#dhwc

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (eleven)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, eleven

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, romantic penetrative sex, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 12,556

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, ten lee, lee donghyuck (haechan), kim jungwoo, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, kim dongyoung (doyoung)

author's note. i wept over this. how absolutely insane is that. thank you for coming in this journey with me. thank you for waiting. thank you for everything.

taglist (closed). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here! (songs mentioned “atlantis” by seafret, “strange” by celeste)

It was raining the next day, still.

“Don’t say anything.”

It was raining the next day and you weren’t sure it had ever stopped, letting up enough for the world to move, for the world to breathe. The downpour let one day bleed into the next; everything around you was flowing together, submerged. Drowning.

“Please, don’t say anything.”

It was raining the next day and you were drowning, soaked from head to toe and dripping onto hardwood floors. You couldn’t control your breath, couldn’t catch it after you’d been caught in a wave. Your lungs were full of water and all you could do was splutter and spit until something came of it.

“I need to…just listen for a second, okay?”

He did. It was raining the next day, he’d watched the sun struggle to rise in spite of the showers. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t. So, he listened.

Your clothes were clinging to your body, “You were right.”

All night you’d drifted in and out of sleep; you’d shot up in bed gasping for air, you woke up with a sob stuck in your throat and tears leaving a trail on your cheek and a mark on your pillow case. The rain didn't let up, your brain took inspiration from it; spiraling, swirling, drowning. Your jaw ached from how hard you’d been clenching, from every word locked behind it trying to get out. Lungs filled with water, head swirling with thoughts and your teeth barricading everything off.

He was right. He was right.

Mark had left when the sun had come up; when his alarm sounded from his phone and you’d offered an umbrella. The bags under his eyes made your stomach twist, the look he gave you - concern, confusion, care your body and mind wanted to reject - was misplaced. Mark’s sympathy was misplaced, because he was right and you lied. You stood in your living room, in the spot he’d kissed you and the spot he’d kissed you and let yourself sink into memories, swirl with them until they could drown out reality. Until your heartbeat slowed and you remembered everything you felt when he pressed his lips to yours. It might help. It could help.

It tore you apart.

The rain dripped down, through your roof, onto the floorboards of your bedroom, through the cracks between them and to the ceiling above you. They fell, one by one, to land on your head, seep into your skin and recycle themselves as tears, your body shaking from the cold of a mid-April morning. You stood in that spot and cried, let every whimper slip past your lips and fall to the ground; to the spot where they’d kissed you.

Jaehyun had held you here, he’d grounded you here. Jaehyun had pressed his lips to yours and tried to tell you, he must have been trying to tell you. Years, he said. He’d loved you for years. The thought was like a predator in the water, circling around you like a shark. You wanted to be angry, you knew you couldn’t be - it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. You lied and you told him you felt nothing, you lied and you kept secret how the world stopped moving. Time stopped, your mind stopped, your heart stopped beating. You lied and you lied and you would never tell him how you’d waited years to know how it felt to kiss him.

That you felt everything in that moment.

Johnny had kissed you here; he’d used his lips to make promises, to press them into yours. Johnny found you in the darkness, searching through the past for something forgotten, pulled you into the present and asked you; “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?” Your heart beat in time with his, fell into a rhythm with Johnny, felt safe in his hands. He’d taken care of it, he nurtured it and filled your heart with the light that shone in Johnny’s eyes.

He filled you with light and you loved Johnny.

You love Johnny.

So simply, so easily; like breathing, you love him. Your heart tugged at the thought of him. Johnny with his tie askew, Johnny with his hair falling into his eyes. Johnny who begged you for a kiss under the mistletoe - as a joke, years ago - and Johnny who waited those years to finally get it. Johnny Suh who loved you, too. He’d tell you with every blink, with every breath. Johnny reminded you with every second that passed as though you’d forget if he didn’t. He didn’t want you to forget. Johnny loved you and he didn’t want you to lose that, he didn’t want to lose that. Johnny felt like he was losing you.

And Jaehyun…

You and Jaehyun…

You…

You lied.

You were stuck there, stuck in that moment; those moments before, the hurricane that came after. Glued to that spot and trembling. If you could think about moving, your feet would drag you to one of them. Either of them.

Tears slipped and slipped to the floor, slipped and slipped under your feet until they were loose enough to step away, to move. And you let them lead you, let the rain kiss your skin until you’d melted into it, let yourself step into puddles and down the street. Up the stairs.

Up to him.

And when you opened the door, he was standing there - like he was waiting for you, like he could sense you were coming. Like he’d been up all night, drowning drowning drowning in his thoughts and his memories. His shoulders moved when he took in a breath, when he found the courage to say your name.

You cut him off and said, “Don’t say anything.”

Pitter patter; rain tapping against glass panes.

“I lied.” Saying it scratched at your throat, made your head spin. You were still drowning, arms wild and flailing around you seeking the surface, seeking a solution, “I lied and I…I don’t know how to fix this. I have to fix this.”

He wanted to come to you, he wanted to tell you there was nothing to fix. The way his heart had been shattering since yesterday, since January, since October could be fixed if you just came closer. He wanted to lie more, himself, if it got you closer to him. He’d wasted time and wasted away in memories, he’d missed his chance and another and another hoping he’d find a time that felt right.

He was brave enough to ask, “Fix what?”

And, like years of holding back had finally broken the barricade and unleashed a flood, your feet were swept out from under you in a wave. You were across the room in an instant, you were in front of him in an instant, you wrapped yourself in him in an instant and sealed the barricade again with your lips pressed to his. You kissed him, like you did in your living room. You kissed him for the second time and let the breath you’d been seeking rush from your lungs and into his. He was drowning and you were drowning, wrapped around each other and floating towards the surface.

