonwoo?” His professor mumbled in a tone that hardly escaped his own lips, glancing up at the boy expectantly.

Pushing up his glasses, Wonwoo nodded.

“I suppose it’s harder for you to sit there and wait than it is to write the actual exam, isn’t it?” The professor noted with an almost undetectable smirk as he slid the test packet inside a tan-coloured folder, to which Wonwoo turned January cold.

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo shrugged, pretending to feel unbothered when in reality his skin was slithering like a snake pit at the thought of being even marginally perceived. “Maybe.”

“You have a good summer, alright?”

“Thanks. You too.”

Wonwoo swept a quick glance over the classroom right before he left, noticing that Seokmin was sat beside the wall, one hand tangled tight into his black, ruffled tresses as his pencil scribbled all over the paper like he was writing pure nonsense. He probably was.

And Wonwoo meant that in a nice-this isn’t really your sweet spot, but you’ll manage nonetheless-way. After leaving the classroom, Wonwoo thought he might go home and plunge head first into his oasis of bedsheets and flat, foam pillows that he loved so much, and permit himself to decay until it was physically impossible to lie down any longer. But he decided against it at the last minute, turning up at the café instead with his shoulder-strung book bag and the timely urge for a scone. He then sat down at his favourite table.

Pulled out his laptop.

Opened the document he was at incessant war with.

The last scene he’d written was breakfast.

“Uh, okay. Orange juice… or orange juice?”

“Did you say orange juice?”

“I did.”

“So… chocolate milk?”

“Ha! Funny... is there any sort of correlation between being a complete nerd and making such well-woven jokes?”

“Not sure. But I’ll get back to you when I find out… thanks. Your tea is sitting on the island, by the way.”

“Thank you, Won. Oh—you even put it in my Woodstock mug!”

“Yes, why are you so surprised that I remember?”

“Because it’s always hidden at the back of our cupboard, behind ten other mugs that we certainly don’t need and all our plates. I mean, I guess it’s my fault. Half of them are from my mom.”

“It’s sweet.”

“It takes up too much space. But I can’t tell her no.”

“That, you’ve got to work on.”

“The Christmas thing isn’t happening anymore, if that helps. I think the thought of having to cram all my family into our living room for a night was what motivated me the most. My mom said she’ll send us poinsettias instead. I think that’s way easier.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Believe it or not, I can assert myself. Sometimes.”

“No, no. I do believe you. I’m proud. Okay—bottoms up.”

“How’s the combination of venlafaxine and orange juice?”

“I don’t know. Juicy?”

“Better juicy than anxious?”

“You could say that.”

Right, back when Wonwoo actually had the willpower to make himself breakfast rather than slapping a mixed berry Poptart into the toaster or worse, nothing at all. Back when he could wake up before noon without feeling nauseous enough to curl into a ball and drape the sheets over his aching head. Back when he actually took his medicine. Her face beaming at him from across their table had always been like a glass of sunlight and citrus. She had been his own vitamin.

Wonwoo knew he wasn’t going to write. He was just going to stare and mope and ensnare himself in the pinwheel of memories that blew over him whenever he had the gall to reread his past literature.

The Woodstock mug. She’d taken that with her.  

He decided it was strange and sometimes irritating how love, broken or not, could suture itself into even the most mundane things. Orange juice was just that—juice—the carton he used to pick up and impetuously drop into his grocery cart every so often. Now, it wasn’t juice at all, but slow mornings, steaming tea kettles, and reading together on the couch with legs all tangled up until lunch time.

Now, Wonwoo couldn’t drink it at all.

Breaking the lemon raspberry scone in half, Wonwoo dropped a flaky piece into his mouth before it got too cold, and then proceeded to close the document. There was no way in hell he would write, and while he loved drowning in his own misery in order to snuff any glimpse of productivity more than the average individual, he thought it might be worthwhile to finally start that schedule.

[ Wonwoo | 8:20 pm ]: schedule.pdf

[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: thanks

[ Her | 8:56 pm ]: don’t piss me off again

—APRIL 30TH.

For an April morning, it was surprisingly bright. The sun was out in full and glistering warmth by the time Wonwoo stepped onto the sidewalk and began pacing down to the park, practically needing to squint the entire way. He almost hated it. Early mornings were not his friend, nor were the blades of light cutting across his glasses. But today was his first writing session with you and Wonwoo knew it was more than crucial that he was the furthest thing from tardy—it would be akin to willingly setting his hands inside a burning fire if not.

You agreed to meet at the park since it was roughly equal distance between Wonwoo’s apartment and some breakfast place you wanted to stop at. He thought it was uncharacteristically thoughtful of you to shoot him a text asking if he wanted anything, though Wonwoo declined nonetheless. It was damn near impossible for him to eat a bite of food until lunch time, hence his expression softening in confusion when he at last climbed into the passenger seat of your sleek silver car and was greeted by you passing him a cold tea.

“Am I… holding this for you?” He wondered, sitting still.

You shook your head. “No. It’s yours.”

“I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Yes, I realize that. I can read, thank you.”

Wonwoo wasn’t going to argue. He simply shut his mouth, clicked on his seatbelt, and set the tea into the cup holder. He then began looking around at your car’s interior. Everything was exceptionally clean and smelled sugary, like iced gingerbread.

The thing was, Wonwoo still wasn’t very sure how to talk to you, and most often there was the stiffest frog in his throat whenever he sat around you in silence for too long. Your thumbs were tapping against your phone at light speed. It reminded him of how Seokmin was texting you back at the boy’s apartment when they were studying for finals. Wonwoo couldn’t help but wonder if Seokmin was naturally more inclined to respond to you out of friendship or fear. Maybe even a pinch of both if that was possible. Another quiet minute passed by.

“Okay, fuck, sorry,” you suddenly spluttered at random, quickly slotting your phone into the GPS holder, “just some shit with my mom. Um, okay. Yeah. We can get going.”

“All good," Wonwoo answered.

“You know where we’re off to?”

“Vaguely. The track by Caldwell High School.”

He watched you flit him a smile. “That’s the place. I’ll explain more once we get there. And, by the way, I am expecting you to drink that tea. It’s not anything crazy. It’s oolong. Only a bit of caffeine.”

“I drink coffee, you know.”

“Yes, and it probably makes you jittery and insufferable.”

Wonwoo preferred not to comment.

The car ride wasn’t too long. Actually, Wonwoo did love a good car ride. He remembered the long trips he used to take with his family to the water park when he was a child, the sensation of the breeze blowing into his face and how different shades of green would scatter in through the windows as the sun hit the tree leaves like emeralds. There was something so limerent and sadly distant about the memory that Wonwoo felt his chest hurt. Even if he were to take that same road, and smell the same breeze, and see his skin glow with the same hues of the forest, he doubted it would feel the same.

His mouth had gone awfully dry. Wonwoo then reached for the cold tea sitting in the cup holder and took a sip, suddenly very appreciative that you had thought to get him something, anyway.

And while he couldn’t be too certain, Wonwoo wanted to think that maybe this would be a good memory, too.

After the half-hour long car ride, Wonwoo made sure to stretch when he stepped out into the empty parking lot. It was cloudier now, a bit more of a breeze to help counteract the warmth that remained in the air. You came around to join him, twisting out a cramp in your leg while adjusting the purse over your shoulder.

The walk to the track field wasn’t long, no more than a few minutes, and Wonwoo obediently trailed at your side until he witnessed the bleachers slowly coming into view. It resurfaced memories from his own high school days in PE, which Wonwoo had actually been quite successful at despite his distaste for sports and their atmosphere in general. He remembered liking kickball the best.

You sighed in a wistful tone while staring across the marked asphalt and fresh April grass. “All high school tracks look the same, don’t they?” Then, you carefully set your purse onto the bleachers.

Wonwoo rolled his shoulders, taking a more observant look around. It wasn’t strikingly different from the track at his high school.

“Sure. I guess.”

“I mean, there are some differences. We had ditches by our track. Come to think of it, I honestly believe they put them there for kids to hurl in from heat stroke or over-exertion… that’s what I did, anyway. It was right before I had to do triple jump. I hated it because you had to really build up speed. I didn’t want to run. So, even if I hadn’t thrown up from heat stroke, I probably would’ve made myself throw up some other way. Straight to the nurse. She gave me a popsicle.”

He glanced at you sideways. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm.”

“You’d rather throw up than hop, like, three times?”

“I said it was the running part I didn’t like.”

Wonwoo couldn’t imagine purposefully making himself upchuck in order to get out of something. If his anxiety was terrible enough, then he wouldn’t even have to worry about it, really.

That was its own mechanism of disaster.

“Running is eighty-percent of Activity Days," Wonwoo said.

You clicked your tongue at him. “Exactly. And I’d do anything to never run. I tried to sit in one time with the seventh graders. They were in their art block and they were doing painting under the trees; birdhouses or something. But their teacher kicked me out. And she didn’t even let me take the fucking birdhouse that I was painting.”

“The nerve,” Wonwoo answered, scratching his temple.

He proceeded to take a seat on the metal bench, rubbing his hands together. He still didn’t know how Mingyu fit into everything.

“So… what’s your plan, here?”

You sat next to him, folding one leg over your thigh and proceeding to reveal a journal that you had stuffed inside your expensive bag. The tips of your fingers skimmed through a few fluttering pages, until you stopped on one in particular that was ink-abused with cursive scribbles. Wonwoo assumed you did most of your planning on a laptop, hence his surprise to learn that you actually used a journal. He had a journal himself, though it hadn’t been touched in months. It mostly contained small poetic excerpts.

Next, you pulled out a pen.

“This is how I first ran into Mingyu. At my school’s track field. He was new and good at all the activities. I swear, his name spread like wildfire. Anyways, I haven’t figured out all the bits and bobs. I want to really soak in the feeling of—oh!” Suddenly, you grasped the journal back onto your lap, the pen hitting the paper in a cursive ribbon that Wonwoo could hardly read. “I just thought of a great line. His eyes, I wanted to soak in them, like an oasis.”

You stabbed the paper again to make a period.

“Not bad,” Wonwoo commented.

“Okay, here it is!” A black case was pulled from your purse, and once you unzipped it, Wonwoo realized it was the video camera that you had initially shown him at his apartment. “Okay, I want you to film some stuff. The field, obviously. I need it from different perspectives. It will help me with setting the scene later on.”

“Why do I have to film it?”

“Because, Seokmin told me you’re quite handy with film equipment stuff, and I don’t want to drop it. So just do it, please?”

Accepting the video camera from your hand, Wonwoo sighed in agreement. Flipping open the side-screen of the camera, Wonwoo began clicking some buttons and adjusting the focus. Luckily, he was familiar with the particular camcorder thanks to a film education course he’d taken outside of school.

While you busied yourself at the bleachers with starting up your laptop, Wonwoo began collecting footage, slowly panning the camera across the vast length of the gravel track and the grassy soccer fields situated beyond. He kept a concentrated eye on the side-screen to ensure the lighting wouldn’t change too drastically. A wind had picked up from over the forest, and he could see how the clouds were consequently being pushed along like herded sheep in the sky.

Once he brushed back the floppy, black hair that kept tickling his face, Wonwoo lowered the camera and turned to you.

“So, where else should I film?”

You were typing something, and didn’t bother looking up.

“Go across the field. Film from the other side.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to go all the way over there?”

“Yes. Walk, crawl. Skip, hop. I don’t care. Just do it, please.”

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed out, feeling tired and yearning to go home, “I hate how seriously you’re taking this, y’know that?”

Your fingers continued blitzing against the keyboard.

“Nobody likes a complainer.”

Ironic, he thought, but obviously kept to himself.

There wasn’t a point in expecting any sympathy from you—that, he already knew—which engendered Wonwoo’s long, trudging walk from one side of the track to the other, the wind irritably blowing his grown-out locks over his glasses every time he attempted sweeping them back. Hoisting the camera back up, Wonwoo adjusted the side-screen and began his same ritual of steadily panning the camera along the landscape.

You appeared in the view, still sat on the bleachers, though nothing about your face or figure was too discernible. It felt like you were a background character in a painting, just a little glob of acrylic.

“All done?”

Finally, you had glanced up at him with a smile.

Wonwoo nodded. “Unless you need anything else filmed?”

“No, that should be enough. The track is most important.”

“Right.”

He tried giving back the camera.

“Actually, do you mind keeping it?”

“Um, okay. But how will you look at the footage?

“Dropbox. We’ll share one. Upload the clips there.”

Wonwoo plopped himself back down on the bench, fitting the camcorder into its black case. He pulled the zipper along the seam.

“How much longer do we need to be here?”

“Not that much. Just let me finish this paragraph.”

There was a dull pain throbbing at the front of his skull, edging down to his temples—across his nose bridge where his glasses pressed in more tightly than usual. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a deep breath, trying to escape the feeling, the nausea, the chills that were beginning to seep up his neck as the wind blew turbulently against him. It would be embarrassing if this happened here, right in front of you. The hard lump had suddenly lurched forward in Wonwoo’s throat but he leaned his head down last minute and swallowed it despite the roughness. No, everything was okay.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo opened his eyes, staring down at the trembling hands buried in his lap. Subtly, he pulled the sleeves of his cardigan over them. He assumed his face was reflecting a sheer, sickly opacity.

“Nothing.”

“Uh, sure. Now look me in the eyes and say that.”

Again, Wonwoo swallowed, but he managed nonetheless.

“Nothing’s wrong. I get headaches sometimes. That’s all.”

“… Oh. Well, I’m basically done here. I was gonna ask if you wanted to walk a lap around the track with me, but maybe we should just go home. I mean, how bad is it? Your headache?”

Yes, yes. Home. Wonwoo wanted to go home. He had only been away from his apartment for a solid two hours, and yet all his mind and body’s energy had completely drained. He felt dried out, withered, fragile as tempered glass. Going home sounded cosmic. 

“It’s getting better. I wouldn’t mind walking with you.”

“Oh! Cool. If it gets really bad, just tell me.” You then spent a minute collecting your belongings back into the cream purse.

Wonwoo immediately looked the other way, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, mouthing a string of guttural curse words directed at his discombobulated head. Because what the hell was he doing? All his relief and peace had just suckled itself down an invisible drain. Why on earth did he agree? Why?

“I think this will help me, too," you said, having left the shiny bleachers behind, instead kicking the pebbles at your feet, “if we walk the entire track, then it’s like we did the four-hundred meter.”

“You’re supposed to run the four-hundred meter.”

“Well, I know that.”

“I’m surprised you hate running. I mean, you walk so fucking quickly sometimes.”

He heard you snort, clearly amused by his observation.

“It’s because I’ve mastered the art of sashaying. To have a perfect sashay, you can’t walk too slow, but you also can’t walk too fast. It’s like a strut. You need to have confidence while you do it. It lets people know that you’re serious and professional. I’m not dragging my feet, but I’m also not in a rush. It’s the perfect pace.”

Wonwoo sniffled and scrunched the glasses up his nose, continuing alongside you at a pace that was rather aimless.

“I didn’t realize there was a science behind sashaying.”

“Now you know,” you declared.

Wonwoo’s  upper lip quirked slightly, and a small grin appeared on his face, which was starting to dapple with colour.

“I don’t sashay, do I?”

At that, you laughed, “no, you amble.”

“Yeah, I’m an ambler… which basically means I’m an unmotivated, pointless person who will probably go nowhere in life.”

For a moment, you stopped walking, and you merely furrowed your brow at him while your forehead creased with thought. Wonwoo stopped as well. He raked back his fluttering, windswept hair and smirked, flashing his teeth. The behaviour was uncharacteristically snide and a bit of a dig at your bluntness, but he couldn’t help it.

“Don’t remember, huh?”

“No… but it sounds familiar.”

“You told me that, the day I met you—that people who walk slowly are unmotivated and pointless. Their life is a waste, basically.”

He noticed your eyes shift up toward the right, as though you were pulling the memory forward from the intricate files of your brain. And then you started to smile, and it made Wonwoo smile, too.

“Oh, I do believe I said that.” You started walking again, and he followed. “Ha! Wow, you’re right. I said that. I’m so funny. I mean, I was right. You only walk slow when you have nowhere to be.”

“I did have somewhere to be. I was going to meet you.”

“Well, then you just didn’t care.” He felt your elbow press shallowly into his rib. “See what I mean? Unmotivated and pointless. And, honestly, I would have taken your apathy as more of an insult if it wasn’t for the fact that you seem to treat most things like that.”

“So, I’m just supposed to accept that you’re calling me a loser? How do people normally react when you say things like that?”

“Things like what? They’re just my observations about the world. You are a person in this world. I was making an observation about you. Albeit, it came across strongly. But I don’t know. No one ever cared about being gentle or sugar-coating with me. Gives you tough skin, y’know? Metaphorically, of course! I always moisturize.”

 Wonwoo scoffed, smiling at your nonchalance. “The way you word things is honestly fascinating.”

“Psh. How do you even remember that?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem that hard to remember. It was a pretty memorable, somewhat awful experience, to be fair.”

“Awful?” You retaliated in unprecedented disbelief, pushing into his arm until he allowed his tall frame to stumble. “Try again.”

“Interesting?” Wonwoo substituted, his heart thumping. 

Your eyes were narrowed at him, glimmering with a sharpness that made his fingers clench into anxious fists.

“… That’s a little better.”

He exhaled a soft breath of relief.

As you began nearing the full circle, Wonwoo realized his head had eased from its horrible aching and the chills dampening down his neck were gone. Everything didn’t feel as awful compared to before. He was still tired, and his energy was sputtering in tiny, dying sparks, but at least his desire to crawl under the earth and degrade to his bare bones had subsided into something less morose.

“I heard you were having a get together next week,” Wonwoo decided to ask, rounding the last bend in the track.

“Oh, the dinner party?”

“Yeah. Seokmin’s helping you plan it, right?”

“He is. Which I appreciate. My mom is usually the one in charge of everything, and she loathes it. But, I mean, when we try to help her, she just ends up fretting even more—says we’re basically getting in the way and ruining it. I don’t know. She’s such a snappy perfectionist. Seokmin can have fun dealing with that.”

Wonwoo almost made a thoughtless comment in response to your story—he’s probably had eons of practice with you—though the pieces connected just in time and his mouth sealed shut.

“Your dad can’t help either?” He questioned instead.

“Ha! No way. My dad helping is a recipe for fucking disaster if I’ve ever seen it. He’s painfully bad at decorating, can hardly be trusted to cook or invite anyone from the guest list. The most my mom allows him to do is set the table.” You then scoffed, shooting a pebble forward with the tip of your shoe. “I swear, he knows exactly how to push my mom’s buttons. The faster he does it, the quicker she kicks him out and he’s absolved of all chores. What a cheat, huh?”

“Hm, yeah… is Mingyu going?”

“Of course.” You smiled. “He always goes.”

At that point, you had circled back to the bleachers. Adjusting the bag strewn over your shoulder, you heaved out a longing sigh.

“Well, that’s four-hundred meters in the books.”

“Is it everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?”

You cackled, “not even close. I think I was right to avoid it.”

—MAY 3RD.

Wonwoo slid his pharmacy badge through the time-machine until he heard the beep. After an eight-hour shift, he was hungry and tired, but Wonwoo also knew the second that he got home, his urge to eat and desire to sleep would be gone. Instead, he would spend his midnight staring up at the ceiling, thinking. About anything and everything, and nothing at all. When the first cracks of dawn light would spill in from under his curtain, then he would close his eyes.

It was all very typical.

He stood outside the store, phone in hand, waiting for Vernon to pick him up because Wonwoo hadn’t felt like walking home despite the softness of the nighttime wind and the alabaster moon’s shining ambiance. The mirage was pretty and he enjoyed it, but his feet were too sore to inch him another step. Luckily, Vernon didn’t take long.

Luckily, he was the only one of Wonwoo’s few friends with a sleep schedule just as horridly fucked up as his. It was eleven at night, but on a weekday? The dead, empty street testified for him.

“Heyy, Glasses,” Vernon sang in his throaty voice as Wonwoo climbed into the passenger seat, “you look like a prostitute standin’ there, waitin’ for me to come get your ass. But a sophisticated one.”

The interior didn’t smell heavily of weed, he noted. Thank fucking god, Vernon had finally paid someone to dry clean it. Either that, or he took the initiative into his own hands.

“I highly doubt you have ever seen a prostitute in your entire life. And the fact you think they’d be standing outside a pharmacy at one of the quietest parts on this block attests to that.”

“God, I hate when you get all technical n’ shit. Such a stiff.”

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well. You’re always tired. N’ for the record, I have seen a prostitute, outside Room 319. It was a week before Christmas; she had this huge coat on, walkin’ up to people in her pink heels and this crazy eyeshadow that made her eyes pop. I bet she’s a nice girl.”

“Mhm. I bet she was.”

“Oh, you’re a cunt, yeah? You don’t believe me.”

“Does it matter?”

“I’ll take you one day. Room 319’s got a table with your name on it. They’ve got this one shot, the Stabilizer— it’ll put you down like a fuckin’ sick dog but it gets you the best drunk of your life. Maybe we’ll even run into Pink Heels lady. She’s our Halley’s Comet.”

“Halley’s Comet only comes once every seventy-five years. “

“You know what the fuck I meant.”

“Not interested.”

Vernon blinked at him for a moment in the dull light, and then he sighed, forfeiting. He placed the tip of the key in the ignition, but he quickly removed it as though he remembered something.

“Wait, I’ve gotta ask—how’s it going with Her?”

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Wonwoo reached for the seatbelt and pulled it slowly across his chest, debating how intelligent of an idea it would be to entertain Vernon’s curiosity. But he could also understand the allure. You were like this enigmatic myth that people craved to know about, even if it frightened them.