You pulled back, you kept your eyes closed and rested your forehead against his. Looking at Jaehyun would’ve been too much, but the feeling of him against you, the feeling of his hands on your back holding you there, it was enough. Enough for you to catch a borrowed breath, enough for you to swallow a sob and tell him, finally tell him, “I love you, Jeong Jaehyun.” Even while loving Johnny - you love Johnny, your heart beat for Johnny, it was safe with him. Still, you chose to stop time and confess, “I love you so much it…I can’t breathe. I have loved you for so long, for years. I-I love you.”

He needed your lips, again, he needed your air or he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Jaehyun could feel his heart beating erratically and he could feel yours doing the same, staggered against his. He could only see your lips, too close for anything else. So he kissed them again, “I love you.”

Jaehyun kissed you, pouring years of hesitation and fear and love into you as best he could. He spun you around, hands secured on your waist, and urged you back, step by step, until you pressed against the windows. You were framed by raindrops, body radiating heat and fogging the glass. He’d lost track how many times he had pictured you like this, over the years. Over years of wanting, and years of waiting, Jaehyun made himself believe he’d never know how you felt, how you tasted, the way you sounded when you were breathless and called his name, “Jaehyun.”

He was lost in another moment, he’d said everything he could and he was trying to hold onto what he could; your waist, your hips, your thighs to pull them up and wrap them around him. Jaehyun couldn't live with the idea of any more space between you, he couldn’t let more time pass. You had begged him not to use his lips to speak, so he used them to draw out moans, breaths, sighs from you he was selfish, greedy to hear. You tasted the same, it had been months and he could still remember it, you tasted exactly the same. But, Jaehyun could feel your body shaking, and when he opened his mouth against yours, he could taste something unfamiliar, something salted and something that pulled him from you, in an instant.

Jaehyun looked at you, he had to; your eyes screwed shut, your lips swollen from his, the way your chest was rising and falling with labored breath. He brought his thumb to your cheek and swiped away a tear, “You’re crying.”

”Jaehyun-“ It was caught in your throat, tangled in another I love you and stumbling off your tongue. You love Johnny, “Stop.”

”Stop?”

You untangled your words, untangled yourself from him, put space between the two of you again so you could think; clearly, calm. Jaehyun watched every step you took away from him, wanting and needing to follow you, “I can’t do this.”

“What?” He took a step towards you, “What?”

“I-Johnny. I love Johnny.” You couldn't explain it, couldn't follow it up with another, “I love you.” You stood away from him, fingertips cool against your lips, “I can’t.”

Jaehyun took another step, “What do you mean?”

”We can’t. I…Johnny is…” He was waiting again, Johnny was waiting for you, again. There was no way for you to stop time forever, no permanent way to linger with Jaehyun in the rain. There wasn’t anyway for you to go back, for you to take back years and hand them back to him. It was impossible to get that time back for yourself. And you loved Johnny. Love him, love him, love him, “How do I fix this?”

Another moment passed the two of you, Jaehyun watched it grow legs and run through the rain. There was a clap of thunder, “Say it again.”

”Say what, Jae?”

He sighed, he came closer, “I’ve waited years to hear you say it. Just…I know you're going to leave. Just say it one more time.”

Your eyes were glued to the ground, to your feet that were frozen again. You knew you should leave, you knew that the rain had already drenched your clothes, your hair, your skin. You knew that it wouldn't do too much more damage to just say to him, again, “I love you.”

”Look at me. Look at me when you say it.” Jaehyun was shaking, his voice was cracking and you were too far away. He closed the space between you, holding your face in his hands, “Please.”

You blinked away tears and time and hesitations that lingered and you told him confessed against his lips, again, “I love you, Jaehyun.”

He leaned closer still, lips sighing your name, “I love you, too.”

Jaehyun kissed you for as long as he could, for as long as you’d let him. He tried to hold you there, in that moment, with loose fingers. Before it slipped away, before it followed the path of the raindrops and slipped down, down, down. Before this moment became another memory to waste away on, Jaehyun kissed you. And when you pulled away, he stayed silent. He left every word on your lips and listened to your footsteps, heard how the rain filled the loft with percussion and thunder when you opened the door.

Then, Jaehyun was alone.

📻

“Just tell us what happened, again.” Taeyong was leaning on his elbows, across the counter from Johnny. Yuta was next to him, Ten was on the phone. Johnny felt helpless, hopeless, “What did you say?”

The truth was, “I don’t remember.”

Ten urged, “Okay. Try to.”

Johnny’s palms were sweating. His phone was face down on the counter next to him, his phone had been silent for twenty-four hours and Johnny was losing himself. He left you, that afternoon, he made you promise to call when you were ready because Johnny had pushed enough - he’d pushed too far and now he was lost. He could see his reflection across the room, in the glass of his windows, just above where you’d left your telescope. Johnny could see himself in the same clothes he’d left you in, “I just…I lost it. I told him to tell the truth, but it was so much worse than that. I-the way she looked and the way he was looking at her.”

Yuta nodded, “Yeah.”

It drove Johnny insane, it made him boil, it made him sick. He was the only one who didn’t know, he was the last one to know, “I wish you’d never told me. Why…why the fuck did you have to say anything?”

”What did Jaehyun say?” Taeyong redirected, eyeing Johnny, eyeing Yuta, “Did he tell her?”

“He said it had been years.” Johnny sighed, head hung to hide from his reflection, “I didn’t know my best friend…I didn’t know for years and now…do you know what this feels like?”

Taeyong said, “No.”

Ten said, “No.”

Yuta shook his head and echoed for a third time, “No. We don’t. So tell us.”

”I love her.”

”We know that.” Adjusting in his seat, Yuta matched the way Taeyong had been leaning. He got closer to Johnny, as close as the counter would allow, and he asked him, “What else?”

”I know she loves me.” He did. Johnny was sure of it. He could feel it in the way you touched him, in the way you said his name, in every moment he had with you since you became His Juliet; you love Johnny. He saw the way you looked at Jaehyun, he knew that look. Johnny had seen your eyes light up that way for him, he’d basked in the brilliant starlight that poured from your eyes like glitter and Johnny knew that you loved him. Johnny was terrified that you loved Jaehyun - that you loved him for years, that years would outweigh the months he’d had with His Juliet. Johnny was terrified because, “I don’t want to lose her.”

He could see you in his kitchen, he could see you at his windows pointing towards the sky - to your star, to the stars that gathered around it. Johnny could smell you on his clothes and licked his lips to taste you lingering there. He could hear the way you said his name, the way you called for him and needed him and wanted him. And if it wasn’t enough, if Johnny wasn’t greater than years, he could feel his heart breaking. But, Johnny wouldn’t keep you where you didn’t want to be. He loved you too much, he loved you and he loved you and he’d keep loving you, if you wanted him to.

If it made you happy.

He’d do anything to make you happy.

Even if it meant, ”I think I have to let her go.”

Ten crackled through the phone, miles away, ”Why?”

“You all knew about Jaehyun.” He didn’t want to ask them, “So…what do you think? About her?”

It was silent in a way Johnny couldn’t handle. The room was quiet enough that Johnny could hear when Taeyong looked at Yuta, when Yuta shook his head, when Ten shifted in his chair. And Johnny knew, again. Johnny knew.

📻

“I miss you.”

Your voice was shaking, wavering with every word. You meant them, you were certain of them, you could feel them in everything you did. You missed him when you’d shoved and shifted your furniture around, when you blocked off the spot he’d kissed you, blocked off that memory. You missed him when you woke up and the world was cold, when early spring mornings felt more like winter. You missed him when you pulled yourself from your bed and into your bathroom, when you brushed your teeth and when you waited, silently, for your coffee to brew.

You missed him and you loved him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. The line was quiet, begging for something to fill where sound was void, “I know you’re at work right now. I just…I miss you so much, Johnny. Call me when you can.”

It had been three days.

Johnny’s sweatshirt still smelled of smoke, more than it smelled of him. Your sheets, ones you knew you needed to change, had smelled like your soap, his deodorant, your perfume, his cologne. A mix of the two of you, how you’d been tangled together, but that was fading, too. And you missed him.

6:21pm Can I come over?

6:22pm I’m actually already outside, but I can leave if you want me to

You typed, 6:22pm I’ll come let you in

The rain had stopped. It held on for two days, doing everything it could to wash away the mess you’d all left behind. You hadn’t left your house; not since. Since. Your lips tingled, fingers coming up to trace them again before you shivered, sinking more into Johnny’s sweatshirt and holding it to your nose.

You opened your door.

Your umbrella was hanging from the strap of his backpack, “Hey.”

“Hey Mark. Come in.”

“You moved everything.” It was hard not to notice it, everything in the room had shifted and nothing had found a permanent place to rest. Your couch at a diagonal, the coffee table pushed against the wall with its legs jutting out. You’d spun the chair in circles until you gave up, until it landed just over that spot and stayed there for three days. Mark was caught in another disaster, another hurricane, pulling off his shoes and sitting down on a step, “How are you feeling?”

“Um.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I called Johnny.” I kissed Jaehyun. “Just now. He didn’t answer.” I kissed Jaehyun. “He’s probably working.”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, he tried to smile, “Yeah, probably. Finals are coming up so the café is probably, you know, like, busy.”

“Shit. Right.” You came to sit next to him, “How is that going?”

“It’s alright. Yeah, it’s alright. I, um, I have another assessment and then four written exams. We had to make, like, a portfolio of our work? For songwriting. So, I just, like, threw together a bunch of things I’ve written over the years, tweaked them a little. Do you…” Mark looked at you, “Do you wanna hear about all of this?”

“Yes.” Any distraction from the phone in your pocket, “Please.”

“Jaemin has another semester, officially. But, I think he’s okay with it? He actually - he really likes his new professor. I think I forget how smart Jaemin is sometimes, too.” The sound of Mark laughing echoed in your foyer, it couldn't find ground in a room of overturned furniture, so it settled in your chest. And you laughed, too. Mark smiled more, a real smile, “What did you say to Johnny? Can I ask that?”

“That I miss him.” You looked down at your hands, where they were linked in the pocket of his sweatshirt and resting on top of your phone, “I told him to call back when he could.”

Mark hesitated, “Have you talked to Jaehyun?”

You hesitated, too, “Yeah…I, yeah I did.”

“Oh.”

“Did you know, Mark?”

“Not really.” It was honest. Maybe Mark could’ve guessed it, maybe Mark had missed something. Maybe Mark wasn’t as good at catching things, at observing, as he thought he was, “I mean, that’s how it’s always been. You two have been the same since I met you. It was…normal.”

“Yeah.” Holding him, falling asleep with him, waking up with memories of his fingertips on your skin and letting that feeling carry you through the day. Wanting more, waiting for more. Silently hoping for more. And then there was Johnny; who gave you everything, who let you ask for more or for less or for whatever you wanted. Johnny who spun the Earth for you and hung the stars, “I don’t know what to do.”

Love a memory, love a wish, love something you never thought would happen or love something real. You were struggling to swallow how much of your love for Jaehyun was based in memories, alone. How tangible it was. It broke you to compare the two. Mark didn't have the answers, he still didn’t need to be involved. But, Mark was hurting, too. He was hanging on and grabbing at similar memories like a safety net, like a parachute before he plummeted.

“I don’t know.” Then he asked, “Are you hungry?”

It took you a moment to come back, “Yeah.”