Wonwoo’s head collapsed back against the seat.

“It’s going well.”

Vernon spat out a boisterous laugh, a hand slapping down on his knee. “Jesus Christ. You’re so dry, man. That’s it?”

“I mean, it’s true. We’ve started the book. Or, she has.”

“Okay, and?” Vernon attempted to engage him further.

“And, what?”

“What’s she like, obviously? Is she actually a fuckin’ psychopath? Is she normal? Can she walk on her hands? I dunno!”

Wonwoo rubbed underneath his glasses. He didn’t really want to talk about you when you weren’t there. It felt like a Bloody Mary situation, where you’d magically conjure in the backseat to sinch your cold hands around his neck and wrangle him limp and lifeless. But then there were Vernon’s shimmeringly prying eyes that just wouldn’t stop burning Wonwoo no matter how hard he bit his tongue.

“I have nothing to say. She’s cool.”

“Oh my fuckin’ God.” Vernon slacked back into his seat, clutching at his steering wheel. “You just don’t wanna talk about it… oh! Shit. I just remembered. She’s having a dinner party tonight, isn’t she? In Hill Crest. Or as I like to call it, Rich People Neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, that’s where her parents live… how do you know that?”

“Shit!” Vernon immediately shuffled up in his seat and delivered a hard smack into Wonwoo’s shoulder. “We should drive down and check it out! Right fuckin’ now!” He was lit up with excitement, even though Wonwoo considered it a terrible idea.

“No. Absolutely not. And answer my question.”

“Was sittin’ behind Seokmin at Solar Pop, he talks really loud, happened to overhear some things—doesn’t matter. I think we should go! C’mon, allow some spontaneity into your life! Why not?”

“What the fuck do you mean, why? It’s a family party. With some close friends, which—in case you haven’t noticed—neither of us are. You can’t fucking crash a family dinner party. Who does that? Not to mention the fact that it's eleven at night. They're probably washing up. Sending people home. By the time we get there, it's lights out."

“Aren’t you her friend?”

“No. I’m just someone who’s doing her a favour.”

“Favours are from friends.”

“We’re. Not. Friends.”

“Okay—fuck, Glasses. Fine. We won’t crash the stupid dinner party. But don’t you wanna go for a drive or something? I’m tellin’ you, the houses are insane. Last time I went down there, it was for a big fuckin’ party some dude at your university threw. I think I ran this by you already, when I talked about tryin’ to chat up Her. I stopped by with my old friend—y’know, Dots, the guy that died from the overdose and everything. That party was crazy. It was in a mansion.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo had just finished massaging the throbs at his warm temples, “we are not going to Hill Crest.”

His friend swung his head in disapproval, making a tsking sound with his teeth. “Such a fuckin’ stiff.” He started the car. “It’s the fact I know you have jack shit to do tonight, or tomorrow.”

“I’m not gonna do some stalker drive-by on her house.”

“You don’t wanna do Room 319. You don’t wanna judge a bunch of richies sittin’ up in their ivory towers. I mean, it’s not like we’re eggin’ them or spray painting fuckin’ curse words on their eight-door garages. What do you wanna do?”

Wonwoo rolled down the window and leaned his face toward the moonlight, to which he could feel the wind brush up against his skin in feathery strokes, as though it were caressing him. He knew that Vernon meant in a general sense rather than in the heat of the moment. But in a general sense, Wonwoo would rather not be anywhere at all. He would rather do nothing, or even exist.

“Can you just take me home? Please?”

Vernon exhaled a defeated gust of breath and began to angle his tires away from the curb, the pharmacy lights pulled behind them.

“Yeah, ‘course. Mr. Boring.”

—01:49

Wonwoo hadn’t been able to fall asleep since Vernon dropped him off a couple hours ago. He’d anticipated that. Usually, Wonwoo wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t toss or turn, or pace circles around his bedroom, or count down from one-hundred, because even if he did, none of it would work. His mind would still be wide awake.

Hence Wonwoo’s decision to grab his phone. Staring at a lurid screen definitely wasn’t going to help, though he wasn’t trying to sleep, anyway. That conversation with Vernon was repeating in his head like a chattering bird, pushing him, pushing him, pushing him to find your Instagram and dig into your pictures because now Wonwoo was thinking of your dinner party and how vehemently you seemed to hate it. He saw that you had posted something quite recently, around the same time Wonwoo had left the pharmacy.

For a moment, his thumb hovered over the post.

He didn’t want to press it because he didn’t care.

Or, maybe he did.

There were multiple pictures in the set, and Wonwoo flicked through all of them. Some were of food, close-ups of your jewelry—you even included a picture with Seokmin. But then Wonwoo had settled on the last photo and something in his stomach convulsed.

He recognized the dress like a flash of light—the sapphire one with the glimmering detail that you had modelled for him at the expensive boutique in the mall. Of course, that arm hanging cheekily low around your hip belonged to your boyfriend, Mingyu. He had a champagne glass pressed to his lips, fitted in his black suit with his hair neatly combed and styled into place. The smugness in his face was stifling. Wonwoo rolled onto his stomach, his eyes refusing to drift from the picture for even an instant. He just kept staring.

Staring and thinking. Staring and thinking.

One minute spent staring at your smile.

The next minute at the low placement of Mingyu’s hand.

Another minute staring at your sparkling dress.

The next minute at Mingyu’s brutally cocky expression.

He would switch back and forth.

But Wonwoo didn’t really care. He was just bored.

And alone with his thoughts.

—END OF PART PART ONE.

NOTE! while i truly cherish & adore all comments, pls refrain from remarks such as "pls post part x" "i need part x" "when are you posting part x" while i do understand the sentiment, i find these comments very dismissive & kinda disrespectful! i don't prefer to post series fics and so i don't receive these often, but pls note that if you comment this i will delete the comment!

the fic itself is completely done, so all i have to do is get the parts ready for posting. however, bc this is the first part, i don't have a set posting schedule just yet. i think it will depend on roughly how long those who read the fic take to finish it! but i will be sure to make a post about it or include the schedule in part two once i figure it out!

again, thank u so much your ur patience :3

much luv!! 💕

[rkvriki]

PAIRING ! rich jock!jake x mechanic!reader

SYNOPSIS ! Always having had this passion for cars and fixing them, you found the perfect summer job as a mechanic! Working in a mechanic shop where everyone that worked there was friends with each other was perfect until the friend that didn't work there showed up to get his car fixed.

WARNINGS ! i don't understand a single thing abiut cars or how to fix them it was all googled; jake has daddy-ish? issues; horrendously written angst; reader and jake get pretty heart broken but i cant write angst so its awful; reader thinks jake cheated yikes; curse words; drinking alcohol; reader and jake both have anxiety; reader talks about her past and not having many friends; slighlty suggestive talk but minor friendly! i think it's all, warn me if otherwise!!

word count : 18.9k lol PLEASE READ! so i want to warn everyone that reads this that this story is not my best. I wrote this during a huge writers block and I've never written something as long as this. I know there are flaws and things that could be better, so I'm all open to tips and advice on how to be better at this kind of stories. I would love to write more of this lenght fics even if my blog was not created for that but its a path i would like for it to take. I really apologize if this story doesn't reach your expectations, but I'm only starting so please be nice patient with me. i hope you enjoy this at least a little bit !

Summer jobs were a student’s worst enemy. The desperation of wanting money to go on a trip with friends led anyone to get the first job they could get their hands on. That’s how you end up at your friend's boyfriend's mechanic shop. Sohee told you about his shop when she found out you were looking for summer jobs to get money for your long-planned trip and knew her boyfriend was looking for employees. Everyone who knew you well enough knew you had a special love for cars and were good at fixing some car-related problems. Ever since you were a little child you were always running behind your father when he did some fixing around his car and as you grew up you learned a few things, enough to have friends call you occasionally to fix their cars. You were a little hesitant to accept this job, you had never fixed any big thing in a car and this job looked like it required more knowledge than you had, still after considering how much you needed the money you accepted your friend’s offer. 

Sohee explained that only a few people were working around and they were all her boyfriend’s, Heeseung, friends. Heeseung, who ran the shop, does any kind of job around and fixes business and partnership offers, Jungwon worked during the weekends in class months and worked full time during summer break and usually worked in simple things like changing tires and cleaning the cars, Sunghoon who polishes the cars along with Sunoo who also paints and wraps them, Jay worked with changing heavy car pieces and finally, Ni-ki who was friends with all of them and the youngest amongst them all, was also doing this as a summer job and he was in charge of painting costume designs in cars. The 6 of them formed a friend circle along with another one, Jake – who didn’t seem to be working here since he most likely didn’t need to, seeing that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has always been more privileged than the rest of them in Sohee’s words.

Putting on your jacket and grabbing your keys you made your way out. The weather was hot and you were already regretting putting a jacket on as soon as you entered your car and felt how hot it was inside. You started the car, turned the ac on, waited until you could breathe properly, and felt like you wouldn’t melt in the car seat. You grabbed your phone and pasted the mechanic shop address in the GPS app. It wasn’t too far from your house, which you were grateful for since it meant you didn’t need to wake up extra early to reach the shop in time. The drive was quiet, the traffic was low, and deep down you wished it was high just so you could have time to calm your nerves. The app indicated that you were a minute away so you looked around the street until you spotted a sign that read Gearbox Garage. You made a turn and pulled into the small driveway the shop had to park cars. You turned your car off and took a deep breath as you pulled your keys out and got out of the car. You walked to the front of the shop and it looked empty, making you think that maybe you should’ve given Heeseung a call before coming. Looking at the time on your phone, it marked 2:30 pm meaning they could be on lunch break. You walked into the shop and looked around, the shop was well organised for a mechanic shop, it wasn’t as dirty as you expected it to be but small oil puddles and thrown cloths could be seen here and there. There were only a few cars, not that you expected more since the place wasn’t the biggest. Taking one more look around, you saw a door with a sign that said staff only, you walked towards it and knocked, hoping somebody would open it and it would be Heeseung. You waited a few seconds until a tall man opened it with a sandwich in his hand and sauce and bread crumbs in the sides of his mouth. He looked at you with a confused expression as he leaned in the doorway.

“Um I’m here to talk with Heeseung, I’m friends with his girlfriend and she told me he’s looking for one more person to work here so-” you were cut off as the man walked away and shouted, “Heeseung hyung, there’s someone for you!” a faint coming could be heard in the distance as another figure started approaching the door. Said Heeseung appears in front of you. “So you must be the y/n Sohee’s always talking about?” he said looking at you with an extended hand, waiting for you to shake it. You took his hand in yours as you shook it, hoping he didn’t notice how sweaty it was from your nerves. “Ah yeah, that’s me! I’m assuming she told you how I wanted the job, right?” “Oh yes, she did tell me about it and I just need you to answer a few questions to know whether you can get the job is that ok?” Shit, smile and nod y/n. You quickly nodded at his words, hoping he wouldn’t ask if you knew how to do complex things. “I just need to know what kind of things you can fix or have done.” “Oh! I have done quite a few things, I’ve changed oils, fixed engine chains, changed batteries, changed tires and other small fixes.” you nodded and fiddled nervously with your fingers, silently hoping this was enough to have him accept you to this job. Heeseung nodded and slightly smiled at your words and extended his hand again. You looked at his hands and then at him and he laughed at your confusion. “Seems like you’re our newest employee, welcome!” you let out a breath of relief and shook his hand again. “Oh my god, thank you so much! I promise I'll try my best.” you said firmly as you offered him a smile. “No need to thank me. We really need one or two more employees so you’re big help right now. Anyways, you can start maybe tomorrow at 9 am?” “Oh sure, I can, see you tomorrow then!” Heeseung nodded at you and went back to the staff room as you made your way out to your car.

As soon as you sat in your car you immediately texted Sohee, thanking her for having such a nice boyfriend. You put your phone down and sigh happily. You got the job now, what could go wrong? Now you just need to focus on working hard and getting that money to go on that trip.

The sound of your alarm made you stir awake. You groaned as you stretched out and let your arms fall limp in bed with a loud thump. You closed your eyes as you let out a sigh, getting mentally ready for your first day at work. Getting out of bed, you made your way to the bathroom to take your morning shower. You turned the water on and let it warm a little bit before you went in. The warm water felt relaxing against your skin, an almost therapeutic feeling. As you washed yourself you started thinking about how would your first day at work, hoping you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of the rest of the boys and could get along with them. Now, it wasn’t like you had a hard time making friends, quite the opposite. Still, you were always a little awkward when you first met people, all thanks to your constant overthinking, never knowing if people enjoyed talking to you or not. You could say you had a pretty vast friend group but you weren’t as close with anyone as you were with Sohee. She has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. She’s been there for you anytime you needed and you for her. Sohee was the one who helped you come out of your comfort zone and try new things. Without her, you wouldn’t enjoy your teenage years as much as you did, hell, if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t even dream of going on the damn trip.

You got out of the shower and stepped in front of the mirror, wiping some of the steam off of it. You started doing your normal skincare routine that, normally, would be a relaxing moment for you, but now you were only thinking about how you could be getting ready to head to the beach with your friends and drink a cocktail while tanning, and now you were only harshly rubbing the products on your face with irritation. Taking a deep breath you moved to your room to finish getting ready so you could leave the house as soon as you could. You looked in the mirror, taking in your appearance one last time before leaving the house, not that the way you looked right now mattered because you were more than sure that sooner or later you would be covered in oil and car fluids so you opted for your old overalls with an old shirt underneath.

The drive downtown was quiet and easy-going, still, there was some traffic since everyone started their work around the same time. The car’s clock indicated that it was 8:50, making you relieved that you weren’t gonna be late on your first day of work. Making the already familiar last turn, you reached the shop, parking in the lot it had inside. You got out of the car and instantly felt the slight summer breeze that ran through the morning air. Walking inside the shop, you could already hear some shuffling going on around the shop. As you got in further, you saw Heeseung who probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet from his crouched position, cleaning up some tools and putting them in a separate box. 

“Good morning, Hee!” you greeted, startling him. He got up and turned to face you with a surprised expression. “Oh hey, y/n! Wasn’t expecting you to be this early, though.” He said, chuckling as he wiped his hands with a cloth. “Well, you know, didn’t wanna be too late on my first day of work, I guess,” you said, swinging yourself back and forth, avoiding his gaze, feeling kinda awkward with yourself for worrying so much about being on time. “Usually the other boys come super late since they come all together so you shouldn’t worry about being on time here. Also, we’re supposed to be all friends here, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself about working here, it’s all chill here!” Heeseung said, trying to reassure and comfort you. “I guess it’s just a matter of time for me to get used to it.” you clapped your hands behind your back as you finished talking. “Anyways, should I start working?” you suggested. “Oh, yeah. Actually, there’s a car that needs an oil change, so maybe you could start by doing that.” Heeseung said, pointing to a red car that was already up in the hydraulic lift. “Sure thing!”

You put on some gloves that Heeseung gave you and started getting to work. Changing oil was something you did quite a lot, it was one of the first things your dad taught you, something that was so hard for you back then is now a piece of cake for you. Having a passion for cars made learning things way easier for you. Obviously, this old passion of yours wasn’t seen as a good thing for some people. Some would tell you girls shouldn’t be working with cars as it was the role for the boys or that you should be playing with your dolls instead of getting in your dad’s way while he was fixing his car. Of course, your little kid self felt awful hearing such things, but your parents would always reassure you that it didn’t matter what they said and that it was okay to want to learn those things. As time went by, people stopped commenting less and less. As you grew up you learned how to stand up for yourself and you wouldn’t leave those people without a response, and with time they learned how to mind their own business.

As you waited for the oil to fully drain, you heard a car pull up in the parking lot and the rest of the five boys arrived together, just as Heeseung had mentioned previously. You got up from your kneeling position and turned to look at them as they all got in and greeted Heeseung. Their loud voices quickly filled the place that was once only filled by the quiet tunes from Heeseung’s playlist and the occasional clanking of tools hitting the floor. You went back to work as they all talked with each other and started getting ready to work. You heard steps coming in your direction, making you look back to where it came from, seeing Jungwon walking towards you with his dimples on display.

“Good morning, y/n! You know it’s weird seeing someone who’s not Heeseung working here this early.” Jungwon said as he walked towards you, chuckling to himself. Stopping what you were doing, you turned all your attention to him. “Guess someone needed to give him some company, no?” you said putting your hands on your hips. “Keep going like that and he might give you the “employee of the month” title,” he said, making you laugh at him. “Anyways, what are you doing?” he asked, nodding at the car above you on the lift. “Oh, changing some oil, was about to put a new filter on.” you said as you pointed at the car’s oil pan, “Shouldn’t you get to work as well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, making him scowl at you. “Don’t remind me, Heeseung gave me a shit ton of cars to clean, got work for a whole week,” he said rolling his eyes. Jungwon walked away to start working on his cleaning duty and you put your focus back on the oil filter.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime and the seven of you were all gathered in the staff room. You were all talking about multiple things and something that came to conversation was how they had never seen you around campus.

“I mean, I guess I’m not necessarily a social butterfly and we might not even have classes in the same place, so that might explain why we never crossed paths.” you explained as you ate some of your tuna-mayo wrap you brought from home, they all hummed in agreement. “What are you majoring in, though?” Sunghoon asked you as he looked up from his lunchbox. “Oh, I study computer science!” “Oh really? Then you must know Jake? Jake Sim? He shares a few classes with comp sci students” Heeseung asked, surprised to know you were in the same major as his best friend. You hummed in thought as the name sounded familiar. “It does ring a bell but I’m not really adding a face to the name though.” You said slightly tilting your head to the side as you tried your best to remember who the hell was Jake Sim. “Yeah, let’s just say his attendance isn’t exactly the highest…” Heeseung said as he hissed quietly. “Oh… yeah that must explain why I don’t remember him then.” You said chuckling. “Don’t misunderstand it. It’s not like he doesn’t care about classes, I mean he kinda doesn’t, but he is much more focused on football.” Heeseung paused as if he was in deep thought. “Jake knows if anything school-related goes wrong for him he can just take over his dad’s business, which most likely will happen.” You hummed, understanding what he meant.  

It wasn’t rare for jocks like Jake to skip classes and ignore the fact that they need to graduate. Still, some of them were lucky to have successful family businesses, like Jake was. His father was one of the most prestigious CEOs and businessmen of Seoul and even the whole of South Korea. He led one of the most famous costume software development companies around, starting in a small office in Seoul that, over the years, grew all over the country’s most famous districts. Jake obviously was following his father’s steps, deciding to follow the computer science field so one day he could take over his father’s business. Was this his dream? No. Did he really wanna be a future CEO? Also no. He was doing this solely because he knew his dad would never approve of his younger son pursuing a football career. His older brother, Jaewoo, was already following the business field and Jake was just expected to do the same as him and since the older sibling decided not to work in his father’s company, he was the last hope to keep the business going so he felt like he had no other option. He felt suffocated knowing that everyone had high expectations for him, having people constantly asking him if he was happy to know he would take over the oh-so successful business, to which he obviously smiled and nodded but deep down he felt mad, almost furious, that people only expected him to do that. No one ever asked him about football, even though everyone knew he was good and even the best in the team and could grow so much more in that field if it weren’t for people like them who only cared about status and money. That’s not who Jake wants to become, selfish and greedy.

The day came to an end, the sky had a pink and orange hue to it, creating a beautiful painting, pleasing and conforming to gaze at. You started organizing all the tools you had used, placing them in their respective place in the toolbox Heeseung had lent you. Distant chattering could be heard from the other boys playing around as they had also finished their work for the day. You were walking towards the bathroom to wash your hands when you heard someone call your name. 

“Hey, y/n!” You looked back to see Sunghoon, who called you, and the rest of the guys looking at you. “Come out for dinner with us, we’re going to the barbeque place downtown.” “Um, I don’t know guys, it’s gonna get late and we have work again tomorrow…” You said, scratching the back of your neck, suddenly feeling shy, not being used to going out with people you barely knew. “Oh come on, to celebrate your first day being one of us! It’s on Heeseung tonight!” Ni-ki said patting the older man on the back, who was about to complain but quickly agreed with the younger one as he felt him pinching him. “Yeah, y/n, don’t even worry about coming late tomorrow.” Your eyes flickered between all of them until you decided to agree with them, realizing that maybe you need to loosen up a little and stop being such a pussy. You sighed, nodding your head at them “Ok, fine! But I’m not paying!” You said raising your hands. The boys cheered dramatically, making you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. “Anyways, I’m going home to get ready, just text me later with the address.” Everyone bid their goodbyes and you made your way back to your car, ready to go home.

As you entered your house, your mom came to greet you, kissing your cheek in the process. “Hey, dear. How was your first day at work?” she asked you, grabbing your jacket and putting it into the coat hanger at your entrance. “Oh, it actually went really well. Wasn’t expecting to work as much as I did, but I’m proud that I could do that much.” “Ah, you must be so tired, honey! Was the lunch I made enough? Oh, maybe I should’ve-” “Mom,” you said laughing “It was more than enough, don’t worry about it, ok?” you reassured her, rubbing her arms that rested on her side as she looked tense. “Anyways, they all invited me to dinner so I’m gonna shower and get ready.” You kissed her cheek and ran upstairs towards your room.

Dinner yesterday went smoothly. All your worries about not being able to get along with them were quickly thrown away when you found yourself talking with them like you’ve known them for ages. The night was filled with laughter, maybe because of the funny stories being shared or maybe it was the alcohol that everyone- except Ni-ki- had consumed. You were glad you were able to let yourself loose and enjoy the night to the max, you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun since you were always so busy with college and finals were kicking your ass. The last thing you remember doing that night was texting Sohee that you had gotten home safely and you had enjoyed the night.