When Mark had settled on pizza, settled into your chair, settled on a movie and settled your restless mind, your phone rang. It shook the pocket of Johnny’s sweatshirt, vibrated against your stomach and urged it to flip, flutter, fill with hope and unmatched anxiety. Mark saw the way you froze, Mark was hyper-vigilant, feeling like he’d missed too many things. When you grabbed at the pocket, he knew. So, when you told him, “I’ll be right back.” Mark nodded and took a bite of his pizza, settling into silence.

His name flashed on the screen; so many times you thought you’d miss your chance to answer. But your hands shook and your hands hesitated to answer, to put the phone to your ear and say, “Hi.”

“Hi baby.” Flutter, flip, filled with hope at the sound of his voice. Johnny let out a breath, you did as well, “I miss you, too.”

“God, I miss you so much.” Your chest tightened, you choked back tears and tried to keep yourself together. But his sweatshirt smelled more like smoke, your sheets smelled more like you and you just missed him, “I…Johnny, I don’t know what to…”

“Hey, baby. Take a breath, okay?” In his office, Johnny was shaking. He hoped you couldn’t hear him sniffling, he hoped his voice would stay even enough for him to speak - despite the tears that welled in his eyes, despite the ones that fell, “I’m right here.”

“Tell me about your day. Tell me something normal.” Your voice was laced with desperation, “Please, Johnny.”

Like a promise, like an I love you; the way you said Johnny’s name calmed his heart and his hands, pulled a quiet laugh from his lungs, “Nothing big. Pretty busy for a Tuesday. We ran out of milk during a rush, but it worked out alright. Jeno and Renjun came by, they said Mark was…”

“He’s here.”

“That’s good, babe. I’m glad he’s there with you.”

“Yeah.”

Johnny tried to ignore his nerves, followed every beat his heart made and the words his head urged him to say, “Can I see you?”

Yes. You nodded, you blinked and let tears slip down your cheeks. Mark shifted in the next room, scooted something around and scraped it against the floorboards. Johnny was waiting for you to answer and all you could say was, “Yes. But, Mark…”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Johnny clarified, like it would help. He hoped it would help, “I need to see you.”

“Yes. Yeah, of course you can.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Too late.” He couldn’t help but laugh, three days of nerves shedding away, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Me too, Johnny.”

A promise. Another I love you.

Johnny told you, “Go back to Mark. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

It was too short, you wanted more, “Okay. Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” A promise, “I really love you.”

Johnny’s voice cracked, it hiccuped when he tried to speak. His cheeks were stained with tears he’d tried to keep quiet, that made themselves known when he promised you, “I love you, too.”

📻

I think I have to let her go. Johnny knew what was coming. He pushed it away, he willed and wished it away. But he knew. Johnny lingered on the moments he could ignore it; when he opened his front door and you fell into him, when he kissed you like he’d been deprived of you for weeks, months, years. He held onto you and the moments between you, quiet and content in his apartment. When the sun started setting, when Johnny knew the day was ending, he found it harder to ignore everything.

Because Johnny knew.

He knew when you held his hand too tightly. He knew when you pulled on an outfit of his, from top to bottom, and it still wasn’t enough. Johnny knew when he kissed you and you tried to wipe away tears that fell before he saw them.

He knew when he asked, “What’s on your mind, baby?” When he begged you to, “Talk to me.”

And you knew what was coming when you pulled away from him, when you rolled to the edge of his bed and sat upright, back to him. You knew when you covered your face with your hands, let loose a sob and told him, “I kissed Jaehyun.”

Johnny couldn’t breathe, “When?”

“Four days ago.”

He was silent. He knew.

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Johnny.” He watched as your body shook. He watched as the space you’d put between the two of you grew and grew until Johnny couldn’t handle it. Until he pulled himself from his bed and wrapped himself around you. You repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Why?”

He didn’t know why he was trying to keep himself together. If the world was collapsing around him, if you were falling apart, too, Johnny didn’t know why he needed to be stable. His voice wasn’t as certain, wasn’t as sure when he rephrased, “Why did you kiss him?”

“Johnny.”

“Just tell me, baby.”

He knew. “I love him.”

Johnny knew. But that didn’t mean, “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” You turned so you could face him, so Johnny could hear you and you could quell any uncertainty, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too, baby.” He paused, Johnny tried to take a moment before he fell apart, completely. Just so he could tell you, “I want you to be happy.”

It felt like a knife. You’d been here before, you’d felt this before. I want you to be happy was vicious, it had claws and those claws would tear at everything until you were left with shreds and shards and fragments. Johnny meant it, you knew he did, you’d never question him. But, I want you to be happy felt like another goodbye. So, you hurried your face into Johnny’s chest, into his scent and seeking out his heart to remind yours how to beat.

“I am happy. I’m happy with you. Johnny, I love you.”

“I know, baby.”

“Don’t. Johnny, please don’t. I am happy, I promise I’m happy.” He could remember you in January, in February. Johnny spent Valentine’s day with you, catching the way you’d falter if you had a moment of silence. Johnny knew what it was like when you didn’t have Jaehyun around, he knew that wasn’t happiness. He knew he couldn’t be around, not for a while, if you needed Jaehyun, if you loved him. Johnny knew, “I love you.”

“You love him. You love him, too.” He was crying, the teardrops landed on the top of your head and Johnny tried to kiss them away, “I can’t take that from you.”

“Don’t take anything from me. Please.”

“I’m not.”

“Johnny.”

“You have to do it, baby. Because, I’ll just keep holding on and he will, too. You have to do it, okay? I have to…you need space to do that.” Johnny couldn't speak over a whisper, “You have to.”

“Johnny, I can’t do this. I love you, I want you.” You held him closer, you willed your body to melt into his, to stay here. Your breath was hot against his lips when you begged him, “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything, baby. We have to make a decision together, okay?” He tried to explain, Johnny didn’t know if he could, “I have to give you time.”