Now you were waking up with the buzz of your alarm, opening your eyes only to close them right away when the bright sun rays hit your face. You sat up on the bed, feeling your head pound making you hiss at the strong feeling. You got up and walked to the bathroom scolding yourself to never drink on a work night again.

Driving to work today was painful, no matter how strong the medicine you took was or how much orange juice you drank, the pounding headache you got was not going away and the dark circles under your eyes also weren’t a very pleasant sight to see so you opted to wear a pair of sunglasses. You looked at the time and it marked 9:40 am, definitely not on time but no one could really blame you for being extra slow today and your mom also made sure to take a few more minutes from your time to scold you about being late out and drinking when you had work the next day.

Arriving at the shop, you saw everyone already there making you sigh, hating yourself for being the last one arriving at work. Walking inside you saw that no one was working, instead, they were all sitting at a table near the entrance, some of them laying their head down on the table and others drinking energy drinks to be able to go on with their day. “I don’t even know if it’s safe to say good morning.” you said sitting down next to them, plopping down on the chair, hissing at the quick movement that made the pounding sensation in your head stronger. No one was able to say anything so you were all sitting down in silence, looking at the cars driving by the shop. Any passer-by would think you had nothing to do when in fact there was way too much to do than any of you could. 

“Remind me to never do this again, please.” Jungwon said referring to going out until late, making everyone hum in agreement. Suddenly, Heeseung gets up, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together “Let’s get to work. These cars aren’t gonna fix themselves.” Everyone groaned at the older man’s words, some complaining, saying it would be fair to take a day one, only receiving Heeseung’s glare in return. “Anyways, y/n, I know you just got here, but I really need you to do me a favour,” Heeseung said, turning to you. You stared at him through your glasses in response “Pretty please?” He said lacing his hands together, making you sigh and roll your eyes. “Oh my god, fine! What is it then?” You said putting your hand on your hip with a sigh. “I need you to go downtown to pick up a parcel at the post. It has some pieces that I need for the car I'm fixing.” You said nothing in return aside from an I’ll be back soon as you entered the car.

The drive back to the shop was awful, you were stuck in traffic for almost an hour and about to burst in anger. “If it wasn’t for Heeseung and his stupid parcel…” you said, talking to yourself. When you arrived back at the shop you were more than ready to throw hands at Heeseung, if the parcel weren’t so heavy you would be running in his direction. “I swear to God, Heeseung, if you ever, but ever make me go through all this traffic again, man, I swear on my life I won’t-” You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was in front of you. “Oh my good God, what in the good earth, I- oh my goodness.” you dropped the parcel on the floor as you approached Sunghoon who was near the entrance. “Hoon, please tell me I’m not seeing things and my eyes aren’t deceiving me.” You exclaimed, your eyes never moving away from the car in front of you. Sunghoon swore he never saw your eyes shining so brightly “Hoon, is this a freaking Ford Mustang from ‘69?” you said in a high-pitched voice as your hands made their way to your face, cupping your cheeks. It wasn’t until you heard a deep chuckle that you noticed a figure next to Sunghoon. You looked in the person’s direction and you were met with a beautiful, almost ethereal, face that was already looking at you, sporting a smirk, making you feel nervous under his strong gaze. Your eyes looked him up and down, noticing he was dressed in designer head to toe. His face was familiar to you but you couldn’t grasp any memory with his face on it.

“You like it?” he asked, nodding his head towards the car before you. You nodded at him with a hum, words suddenly stuck in your throat and you didn’t even dare to try and speak, fearing your voice would fail you. He chuckled at you, finding amusement in your shy behaviour. “You wanna touch it?” he asked raising his brow as his smirk turned into a beautiful grin. You felt your cheeks grow hotter than before and Sunghoon decided to intervene before Jake could keep going, sensing his suggestive undertone. “Ok, that’s enough for you two, geez!” he said rolling his eyes, before speaking again “Anyways, you can leave the car here and Heeseung or anyone will take care of it, you already know you’re in good hands here so no need to worry.” “Alright then, just call me when it’s done, yeah?” Jake said as he and Sunghoon dapped each other up before he left, not forgetting to wink and wave at you, to which you gave a small wave back. “Kids these days.” Sunghoon said sighing and shaking his head at you, making you frown at him. “Shut up!” you said slapping his arm as you walked past him to pick up the parcel you left on the floor.

You walked back inside the shop, finding Heeseung crouched on the floor as he cleaned some rims he just fixed. “Hey Hee, got your parcel here. Do you want me to put it somewhere or should I just leave it here?” you said as you approached his figure “Oh, you can just leave it in that chair, I’m gonna need that in a while.” he said getting up as he wiped his forehead with his arm. “By the way, Jake’s car, the one in the entrance, needs to get the left view mirror changed, he broke it while parking somewhere. So, since I'm working on this car and it’s gonna take me a while, you’re going to be the one fixing it.” Oh! That was definitely interesting and caught your attention. “Oh, sure, no problem. It shouldn’t take too long.” This was only great. Not only were you fixing one of your dream and favourite cars but you were fixing a hot guy's car. 

Later that day you arrived home with a happy sigh. Even though you were feeling extra tired from the hangover and work altogether, you could only think about your new acquaintance, a hot one. It has been a long time since you’ve felt like this for someone or especially for a boy. After your most recent ex-boyfriend, you tried to focus more on yourself and your friends since he hadn’t allowed you to do so. Those were times that were long gone and you wanted to erase them from your memory as you moved on.

You had dinner with your parents and went upstairs to get ready to go to bed earlier than usual to recover those lost hours of sleep. You showered and did your usual night routine, being extra careful and allowing yourself to relax. As you sat in bed, you grabbed your phone, seeing multiple notifications, since you don’t use your phone during work, from texts from your friends and social media ones, but there was one that caught your attention. For a moment you thought you were having delusional visions, but as you clicked on it it took you directly to Jake’s Instagram profile and the top showed the Accept and Decline button. He had found his way to your profile and it had you giggling silently, making you feel like you were in high school all over again. It had been about 3 hours since he sent the request so it was safe to accept without looking like a creep. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you proceeded to answer your texts and update Sohee on the tea, so you called her.

“Sohee, I kid you not, he is so attractive, I can’t!” you heard her sigh for the nth time on the phone, feeling her eye roll through the screen. “Y/n, I’ve seen him plenty of times, and trust me, I know he is, but be careful, I heard some things about him, though.” “Don’t worry about that, it’s just a silly crush. I’ll be over it sooner or later.” Sohee sighed again and you could hear her moving around in her bed sheets. “Yeah, whatever. We’ll talk later. Heeseung is calling me.” After talking with Sohee you were left alone with your thoughts as you scrolled on your phone but you weren’t really paying any attention to any of the posts, as you were thinking about Sohee’s warning. You decided to put your phone down and go to sleep to calm the thoughts running through your mind. As you were feeling yourself fall into a slumber, you heard your phone buzz but you chose to ignore it. You turn to the other side, getting comfortable to fall asleep again but again, your phone buzzes making you sit up and grab it aggressively. You turned it on, the bright light making you squint your eyes as you turned the brightness down. You unlocked it, checking who was texting at this hour. You felt your heart pound, getting nervous, as you saw Jake had dmed you. You click on his text, not caring if it had only been seconds from his last text. 

simjaeyun_: hey :)                                                   11:37pm             

simjaeyun_: ignoring me now mnh?                        11:46 pm    

youruser: stalking me now huh?                              11:47 pm

youruser: didn’t take for the stalker type tbh          11:47 pm

Your heart started beating quicker when you saw how fast he started typing an answer.

simjaeyun_: then what type do you take me to be? 11:48 pm 

youruser: well                                                           11:48 pm

youruser: definitely the one who makes other people stalk you not the other way around. 11:48 pm 

simjaeyun_: maybe you just caught my attention like that ;) 11:48 pm

youruser: oh? did i now?                                           11:49 pm

simjaeyun_: maybe, find it out yourself :)                  11:49 pm

You looked at the texts, feeling a soft blush creeping on your cheeks as you hugged your knees to your chest. You decided to leave him on read, not really having an answer to his text but Jake himself wasn’t expecting to get one back. You looked at the ceiling, having lost all your sleep by now. You closed your eyes and sighed as you slid down your bed until you were laying down. You turned to the side, watching the moon from your window, which you usually left open since it helped you wake up. You closed your eyes, trying to sleep, as the image of the texts kept appearing in your head, keeping you awake for a while.

The next day you woke up, remembering last night's events, making you clutch your sheets closer to your chest. You sat up on the edge of the bed, as you sighed and rubbed your face with your hands, making your way to the bathroom to do your routine and maybe it would help you keep your thoughts away from him.  You looked in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, glad to see your dark circles were already gone. You did your usual skincare routine and headed down to the kitchen to have breakfast, seeing your mom had made you some pancakes and a black coffee, which were placed neatly on the table where she was already eating.

“Good morning mom!” you greeted her with a smile as you sat in front of her. “Good morning, dear! Did you sleep well?” “Oh yeah, I did! I went to sleep earlier to recover from the hangover…” She sighed at your words as she gave you a warning look, reminding you of her scolding. “Is there a special occasion for you to make me breakfast?” You asked as you took a bite of pancakes. “Not really, can’t I be sweet for my daughter once in a while?” She answered and you squinted at her, knowing there was a reason behind it, she wasn’t one to do these things just because. “You came home smilier than usual. Anything special happened at work?” She asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could. You stopped your movement for less than a second but enough time for her to notice. “Um, not really, was just happy.” You said after taking a sip from your coffee and putting the mug down. “Are you sure it was just that?” She propped her elbows on the table with her hands intertwined, looking as if she was questioning you for a crime you did. “Yes, mom. I’m pretty sure.” She hummed, taking a sip from her tea. “Is that why you were squealing with Sohee on the phone last night?” You gasped at her words. “Mom! Were you eavesdropping on me?” You asked her shocked that she had heard you talking with Sohee. “Oh no, dear. You know I’m not one to do that. I just happened to be walking past your room and heard you all excited about a certain- oh what was the name?” She stopped, trying to remember “Oh! Jake! Yes, Jake. Now, you wanna tell me about that?” You blushed at her words as if you were caught doing something bad or she heard a secret of yours. “Mom! No!” You said getting up from your chair, leaving a small bit of pancake on your plate. “I’m leaving. I need to go to work. Bye, love you!” You started walking faster, rushing to the door after picking up your house and car keys.

You entered the car, thinking about the conversation with your mom, reminding yourself to be more careful when talking with Sohee on the phone. You reached the shop just on time, parking your car in your usual place, which by now, you claimed as yours. You walked inside, seeing Heeseung and Ni-ki talking about something about a car.

“Good morning guys!” you greeted as you put your lunch bag down. They both looked back at you, seeming relieved you were finally there. “Oh thank God you’re here.” Ni-ki sighed. “Yeah, what’s up?” You asked, intrigued as to what they needed you for. “So, we were discussing car designs for me to do in the car Heeseung is taking care of, but the problem is that we can’t agree on one design.” He started explaining as Heeseunf put his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes at the younger male. “So tell me. in between these which one is better?” He finished, showing pictures of different designs. You hummed in thought as you looked carefully at the pictures and the car behind them. “I think for this car these two thick stripes would fit the best, but that’s my opinion!” “See! I told you! You won’t listen to me. Y/n, he won’t agree with me, please help me.” Ni-ki said as he put his hands together in a plea. “Sorry, Hee. Gotta agree with him in this one.” Heeseung looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Don’t fire me?” You said shrugging your shoulders at him. The older man rolled his eyes, sighing as he finally gave in. “Fine, but only because it's two against one.” “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say hyung.” Ni-ki said leaving the area, you looked at him shrugging at him, “Kids these days.” he said under his breath in a mumble. 

You grabbed your stuff from where you had previously put it and took it into the staff room. Coming back to the area, you grabbed some gloves and put them on, ready to start working on Jake’s car. Heeseung had already put it in a space for you to fix it and besides it was a box with the side view mirror to replace to broken one. You’ve never changed a mirror before, but you remember one time when your dad did when your mom hit it on the wall while she was parking the car in the garage. It wasn’t much of a hassle, it was easy and simple. You opened the car’s door and you were met with the beautiful interior, which Jake had most likely renovated into a more modern one, but still had a vintage touch to it. The car smelled like a man’s perfume, probably his own, mixed with a leathery scent that came from the beautiful black leather seats with red details. Snapping out of your daze with the car’s interior you went back to work. You started by carefully taking out the mirror’s trim cover and removing the screws that were hidden.

As you were taking out the screws and putting them in a spare box, you felt a presence coming up behind you. Looking up, you found Sunghoon looking at you as he leaned on the car door. “Hey there!” you said as you kept doing your work. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” He said with a smug smirk adorning his face, making you roll your eyes. “Go away Sunghoon.” You said but still, you had a smile on your face. “It’s nothing special.” you finished. “You can’t be saying that when you acted how you did yesterday when you saw the car, practically fangirling over it. I mean, not to mention how you were fangirling over Ja-” “Shut up!” you said looking at him. “I wasn’t, you were seeing things.” Sunghoon laughed at your behaviour. “C’mon, no need to act shy now.” He started “You know, he texted me yesterday.” “Ok? And why should i care?” You said raising a brow at him. “He was asking me, or better, begging me to give him your Instagram.” You looked away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up. “I don’t know why he would do that!” You said, pretending to be interested in those screws. “Eh, you’ll eventually find out, I guess.” He said making you look back at him. “What is that supposed to mean.” You asked suddenly interested in what he had to say. He started walking away, his back turned to you “Nothing you should worry your pretty head about.” He answered, making you tilt your head, confused at his words. You sighed as you went back to working on that mirror.

It wasn’t too long after your conversation with Sunghoon that little by little everyone started gathering in front of the staff-only door to eat lunch. You got up and joined Jungwon and Sunoo, who was engrossed in a conversation about the latest tea about someone on campus. You were so focused on observing and listening to them talk that you didn’t notice an extra someone entering the shop until Jay mentioned it.

“Jake? What are you doing here man?” That made your ears perk up, but you pretended to still be listening to the gossip you were previously listening to. “Your mirror still isn’t fixed, so no luck for you today.” Heeseung said also greeting him with the handshake their group shared. You looked at them at the mention of the mirror, so it wouldn’t look as suspicious. “Yeah, I figured. Just wanted to join you guys for lunch.” He said raising his take-out bag. You heard someone gasp, looking you saw Ni-ki looking with heart eyes at the take-out bag. “Is that for us?” He said with his boxy smile. Everyone looked at Jake with hopeful eyes. “What? No, it’s mine! And no way in hell I’m sharing this with you guys.” Jake said in a warning tone. Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes at him “You’re literally no fun.” Sunoo said giving him a judging look. Jake simply shrugged as he looked around the room until his eyes met yours, making him bite back a smirk. Sunghoon, who was watching carefully and aware of the situation, nudged you slightly when Jake looked away, making you mouth a what? at him which he only answered with a smirk.

You all moved inside the staff room, sitting around the round table. Jake was sitting across from you and you were sitting in between Sunghoon and Ni-ki. Every time you looked up you would be met with Jake’s eyes staring into you shamelessly, making you bounce your feet nervously. Your eyes drifted towards Sunghoon and you were able to see the smirk he was hiding with food while looking between you and Jake until he finally noticed you looking at him, making him raise his eyebrows at you to which you answered with a shrug as you looked back to your food. You wondered if Jake was going to talk to you anytime today. Since he arrived today he hadn’t even spoken a word to you, not even a simple Hi, making you wonder if he was only the all-talk type through social media or if he just didn’t have the guts to talk to you personally, but still, he had no problem flirting and teasing you when you guys first met.

Lunch was over and you got back to work. Jake hadn’t gone away yet, lingering around the shop, mainly around Heeseung as they talked about things you couldn’t listen to. The sudden realization that you were working on his car hit and you wondered if he was gonna approach you in a way. Snapping out of your thoughts, you went back to finish fixing the mirror, already more than halfway done. You were putting everything back in place, with the mirror already replaced, when you saw Jake walking towards you from your peripheral vision. You felt your breath hitch as your shoulders tensed the closer he got.

“I see you finally got to touch it, huh?” He said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh! Yeah, I did.” You answered with an awkward laugh, feeling your palms getting sweaty. “Like what you felt, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at that, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. You were more than sure if any other man would’ve said that to you, you would’ve cringed right away, but not when said man looked like Jake did. “I- well-” Jake started laughing, making you feel somewhat embarrassed. “I’m just playing around. You’re not that shy through texting.” He said reminding you of how confident you may have sounded through texts. “Well, I guess it’s not the same as talking face-to-face, right?” You stated, looking up at him in the eyes. His mouth opened to say something but closed right away. “Yeah, you’re right.” He took a breath in as he straightened his posture.  “Anyways, is the mirror any close to being done?” He wondered. “Oh yeah, actually I just need to test it and it’s all ready for you to take it home!” You said while smiling at him, proud that you were able to do something new quickly yet carefully. “Oh really? You were pretty quick. Can’t say I’m not impressed, though, in a positive way, of course.” You giggled at him. “Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that.” He smiled warmly at you, nodding your way as he walked away from you, leaving you alone to finish your work.

It was almost time to go home when Jake and Heeseung approached you next to Jake’s car, where you were slightly bent over, as you were touching up some scratches near the mirror area with touch-up black paint. You finished the work, smiling proudly at yourself, as you turned around to face the two boys who were watching you silently as you worked. You sighed happily at them, adjusting the oversized overalls that you wore for work. “I’m officially done!” You exclaimed as you stretched an arm towards the car. Heeseung patted Jake in the back signaling him to get him and his car home. “You can pay me later.” Heeseung said walking away, knowing if he stayed Jake would insist on paying. Jake sighed as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this, by the way.“ He said with a smile, making you shrug. “You’re welcome, Jake. After all, it’s my job.” You answered, looking down as you kicked non-existent rocks. Jake gave you a wide grin, watching your face, appreciating the way your lashes touched your cheeks when you blinked and how you bit your lip when you were nervous. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he walked towards his car. “Tomorrow?” You tilted your head to the side but you got no response as he got in his car. The engine purred as he drove out of the garage, leaving you standing dumbfounded. “Will I ever figure him out?”

Jake got home with only one thing, or rather someone, going through his mind. As cliché as it felt for him, he couldn’t understand what was in you that made him want to stay glued to you forever. He wanted to get to know you, know what you liked and disliked, and what were your hobbies. Did you have a pet? You didn’t really look like you had one. As soon as he entered his penthouse, he made his way to his room, falling into his bed with a thud, sighing as he felt his head make contact with his fluffy pillows. He still could feel his heart thumping in his chest, quicker than it ever beat. It felt weird, a good weird. He liked the feeling. One he only ever felt with his high school crush who had rejected him in his junior year. Jake groaned out loud as his arm fell to his face, covering his eyes. “What have you done to me?”

The past week was full of work. Everyone barely interacted, focused on getting everyone’s car fixed since it’s vacation season and everyone needed their car as soon as possible. Still, one thing everyone found weird was how Jake came to visit almost every day, something that never really happened through all these years everyone had worked there. Sunghoon always made sure to point out to you that Jake was always lingering close to you, making you give him annoyed remarks. Deep down you were glad he stood close to you as you got time to know him better and to your surprise he was more interesting than you ever thought a jock would be, no offence. You two would laugh with each other for hours until Heeseung needed to scold you to go back to work, hiding his smile as he watched you two playfully fight each other. His presence made work hours go by quicker and you started enjoying his presence a little bit too much, noticing the way your heart would beat a tad bit faster when you heard him laugh at something you said.

When you were done with work Jake would take you out and grab convenience store food for you two to eat in the park. It was in those moments that you both got vulnerable with each other, sharing all of your life stories, good and bad ones. Every night you call Sohee and rant about how scared you are of catching feelings for him, even though you knew you were already in deep, and she always reassured you that you shouldn’t feel like that as it’s only natural and what has to happen, will happen. Whatever you were feeling with Jake, is something you never felt with anyone before, as cliché as it can be, but your past dating history left a huge mark on you and you had a tendency to shut people out when they got too close, until now. The boys noticed a subtle shift in the way you and Jake interacted, but still, they only observed from afar, never intruding on whatever was happening between you two. It felt kind of weird for them to see Jake behaving that way around someone who wasn’t part of his friend group or more specifically with a girl, but deep down they felt happy seeing their friend finally letting himself loosen up.

The day at the shop was going smoothly, it was a bad day of work for Heeseung. There were no clients coming up and everyone except him was sitting around playing cards or just talking to each other as he finished fixing one car. You were sat at a table with Sunoo and Sunghoon, your hands covering your ears as they kept asking questions you didn’t wanna hear and less likely answer. “Come on, y/n!” Sunoo said pulling your hands out of your ears, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t like him, ok?” You sighed, “I literally met him, like, not even two weeks ago. I don’t even know him like that.” “y/n, you know damn well it’s not like that.” Sunghoon said leaning back in his chair. “Just admit you like him!” “Like who?” The three of you looked back to find Jake walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. “No one, I don’t like anyone.” You said closing your eyes as you propped your head in your hand. Jake looked at Sunghoon, as the latter smirked at him, making you glare not-so discreetly at him. Jake sat in a free chair next to you and the two other men thought it was a good idea to stand up and walk away, leaving you two alone.