“I had time.”

“Four days. It’s not a lot. And you…” Johnny broke, he was breaking. He pulled you closer and hid his face in your neck, where you sprayed his favorite perfume, “You kissed him.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“‘Me too.”

“I don’t want to do this, Johnny.”

“We have to, baby. I don’t want to either”

You meant every word, every syllable, every breath promised to him in between, “Johnny, I love you.”

“I know, baby. I love you too, that’s not stopping. But you - you’ve got to- we’ve got to work this one out and I can't be there while you sort your side.”

“Johnny, I don’t…I love you so much.”

“I know” He pulled back to see you; your swollen eyes, the way your lips trembled. Johnny knew he looked the same, he looked like a mess when he kissed you and promised, “I love you, my Juliet.”

Your hands held his face, “My Romeo.”

And Johnny kissed you.

Kissed his final I love you into your mouth, through sobs and labored breath. Johnny took hold of you and tried to hold on to the feeling; how you fit perfectly with him, how you moved in sync with him, how you loved him. The moonlight filled his bedroom, seeking you out to kiss your skin. But, Johnny had already shared you with someone, against his will. He already lost kisses to someone else and he didn’t want to lose more; not these, not the last ones, not even to the moon.

He urged you backwards to lay you down, to cover you with him so the light couldn’t reach you. Johnny kept these moments a secret for the two of you, kept them close to his heart; your home. His lips left yours with a shaking sigh while his fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, his sweatshirt you’d blanketed yourself in. He stripped you of him, watched as you shivered and pressed his lips to your neck, the dip of your collarbone, down between your breasts and over your heart. He left a trail of tears as he did, let them soak into your skin.

You could feel every touch, skin tingling every time he grazed it, breathed near it. Johnny was all over you, he lingered on every inch of you and imagining your world without him was breaking you. Your body shook with another sob, one hand covering your mouth to hide the sound of it. Johnny stopped you, he pulled your hand away and reminded you, “I’m still here. Come back to me, baby. Stay with me for now.”

It felt like torture, knowing what came after. Knowing that if you brought yourself back to him to stay in this moment, you’d lose him once it was over. You had to lose Johnny. You were losing Johnny, “Kiss me.”

“Of course.”

So he did. He came back to your lips and let his fingers explore the parts of you left unkissed. Johnny’s hands slipped under the waistband of your pants - his pants - and worked to pull another layer of him off of you. You tried to help, tried to kick them away. Your hands worked on his shirt, his pants, the layers between you. You only stopped, breathless and spinning, when Johnny pressed his fingers to your core and asked, “Can I touch you here, baby?”

“Yes.” Always. “Yes, Johnny.” I love you.

Two fingers slipped into your panties, teased at your entrance before they slowly pushed in. It burned, everything did; his lips, his touch, the finality of it all. But, you got lost in the feeling, letting Johnny demonstrate how well he knew every inch of you, how much he loved you.

“I love you.” Left your lips, echoed back to you from his, “I love you.”

You were losing him.

Johnny circled your clit with his thumb, rolled his hips down against his own wrist to push his fingers further into you. The sounds you let out made his head spin, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” You never did, “Please, Johnny.”

A third finger pushed into you, worked you open, worked you into a frenzy. Johnny was breathing heavily against you, keeping his swirling thoughts at bay; thoughts of letting you go and thoughts of begging you to stay. He huffed and he tried and he did so much to keep himself together, but the sound of his name from your lips was enough to push him over an edge he didn’t know he was on. Johnny kissed you, let your moans fill his open mouth; he swallowed them down and gave them a direct path to his heart.

Johnny kept your attention, kept you with him, kept the world spinning.

His cock was aching, he wanted to make a joke that it was nothing compared to his heart. But, Johnny bit his tongue and rolled his hips, one more time. It was enough until you begged him, “Need you. Need you inside, Johnny.”

He nodded, coating himself in you with his fingers before he lined himself at your entrance, before he pushed into you and watched you fall apart in a new way. In the way he would prefer. In the way he was losing. Johnny was losing you. He had to pause, he had to stop himself when he was fully inside of you. Johnny couldn’t stop the way he shook, the sob that worked its way from his chest to his lips.

You held him there, kept him pressed against you and tried to promise him, “I’m here.” He knew. “I love you.”

If it was the last time he’d ever say it, Johnny wanted you to know. He wanted you to feel it, to have your senses taken over completely by him. Johnny moved, rolled his hips again and again until he knew you were only thinking of him. Until Johnny’s name was the only thing spilling from your kiss-swollen lips, he waited and confessed, “I am so in love with you, My Juliet.”

You kept your eyes on him, clawing at his back and matching his thrust. So in sync, perfectly in sync. Johnny sank into you and you did everything you could to pull him in deeper, to keep him there. Even if you knew he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. You couldn’t stay with him.

Johnny played with your clit, teased it and watched as your face twisted in pleasure, caught in another fleeting moment, “You’re so beautiful. My beautiful girl.”

You weren’t his anymore. Johnny wouldn’t let you be his. You lost another moment with him trying to hold him still, trying to hold his heart and watching it tumble out of your grasp, “I’m yours, Johnny.”

You weren’t. He couldn’t call you his for much longer. Prolonging it would only break him more, it would destroy the two of you. Johnny kissed you and whispered, “I’m close.”

Tears fell from the corners of your eyes when you begged him, “No. Not yet. Please not yet.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it.”

You didn’t want it to end, you didn’t want to lose him. He was slipping away with every thrust, with every move that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl. It was inevitable, “Please. Please, Johnny.”

“Cum for me.” Shaking in your hold, trembling and prolonging, “Please.”