“Bad work day?” He started. “Yeah, something like that.” You sighed, playing with a paper cup in front of you. “It’s just the end of the month and most people are on vacation by now so it was expected.” Jake hummed, an idea coming up to him. “So you have nothing to do, right?” You looked at him wondering why he was asking that. “Uh, yeah, I don’t.” You answered nodding at him. He got up, extending a hand to you. “Come.” He said as he smiled and nodded his head towards his way. You hesitated in grabbing his hand and getting up as he dragged you to his car. “But, the other we need to tell-” “Don’t worry ‘bout that. We’ll be quick.” Jake said as he opened his car door for you. You looked at the car and then at him, making him nod at you, urging you to get in. Jake sat in the driver's seat with a happy sigh. He looked at him, watching as you admired his car, gently touching the leather seats, feeling the wealth in your touch. You looked around the car in awe, making him giggle at your antics. You turned to look at him with a blush and a small smile, feeling shy he caught you as you admired his expensive car. He turned the keys, making the engine purr as you felt the seats vibrate with the loud sound. “Wow!” You said with a gasp “It feels so different when you’re actually inside the car.” You looked at him as he drove out of the shop’s driveway. “Yeah, I felt that too when I first drove it.” He said with a chuckle. “Where are you taking me?” You asked curiously. “You’ll see, princess. Enjoy the ride for now.” He answered as he chose a song to play for the ride. 

You looked out of your window, seeing the sun almost setting, making the sky turn into an orange explosion. The ride was silent, a comfortable silence, and you found yourselves in an empty road, no words needed to be spoken as you admired the view ahead of you. You rolled your window down, laying your head on the edge of the door. Jake looked at you, admiring your hair that flew freely with the wind and how your eyes were shining in awe and you wore a smile. He looked back to the front and he bit a smile back, failing to do so as the corners of his lips curled upwards. Jake was now driving towards a kind of abyss. He stopped the car, turning off the engine. “Is this it?” You asked making him nod at you with a smile. You both walked out of the car and sat in its hood. You gasped at the view in front of you. You could see the whole city from above. All the tall skyscrapers looked tiny and the street lights were only small dots on a canvas. The sky above showed a pink and orange painting, and the sun had almost fully set.

“Jake” he looked at you, admiring your side profile “This is beautiful.” You finished, looking at him with a big grin, making him mirror your actions. You looked back ahead as you scooted closer to him in the hood of the car, feeling your shoulder touch his. Jake smiled to himself, not daring to look your way to avoid doing something he would regret. “Thank you.” You said looking at him, seeing how his eyes slightly widened. He looked down at his feet, feeling his ears get hotter “It’s nothing really.” “How did you even find this place?” You wondered. “This is gorgeous!” Jake finally looked at you, examining your face, sensing you were asking a genuine question and not just a rhetorical one. “Well,” He started with a sigh. “I usually come here to kind of unwind a little.” He said kicking some rocks on the floor. “It just tunes me out the rest of the world. I feel the best when I’m here.”

He felt the urge to keep talking as he felt you still looking at the side of his head. “Normally when I have a big argument with my dad I just come here and let everything out. No one comes here since it’s far from the city so now it’s my comfort place and I’ve never brought anyone here except for you.” He stopped talking, looking at you, seeing you with empathetic eyes. “Thank you for sharing that with me Jake.” You rubbed his back in a comforting way “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me all that, I know it’s not easy to deal with those kinds of problems, even if I never went through them myself. I hope you know I’m a shoulder you can lean on when you need one. You shouldn’t keep those thoughts to yourself.” Jake felt his eyes getting teary as he heard you talk. “I really appreciate that, y/n. I just feel like you give me so much of you and I never really shared something really intimate, so I thought this would feel just right.” He said holding his tears. You smiled at him, pulling his arm, grabbing it as you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking back to the view as a comfortable silence fell over you two. Jake’s head leaned in yours and he felt a soft bubble form in his chest, making him close his eyes and take a deep breath in of the fresh air that danced around both of your hairs.

The sun fully set after a while. Stars started appearing in the dark sky. “Look,” You said pointing to the sky “The first star of the night. Make a wish!” You finished as you looked at Jake. “A wish?” You nodded “Alright if you say so.” Both of you closed your eyes and put your hands together as you made your wishes. Jake opened his eyes to look at you, seeing you with your eyes closed and a giddy smile on your lips. You opened your eyes, looking at Jake only to find him already looking down at you, the summer breeze made his hair move beautifully. “What did you wish for?” he asked “Can’t tell you, it won’t come true if I do.” Jake chuckled at your answer, making you do the same. You both stared into each other eyes, not daring to look away as if you were in some trance with each other's eyes, giving you time to appreciate each other’s features. You couldn’t understand how people could view Jake as a bad being. Since the moment you both started getting closer, he was nothing but a sweetheart to you and besides that, you saw how he treated the other boys as well, always being caring with them, giving them food when one of them didn’t have enough or going as far as secretly ordering take out for Ni-ki when he had forgotten to pack his own lunch. They didn’t know him in reality. If they had seen him with your eyes they would know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone or anything purposely. They couldn’t see the sparkle in his eyes when he saw dogs playing in the park or the way his tongue would slightly poke his pouty lips when he focused on something. If only they could see him the way you do.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket, making you break the intense eye contact that seemed to last an eternity. You looked at the contact ID seeing it was your mom calling you, making you silently curse under your breath. “Hey, mom.” You turned to Jake, mouthing him a Sorry which he dismissed with a shake of his head. “Uh…” Your eyes started moving around nervously “I, uh, I’m with Jake, Mom.” You hissed, scratching the back of your neck. Your mom started going off excitedly about how she was right about him, making you roll your eyes, hoping the said man couldn’t hear what she was saying. “Um, Mom, I don’t- okay wait.” You turned to Jake with a sigh “You wanna come over for dinner?” You asked him, making him still for a moment. “Uh, sure, I mean, why not.” He answered shrugging, something you weren’t really expecting, but deep down you were kind of glad he had accepted. “Okay, he’s coming. Yeah, see you, bye Mom.” You hung up, standing up and looking at Jake. He only looked at you, not knowing what to say. “C’mon.” You pulled him off the hood “We got dinner waiting for us.” 

You were driving back to the city, immersed in a conversation about various topics. “Also, I’m gonna warn you about my mom, she can be a little too much sometimes, so sorry in advance.” Jake laughed at your words. “Don’t say that. I’m pretty sure she means well.” He said looking at you. “If that makes you feel better about meeting her, then sure Jake, whatever you say.” Shortly after, Jake was pulling into your house’s driveway, making you feel nervous, the fact that he was meeting your parents finally sinking in. You don’t know why you felt like this, you two weren’t even dating. You walked to your front door and searched for the keys that were somewhere lost in your bag. Suddenly the door burst open, making you squeal in surprise as you almost tripped and if it weren’t for Jake you would’ve fallen on your butt. “Oh, what gentleman he is!” The door was fully open, revealing your mom who was now cooing at Jake. “Mom, don't.” you said in a warning tone, making her wave her hand at you dismissingly. “Oh, you must be Jake.” She said grabbing him by the arms “Come in you two.” She invited, making space for you to enter the house. “How was day, dear?” Your mom asked, making you break the mad face you were making at her with a small smile. “It was okay. We didn’t have any clients today which is not good for the shop.” “Oh, that must be really frustrating for you guys.” She said furrowing her brows in a worried way. “Anyways, let’s get to the kitchen. The food’s getting cold.” She smiled warmly at you two as she dragged you both to the kitchen. “Is dad not home?” You said with a small pout. “Oh no, he’s out for that company dinner he had. You know it.” You nodded at her letting out an Oh as you remember your father talking about it.

Jake tried to hide it, but as small as this interaction was, it was still a very domestic one. Those were the interactions he longed for but they never came to him. He felt a pang in his chest but your mom’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Give me your plate, dear. I’ll serve you.” She said smiling warmly at him, making him mirror her expression. Your mom seemed so sweet and he genuinely wanted to enjoy this small moment. 

The three of you talked comfortably throughout the night. Jake was able to get those negative thoughts out of his head for a while as he interacted with you both. He loved watching you talk with your mom, seeing the way your eyes light up when she says something that makes you laugh. Just watching that made him smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by your mom. Jake saw his phone light up on the table with a text from his dad asking him where he was and another from a contact he promised himself to never answer again. This made his whole good mood disappear and he just felt like going home. He felt guilty to do this but felt the need to be alone and forget about those texts.

“Everything alright?” you asked with a worried expression, just then he noticed he had his brows pressed tightly together. “Oh um, yeah, just my dad texting me.” He said smiling at you, guilt eating him up, but deep down he wasn’t lying, just not telling the whale truth, which made him feel shitty. “It’s getting late so maybe I should go. Thank you for the meal, it was really good!” He got up, grabbing his jacket from the chair. You got up as well and followed him to your front door as your mom stayed in the kitchen cleaning up. “Hey,” You said grabbing his attention “Are you sure you’re alright? You looked pretty tense back there.” You asked in a worried tone. He sighed, nodding at you. “Yes, princess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?” You nodded at him and you bid your goodbyes. Before he could leave, you grabbed his wrist. “Thank you for today, really.” You smiled widely at him, making him chuckle at you “You’re welcome, princess. Good night.” You let his hand go as you waved at him before closing the door. You turned around to see your mom leaning on the kitchen door. You held your hand up “Don’t even start, ok?” you said not wanting to have that conversation. “Dind’t day a word, honey.” She said smiling at you. “Whatever. Goodnight, Mom.” “Goodnight, dear.”

You let yourself fall into the comfort of your bed with a sigh. You grabbed your phone, seeing a notification from Jake, making you quickly tap on it. 

jake <3: thank you for tonight, princess :)

jake <3: sorry for leaving so suddenly. my dad texted me and you know how it is…

you: jake you don’t need to thank me 

you: we were both glad to have you eat with us and dont worry about that i totally understand

you: im gonna head to sleep now. goodnight jake :) 

jake <3: goodnight princess:) 

The next day at work you felt kind of uneasy. The way Jake left your house yesterday left you with an unsettling feeling. You didn’t know what his dad had texted him and you surely weren’t gonna ask him, you were in no place to do that. It was already 5:30 pm and Jake still hadn’t stopped by the shop, something unusual since he always comes by lunchtime. You didn’t want to think too much of it and tried to convince yourself that he was just busy. As you were cleaning up a car you just finished fixing, you heard footsteps coming towards you, making you look to see Heeseung and Sunghoon. “Lover boy didn’t come today, huh?” Sunghoon said making you roll your eyes before turning to look at them, now standing up from your crouching position. “He’s not my lover and you know that damn well.” you said propping your hand on your hip. “Yet!” Heeseung says with a stupid grin on his face.

“Anyways, we’re going to this party tonight and we wanted to invite you so you better be there.” the older male said. “Uh, I don’t know, guys. I’m not really-” “Not in the mood, yeah we know. Same story and it’s not working today. You are going today, no excuses.” Sunghoon paused for a while “You know, Jake’s gonna be there.” he said with a smirk. You lightly tapped your foot on the floor, knowing you didn’t really have a choice other than going and if you ended up going you would see Jake. Not that you missed him, maybe just a little bit though.  “Fine, I guess I can go.” you sighed, crossing your arms “Where and when?” Heeseung gave you the details about the party, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Jake there. Even if you were still kind of sour about him not coming, you were sure he had a good reason not to, right?

You walked up to your mirror, checking yourself out one last time before leaving. You lightly rubbed your finger under your lips, cleaning a lipstick smudge. You looked at your outfit, a simple lace, black corset-like top paired with some black leather pants and black heels. The top felt a little too revealing for you, but you decided to come out of your comfort zone for once and try new things. You felt pretty. Your hair was just right, your makeup looked flawless and your outfit was tight just in the right places, flattering your silhouette. Tonight was the night and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest. Sohee had previously texted you, informing you she would also be there with Heeseung, which made you less stressed about this party. You drove to the address Heeseung had texted you, the clock showed 11:45, a reminder that you were 15 minutes late. “Typical y/n, am I right?” you mumbled to yourself when you stopped at a red light. Taking one last turn, you saw a sign with the name of the bar Hee had told you. You parked your car and walked towards the entrance, feeling the biting wind hit your skin, making you regret not taking a small coat with you. You entered the bar and it was already almost full since it was almost midnight. You passed and pushed through the crowd of people Excuses me’s and Sorry’s leaving your lips as you did so. Finally, you were able to spot a tall ash blond who could only be Heeseung and walked towards him.

“Hey and before you scold me, yes I know I’m late.” you said as you and Sohee hugged before taking a seat next to Jay. “Wouldn’t expect any different from you.” Sunghoon said making you let out Shup up to him. You looked around and saw everyone there except for one person. “Where’s Jake?” you asked still looking around, failing to notice the exchange of looks between the four of them. “He’s- Well, he is with some guys from the soccer team, yeah.” Sungoon said, a nervous smile dancing on his lips, making you tilt your head at him “Weird.” you thought out loud. “But don’t worry!” Sunoo said, making you look at him “He’ll probably be here… soon.” “Okay?” you answered, looking at Sohee who was just as confused as you were. There was an unfamiliar tension in the booth and before you could think further about it Heeseung spoke up “No more talking. Let’s get the night started and get drinks!” Everyone got up, greedy to finally get some alcohol in their systems, maybe that’s what you needed. You reached the counter and Heeseung ordered tequila shots for everyone. The shots were gone as quickly as they came and everyone was thirsting for more so Sunghoon ordered six more of the same. 

You and Sohee made your way towards the dance floor full of sweating bodies. You were buzzing inside with the little alcohol in your system and the lights were making you dazed in the best way possible. It had been a long time since you and Sohee hung out like this and you were enjoying this just as much as she was. You had your arms thrown over her shoulders as she hugged your waist and you both swayed to whatever music was playing. The boys were looking at you with pure amusement on their faces, never having seen you like this but they were glad you were enjoying this night so far. Your body felt hot from the heat radiating from everyone around you. You saw couples kissing and grinding against each other and it made your mind wander to Jake and wonder if you and he were ever gonna dance like that like it was just the two of you in the room with no one to interrupt you both. You and your best friend went back to the counter to order drinks for yourselves while the boys went back to the booth.

“Can I get two Pink Whitneys with Sprite, please?” the bartender nodded at you before leaving to prepare the drinks. “Was wondering if you could still party, y/n” Sohee told you laughing. “Oh, shut up. It hasn’t been that long.” You both turned back to the counter when you heard the bartender speak. “For the pretty ladies.” He said putting the drinks in front of you, both of you mumbling Thanks in return. You closed your eyes as you savoured the drink you hadn’t tasted in a long time. “God, I forgot how much I love this.” You said taking a big sip of the pink drink. “Brings back old memories doesn’t it?” Sohee said leaning back as if she was having a flashback. Even though you were a stay-at-home person, back in the first years of college you went partying almost every night since Sohee was a social butterfly and always made sure to bring you along to whatever party she was invited to. Every time Heeseung would host a party, he made sure to have a hidden bottle of Pink Whitney in a small fridge that only he and the boys knew of for you and Sohee. You laughed at her as you tilted the cup towards her for a toast. “For old time’s sake.” She clinked her glass with yours “For old time’s sake!” she said before finishing her drink in one big gulp as she did the same. 

You two got up, making your way to the booth the guys were at. Your vision was starting to blur from all the drinks you had. Only had your low alcohol tolerance to blame. You were trying to walk through the crowd when you spotted a familiar brunette in the middle of it. “Look! Jake’s there, let’s say hi!” you said pushing Sohee towards his way. The grin you had on your face started to slowly fade as your steps got slower. The closer you got to Jake the stronger the pang in your chest grew. You squeezed Sohee’s hand trying to get her attention but she had already seen enough. You two stood there watching as a girl eagerly kissed Jake’s neck, his face was hidden since he was looking opposite from where you were. “Jake?” You felt a pull on your heartstrings and a whimper left your quivering lips when Jake turned his head to the side and made eye contact with you. His face wasn’t showing any emotions previously, quickly contorted with shock as a gasp left his lips, making him immediately push the girl away. Still, Sohee was quicker to pull you away from where you were standing. She was letting out some curses on her way to the booth, something that you couldn’t hear.

When you finally reached the other boys they all were looking at you with worried expressions. Their eyes flickered between each other and you were finally able to catch on what was happening when you arrived. “You guys knew?” you said with a choked sob. None of them were saying a word, making your blood boil when you got your answer. “You all fucking knew this whole time.” you screamed, pointing your finger at them accusingly. “How long has it been going on?” Jay was quick to speak up. “It was just today.” he started. “We didn’t know she was gonna be here and I don’t think Jake knew either.” You were starting to get even more confused “What do you mean she?” you asked shaking your head. They all looked at each other not knowing what to say. “Heeseung, did you know about this?” Sohee asked her boyfriend, and he quickly shook his head no. “No, i swear. None of us knew and as he said it was probably a not-so-pleasant surprise for Jake as well.” Knowing that everyone knew who she was and they weren’t explaining it to you was leaving you irritated and you just wanted to leave. “Sohee can we just go home.” you quietly asked and she ran a hand down your back in a soothing manner. “Yeah, give me your car keys, I’ll drive.” You both turned to leave, no words were exchanged apart from a Drive safely from Heeseung.

When you sat in your car you felt like something exploded inside you as you started sobbing uncontrollably. You hid your face in your hands as you started sobbing. Sohee reached for you, holding you in her embrace. “I don’t even know why I’m crying it’s not like we had something.” you said trying to wipe your tears but they just kept coming. “Y/n, it wouldn’t take a genius to see that something was going on between you two. I can’t honestly understand why Jake would be with someone else, especially her.” “Will anyone ever tell me who she is?” you said in an annoyed tone. Sohee sighed as she sat back in the driver’s seat. “That girl was Aerin. Jake and her were in a weird situationship, kind of friends with benefits but not quite that. They had that going on for almost a year but he eventually broke it off because he finally opened his eyes and realized how much of a bitch she was, even though we were warning him since the beginning.” she paused with a sigh. “She didn’t take it very well since she had always been possessive with him but we thought she finally had gotten over it, it’s been, like, a year and something?” she turned to look at you, seeing you with your head propped in your knees. She raised her hand to cup your cheek, brushing it softly with her thumb.

“I just don’t understand why he would do this, after all that we’ve been through.” You said feeling tears coming back, pooling in your eyes. “Sohee, I let all of my guard down for him, I told him my everything and this feels like history is repeating itself, you know?” You told her as memories from your history with your ex brought you a sour feeling “Y/n, whatever happened between you and Jeno is long behind, I thought we had already talked about this.” “I am over it, Sohee! But seeing Jake do this is just bringing all those feelings back. Six months right after I opened up to Jeno I find out he was cheating on me with the girl I shouldn’t worry about and now when I finally feel like I can commit to someone again, I see Jake like that, how is that fair to me?” you said turning into a sobbing mess again. Your whole body was shaking and Sohee felt her heart shatter seeing her best friend like this.

“Y/n, I know this really isn’t the right time to say this but I’ve known Jake for as long as I’ve been dating Heeseung and I can’t understand why he is doing this. This really isn’t like him, at all.” She rubbed your back “I’m more than sure he will explain himself to you soon. This just doesn't sit right with me.” You wiped your eyes as you sniffed “I don’t want to see him anytime soon, Sohee.” She smiled sadly at you. “I know, honey, But you know it will eventually happen right? It’s inevitable.” You nodded at her, knowing she was right. “Let’s go home yeah? You can stay at mine today. Don’t want you dealing with this alone.” 

Sohee drove off as you stared out the window. Millions of thoughts were running through your head and you felt like it was about to explode. Eventually, you fell asleep during the ride and only woke up when Sohee softly shook you when you arrived. You both entered her apartment, being immediately greeted by her cat who was rubbing herself in your legs. You crouched down to her level, rubbing behind her fluffy white ears, making her purr. Oh to be a cat. Sohee gave you one of her pyjamas for you to sleep in and some makeup wipes, knowing you probably wouldn’t even bother to take it off. You both slipped into her bed, sleeping together like you two would back in the day. You laid back against the headboard as she texted Heeseung to update him. Your own phone buzzed on the bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a notification that normally you would be excited to answer, but not today. You read the texts Jake had sent you.

jake <3: y/n please                                                   

jake <3: i know what it looks like but it isn’t like that 

jake <3: let me explain please                                     

jake <3: you know id never hurt you.                        

You dropped your phone in your lap as you rubbed your eyes with your hands, starting to sniff again. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the tears as you sighed and leaned back against the headboard. Sohee looked at your phone and then at you, making her sigh. “Where did i go wrong? I must’ve done something really bad in my past life to deserve this.” “Y/n, cut the nonsense, you don’t deserve this, ok?” she said grabbing your arms and turning to look at her. “You’re gonna get through this with me and when you’re ready you’re gonna go back to work and maybe talk with Jake, yeah?” You took a deep breath before nodding at her. “Good. Now you’re gonna rest and tomorrow we’ll see what’s gonna happen.” She grabbed your phone and turned it off, putting it on her bedside table. She turned the light off and you let your head fall into the pillow with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off all the thoughts going through your head until you felt your eyes closing on their own.

The weekend had gone by slowly. You had texted your mom after everything happened to tell her you were gonna stay at Sohee’s for a few days. All you did was mop around the house and lay in your friend’s bed all day, only getting up when you really needed to. You were sure you were sleeping more than 12 hours a day and still felt like the energy was drowning out of you. Sohee tried to get you to go out and encourage you to go to work to help you forget things but the anxiety you felt at the possibility of encountering Jake was keeping you from doing so. You knew that staying home all day and doing nothing until Sohee came back from work wasn’t gonna help you in any way and you honestly wanted to do something about it but you had no energy to do anything. You walked to the kitchen for nth time that day, placing your cereal bowl on the sink with an accidental loud thud, making you hiss. You sighed as you looked at the mess of plates and cutlery you had accumulated in the sink within just a day. “God, what am I doing.” You said talking to yourself. You stared into nothingness as you got in deep thought. Being like this wasn’t gonna take you anywhere and avoiding situations where you might meet Jake won’t either. So, you made the final decision that you were going to work tomorrow, no matter what. You looked at the clock on the kitchen’s wall and saw it was already 6:30 pm, so without any more self pity you walked to the bathroom to take a shower, determined to get back to your usual work routine. You stared at your figure in the mirror and almost apologized to yourself as you took in your messy and unkempt appearance. You entered the shower and let the warm water fall on your tense shoulders. Sighing, you let your head lean into the shower wall as your body shook with a sob when Jake filled your mind again. Had he tried texting you anymore after that night? You couldn’t really know since you had blocked him on your social media. Was he hurting the way you did? What had really happened? Maybe you were overreacting all this. You should’ve let him explain himself. Dumb y/n, so dumb. 

Jake felt horrible. You really had to come near him at the wrong moment and see something that really wasn’t what it looked like. But he should’ve known the moment she texted him the night he was at your house she was serious. Why couldn’t Aerin just get over the fact they weren’t together anymore, as if they were ever actually together. In his head, it was starting to be too good to be true. As if he was ever gonna get lucky with someone like you. Of course, he had to fuck it up in any way. It’s all your fault, Jake. This was all you. Those words kept repeating themselves in his head as he laid in his bed as his whole body was filled with piercing anxiety. He didn’t know what else to do. He called Heeseung and said you still hadn’t gone to work that week.

The boys knew about the situation and Jake always tried to explain himself while he cried on the phone with any of the guys, even if they reassured him they believed him every day. He should’ve known better than to get involved with Aerin in the first place. He had always been warned about it so why did he still do it? Why couldn’t he just do anything right. The past few days were spent with Jake lying in his bed as he cried and cried for as long as he could. All the feelings he bottled up for so long left his body, making his whole self shake. When he finally was able to open up fully to you, he had it all taken away, knowing you had let your whole guard down for him. He knew you weren’t doing any better than him and that hurt him even more. Knowing he couldn’t be the one to hold you and comfort you was killing. Jake knew he couldn’t stay like this forever and all he wanted to do nothing more than reach out to you and tell you his truth but he knew he had to give you space. So he waits for as long as he needs to because he is not letting you go because of her, he wasn’t letting that happen.

You woke up at the same time as Sohee. The moment you opened your eyes you instantly felt a pang in your chest, knowing you had to go to work today. You threw your arm over your eyes as you sighed. Sohee looked at you as she rubbed her eyes to wake herself up. “Good morning.” she told you to which you only answered with a grumble making her chuckle at you. She got out of bed, opening her curtains, making you squint at the bright light invading the room. “C’mon, get up. You need to get ready.” You sighed again at her words before sitting up on the bed. After you both got ready for work, you sat down at the table as you had breakfast together. “So,” Sohee said mid-chew “are you ready for today?” You looked at her as you sipped on your coffee. “I mean, no. But as you said I can’t keep avoiding him and it’s better if we talk already than not.” You answered as your fork played with the blueberries on your plate. “You got this, yeah?” Sohee reached for your hand across the table. You inhaled as you felt your eyes water but you held yourself back. You nodded at her as you whispered a Yeah in response to her.

You left around 10 am which was the time Sohee usually left for work. As you made your way to the shop, anxiety started bubbling up in your chest, making you take deep breaths to try and keep yourself together. There’s nothing to worry about. If Jake ended up showing up at the shop you guys were just gonna talk, or maybe not. Maybe he will explain to you and assure you it was not what it looked like or maybe he wasn’t and it was exactly what it looked like. “Well, shit.” you said to yourself as you arrived at the shop. You parked your car, seeing everyone already there. You stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air breeze around you. You walked inside and there stood Heeseung and Sunghoon staring at you with warm smiles. “Hey guys!” you greeted. You walked towards them and Sunghoon pulled you into a hug, making you let out a shaky breath. “How’ve you been, dummy?” He asked, letting you go of his arms. “Well, y’know, not good. But! I’m here to change that and yes I’m going to avoid that conversation, if you don’t mind.” They nodded their heads at you, Right and Of course! were their only answers before you asked Heeseung if there was any work for you to which he assigned you to check a car’s engine and gasket. 

You got right to work and you were glad you could distract yourself for most of the time. The car needed to get his gasket changed and it wasn’t an easy task so you needed to have your full focus on it. Working made the day go by faster and you barely had time to lunch as you were so immersed in the task you were assigned to do. Sometimes Ni-ki would linger around you, mostly joking around as you worked, keeping you company, which you were glad he did. If anyone had told you you would’ve ended up getting a summer job at a mechanic shop and befriending the six workers you wouldn’t believe it. But you couldn’t be more glad that you did, you had quickly made six precious friendships with six boys who were all you could ask for in a friend. As someone who never found befriending people easy, you were quite proud of yourself as you had found six treasures in only a lifetime. You knew you could always rely on them, and despite the age gap between the two younger ones, you still would trust them with your life nonetheless.

You felt sweat dripping down your forehead as you worked, making you get up from your bent-over position to wipe the sweat with your forearm, adjusting the strap from your overall that was slipping off your shoulder. “God.” You sighed loudly. Heeseung slid from underneath a car to check on you, “Everything ok?” he asked sitting up. “I guess. Just this thing is harder than I thought it would be.” You said putting your hands on your hips as you stared at the engine in thought. You knew this was gonna be hard, but one wrong move you would need to do it all over. Heeseung got up and walked to where you stood staring at the car. “I think you’re going on the right path. Nothing is looking wrong or weird so keep going.” He said patting your back “You’re doing well, you always do.” You chuckled at his words “You flatter me, Lee.” He laughed at your words “All for the best of my wor-” 

His words were cut off by the roar of an engine. A familiar Ford Mustang pulled up in the driveway.  Your breath stopped for a while until you felt Heeseung get his hand off your back. “I think I should go somewhere else…” You nodded at him, fully understanding why he was doing it. You pretended to go back to work, trying to convince yourself that Jake wouldn’t come over to you if you did that. You heard footsteps getting closer to you and you felt your breath pick up its pace. You got this. “Hey…” You heard the deep yet soft voice say. You looked up to see Jake smiling softly at you and you almost teared up at that. You tried to reciprocate the smile but you were sure it came out shaky. “Hi, Jake.” You said nodding at him. Your gaze drifted from his figure, trying to look at anything but him, as you fiddled with your fingers. “Nice patch!” He said chuckling, making you blush as you stared at the Care Bears patch placed upon your knee. “There was ripped so my mom put it on for me.” You said still not looking at him, making him mutter a Cute under his breath, which you almost missed. “Why are you here?” You asked, looking at his face, but you knew damn well why he was here. Jake took a shaky breath in as he leaned against the wall behind him, his own gaze now avoiding yours.

“I guess- No, I know and I need to explain myself to you.” He started, gulping his anxiety away. “What you saw that night wasn’t something anyone would expect that would happen. I mean, I should’ve had to be honest. The night I went to have dinner with you and your mother I told you I had received a text from my father. Which isn’t a lie, because I did, but you also deserved to know that Aerin had also texted me.” His eyes finally met yours with an apologetic gaze. Your face was contorted in confusion and you waited for him to explain it further. “She somehow found out that you and I had been hanging out and that there was something between us and she texted me some nonsense about knowing I still wanted and was using you as a rebound.” You stared at the ground hearing those words. “Was I a rebound to you Jake?” You asked quietly “No!” He answered with no hesitation “Of course not! And I hope you never felt that way because all I did for you was genuine.” his hand twitched, Jake wanted to reach out to you but he knew he still had further explaining to do. “Going on. That night I was supposed to go out with guys from my soccer team as well as the guys here but Aerin somehow was involved with some of the guys in the team and joined as well. The moment you started approaching me she threw herself at me and started doing whatever she was doing and before I could react and push her away you had already seen it.” His voice became shaky as he played that moment back in his head. “And I would and never will blame you for reacting the way you did. If I was in that position I would do the same, most likely.” Tears started falling from your eyes as you heard him talk. 

Your chest was tight with guilt. You felt bad for what you did to him. He didn’t deserve to go through what you made him go through. You sniffed as you tried to wipe the stubborn tears that kept falling. Jake took a step closer to you, feeling his own eyes water at the sight of your miserable state. “Baby, please don’t cry.” The pet name left his lips before he could think about it but you didn’t seem to have heard it or mind it. “Jake I’m so sorry.” You said between hiccups of sobs “Please, please forgive me. I probably made you go through hell when you didn’t even do anything. I was so selfish.” Your cries got louder as you spoke and you didn’t even care if the boys could hear you. “Y/n, no! Stop apologizing. It was not your fault, ok? You aren’t the one to blame. You weren’t the one causing this, Aering was.” He said pulling you into his embrace. The knot on your chest broke as you finally felt his comforting touch and scent that you loved so much. “I would forgive you in a heartbeat if you had anything to apologize for, but you don't, you hear me?” You looked up at him, sniffling softly as you nodded at him. Jake cupped your face to wipe your tears as he smiled softly at you. “I’m sorry I made you go through all of this.” You saw the tears pooling in his eyes, making you cup his cheek.

“Are we ok now?” He asked, worry still lingering in his tone. You smiled widely at him as you furiously nodded your head “Yes! God, Jake, of course!” You said chuckling between sniffs. He laughed along with you as he stared into your eyes endearingly. Your breath calmed down as you both stared into each other eyes. None of you making a move to look away. Your eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips and you caught a glimpse of him doing the same. You don’t know who was the first to move but suddenly your lips were on his as you two share a long-awaited kiss. Your arms went around his neck as his hands were still cupping your cheeks. You leaned your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Jake let out a happy sigh into the kiss, making you smile against his lips. You both pulled away and you let your eyes look around the room to avoid his gaze. Jake laughed at you and you buried your face into his neck to hide the crimson red spreading on your cheeks. Jake pulled you off of him and held your hand as he started pushing you outside. “Let’s go.” He said nodding towards his car. “Jake I can’t I have to finish-” “Don’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure Heeseung won’t mind.” You were hesitant but still let him drag you to his car. “Ok- wait. Slow down, oh my God. Isn’t this kidnapping? Geez!” You said scowling lightly at him at the eagerness he was pushing you with. “Stop talking nonsense, silly.” 

The boys finally gathered around the entrance as they heard Jake’s car leave with you both inside it. “Well, it was kinda awkward.” Jungwon said breaking the silence. Sunoo rolled his eyes, slapping the boy's arm. “What? It’s true!” He said raising his hands in surrender. Silene took over again as everyone tried to process what had just happened. “If all it takes to leave work early is to argue with my girlfriend then I’m down.” “Ni-ki, shut the fuck up.”

You were anxious for today. Even though Jake has been countless times at your house and had dinner with your parents just as much, you’ve never been at his house, let alone met his parents. But it would change today, Jake had called you today, inviting you to have dinner with his parents at his house. As much as you wanted to refuse, you knew you couldn’t, you couldn’t delay this moment any longer, sooner or later it was gonna happen and it was happening today. You didn’t know how to really feel about it. From what Jake told you, you knew his dad wasn’t the best person but you didn’t know much about his mom. You felt anxiety creeping up your body as you got ready for the night. You tried to look the most presentable you could for Jake’s parents, not wanting to leave a bad first impression.

Your phone buzzed in your bed, you picked it up and saw Jake’s text telling you he was outside. You looked at your reflection one last time before grabbing your purse and leaving. When you got outside you were met with the breathtaking sight of Jake leaning against his car, looking like he just came from a cliché teenage movie. His skin was glowing with the bright sunshine, complementing his skin colour to perfection. His full black outfit was hugging in all the right places, making him look like a runway model. Jake noticed your staring, making him laugh silently. “You know you can take a closer look, right?” His words made you roll your eyes, despite feeling your cheeks grow hot. “You’re so cocky, Jake.” You said as you walked towards him, stopping in front of him as you leaned in for a peck. Jake hummed against your lips, holding your face to kiss you deeper. You tapped his cheek and pulled away, eyeing him with a warning stare. “We have places to be, young man.” Jake sighed at your words and you both got in the car. 

Throughout the car ride, Jake noticed your fidgeting hands and he knew you were nervous. He put his hand on top of yours, still looking at the road ahead of him. “There’s nothing to be worried about, y/n” He said in a quiet voice, making you look at him at the sudden words. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking back to the road. “I know. It’s just- I don’t even know why I’m nervous.” You answered chuckling humorlessly. Jake gave your hand a squeeze, giving you a silent reassurance. “I know that from what I say about my dad he sounds scary but he can be nice sometimes and I’m sure he will be pretty okay with you, so don’t think too much about it, yeah? Besides my mom’s gonna be there so it won’t be as bad.” You nodded and smiled at him, leaning on the center console to peck his cheek, making him smile.

Soon enough, you both reached his parent’s house. You felt your heart starting to race as soon as you stepped out of the car. Jake walked beside you, grabbing your hand, holding it tightly against his. Something in him was telling you he was nervous as well and it made you look at him with worried eyes. You both stopped at the front door, looking at each other. Jake smiled at you, nodding his head towards the door, making you take a deep breath as you nodded back at him. He rang the doorbell, the sound echoing in the loud silence as you both waited impatiently.

The door finally opened, revealing a beautiful woman. She didn’t look any older than 45, her skin was smooth with barely any wrinkles adorning it, only faint ones that marked her joyful smile. Her hair had a chestnut tone to it and the perfectly styled curls reached her shoulders. “Jake, my love.” She said as she pulled the said man into her embrace. “I’ve missed you so much!” Jake smiled as he looked at her with a grin. “Missed you too, mom.” He said lovingly pecking her forehead. “Oh, goodness. You must be y/n, I’m Sooyoung! So glad to meet you dear!” She said pulling you in a hug, making you smile at her as you felt the nerves slowly leaving your body. “Yes, I am! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” You told her, as she held your hands in her’s. “You know, Jake sounded so excited to finally introduce you to us, he would always talk about you when he called.” You heard Jake groan beside you. “Mom!” “What? I’m just saying!” She said laughing at his son “Anyways, come inside. Dinner is almost ready!” She leads you both inside the house. “Do you need help with anything?” You asked her “Oh no, dear! Don’t worry, everything’s almost done. You both wait in the leaving room while I finish it.” 

Jake took you to the living room, where his father sat on the couch as he watched whatever news channel was playing. He cleared his throat, making his father loom at you both. “Hey, dad. This is y/n, my girlfriend.” Jake said introducing you to the older man. “Hi, sir. It’s nice to meet you!” You said bowing slightly at him, wiping your sweaty hands in the back of your pants. Jake’s father got up, walking towards the both of you. His straight lips formed a slight smile as he pulled you into a hug, making you let out a surprised sound. “It’s nice to see the girl my son can’t shut up about. Can’t say I’m not surprised to see my son could keep up with a girl like you.” You felt shy at his words, not really knowing what to say. “Ah, I’m sure it’s not like that.” You said rubbing your arm anxiously. He then walked to Jake, shaking hands with his son, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Hope you’ve been behaving well, son.” He said patting his son’s head. “Dad..” Jake said rolling his eyes. The three of you sat on the couch, Jake's dad’s eyes were on the TV but his focus was somewhere else.

“So,” He started. “Where did you two meet?” He asked, turning to look at you two. You looked at Jake and then at his father “We met at my workplace.” You said nodding at him. “You work?” He asked curiously. “Well, it’s a summer job, but yeah I do. Been there for about two and half months maybe?” You smiled at him, rubbing your hands back in forth on your thighs as you tried to ease the nerves. He hummed “And what do you do, may I ask?” “Dad, it’s enough questions.” Jake said but you stopped “It’s okay, Jake.” You said smiling at him. “I’m working at a mechanic shop, which I know it’s not usual as a summer job, but I enjoy it a lot.” His dad opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so, Sooyoung called everyone to the table.

You were all sat at the table peacefully, immersed in a casual conversation. “We should totally book a dinner with your parents y/n, Jake talks about how nice they are when he stays at your house. “ Jake’s mother suggested. “Yeah, I think that would be really nice. They would love it!” You told her, smiling at her as you went back to eating. You noticed Jake had been quiet most of the night, only talking when you were the topic of the conversation. It made you worried that he was behaving this way. You noticed the way his hands were trembling and you wanted nothing more than to comfort him right there and then. You put your utensils down when you finished the meal and one of your hands went to his tigh to rub it in a comforting manner. Jake’s movements faltered when he felt it. His free hand went down to where your hand was placed in his thigh and squeezed it in appreciation. You interlocked your fingers with his and his thumb started rubbing the back of your hand. Jake felt his heart warming up at your actions, looking at you as you spoke with his mother. He smiled, looking down at his empty plate as he tried to hide it.

Jake’s mom got up and walked towards the fridge. “If everyone’s finished, I made dessert!” She said as she put a homemade ice cream bowl on the table. She sat back down and the conversation went on. “y/n I almost forgot to ask! What are you studying?” Sooyung asked as she looked at you. her elbow propped on the table. “Oh, I’m majoring in computer science actually!” You answered with a smile. “I actually share a few classes with Jake.” You said looking at him with a smile, seeing him already looking at you. “Oh really! What a coincidence, isn’t it!” His mother beamed at you. Jake’s father scoffed beside his mother making you snap your head in his direction. “I’m surprised he actually attends classes.” He said looking down at his desert. Jake’s hand tightened almost painfully in your grip.

The tension in the room was thick and if you wanted you could cut it with a knife. Jake’s mother scolded him silently for speaking about it when you were present, but the man couldn’t care less. “Soccer, soccer, soccer. It’s all that goes through that head of his.” He said, finally looking up at his son, who stared at him with a stoic expression. “I work hard every day to give him a stable future and yet he doesn’t even think about pursuing that.” He said with an expression that could be read as disappointment. “Look at his brother. Working a high-paying job, a stable one, and yet, you can’t take it as an example to look up to. Do you really think soccer’s gonna take you anywhere in life?” He asked but he wasn’t really looking for an answer. Your heart felt like it could jump out of your chest with how quick it was beating. Jake’s face was emotionless but his hands were shaking as the force of his own father’s words hit him like rocks. It hurt you to see him take all this and you just couldn’t keep yourself quiet any longer

“You know,” You started “Jake’s really good at what he does best, even if it’s at soccer.” You gulped your nerves down as you continued. “If there’s something my parents never did was interfere in my future. They never once told me I should follow this or that, never. Because nothing was more important than them seeing me do something that makes me happy. If soccer is what he loves doing, then why not let him do that? I don’t know a thing about soccer or sports but if he’s known in almost every national university’s soccer team then he must be damn good at what he does. So why not support him in that? Even if it goes bad for him, which I must say I doubt, he’s going to graduate so there’s always a plan b. Have you ever considered your son’s happiness? I genuinely don’t intend to be disrespectful to you or your company, but is your business more important than your son? You have a son working in that field so why not make him take over it instead of Jake, who clearly doesn’t want to do it?”

You looked at Jake, seeing him look at you with tears pooling in his eyes, making your own eyes water. “Jake deserves nothing but to be happy. If you only could see how much he’s done then maybe you would love him a bit more.” You got up from your chair, the scraping sound made you slightly hiss. Jake understood what you were doing and did the same. “I’m so sorry about this, but I just can’t stand you seeing talk so low of your son. I hope you can reflect a little bit. Again, I’m sorry.” You turned to leave, Jake following behind you.

When the front door shut close, Jake instantly broke down, throwing himself in your embrace. His body shook with broken cries, making you screw your eyes shut as you tried to stop your tears. You held him tightly, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. “It’s alright now.” you said in a whisper, your hand coming up to tangle itself in his hair. When his cries died out Jake pulled out of your arms, looking at you. His hands cradled your face, as his eyes scanned your features. He smiled at you, making you mirror his expression. He leaned down as he pecked your lips and your hands came up to hold his that were holding your face. “I’m sorry for, you know, causing all that. I just couldn’t not do anything.” You said looking down. “Hey, don’t apologize. Thank you for that, really.” he said letting out a breath. “It’s better you saying that than me having another screaming match with my father.” He smiled sadly.

“I didn’t know you liked me that much, though.” He joked trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, c’mon Jake, seriously.” You said groaning at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He said laughing. “Y’know, I like you that much too.” You felt shy under his gaze, suddenly not able to look in his eyes. “Do you really?” You asked as you kicked tiny rocks on the floor. “Yes, silly. Of course I do…” Jake tensed “Even more than liking, actually.” You looked up at him when he said that, seeing him biting his lips nervously. “What?” You asked, surprised as you felt your heart race. “I- sorry I shouldn’t-” “Jake.” You cut him off, laughing at him. He stared at you wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed and his ears red.

You threw your arms over his shoulder, making a slight force to pull him closer. You smiled up at him. “I love you.” Jake almost choked in his own spit, not expecting to hear those words coming out of your mouth. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to say something. He took a deep breath and put his hands on your waist, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again, about to have his first kiss. He leaned in to kiss you, moving his head to the side to deepen it. Both of your lips moving on their own as you shared a passionate kiss. Jake pulled away before he could go further, his forehead resting against yours as he giggled, making you laugh at his behaviour. “I love you too princess.” He finally said, “So much.” He pecked your lips again, and again, and again until you pushed his chest as you laughed at him. He grinned at you, as he grabbed your hand in his. “Let’s go?” He asked and you nodded at him. You both got in the car, ready to go home as some soft tunes played from to radio.