Your eyes found his, found Johnny’s light and let it wash over you, turning your vision white. He didn’t look away, he found the starlight in yours and let himself float up and up and away from a world where you were slipping from him. You came together, panting each other’s names. Johnny’s arms gave way, but he didn’t look away from you. He kept you as close as he could for as long as he could, rolling onto his side and tangling his legs with yours.

Johnny kissed the tears off your cheeks, you wiped his tears away with quivering fingertips. He pushed your hair back and you held his hand to your heart. Johnny spent every second with his eyes on you and you did the same, until your breathing evened back out.

You stayed for as long as your heart would allow you to, until the damage started to feel irreversible and the pieces gathering were too many to count. When you’d gathered your shattered heart, when you snuck pieces of his to keep with you and tucked them safely, secretly, you pulled on your own clothes. You dressed yourself in things that didn’t smell like him, never looking back at him or the way he watched you.

When he stood, Johnny stood, too. He didn’t cover himself, he didn’t hide himself; he was bare for you to see, for you to cherish, for you to remember as he was. Desperately, hopelessly in love with you. He kissed you, one more time; like he wanted to ask you to stay, like he wanted you to fight harder. But, he’d never ask that of you. Johnny couldn't let himself ask that of you. Johnny held you for a moment before you left, you listened to his heart beating and tried to mimic the rhythm one last time.

You told him, “I don’t want to.”

He knew. Johnny kissed the top of your head and said, “Me either.”

You pulled yourself from him, then. You didn’t look at him. You walked to the threshold of his bedroom and told him, “Goodbye, Johnny.”

📻

You let another two days pass before you told anyone. Before you could stomach thinking about it, let alone say, “Johnny and I broke up.”

Mark nodded, he dug his feet into the ground to stop himself from swinging; sitting in the same park you always did, just as the sun was setting. He cleared his throat, “Johnny told me.”

“Oh.” You asked him, “You guys talked?”

“He called me. I think right after it happened. Look,” Mark took a break, waiting for his swing to stop wiggling completely to tell you, “I don’t want to make you feel bad, I’m still kind of mad at him, but he wasn’t doing good, you know? Like he was in really bad shape.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Okay, ow.”

Mark kicked at your foot, knocking wood chips around it, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I lost both of them.”

There was a gap between you and Mark, big enough for those words to settle into the mulch. They sank into the ground, the roots clutched onto the freshly wet soil and started to grow until branches of I lost both of them hung over you and Mark. The shade cooled both of you, you went on, “It’s my fault.”

“How?” You didn’t have an answer, Mark could sense that. He had stood between the three of you, he’d watched this unfold for almost a week and he knew the fault landed somewhere in the middle. So, he asked, “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you’re all stupid.” It was a fair enough judgement, you turned to look at Mark. He was focused on the street across from you, on the cars that went by, the way the lights switched on when the sun finally disappeared, “Like really, really stupid. Jaemin trying to get with his professor stupid.”

“Mark, I get it, but can we relax a little-“

“But remember when I said he’s a lot smarter than I remember, sometimes? And, like, Jaemin found something he really loved by being really stupid. So, I don’t know, dude.” He looked back at you, “Be stupid a little bit longer.”

“Hey Mark?”

“What’s up?”

“Love you.”

He smiled, Mark smiled and nudged you, kicking his feet off the ground to take off swinging, “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, dummy.”

📻

“Johnny and I broke up.”

He hadn’t heard from you in days, in a week and some more. Jaehyun gave you time and he gave you space, knowing that’s how you got to this point; knowing everything might fall apart, again. Now, you were sitting in the loft with him, quietly across from him on the floor and Jaehyun didn't know what to do, “How…how do you want me to react to that?”

“I don’t know, Jae.”

“Did you break up with him?”

The answer was, “No.”

And it might have been better if, “He broke up with you?”

The answer was still, “No. We did it together. I didn’t - neither one of us really wanted to.”

Jaehyun felt sick. He saw you deflate in front of him and Jaehyun didn’t want to feel bitter about it; he didn’t want to feel the way “neither one of us really wanted to” begged him to feel, “Then why did you?”

Telling Jaehyun the truth - that Johnny urged you to, that he made love to you and begged you to leave him, that it was his idea and it broke you to go along with it - didn't seem fair. You blinked in the silence, in searching for a reason that was good enough, another lie that was good enough. When you came up short, when lying became exhausting, you told him part of the truth, “I don’t know.”

Jaehyun challenged himself, pushed against comfort when he asked, “Do you want to be with me?”

It had been a week since you’d left Johnny. A week since you heard his voice. A week since you could listen to any of the songs he’d hand picked for you. It was another question that was unanswerable. In September, yes. Even in October. Eight months ago, nine months, ten, eleven, a year ago. The answer would’ve been yes. Three years ago or five, as far back as eight.

You had wanted to be with Jaehyun for as long as you chose to remember. But, you hesitated and you lingered on the freshest memories of Johnny before you told him, “I need time.”

“Okay.” Jaehyun didn't think he could afford more time, when you were with Johnny time only seemed to slip away from him. But, you and Johnny broke up, and Jaehyun was back on borrowed time, “We’ll take time.”

Jaehyun stood up, he crossed the space between you and reached out his hand. Every move he made felt terrifying, like you’d run again if he made one wrong decision. He couldn’t risk it, he didn’t want to risk losing you again. He let out a breath of relief when you took his hand, when he pulled you to your feet.

When you were face to face, you mumbled, “Hey.”

He said it back, dimples sneaking their way onto his face through the smallest smile, “Hi. Do you…” He didn’t want to risk it, but it was what you’d always done, “Do you want to stay?”

You found a middle ground, “I can for a while. I can until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

He could count the exact amount of times he’d slept in the loft by himself; three times in too many years. When your parents took you out of town for a wedding and the last place you’d been was on that mattress; he missed you too much, he was ten and he’d never been away from you. It took his own parents offering to call yours - despite time zones and extra charges to their phone bill, despite everything - for him to come back downstairs. You came home the next night, you came back to him.