Jake had been trying to make his house a home for a long time, but maybe home was where you were.

[tc-doherty]

TC's Practical Writing Tips

Like I said before, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I can teach anyone how to write – that's a level of hubris even I'm not capable of –but in honor of my rapidly approaching ~quarter century of writing original fiction anniversary~, I did figure I would share the tips that I live by when it comes to the act of writing.

So without further ado:

Write it now, fix it later

2. It is always permissible – and usually enjoyable – to write the stupidest possible version

3. "Inspiration" is great for poets, but poison for people who write prose

3.1: if you want to write often, you need to write often, and then you will find that you don't need to be "inspired" because you will have made a habit of it and it will come naturally 3.2: even one sentence a day is still one sentence a day. And even one sentence a week is still one sentence a week. It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop 3.3: believing in the concept that you need to be inspired to write will trap you into believing in the concept of writer's block 3.4: if you are having difficulty getting out words that satisfy you, lower your standards and keep writing (see point one)

4. A few months down the line you will not remember which words came easily and which words did not

5. It is always permissible to set a project aside for now, or forever, if you need a break

6. Read widely and often, both in your favorite genres and outside of them

6.1: pay special attention to both things that you love and things that you hate - study them, engage with them, learn what makes yourself tick and your writing can only get stronger

7. Never write for the lowest common denominator, via wise words I once heard: "if you open the window and make love to the world, your story will get pneumonia", have an audience in mind and the people who like what you write will find it

8. Never write for the bad faith critic, those people will always exist and you will need to deal with them at some point if you put your writing in the world, but they don't matter and you cannot live in fear of them

9. It's fine and normal to want engagement and praise, however you must find a way to make the act of writing joyful in and of itself – make the praise the cherry on top, not the entire sunday

9.1: writing is hard work, and it's a lot of work, if you lose the ability to enjoy the journey and are proceeding only for external rewards from others, you will gradually write less and less if the ratio of work to rewards is unsatisfying

10. For anything other than final copy editing, always write a new draft into a new document, or else the words you have already written will trap you from being able to make large, sweeping changes

10.1: any change you make will invariably snowball, and you must give space for that snowball to roll

11. If someone tells you that something doesn't work for them, believe them, because people know what they like. But if people try to tell you what to do to fix it, take that with an entire serving of salt because you are the author, not them

12. It is always morally correct to look at a critique that you received, even if you asked for opinions via beta reading, and decide that it's bullshit and doesn't apply to you

13. "write what you know" means "write what you're interested in"

14. "Show don't tell" applies to screenwriting, not novels. This is the thing that drives me the most insane every time I see it. Novels are words on a page, not images on a screen. They require a lot of telling. Not all telling, but a lot of telling. Become comfortable with that.

15. It is always, ALWAYS acceptable to use "said", do not listen to the lies of others

16. Have fun, do it out of love and you will never go astray

17. Become comfortable with who you are. Your work is always going to be yours and it is always going to sound like you wrote it, and this is a good thing! No one else is ever going to write exactly like you, and you should be proud of that

17.1: the concept of "originality" is vastly overrated, every culture has some version of Cinderella and we still love it. Your writing is yours because you wrote it, and it will always be unique because of that

[shuaflix]

driving lessons for dummies (preview)

PAIRING ▸ kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor (i am bringing back romcoms), smut, strangers to lovers au, college au (WHO GUESSED IT)

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, so much pining, mc has the worst luck imaginable, soonyoung is down horrendous, he is also an olivia rodrigo stan, there is a minor car crash, there is also a very minor description of blood, almost car sex at some point, probably sex that is not in a motor vehicle at some other point if plot allows, pet names (but not in the sexy genre sorry), friend group shenanigans (ft. mingyu, seungcheol, jihoon, junhui) bc im a my little pony friendship is magic type bitch, and other warnings tba bc i haven't finished writing

SUMMARY ▸ you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

RELEASE DATE ▸ out now!

WORD COUNT ▸ around 12k (hopefully......)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i was actually very on the fence about who this fic should be for at first, but...... it was destined to be for hoshi :') also this preview is kinda short because there's so much i don't want to spoil! anywho send an ask or comment to be added to the tag list !! ♡

KWON SOONYOUNG.

Junhui sent you his number after he dropped you off at your apartment. Apparently, Soonyoung was one of his good friends, who also happened to have a side gig where he gave out driving lessons at a discounted price. Of course, the downside was that Soonyoung wasn’t exactly certified to teach people how to drive, but he was allegedly a good driver.

His lessons were normally for high schoolers, and he charged their parents around a hundred. For adults over the age of 21, though, he had a special offer that you couldn’t resist. 

You texted him to ask if he had any open spots for you. He took a few days to reply, but you eventually got a two-hour slot for the next week. You weren’t sure how effective his lessons would be, but you figured you would give it a shot since he was your age and giving out classes for cheap. 

When the day of your lessons rolled around, you were slightly anxious while you were waiting for him to arrive. You needed Junhui to reassure you for hours last night, promising that no, Soonyoung was not going to kidnap and murder you. He was a student at your university, actually, and he was a public health major who never had a murderous thought in his life.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’m outside your house 

Okay, if he wasn’t a murderer, then the least he could do was not text you like one.  

After replying with an omw that autocorrected to On my way! and left you feeling very distressed that your communication sounded overly-enthusiastic, you worked up the courage to walk outside to his Honda Accord. 

“Hi,” you greeted shyly when you opened the door. “You’re Soonyoung, right?” 

Honestly, you didn’t care if he was Soonyoung or not. The man sitting in the driver’s seat was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. Even if he wasn’t Kwon Soonyoung, you would happily let him kidnap you. Maybe you’d even blush a little because he picked you of all people to kidnap. 

He turned to look at you, seeming a little surprised that you opened the door but smiling nevertheless. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?” 

When you nodded, he got out of the driver’s seat and motioned for you to take it. You skirted around the car to sit inside while Soonyoung took the passenger’s seat. 

You also got a glance of his off-brand, beige Fear of God Essentials sweater that read M.I.L.F. Hunter instead. Classy. 

“So, you came to me because you didn’t wanna give up your semester’s worth of college tuition for driving lessons,” Soonyoung said with an overwhelming air of confidence. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You huffed. “Here, I heard this was your payment.”

You handed him a paper bag, not bothering to take out the receipt from the dispensary. Inside was the King Louis XIII STIIZY pod. One gram. 

“Ah, good. You know your stuff.”

Soonyoung hummed as he examined the box, and you were just wondering when he would get to business and start showing you the controls in his car. You were slightly overwhelmed by his impressively relaxed demeanor. Maybe it would have been better if you settled for an uptight woman in her sixties. Pretty boys were always trouble. 

“You made the right choice coming to me. I’m a much better driver than those hags from the driving schools around here,” he continued. It was like he could read your mind; it was almost terrifying. “Plus, way less likely that I’ll get a heart attack in the passenger’s seat.” 

He was a total weirdo, but he was hot, so you supposed it canceled out in some obscure, mathematical sense. 

"That’s… good to hear, I think,” you replied. “So, are you, like, good at this?”

“Are you kidding? I’m basically the Lebron of driving.”

“I see.” You nodded along, unsure. “I don’t watch football, so…” 

“He plays basketball, but close enough.”

[ouroborosorder]

Guide Ahead Means Something To Me

Writing about Guide Ahead is…. extremely difficult, for a few reasons. One is that it is a very dense story, and to fully unpack it would require an essay so unfocused that it would be functionally unreadable. But the biggest one is that Guide Ahead is a story that focuses really heavily on the subjective nature of interpretation. How can I speak authoritatively on the thematic meaning of the plot when even a basic description of its events demands a deeper poetic interpretation?

The answer is “I can’t.” So, let’s piss off my English teacher, and coat an entire essay in the phrase “in my opinion.” Because I have to get personal if I’m going to tell you why Guide Ahead is my favorite video game story ever told.

I was raised Mormon. My mother was religious, but my father was absolutely not. You can understand why I related to Cecilia basically immediately.

Ultimately, the thing that draws me to Guide Ahead is the very thing that makes it hard to write about. Guide Ahead is, in my reading, a story about the subjectivity of divine meaning.

The most obvious manifestation, and the most important, is Law. But, Law’s execution, in traditional Arknights fashion, is kinda unclear, so I’ll recap for those who have hobbies outside of this, unlike me.

Law is the supercomputer buried underneath Laterano, and is the sentient religion that binds all the Sankta together into a hivemind of sorts. The Sankta are actually just Sarkaz connected to Law, given halos, wings, and empathic communication between each other. But, the main thing they gain, is a biological impulse to obey the Lateran religion’s thirteen doctrines. Anyone who breaks these doctrines are marked as Fallen, are cut off from the empathic connection, and slowly revert back to Sarkaz. Law represents religion as a concept and a community. Saints and sinners are just one and the same. But despite that, the laws of religion are created just to perpetuate the existence of a special in-group. One enforced by empathic connection they cannot share with anyone outside of them. That is Patia’s point - the Sankta have created an “us” and a “them,” and even the devout Liberi are not seen as “us.” They’re just converts, not real Sankta.

But, Falling has… weird grey areas. Like how Andoain was able to shoot Lemuen, or draw his gun on the fucking Pope, and not Fall in the process. This is because the doctrines are not actually the guidelines they’re held to. The Doctrines are subjective interpretations of the objective Law that they are all beholden to. That Law being “It must survive.” Law only is interested in the perpetuation of Itself, and, as a result, the continued existence of the Sankta as a societal structure.

This is the first and strongest example of what I mean when I say Guide Ahead is about meaning. Law says that the failure of religion is ultimately that religions supplant any subjective meanings with an “objective” meaning. But this “objective” meaning is just another person’s interpretation of the in-group’s best interest. Laws biologically programmed into the Sankta’s souls are revealed to be nothing but interpretation of Law’s interpretation of events.

People Fall not because they have broken a concrete law, but because Law… because the in-group has decided they did. Or when they broke the rules, they did something that’s good for the church. There is no objective laws within the Lateran religion, no matter what the machine is named. The system just declares sin when it deems worthy, and absolution when sin is a benefit.

It is this very hypocrisy that drives Andoain.

——————————————————————————————————

I remember being pulled aside at church one day. Everyone above 14 was given a sermon about the recent legalization of gay marriage. He said it was wrong, the church would never accept it. I asked him if it was like the time the church refused to give black people the Priesthood. He said this was different. I asked him how. He did not answer. I left and someone followed me out. He asked if I was okay. I told him whatever he was saying in there was not the teachings of any god that I know, and wasn’t the teachings of any god that loves me. I kept going to church after that, but deep down, I think I didn’t believe in it anymore. I didn’t feel like part of the community, I lost that reciprocation with my people. I just… began to think.

Andoain, as an antagonist, is defined by a search for meaning. He was the bishop of an Iberian church, and Iberia is doing pretty bad lately. His request for aid from Laterano was denied, and the message was clear to him. “You are one of us, but they are not.” But that answer just created a new question. Why? Why would those who claim faith and utopia as their ideals reject those who are suffering?

He searched for an answer in exile, and he didn’t find one. Instead, he found another story. The Sarkaz man who died in the watchtower to warn a town who hated him of an invading force. And this story made his question develop. Why would someone who is hated by everyone give their life to protect those very people? And why would those people then cry over the grave of someone they hated?

He had seen the realities of the Sarkaz and Sankta laid bare, but he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it. He tells Cecilia these stories, knowing full well he doesn’t know what to make of them. I think he tells them to hope he finds the point partway through.

——————————————————————————————————

As much as I hate the Mormon church for dear god everything they’ve ever done holy shit look at them? My feelings are predictably complicated. Years later, my family fell upon hard times. I don’t want to say more than that for my own sake. We were struggling to even live. But… the church helped us. None of us gone to church for years, but they offered a hand. They gave us access to the Bishop’s Storehouse, gave us food and supplies for free, because we were starving. 

And yes, I know. I know they do this in an attempt at creating a false brotherhood in an effort to create a fascist sense of community. I have also read that part of Brothers Karamazov. I have also read Guide Ahead, come to think of it. But… Shit. Most of them tried to pretend we didn’t exist when we met them in the grocery store. And… they still helped us. In their eyes, I was Fallen.

But still, they saved us, and didn’t even ask for faith in return. I still can’t figure out why.

This is why I just… can’t see Andoain as a villain. I mean, yeah, he shot Lemuen, but even she doesn’t blame him for shooting his friends while holding the Stick That Makes You Shoot Your Friends. His entire goal is an attempt to sort through the cognitive dissonance between what the church tells him and what the church does. A dissonance that is, because of Law and the doctrines, innate to what the church is. An experience that should feel damn familiar to anyone who has spent time as an apostate. His plan is to simply confront the Pope about this hypocrisy, to get an answer, to find a meaning.

The answer he gets back is… It Must Survive. Law must survive. The in-group must survive. It doesn’t matter if we cry over the grave of the Sarkaz, because the Sarkaz would die for us. He searched for the answer to a question, the meaning of a statement. You are one of us. They are not. All this time, he searched for the meaning of those words, but in reality, those words were the meaning. That was all they ever had to say. He just needed to accept that.

…but if the in-group is all that mattered… why allow Mostima in Laterano? Why give her her position? She’s not needed for the survival of the in-group, the Law has deemed her an exile.

And… Why not Andoain?

Before he leaves, his gun is taken from him. A gun that, according to the church, has meaning. A meaning he takes as truth. He believes a part of him is left behind there. I don’t think he realizes it, but Mostima and Fiammetta are the question he left behind. They are Not Sankta, but yet they are accepted. And… I don’t know if there is a meaning to that. I still can’t figure out why.

——————————————————————————————————

For a long time, I missed those days spent in the community I had left. I would remember the things I left behind. The churchball basketball games we were destined to lose. The conversations held on the roof of the storage building behind the church. The scouting activities that were clearly an excuse to go bowling. The shitty halloween parties with the game where you ate donuts tied to a string hanging from a fishing pole. I missed it, for a time. I couldn’t help but look back.

Cecilia is searching for meaning to almost everything. When Andoain tells his stories to Cecilia, he tells her that he can’t find the meaning of them. That if there is meaning to be found, she’ll have to find it herself. So. She does.

Cecilia was faced with the same situation Andoain was obsessed with. But for her, it wasn’t hypothetical. She existed between Us and Them. She felt the pull between the community and the love and fun they represent, and the outsiders who were hated and rejected by the people around her. Society told her the meaning of her dual identity, the meaning behind each half, and then told her to choose. But… she’d experienced otherwise. She’d felt the kindness of the Sarkaz from the Pathfinders, and the hatred from the Church. She’d felt things that contradicted the meaning that she was told was true.

Her story isn’t just being forced to pick a side between the church or apostacy, it’s being forced to pick what meaning she ascribes to the world. Ultimately, that’s why her answer can only be her own. Your belief is… subjective.

And she answered… with a bell. A Sarkaz girl, bearing a halo, ringing a bell that has not been rung since the Sankta were still called Teekaz. A bell that once marked the beginning of the new era. A bell that carries the weight of a Sarkaz, hated by the place they called home. A bell that rings with the melody of a Sarkaz lullaby once sung by a Sankta. A bell that asserts her answer. She’s not Sarkaz, she’s not Sankta. She is Cecilia.

Everyone else finds their own subjective meaning within that action. Something as mundane as the ringing of the bell suddenly has more meaning than divine scripture.

No one else understood the nuance of what she said, but they understood parts of it. They understood what they wanted to. Those who know nothing of Lateran culture understand it as just… a beautiful welcome, celebrating the arrival of talks of peace. Most have their meaning determined by the church’s traditions. The pious see it as the beginning of a new era, whatever that signals to them. To the Church, it is that their talks will bring about a new era of peace. To the Pathfinders, it is a signal to begin their attack on Laterano to begin their new era.

There is so much meaning in that action, but in the end, it’s still just a fucking bell. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in Laterano. But this bell meant something more than the other bells. This bell had meaning, and that meaning made it divine.

This, to me, is what Guide Ahead has to say. That there is so much meaning to be found in something as mundane as a ringing bell. Within such a simple action, there is personal expression, liberation, the sound of change. And in all of this, there is the echoes of divinity, the echoes of faith, as if all of these things are, in themselves, divine.

——————————————————————————————————

When I left the church, I couldn’t help but look back, still tethered to a community who hated me. I think I wished I could stop looking back. I don't know if I realized I was.

In the end, everyone else looks back. They still have meaning to be found in Laterano. Andoain looks back, a part of his soul anchored there by the symbol he was told to believe in. Mostima looks back, knowing she’ll return just as she always does. Fiammetta looks back, because she refuses to let herself leave. Ezell looks back, unsure if he will be able to return home after what he has found.

But… Cecilia doesn’t. She has decided that she is not defined by the church, or the meaning they try to give her. She has decided to leave Laterano and see the world outside of it, to explore the world around her and find the meaning for herself.

And the last thing Cecilia does is... defined by ambiguous meaning. She sees Andoain walking in the sunset - and a word appears to her. The title of Martyr. A title she doesn’t understand the meaning or weight of, but that she feels is appropriate regardless. A title that, to other people, would mean something more. But to her, brings to mind the saints she heard of as a youth, a word her mother told her was important.

The story is ending, and they end it with an assertion. Cecilia is finding meaning, and others will find what they will within. Perhaps even she doesn't know all of it.

A while back, during a theater rehearsal, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had years before I left the church. I remembered speaking with my friends outside of the chapel after a sunday service. My friend said a sentence that has stuck with me ever since. “I don’t think science goes against God. I think God uses science and math. I think those things are holy, because they’re… what everything is made of.”

I remember looking around the rehearsal space and thinking that if science could be sacred, then… so is this moment, now. So is my time spent with the people I love. This is sacred. What I missed, what kept me looking back. It wasn’t the actual religion, but instead… just belonging to something. So… I stopped looking back. In that moment, however fleeting it was, I had found whatever it was I needed.

—————————————————————————————————

Look. You probably had a different interpretation of Guide Ahead. This story is just… So goddamn dense. There is so much there that I didn’t even touch on. For the love of god, I just did an analysis of Guide Ahead and didn’t even really discuss Fiammetta?? What kind of hack writer am I? (I just… couldn’t talk about her without being more personal than I am willing to be in public.)

If you have an interpretation that is different than mine, that’s great. I encourage you to hold on to it, and hold it close. That meaning is yours, and yours alone, and that’s a precious thing.

Because to me, what I found… is that very idea.

There is meaning to be found in anything - and a meaning that is yours, and yours alone. All you have to do is find meaning. and the idea that there is meaning to the world, that everything has meaning not because there is a “true” meaning to it, but because we find one there, because we put one there… that makes everything feel… divine, to me.

So… wherever you find meaning, you can find the divine.

You can find divinity in a ringing bell. In a terrible cactus tart. A carnival game you know how to beat. The promises of peace around a table. A cup of coffee. A city you hate. A community you love. A flower growing near a grave. A weapon you carry. A people you surround yourself with.

Those are all… holy to me.

And to me… that meaning is enough.

I hope yours is for you.

[violetasteracademic]

On Being a Published Writer: Without a Degree

This is a bit of a vulnerable share today, and I am writing it after a sleepless night, the monster of anxiety and shame weighing heavily on my chest. However, I have come far in life and undergone an incredible amount of healing, and refuse to be ashamed of my past. I hope sharing this can help even one person like me remember that when it comes to craft, when it comes to art, the only thing stopping you from being worthy is you.

This year, I became a published writer. After years of hard work and dedication to my craft, I finally felt good enough to begin submitting my work to literary magazines. I'm proud of that accomplishment. It's a little tag I get to add to my bio now as I submit work that helps make me feel *valid.* But that quickly, all it takes is for someone to remind me that I did not have access to a degree, that I did not learn from the best, and I will spend the rest of my life without a formal education behind my writing, and they achieve the goal they set out: to make me feel less than for not having their background.

In America, the education system is for profit and public school system inconsistent. There are many factors that can contribute to whether or not a person gets through it successfully, and it often has little to do with intelligence, work ethic, or strength of character and drive before the age of 18.

So here is my story:

I graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA.

My first hospitalization (out of the 17 I would have in my life) for edometriomas happened at age 15. I spent the majority of high school struggling with chronic pain, stage four endometriosis and the accompanying endometriomas cysts, and illness. By age 16, social services was threatened by my school to be called on my home for suspected neglect and abuse. I moved out of my house that year, and was given temporary guardianship by a friends family.

By the end of my senior year, I continued to bounce around between friends houses, sometimes sleeping in my car, and struggled to keep on top of my coursework. I was enrolled in the work study program designed for students who had to keep a job during their high school years, and earned school credits for staying employed.

Despite all of this, I still maintained high grades in Advance Placement literature and language, proceeded to get 5's on my AP tests (a perfect score, and a rare accomplishment) as well as near perfect scores on my ACT's. I spent every spare second reading and writing from the moment I learned how. My intelligence and comprehension were not the issue. My health and my home life were.

The only reason I got into college at all was because I decided to audition for a school play freshman year. Much to my surprise, I was cast in the lead role, and thus the course of my life was set. I poured everything I had into acting, I finally had a purpose and something to keep me out of having to go home after school. Still, applying for colleges was one of the most stressful and shame inducing experiences of my life. I got into many top performance programs in the country, then would not get into the university itself with my GPA. The conservatories that did not look into school performance did not provide the financial assistance required for me to attend.

There was one university that offered limited talent admissions that would allow the university admission requirements to be overlooked for students that had displayed exceptional talent in their specialized field of study. I had to put together a request for the school board, complete with letters from my high school teachers providing context for my low GPA paired with high test scores, character assessments on my likely ability to maintain the minimum required GPA in college, as well as a letter from the head of the performing arts department of the university stating that I was worthy of this talent exception. The wait was unbearable. But I was accepted. And I was approved for the work study program that allowed me to gain employment at the university to help offset the cost.

I felt like my whole life had changed in college. I had gotten in. I had gotten out. I was a new person, no one knowing about my past or the stain of my struggles. I had a fresh start. While I continued to battle my illness throughout college, it was manageable with a consistent bed to sleep in every night, as well as access to physical and mental health services. And although I tested out of being required to take any English classes with AP, I still filled my elective credits with writing classes. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, creative writing. Performing became my work, and writing became my joy. I took every class that sounded remotely interesting, often filling my schedule more than required on top of my work and performance load.

I am withholding some of the more personal details of my life, but when I finally moved out to LA, I hit the ground running. I accomplished more in a few years than fellow artists and performers who had been out there for more than a decade. And I valued every person I met. I was in small, independent theatre shows with Juliard grads. I was on professional sets with wildly naturally talented people working to get their GED with no formal education but that undeniable *it* factor. People from all walks of life set out for the Angel City to make it, and I was one of them. I also began writing again, this time short films and audition monologues. I began writing pieces for friends and classmates at their request. I secured my first talent agent with a performance piece that I wrote, along with an offer to renegotiate my contract to include literary representation should I complete a script worth shopping. I began to organize applications for writing fellowships at top studios, when my condition became so severe the only option to move forward with my life was surgery. And then my life completely changed again.

I came out of that surgery with nerve damage that left me unable to walk for six months, as well as developed a new permanent nervous system disorder.

My career and my life never recovered. I was permanently changed. However, during that time, I turned one of my sci-fi short films I had written into a 160k word novel, with outlines for a trilogy. While it was one of the darkest times of my life, writing got me through it. I moved out of Los Angeles to a more affordable city and threw myself into writing. I learned that ivy league schools like Stanford, Harvard, and Yale shared their syllabi for continued study coursework online, including the required textbooks for the courses. Example here. I took myself through the textbooks and coursework of top schools, I took every local workshop possible when it was in budget. Any education on craft that was within my means, I reached for.

I will never be able to change the course of my life. I will likely never be able to go back to school. However, this amazing video by Bandon Sanderson helped me overcome my shame, my lack of access to returning to higher education when my life and career were irrevocably changed: Be Anything But an English Major

I had already done what he had encouraged, pick a subject I was passionate about, fill my college coursework with things I found interesting, and let it inform my writing. While this is not to disrespect or degrade English majors or say successful authors think the degree is worthless, I am simply sharing to say this video helped ME combat against English majors who made me feel worthless for not having access to their diploma.

So to anyone feeling insecure today, you do not need a degree in the arts. Whether you want to be an author, an actor, a painter, a fashion designer, a poet. And I say this as someone whose greatest privilege and joy in life was getting a performing arts degree.

We must continue to prioritize art being accessible, value diverse backgrounds, and wish for it to be open and available to all. We must continue to treat art as subjective, and reject ideals that learning from a certain set of paid individuals makes all other opinions, choices, or ideas invalid.

There is no dollar amount I could give to a piece of paper that would make my mind, my intelligence, and my ability to organize and understand words in an impactful way that would make me more valid than I am today. There is no degree that could replace my work ethic, my empathy, my desire to write stories to do good. To give something to the world and help people survive in the ways that I had needed to survive.

Maybe I'll tell this story again one day, and it will help another young person with my background believe there may be more in life than the cards they were dealt. Maybe this will be the first and last time sharing these words. Maybe I'll never get another piece published, but will continue to write fanfic and poetry and prose pieces to share on the internet for free because I believe in my heart it is valuable. To look at myself, and my work, and deem myself worthy of my efforts and passion.

I am proud to be a member of the community of published writers without a degree.

I am even more proud to be a member of online fandoms full of writers, artists, creators, contributors and more who give their free time and energy towards something that does nothing more than make others happy.

So,

to the people who look at the stars and wish.

to the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered,

this one is for you.

[awoogayanderes]

CHAPTER ONE : LET THE SHOW BEGIN

➪ sypnosis : you start to trust the process that has been laid out for you, beginning with nine cards.

➪ warnings : mention of sex work, very small mention of starving if you squint, small mention of death

➪ other notes : just a repetition statement from the prologue - the lower numbers of 1-5 are all the same but y/n is 6, so actual 6 in the show will be 8, and the 8 in the show will now be 9, 7 stays as 7, i hope that makes sense, anyways back to the story !! ALSO, i’m mainly writing this for myself BECAUSE THERES NO FICS ABOUT IT, but i also wanna share my imagination with other people :3

➪ prologue | chapter one

the drive felt almost eerie, your leg lightly bounced as time went on. the driver hadn’t spoken a single word, not that you could see them through the panel of blackout glass between you two. your stomach churned, from hunger and from nervousness. maybe you were walking right into sex trafficking rink ? you had no weapons on you, not even a pocket knife but you had some type of concept of self defense you were taught when you were younger.

that’s when the limousine came to a sudden stop. a second later, the door on your side opened by itself once again. from what you could see, it was some type of warehouse…? maybe an old factory ? now you were confident you were going to be prostituted. regardless, you got out of the limousine, a red carpet awaiting you. slowly, you walked inside.

a theatre ? now you were extremely confused, there was no one in the seats, yet the stage was bright with overwhelming lights, a single small table in the middle of it. you walked up to the table, there were nine cards with the range from one to nine. beside it was a red envelope…and 20 million won on the other side. you opened the envelope, and read the contents.

“hello, and welcome to the 8 show. this show doesn't require any skills or previously acquired knowledge. all that we ask of you is the time you were willing to throw away.” what the hell was this ? “all necessary food and accommodations will be provided to participants, and the available prize money will accumulate as time passes.” so the more time spent, the more money, after all, time is money.

“when the allotted time is over, the show will end itself automatically. in the case that any participant expires during the process, the show will immediately come to an end then, regardless of how much time may remain.” expires…? that was more morbid than you’d like to admit. “therefore, we ask that you pay special attention to your safety. if you do not wish to participate, please take the cab fare from the table and exit the premises.” your eyes turned to the 20 million won, contemplating it.

“however, if you do wish to continue with the show, please select one of the numbered cards. you may then step into and through the drapes,” your eyes flickered back to the cards. all nine cards were there. that meant that no one else had been here right ? or did it mean that every other person had the same options as you when they came in ? were there even other people who were going to participate ?!

you looked around, yet you couldn’t see anyone in sight, then there has to be cameras right ? obviously, if not, then anyone would just come in and take the money and leave, who wouldn’t ? well, apparently you. fuck it, you’ve gotten this far, it’s probably better than death, you try to reason with yourself as you look at the cards again. they mean something, they have to or what would the point be.

the median of one through nine is five, right in the center. you hover your hand over the five card. but higher could be better, switching your hand to nine. but isn’t one a good option too ?you could get an advantage as one, you’ve seen it in game shows before ! your shaky bandaged fingers pick up the one card. you held it for a few seconds before your eyes flickered to another card at the bottom left.

six. just above average. just above middle ground. just above middle class, like your family was when you were little. you dropped the one card, picking up the six, now a bit more confident with your choice. “this better not be a prank…” you mumbled to no one in particular. you walked into the red curtains behind you, it led you to an area of darkness with only a few stairs being illuminated in front of you.

when you climbed the stairs, your lips slightly parted in shock. it looked almost like…an apartment complex…? nine different rooms, so that’s what the cards meant, you knew they were significant. the common area, if you could call it that included an artificial pool, a playground, a merry go round, and what looked like an ice cream and hot dog street vendor…? the rest was just open space.

overwhelmed by the bright colors, you marched your way to the sixth floor, sliding your card on the door lock reader, it almost felt like a hotel. the room was completely empty and dark. you sighed, at least it was pretty spacious. you could get used to a place like this, it was comfortable in an odd way, just four walls and you, everything was fine after all, you’d be fine, you were at peace with the silence.

[wormlette]

smaller than everyone chilchuck being understood by autistic laios. is this anything. (i am small and autistic and felt deeply represented by your post)

Oh my god I spent so long writing a FUCKING RESPONSE and tumblr deleted it kill me. ANYWAY “is this anything” friend this is everything. 🤝

I think the two of them are uniquely able to understand each other bcuz in summary, the things they are both most vulnerable and affected by, the things that have probably damaged their lives most, are things they cannot conceal from others. Laios’ autism and Chilchuck’s size. There’s VERY good discussions on whether Chil is totally normal, autistic but very good at masking, somewhere inbetween, or even whether he’s cis, and those would all INFORM this conversation but whichever way you read him, he is socially aware enough to see that Laios is NOT. And it drives him crazy and he is constantly frustrated and trying to teach him to be more aware of himself as the party leader and just “be more normal”. In my opinion this is because Chil KNOWS how much it hurts to live with a part of yourself you can’t control that makes it hard to make your way through the world — in his own way, he is trying to take care of Laios. This may be both for selfish (he wants a good stable party and that requires a good socially savvy party leader) and selfless (chilaios…) reasons, but either way. It’s essentially just there in the text To Me.

Chilchuck is probably extra frustrated because, at least as he seems to see it, Laios COULD choose to shave off those rough edges of himself and “pass” as respectable/“normal”. (Another reason I kinda think Chil has his own autism thing happening. In my experience, shamefully, I’ve been least patient with people who I see as like me but they just haven’t figured out how to stop the world from hurting them like I have.) (I imagine chil often thinks things like. why don’t you just change. Don’t you see how much easier it would be for you. Don’t you see how much you’re letting the world hurt you. Don’t you know what that will do to you, over time.) meanwhile Chilchuck cannot stop the rest of the world from seeing him as either childLIKE or just straight up a tall-man kid. No matter how professional he is or how scathingly he can insult people or how much he can drink — he can’t stop what people SEE when they LOOK at him (this also makes him a great trans character To Me). I think Laios knows exactly how this feels. He’s not seen as a kid, so it’s not exactly the same. But despite having everything Chilchuck would like to have (tall, looks manly, socially respectable in appearances)… Laios is never going to pass as normal once people get to know him. He ISN’T socially aware. He CAN’T pretend to be someone else anymore, not once the story starts.

So autistic Laios keeps bumbling through social situations that make people want to fucking hunt him for sport. He can’t say the right things, and when he has tried to be himself, we can assume it’s been very poorly received in the past, both when dungeoneering and prior as a little kid. When he’s not being manic about his monster special interest he seems to constantly be doing an Autism Stare that serves to keep people away from him and his sister.

The fact that Chil and Laios both, to some degree, can’t hide what they hate most about themselves, makes them uniquely able to understand each other. And treat each other with sympathy/empathy underneath it all. Laios is the one out of their party who most treats Chilchuck as an adult with agency (understands the stress of his work, defends him, lets him steer situations, listens to his advice, never demeans him or gives any indication he thinks he’s a child altho he did assume Chil is younger than him). If the daydream hour extras that give rough indications of who joined the party when are canon, Chilchuck is the party member who’s been with the party the longest, almost since Falin and Laios founded it, despite thinking of Laios as “the party leader comma I GUESS”. He keeps trying to beat lessons about leading parties into Laios’ head despite many ppl around him considering him a lost cause. As I’ve said in other posts…. He could probably just fucking walk out at any time and either retire or get a different party, and we know Chil has no problem hitting da bricks, but he doesn’t.

The things about themselves that make them most able to relate to each other are also the things that sometimes make them grate against each other (Chil berating Laios in the way only a guy with a major complex can and Laios pouting about it lmao. Laios continuing to be a big cute socially inept dummy anyways.) BUT THAT’S LOVE, BABEY!!!

[dreamcatchers-husband]

Celebration

Male Reader X Dreamcatcher Gaheyon

Length: 2200+

Tags: creampie, quckie

A tiny follow up to my NNN fic. You can read it here if you haven't before. Happy 1 year smut writing anniversary to me.

What would be a cause for celebration? Getting a raise? Getting a new car? There are so many things that can fall under that category but your entire company was in the building for one main reason. The celebration of your successful partnership with apple.

The launch of the new iPhone, combined with your camera technology shot profit margins up 16%. Getting a cut of the sales, it was simple to say how much richer you just got. With that money, you instantly booked a fancy caterer as well as unlimited drinks for your employees.

Everyone was in as you told them to come and just have a good time. That brought you to the main conference room, plenty of workers were piled in the room as well as you and the girls. As a camera pointed at your face, your mouth opened as you began to give a small speech. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to have brought you all here. I’m sure the offer of great food and unlimited food sounded horrible to you all.” 

A small chuckle left everyone’s mouth as you continued your speech. 

“As everyone knows, this partnership helped our company reach new heights as our profit margins reached new heights. With that success, Apple has decided to continue working with us in the long run. So In honor of that, everyone here will be getting a pay raise as a thank you for all your hard work.” 

Loud cheers could be heard all around after you said that. 

“All of this couldn't have been done without you all so drink, eat, and enjoy yourselves. Cars will be available to drive you home should you require one. Have fun.” 

With that said, the camera turned off and everyone clapped toward you. Once the clapping stopped, you found yourself surrounded by the girls. Dami immediately intertwined her hand with your own and kissed your cheek. 

“Congratulations Kangdae. I think I speak for all of the girls here that we are proud of you.” 

“No. I should be the one who is proud of all of you. If it wasn’t for Jiu, this deal wouldn't have happened. All the hard work you all put into it made this happen. I was just along for the ride.”

Jiu patted you on the back and rested her head on your shoulder. 

“Ok ok. Enough of saying who did what. If we continued, we would get nowhere so let’s all agree everyone worked hard ok?” 

With a nod, each of the girls picked up a glass of champagne and raised it. Following their example, you did the same. 

“To Go Tech.” 

“TO GO TECH!”

As you all downed the glasses of alcohol, Yoohyeon looked at all of you and smiled. 

“As good as that champagne was. I think we need something a little stronger. How about a nice scotch?” 

You already knew what Yoohyeon was asking for. A Certain bottle that had been in your office for a couple of years now, untouched.

“Yooh. I have been saving that bottle for a special occasion.” 

Handong rolled her eyes at you and then spoke. 

“I think this qualifies as a special occasion. We won’t finish it right now. Just let us all enjoy a glass.”

“Ok, what am I missing here? What bottle?” 

Siyeon, always the last one to pick up on things, looked at all of you confused. Sua chuckled and gave Siyeon a small smack on the head. 

“Kangdae has a bottle of 1928 Macallan. The anniversary malt just sitting in his office. You haven’t noticed it?” 

“No! Isn’t that a $300,000 bottle of whiskey?” 

“Yes, it is. Look, fine I will go grab it but please don’t finish it. I’ll be right back.” 

Leaving the conference room, you found yourself at the elevator scanning your key card to give you priority. As the elevator dinged, a small figure stood next to you and took hold of your hand. The petite hand that held your own was Gahyeon so you just walked into the metal machine and ordered the button to the top floor.

“They told me to keep you company since some people came to talk to them but no funny business.” 

“Of course. They want to try one of the most expensive bottles of scotch in the world.” 

A small frown was on the girl’s face as she looked up at you. That face of hers was always a weakness of yours so you ducked down a bit and gave the girl a small kiss on the lips. At that moment, the ding from the elevator returned as you reached the top floor. 

Walking out into the hallway, your legs brought you towards your office until you were face to face with the door. Pushing the wooden entry to the room, you made your way to the right wall and found your liquor bottles lined up. As your hand reached out for the brown bottle, your body was suddenly pushed. The sudden jerk on your body caused you to fall on the couch, looking up. 

A toothy smile filled your friend's face as she walked closer and closer to you. 

“Gahyeon. No funny business, remember?” 

“Yeah. This isn’t funny business. What’s so funny about me sitting on your lap?” 

Gahyeon did exactly that and sat down on your lap. The Chanel straps on her shoulders hit your eyes as they went farther down. Gahyeon had a gray skirt on, but in this position, it was very pushed up. Your eyes immediately noticed the uncovered fold on her lower half. 

Your mouth began to water as the young woman raised your eyes back up to hers. 

“Hey, Mister. No funny business remember?”

Gahyeon’s mocking tone was enough to anger you as you flipped your positions. Laying Gahyeon down on the couch, your hands pulled down on her skirt and exposed her lower half. Gahyeon didn’t even hesitate as she took off her blouse and bra. 

Gahyeon was no stranger to sex in your office, so the speed she took off her clothes was faster than what seemed humanly possible. Wrapping your arms around her thighs, you immediately dig into one of your favorite meals. Your tongue repeatedly flicked on her folds as the woman let out small moans. 

Bringing your hands to her folds, you opened her pussy and found the small nub which you knew would help you achieve what you want quickly. With each flick of your tongue on her clit, the more Gahyeon began to jolt around. Wanting to stimulate her more, you pushed one of your fingers into the woman's snatch. 

Just one finger was already a bit of a struggle but when you introduced another finger, Gahyeon’s yells got louder. The combined efforts of your fingers and tongue brought your friend closer and closer to her peak. A sudden squeeze was felt around your head as the girl wrapped her thighs around it. 

With each jump from her body, the faster you moved your appendages. Finally reaching her peak, Gahyeon yelled and squeezed your head as hard as she could with her thick thighs. A rush of fluids hit your tongue as you were quick to drink as much as you could.

Coming down from her high, Gahyeon loosened her grip on your head and panted for air. Cleaning your face of the remaining fluids, your hands took off your suit and other articles of clothing. Your cock twitched looking at the nude body of Gahyeon. When her eyes began to open once more, a smile filled her face as she saw your rod. 

Without hesitation, Gahyeon got up and kneeled as you sat back down on the couch. Getting closer to your rod, Gahyeon wrapped her delicate hands around cock and stroked it. Her eyes seemed hypnotized as she continued to move her hand up and down. 

“This cock of yours. I get amazed every time I see it. So what do you want me to do? Perhaps Kiss it?” 

Gahyeon did exactly that and gave the tip of your rod a small kiss. The girl was normally the first to jump on doing anything with your dick, but this was the first time she was teasing you. 

“No sweetie. You know what I want.” 

“And what would that be? Maybe my tits wrapped around them?” 

Bringing her chest up, her soft breast wrapped around your cock as the young woman began to move your length up and down between them. The soft skin from her boobs felt great as the girl just looked into your eyes. That dangerous smirk returned as she continued to play with you. 

You finally got angry enough that you took Gahyeon’s face in your hands and glared at her. 

“Suck my fucking cock you little whore. Get it ready for your pussy.” 

“Yes sir.” 

In an instant, the young woman put her lips on the tip of your cock and plunged her throat down on it. At first, the bops from her head are small ones until she gives you another smirk. Putting her hands on your legs, Gahyeon brought your entire length down on your rod. A bulge could almost be seen in Gahyeon’s throat as she swallowed your cock. 

Gahyeon’s sucks began to speed up as you put your hand on top of her head. As you continued to guide her mouth down your length, Gahyeon suddenly stopped and pulled her lips off your cock. A grunt left your mouth as you gave Gahyeon an angry stare. 

“Daddy. You said to get it wet so you can fuck my pussy. I think it’s wet enough. Besides, you know you love my pussy more.” 

Gahyeon jumped back on top of your lap and lined her pussy up with your cock. A sudden plunge brought back into the familiar feeling of her snatch. Raising her hips, the young woman began to jump on your length. Putting your hands on her hips, you began to help her movements as she continued to fuck herself into your cock. 

“Fuck, daddy. I love your cock. No one else can fuck me like you.” 

A possessive nature took over as you grabbed Gahyeon’s face and made her look into your eyes.

“What do you mean no one else? Who have you been fucking beside me?”

“N-No one daddy. Just you.” 

“It sure sounds like you have been. I better not ever see you fucking another guy. You got that you fucking brat?” 

Putting your hand on her neck, the young woman began to look at you nervously as the hold on her neck tightened. Gahyeon’s pussy at that moment began to tighten around your cock as you continued to shove your length into her tunnel. Your speed increased as Gahyeon's eyes began to roll back. 

You let go of the grip a bit but Gahyeon pulled you closer and tightened the grip on your hand once more. Seeing she liked it, you did your best to choke her as safely as you can while the girl bounced. 

“I’M CUMMING.”

It was sudden but a rush of fluids shot from the girl's pussy as she began to jolt around like earlier. Gahyeon stopped bouncing as she laid her head on your chest. You knew that people were waiting for you so you decided to continue fucking her after a few seconds. 

“W-Wait daddy. I j-just came.” 

“Well, I didn’t you little whore.” 

Throwing Gahyeon back on the couch m. You brought her ass up and shoved your length back into her tunnel. With your hands, you pulled her upper body and put both of your hands on her breasts. Giving her nipples a few small pinches, you pistoned repeatedly into her snatch as the girl yelled. It’s a bit embarrassing as you can already feel your cock twitching but with all the strength you had left, you fucked her pussy as her hands moved all around. 

“I’M CUMMING AGAIN!”

Gahyeon gave you a slap to the face by accident but it somehow served as a catalyst for your peak to arrive. As your load shot deep into Gahyeon’s pussy, the young woman suddenly stopped moving as her pussy contracted around your rod. Gahyeon was milking you dry, and you were sure to give her all you had in your balls.

The strength in your body seemed to leave as you both lay down on top of the couch. As you both panted for air, the door to your office opened and the rest of the girls walked in on this scene. 

“You two really couldn’t wait?”