When you were sick, stuck in bed with the flu, and he’d fallen asleep on the phone with you - counting stars to lull you to sleep. It was right after Sicheng left and you only wanted to be with Jaehyun, you only wanted to hear his voice. He hadn’t thought too much about why that meant the world to him, Jaehyun didn’t dwell on the way his heart leapt into his throat when he said his name, begging him to tell you about a world outside of your bedroom.

The last time was recent, some time in February when he pulled himself up the black, wrought iron staircase and past the threshold. You lingered in the loft like a ghost; your scarf by the door, your sweatshirt on the mattress, a crumpled up page from Haechan’s rewritten ending that was, top to bottom, the phrase “BLAH BLAH FILLER FILLER” repeated. You were still there, you always would be. It was just as much your home as it was his.

He knew if you stayed until he fell asleep that it would be the fourth time he’d slept in the loft without you. Jaehyun knew he’d wake up the moment you left, and he’d roll over to feel what warmth you left behind. The thought made him feel more desperate than he already had been.

He would take what he could get.

You could never count the amount of nights you’d spent with Jaehyun in the loft, but you knew the times he fell asleep first by heart. The way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his breathing evened out. You could see each time - three times in too many years - that he’d drifted off and left you to ground him.

When Jaehyun’s parents left him with a relative, one he never really knew enough to like. He had spent the whole day on edge, the whole day fighting back, and when night came it was all he could do to stay awake and tell you about it. You were thirteen, tucking his hair behind his ear and watching as he painted a picture for you, hanging on every word until he left you there, hanging on a sentence half-finished and smiling to yourself.

When you’d both come home from college, Jaehyun’s flight landed earlier than yours. He waited up for you, waited until you came through the door and collapsed into him; plopping like a heap onto the mattress. You laughed and he laughed, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and told you, “I missed you.” And you melted into it, knowing your campuses were an hour away, knowing you’d seen him twice the week before. Knowing you missed him, too, and exactly why.

When you’d finished Haechan’s book, the first time, and scribbled the last of your notes into the margins. Jaehyun had offered the last of his input an hour ago, but he fought against sleep for as long as he could. When his head drooped, heavy with exhaustion, Jaehyun laid down beside you. When he focused too much into your pen scratching against the paper, his eyelids closed. When you turned to tell him something, ask him something, beg for another final opinion, Jaehyun was already asleep. You watched his even breathing, you thought about how you loved him, you thought about Johnny and his certainty and you put your pen down.

Tonight would be the fourth time, for both of you. He’d wake up and you’d be gone, you’d watch him settle into slumber, into comfort, into dreams without you. Until then, Jaehyun held you as close as you’d let him. You took his hand in hours and pushed his hair back; ten, thirteen, almost sixteen, twenty and now - just now - passed in a blink. There was so much time between the two of you, filled with just the two of you.

It was impossible not to love him, especially in memories. Loving him in secret had always felt like torture; the kind that made your skin tingle in anticipation, the kind that made every touch and every look and ever silent conversation feel like magic. The torture of loving Jaehyun in secret was a rush, a thrill. Now you knew and he knew, too. Now it wasn’t a secret and you’d never considered what that would feel like; the torture of loving your best friend and feeling like this.

However you felt now.

The strange mix of emotions flowing through your veins when you kissed his forehead and told him, “Go to sleep, Jae.”

Now, this moment was different from ten and thirteen, almost sixteen and twenty. Now there was time between you, there was a falling out and time lost between you, there was love between you that felt misplaced; explosive and dangerous to acknowledge.

Now, when you pulled yourself from him, when he’d fallen asleep and you slipped out into the cool air of a spring night, your heart felt that tingle in a way it hadn’t before.

Now, you Jaehyun woke up to the click of the loft door, when he rolled over onto your pillow and tried to keep himself warm with a memory, he didn’t linger like he would before.

You crawled into your bed and Jaehyun carried himself down the stairs to crawl into his own. Giving yourselves time.

📻

“You broke up?”

You nodded, it had been two weeks. Haechan had been patient, he had been nosy but he tread lightly around the subject. He gave you time and he gave you grace and he let you put his book on the back burner for two weeks, without much explanation. Haechan busied himself, waiting until you dragged yourself from your comfort; on your own, without Johnny’s help. It was the second hardest thing you’d done, in the last two weeks.

“I might ruin your book.” You half-joked, fingers picking at the skin around your nails. You shook your head, laughed in a way that made Haechan shift, made him reach over and take your hands in his, “You said I don’t believe in love when I’m moping.”

He laughed, Haechan squeezed your hand, “You’re not moping, babe. You’re heart broken.”

Babe. It could break you to hear it, it almost did. Your breath caught and your eyes closed, “Don’t call me that.”

“Noted.” He didn’t let go of you, “What happened.”

You’d gone over it, too many times in two weeks, and it never got easier. The words never felt right, when you said them. Johnny and I broke up. But you tried your best to explain, you tried your best to piece it together; camping, the explosion, the last two weeks. Needing time, needing him and wanting him. Trying to remember how you would burn at his touch and still feeling the last traces of him on your skin.

When you were done, Haechan stood up, “Up.”

“What?” He checked his watch, you stood with him. Haechan tugged your purse off the back of the chair and took your hand again, “What are we doing?”

“Come on.”

It wasn’t an answer. You didn’t know why you’d expect one from him, but you followed after Haechan and didn't let go. He wouldn’t give you the chance to. He mumbled something like, “He should still be at work.”

“Who?”

Haechan lead you outside, raising his free hand for a taxi and cursing when one, two, three, passed by. The fourth one stopped, tires screeching on the asphalt and Haechan refused to answer, a second time, “Get in.”