The judging tone from Dami made you look down in embarrassment as your girlfriend walked closer to the two of you. Staring the two of you up and down, Dami threw your clothes at the two of you and laughed. 

“It’s my day. Gahyeon you lost your day now and I get the rest of today. You better be ready, Kangdae. I’m going to make you so empty that you might cry.” 

All of the girls giggled at what she said to you as Gahyeon began to put her clothes back on. She rolled her eyes but nodded her head in agreement with what Dami said. 

You haven’t seen Dami give you a smirk like Gahyeon before. Should you be worried?

Guess only time will tell how you feel in the morning.

a/n- Thank you for reading. Thank you to anyone who enjoyed any of my works over this year. To be honest i have been debating if i should retire from smut writing and im still not sure but if i continue my work will just come out very slow. Thank you again.

[kimmiessimmies]

Personal post

This will probably be the most non-Sims related post I've put on this blog ever. I'll put most of it under a cut, so you can choose whether or not to read it. The thing is, I could use some advice. And asking strangers from all over the world advice on something important might be weird, but you are also my community, so I value your opinions. Don't worry, this isn't a "Kim being depressed" kinda post. 😉 It's a work thing.

Upfront: This post is about me being unhappy in my current well-paid job and my search for something that makes me happy. It might come across sounding a bit entitled, since I know there are many people who would be happy to have any job, just so they can pay their bills. I'm sorry if this post triggers that, and I know I'm privileged to even be in this situation. ❤️

TL/DR: Do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: Do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well?

Okay, here's the deal. Currently, I work in education. I've been teaching for 19 years, and for the last 3 years, I've held the position that best translates to special needs coordinator at the school where I've been all of my working life. In short, my job entails making sure the teachers have the tools they need to help all kids in their classes with special educational needs, to make sure each child ends up in the right form of education fitting their needs and dealing a lot with difficult or even alarming home situations. My job can be rewarding at times, and challenging at others. Aside from this, I've been part of the management team at my school for almost 8 years. I work at a big school. It wasn't big when I started there, but it's big now. I have a degree in Early Childhood Education, and that's also the age group I've always dealt with. It's the age group I've always taught, and it's the age group currently under my supervision in the position I'm now.

This past year, I've struggled with my mental health, as I've mentioned before, and have not been at work fully for a while. My therapist and I established that while work is "okay", it's also not bringing me joy anymore while my job was once the happiest and most passionate thing I did. Right now, it's blah. This position is not one that really suits me, yet I don't want to go back to teaching either. I've been there, done that. Add to that the fact that, come September, my boss requires me to change my position slightly. I'd be doing the same thing I do now, but for an older age group. This has given me a lot of stomach aches, because the thing that still drives me to do my job now is the fact that I'm doing it geared towards the youngest kids in school.

All in all, the job is not bringing me happiness in the slightest anymore. Having said that, I know a lot of people do jobs that don't make them happy, but it pays the bills, so let's suck it up and just do it. Which is fine, I can do that too, except my mental health suffers...

However, there are a few good things about this job too:

The pay is really good

I have lovely colleagues

I have a lot of credits here because I've been here for so long. They know my worth

I have a very understanding boss who's been nothing short of wonderful during my depression

(If you're still with me, thank you for reading this essay all the way, it's appreciated 💗)

My therapist asked me, "If money weren't a factor, what would you be doing?" My answer was "write." More specifically, I just want to stay home all day and work on ATOH, but no one is going to pay me for that. 😄 So, write, or do a job in which writing plays a role. So, she advised me to start looking for jobs that fit that description. It was a rather depressing search. Most jobs that came close to what I'd like to do require degrees or diplomas I don't have.

And then I suddenly stumbled upon something: Assistent Project Manager at a small, but well established company that creates educational projects (usually based on children's books), books and materials geared towards early childhood education in particular, and currently expanding to do the same for education to older kids as well.

I felt like I had found the holy grail. This is writing, this is editing, this is being creative, this is working with authors, but it's also closely related to early childhood education, the thing I know so well. Despite still being semi depressed, I felt like I needed to at least give this a shot. So, I wrote a letter, enclosed my resume, and waited. I didn't have to wait long, because a few days later I got an invite for an interview.

I went for the interview and was welcomed at a small and very homely office space (with an office cat!). We had a good talk and I left happy. They invited me to do a "trial day" with them, which is what I'll be doing today. They've had a lot of applicants for this position, but from the contact we've had since, it seems like I stand a good chance.

Sounds like a no-brainer? Perhaps, unless you have my brain... Because there are doubts:

Pay. This job pays quite a bit less than my current one. I'm a single parent and therefore sole breadwinner in my household. Currently, I make quite good money because I've been in this job for a long time and hold a relatively high position in the organisation. We can pay the bills, go on holidays, and even splurge occasionally (for example, the very pricey laptop I bought a few months ago). With this job, I would still make enough to pay the bills and go on holidays, but I will need to keep an eye on the money, and there won't be splurging for a while. I do know this sounds like a luxury problem to some.

Job security. In my current job, I'm under a fixed contract. Basically, unless I royally fuck up, I can't be fired. With this job I'd start on a year contract. After that year, they can either decide to give me another year or let me go. This won't just be if I mess up, but also if they decide I'm not the best person for the job after all, or if I don't fit in with their small, close-knit team. Worst case scenario; they let me go, and I'll have to go back to education and probably teach again.

These doubts are few, but strong. So, basically, like I already said above: do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well (since it's publishing)?

I don't need anyone to actually answer those questions, but those are the wonderings on my mind I wanted to write down. Thanks for reading. ❤️

[chocosvt]

HER | teaser.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader teaser word count: 1.4k actual word count: 140k (yes, u read that correctly) genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings for the full fic: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: as i descend to one knee and cup my hands together at your mercy, i offer a tidbit to the wonwoo fic i have finally completed after two years (lol). i know i ALWAYS say this, but i truly wasn't expecting the fic to be THIS FUCKING LONG! thankfully, i planned it well and although i lost momentum countless times (nervously side eyes the approximate & several 5 month breaks i took in between), my dedication to seeing the characters through & "completing" their growth was smth that i could not leave behind!

not having posted a fic for two years is prob a little much :0 so hopefully the length of this makes up for it (?) usually my writing is just teehee silly little romance agonizing slowburn surface level dilemmas of the self BUT THIS ONE HAS A LITTLE KICK!

so read it if you want! don't read it if you don't want!

hearts & flowers, xoxoxo (me :*)

UPDATE: read the first part here!

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed—a very short, disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

✧✎ a/n: tada!

this is the introductory scene! i think i've read it so many times that i could probably recite it from memory at this point ;_; anyway! as i mentioned, i know that it's been a hot minute since i last uploaded any scenarios. but one way or another this monster is getting posted! i did NOT have this lurking on my poor tired macbook causing it to overheat and sputter and spew FOR NOTHING!!

i swear that i don't plan for my works to get this goddamn long. before i hardly planned at all. maybe now i plan too much? i guess i have yet to find a happy medium!! but again, i do hope the size of the fic makes up for all that missed time :_( life has been ruff. but this fic was there as a handy distraction mechanism (when i prob should have been facing reality fhwejfhwk) so i guess it's been a double-edged sword!

also just want to preface that the reader goes by an alias throughout the fic. i'm not sure if this is like... a very huge or popular concept nowadays? so if it hits your reading ear a bit weird at first i apologize! but i swear it has purpose!! *chekhovs rule* *winkwink*

ANYWAY! no more rambling!

i'm pondering the idea of adding a taglist for those who are interested, just as i did with honey boy :3 so if that tickles ur fancy then feel free to each out!

BUT PLZ HEED THE FOLLOWING:

the fic in its entirety will be split across 6 parts

the word count of each part ranges from 22-24k!

i do not YET have a set posting schedule, simply bc i am unsure of how long it will take ppl to get through each part

(so that would be smth i'd have to gauge afterward)

REVISIT THE WARNINGS!!

i will not be flagging mature/nsfw/triggering scenes throughout the fic as the fic itself already has a heavy nature to it

so pls read the warnings!

if there's any additional questions i encourage u to swing by :3

*deep breath*

THANK YOU!!!!!

[rahuratna]

Heyyyyyy 🫶

So I was thinking about how the relationship would be with Nanami and a low maintenance partner. Low maintenance as in

- not Gojo is the first thing that came into mind LOL 😂

- values simplicity and is already very content with just being in the presence of Nanami, no matter the activity. Like cleaning together or just resting on the couch together

- probably a homebody like Nanami, doesn’t need expensive gifts or to go out on fancy dates

etc etc… basically someone with similar interests (cooking, drinking, reading, staying in, according to the JJK fan book) and chill energy level as a Nanami

I bring this up because it’s typically the grumpy x sunshine or black cat x golden retriever pairings, but I haven’t seen much of a chill homebody x chill homebody duo. Maybe I don’t read enough or maybe because there wouldn’t be much of a plot line other than the two characters just snoozing in bed or staying in and watching movies or enjoying simple domesticity… but that’s honestly my definition of ultimate happiness 😂 😂

Maybe on the outside it would seem boring to others but I’d like to think (for my sake) this type of relationship would have its own special type of quirks and connection.

What do you think? 👀

@courtneedsleep Gojo 😂😂😂 God, I LIVE for easy going, low maintenance relationships. I'm pretty much a homebody myself, so it bleeds a lot into my writing, whether I'm writing a pairing or not. I love describing cosy settings, creature comforts, food, things that are nostalgic or provide a sense of comfort.

My headcanon is that this kind of relationship would be very comforting to Nanami, and one he enjoys immensely. As someone who does work a fairly stressful job, I value the moments of calm, when I can simply exist in a beautiful space, do physical things, like cooking, gardening or going on a long drive, activities where you can switch off and go into autopilot. Having a partner who can match that energy and is comfortable with it is a blessing.

There is beauty in muted physical contact, touching someone to simply remind yourself that they're here, with you. The little unique sounds and scents that belong to them, the way they clear their throat or shuffle their feet, the weight of their head in your lap, the tiny changes in their facial expression as they read something; these are all the small, but precious treasures of intimacy, the sweetness of companionship. Nanami strikes me as the quiet, but observant man who would find so much value in those aspects, as would his partner.

As much as Nanami states clearly that during his time as a salaryman, he thought of little else besides making money, there's a strong contextual side to this that can't be ignored. He was never after luxury, he just wanted to ensure a simple, ordinary and comfortable life for himself, one he could pursue free from the stresses and tragedies that had been heaped upon him.

Being as pragmatic as he is, he would have been fully aware of the value of money in providing that for himself. For Nanami, it was never about the wealth, or some kind of high status lifestyle. Money was a means to an end. This is why I'm convinced that the most precious aspects of Nanami's relationship with a partner would be the myriad small experiences he has alongside them, from sharing books, to lazy commentary on a movie on a Sunday afternoon, to baking a loaf of bread together, to drinking coffee on the balcony on a quiet morning with the same sun on his skin and theirs. These are the things he'd love.

Nanami strikes me as a man who values his space and privacy, and that sharing it with someone else would require a very high level of trust. Sharing space with Nanami would be the equivalent of dusting out that high, unreachable shelf in his heart, and occupying your rightful position there. I do think that someone like him would want their partner to understand the significance of opening their homes and lives to each other, in the simplest of ways, ways that he will always cherish and never take for granted.

I think that a partner like this, who can provide that safe shelter away from the storm, who creates a space for Nanami to grow as an individual, who is comfortable in the warm silence of true companionship, who treasures those golden hours of calm repose, would be someone Nanami would definitely consider spending the rest of his life with.

His heart is an ordered garden, but when you wander long enough, the wild flowers that bloom in sweet silence are the rarest and most beautiful.

Thanks for another lovely ask! They give me so much joy 🌻🌻💛💛

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for deleting my classmate's online output in retaliation for previous grievances, & WIBTA if I kept this up?

📚🧪🗑️

(↑ so I know Tumblr didn't toss it into the void)

Take your time reading this before the poll. Trust me, everything matters.

I (16NB) am a student that migrated from the regular 10th grade sections into the top section of my school's STEM program via passing the admission test. I'm part of the very few that made it from the regular sections into such a prestigious senior high strand (which had only 3 sections and ±30 students per section), and the rest of my classmates and batchmates come from specialized programs that they were in since 7th grade. Naturally, they don't know me, and wouldn't think much of me due to my previously "mediocre" background. But really, I was only able to join the STEM strand this year because of financial difficulties during the lockdowns, so my parents could only afford to put me through the regular sections from grades 8 to 10.

Amongst my specialized program classmates was this girl, who I will call V for anonymity. V (16F) struck me as aloof and reserved at first. Our class seating arrangement dictated that I sit near the window farthest from the door, and V near the room exit, so we were 3 columns and one aisle apart, and had no one-on-one interactions so far due to this.

The entire school year in my school is split into two semesters, two quarters each semester, so four quarters. In Q1, I tried signing up for the strand-exclusive club that was practically a boost for report card grades, the STEM club, and we used printed forms. I filled in my form, and V collected the forms from everyone who signed up to give to the STEM club leader. We waited a week for confirmation of our acceptance (which was our forms being given back with a red stamp and the leader's signature) and everyone except me got them back. I asked V if she received my form. "No, you didn't give me any," she had said. I was denied another form by the leader, who accused me of lying about me having already given the form.

I didn't ask for a rivalry, but I had no choice but to be wary.

In Q2, our Earth Science professor gave us a lab activity and grouped us by random. I ended up in a group with V in it. I actively participated in the activity by helping prepare the materials and answering the guide questions on the activity sheet given by our professor, but I was stumped when it came to a question that required some research. Our professor allowed us to assign someone by group to take the activity sheet home and submit a picture instead when we ran out of time, so I went to my group's chat and asked them to wait for me as I finished the answer for that particular question. It took me an hour or so before I finally got the answer. I gave the answer to my groupmates, but V said that they had already turned it in, confirmed by my other groupmates. I asked them "Why did you hurry the submission? We had plenty of time left to refine and finalize the answers." They didn't reply, and they didn't answer me when I brought it up the next day in person. I went to my professor and explained the situation, even providing screenshots of my group messages as proof, but he didn't believe me. However, he did let me write down my answer to the question I was doing research for.

By then, I suspected V had convinced them to submit the activity sheet without me, and going back to Q1, also got rid of my membership form when she had the opportunity. I think she also might have lied to the professor that I wasn't even participating in the lab activity, and damn if he was gullible enough to fall for it.

Come Q3, this current quarter. Our professor in Literature gave us homework to be submitted in Google Drive. I did mine, converted it into the required file format, and had uploaded it to the Drive folder when I came across V's output. I figured it was time she got what was coming when she ruined my reputation to the teaching staff, so I deleted it. I secured my own folder so nobody but I can edit/delete it, just in case. The next day after that, V had nothing for submission and let's just say took some hits when the professor scolded her, and I have plans to get rid of more of her future outputs since we're relying on online tools for turning in homework.

On one hand, I feel a bit bad for doing that, and in addition I'm also scared I may be caught/traced. But on the other, I felt that it was only fair that she experienced even a fraction of humiliation that I faced during Q1 and Q2.

I dunno, Tumblr, AITA for that, and WIBTA for continuing with my plans?

What are these acronyms?

[kazumist]

a/n: based on you are in love by taylor swift. cw: ooc suna. wc: 679. first time writing in this style so idk what to feel about this one :')

dear (y/n),

by the time you read this letter, it’s probably after dinner time, and you have nothing else to do. i know you’re going to see my face again tomorrow, but please don’t mention this letter at school. especially around the twins.

i’d like to tell a simple story. it’s nothing really special. but there were three moments where i said “i love you” in my own way before we started dating (though you probably didn’t notice it, didn’t you?).

first was during prom night. it was a bit dark in the venue, but i could spot you sulking alone at a table almost immediately. i was a bit late last night, since you know. i wasn’t really planning on attending since fancy events like these require you to dress up in a suffocating suit. but when i got a text from atsumu saying that your date dumped you, i asked my mom if she could help me get ready real quick.

when i finally got there, we ended up ditching prom and instead watching whatever movie was still showing at the cinema, even though we were in formal wear. i remember us watching a tragic romance film, and you were trying your best not to cry because you didn’t want to ruin your look. congrats, by the way. you actually didn’t end up crying.

to put it simply, yes. i did wear a suffocating suit because i didn’t want you to end prom night alone with bad memories.

the first was a nerve wracking experience, but i wouldn’t have it any other way.

the second time was the time you slept over. i randomly woke up in the middle of the night, and you thought it was because of a nightmare since i had this “strange look” on my face (your words, not mine). you asked me if i was okay, but i didn’t reply immediately, which i know made you worry more.

when i told you that “you’re my best friend,” you playfully smacked my head that time for being so random and for making you worry over nothing.

maybe it was because of the time that night, or maybe it’s because you didn’t think of it that much the next morning or so, but i was supposed to say “i love you” that night. yet i didn’t since it would be too sudden—and i wanted to confess in a proper way. not in a way where you and i are both sleepy as hell (that would be super memorable, though).

i didn’t want to admit that i love you at first. but even in our shared silence and on our way home, i could sense it. i could feel that something was shifting with the way i saw you. that i started to see you more as a best friend.

the third time was actually when i randomly invited you to drive around with me, even though it was around midnight by that time. i remember it being a pain to climb up the tree that was near your bedroom window, and i also remember it being a greater pain to find tiny rocks that i could throw at your window.

to be honest with you, getting coffee wasn’t really the reason i asked you out that night. it’s really just an excuse—even though i see you every day, i still miss you. i wasn’t after the coffee or the place where we parked to drink; i was after your company. the feeling of you next to me.

i hope that the next time we get some coffee, you'll talk to me about anything and everything again. that you’ll tell me what show or movie you've watched recently. that you’ll tell me if you've discovered something new recently, even if it seems unimportant.

and if you’re left with nothing to say, you can share your silence with me.

so please get some coffee with me again soon.

yours truly, rintarou.

(p.s. i know this is a bit cheesy; let’s not talk about it.)

[lifeiskentastic]

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

Gif by @adoresbenho

A/N: Tell me, would you read a fanfic about Ryan Gosling's five-minute role as a lecherous elf on snl New Year's episode? (this sounds so crazy, but Ryan is so cute with the pointy ears, bangs, and tall hat... I just need to write it.)

Summary: Agency partner Reader once again gets stuck in a traffic jam with Holland;

Song I recommend: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen was just made ror Holland;

Word count: 724 words;

Nice reading!

It was just another morning as the third member (counting from the moment of join, although Holland always argued with Hilly to take over as "second" as if it were something really important) of the detective agency. It was just another morning traffic jam in Los Angeles, the only advantage of which was extra time to shave or drink a cup of coffee. After all, as it turned out, working as a detective requires punctuality, which in the case of Holland March was a big problem. So from the very beginning of the day, you were in a hurry, rushing to get things done, and only during irreparable traffic jams could you afford to exhale.

Holland could finally shave, and you could have a cup of strong coffee instead of breakfast.

For such occasions, Holland even kept a thermos of coffee and mountains of plastic cups in the car. No matter how many times you persuaded him to get rid of at least half of them, he categorically refused, calling it a "necessity of life." Well, given that he also used them to drink his liter-long supply of alcohol, it's not surprising.

The only thing that remained a mystery even to the three detectives was why a jar of whipped cream kept appearing in the glove compartment of his car. Although you had a bold guess that after you told Holland that you loved whipped cream coffee, he took it too much to heart.

"Do you think Healy is there yet?"

You asked, sipping from your cup.

"Oh, yeah, Mr.I'm-right-on-time-because-this-is-an-important-job has been there since sunrise."

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. The special relationship between your two partners couldn't help but make you laugh, literally, every day.

Holland beamed with pride when he managed to make you laugh.

"Oh, and also..."

But another laugh from you didn't let March finish his sentence. But what could you do? Still, the naive look on Holland's face with a piece of shaving foam on his cheek was more amusing than you could have imagined.

"Pfft... Ha-ha, wait..."

You reached for his cheek to brush away the remaining lather as Holland watched you in pure embarrassment. His eyes looked even more confused when you were a few millimeters away from his face.

However, you quickly returned to your seat, showing traces of white, puffy foam on your palm.

"Is that what made you giggle so much?"

This made you think back to that unsuspecting look on March's face, caught up in his own joke, and made you laugh uncontrollably again.

"I'm sorry... You just looked so cute."

"Did I?"

Holland leaned closer to your seat, scrutinizing every part of your face. You were about to ask what he was going to do, but...

"Aha! Found it!"

His head came as close to yours as possible, and he touched something near the tips of your lips with a triumphant exclamation.

"Is that cream? You're such a sloven."

Holland's finger did indeed show traces of cream from your coffee. And your partner seemed to be expecting some kind of funny reaction from you, looking expectantly into your soul, but you were honestly not in the mood for it... Still, your heart was still racing from being so close to Holland. For some reason, when there were so small distance between the two of you, you began to feel strange jolts inside your chest.

When you barely regained consciousness, the only thing you could do was to move your whole body as close to Holland as possible, making your partner's eyes widen in surprise once again. You didn't know what was driving you at that moment, but you knew you had to work, and you were within a pinkie nail's distance of March's face.

"You're one to talk..."

You ran your fingers through Holland's mustache, wiping away the subtle streaks of shaving foam that had started this whole thing.

Although you wanted something like this, you hadn't expected Holland to do it first. That he would push forward, quickly crossing the short distance between you, and confidently touch your lips. Of course, you immediately returned his kiss.

It seems that car horns were already blaring behind you and angry drivers were furious, but for now you were too busy with each other to pay attention to such trifles.