You rode silently for fifteen minutes, Haechan’s leg bounced two-hundred and sixty times in that time. He fiddled with your fingers, he checked on you, he gnawed at his lip like he was holding something back. When the car stopped, you were in front of a record store and Haechan didn’t hesitate to drag out behind him. A bell sounded over the door, it mixed in with the music playing from a speaker in the corner - it was lost in the sound. Still, someone greeted, “Welcome in!”

“Jisung.”

A mess of platinum blonde hair was tucked under headphones, one pulled back away from his ear. Maybe you should meet Jisung. Your body felt cold, felt frozen in place at the sight of him, at the sound of his name. He perked up at Haechan’s voice and yanked his headphones down around his neck, “Hyuck?”

Haechan introduced you, pulled you in front of him and blocked you between him and the counter Jisung was stationed behind. He gestured, vaguely, “This is Jisung. You remember what I told you?”

Jisung had a crush and Jisung didn’t say anything. Jisung shut everyone out until Chenle confronted him. The simple realization that it was the same girl. You remembered, so you nodded and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“No, it’s not.” Haechan didn't say it to you, he changed the subject, “Tell her about your girlfriend.”

“Uh, what?”

Haechan slowed down his sentence, stretched each syllable like it would take Jisung that long to understand, “Tell her about your girlfriend.”

“She, um, I don’t know. She’s at home? She’s…short?” Jisung stumbled without guidance, he looked between the two of you confused, “What do you want to know?”

“After Chenle came to your dorm, what happened?”

Jisung seemed embarrassed by that, cheeks turning pink at the memory. He stumbled again, he stuttered and he sat back trying to think of why Haechan was asking him this. Why now? Still, Jisung mumbled out an answer that was easy enough, truthful enough, “I confessed.”

“And?”

“And she felt the same. And we’ve been dating since?”

Haechan tapped the counter twice, the glass rattling with the force. Jisung tried to warn him, asked him to be gentle with it, but Haechan ignored him and turned his focus back to you, “How does my book end?”

“Wait, this is your editor?” Jisung pointed to you; more questions, more follow-ups. Then he said, “Wait wait, I don’t want to know how your book ends.”

“Headphones.”

When Jisung pulled them back on, when he gave you both a sturdy thumbs up, Haechan looked back to you, again, and waited for your answer. You swallowed, “She chooses her fiancé.”

“Right.”

“What does that-“

“If Jisung was Sanghoon and Chenle was her fiancé, then she chose Sanghoon, right?” You nodded, you waited. Haechan went on, “That worked out. That was the original ending.”

“Yes.”

“So, who are you going to choose?”

You blinked, “Haechan, I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t understand.”

It had only been two weeks. You still woke up every morning and had to remind yourself why Johnny wasn’t there. You still had to sit with the new feelings you had for Jaehyun; ones that went beyond loving him in secret. It had only been two weeks.

“You have to choose.” He pulled back, he squared himself and told you, “Not even who you end up with. You don’t have to be with either one of them, if that’s the ending you want. But, you do have to choose who is who.”

Relating your life to fiction made your head spin, pulled you from the depths of the situation and let you hover above it. Relating your life to Haechan’s words, to the way he wrote and then altered their story, brought more clarity than sitting in silence, by yourself. You looked at him, head tilted and processing. Haechan only hoped he was helping, he only wanted to help.

“Okay. Right.”

📻

Pressing play made your hands shake.

You could see him in front of you, the towel on his shoulder. You could smell the burning pancake batter and you could feel the strain in your arm from waving at the smoke detector. Johnny’s voice was clear in your memory when he asked, “Do you like this song?”

You loved every song he’d picked, it became the soundtrack of you and Johnny and letting yourself fall for him; you listened to it through three seasons. Johnny was yours from fall, through winter, to spring. Every song felt like a portal, a direct line from him to you. You were on your bed, looking up at the ceiling and trying to steady your breathing. Song after song, a playlist that shuffled and lasted hours. One song ended, another familiar one began, that song ended and another began. Another you hadn’t heard before.

Another you hadn’t heard before.

You scrambled to get to your phone, eyes scanning over the title, over the lyrics, over the new addition to your soundtrack. Atlantis.

You let it play, you hung onto every word and when you’d let yourself crumble into a mess of tears, you tried to call him. Johnny didn't answer, like Haechan you didn't know why you expected him to. But you made yourself speak, forced your voice to stay strong when the tone rang in your ears and you told him, “I miss you.”

Two weeks and two days.

Jaehyun took you to dinner. He made you smile, he made you laugh, he felt like every memory you had of him. You lost Johnny, he promised you it wouldn’t happen and when it did, Jaehyun was there again. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel right. But, when Jaehyun held your hand, when he pulled you down the street and told you, “You look amazing like this.”

You gave it more time, you gave him all you had. You pulled from your memories and tried to fuse them with the present.

You just needed time. You had to find a way back to how it felt to be with Jaehyun before. Before.

He dropped you at home, Jaehyun lingered on your front porch and urged you to go inside. More time, more time. His fingertips still burned your skin, still made you tingle; you had to remember that, you had to remember to breathe. Jaehyun kissed your knuckles, thumb tracing the dips in between your fingers, “Thank you for tonight.”

You needed more time, you needed another explosion, you needed something to shake you from a fog of melancholy and thrust you towards something new. But Jaehyun wasn’t something new. And even after April had showered the Earth, dampened the soil, old seeds would struggle to grow. Still, you looked at him, at the boy you’d loved at ten and thirteen, almost sixteen and twenty - how he turned into a man, right before your eyes. You looked at Jaehyun and asked for something to ground you, “Can you…would you kiss me, again?”

His eyes widened, Jaehyun hesitated; he wondered if he always would. If he’d always find himself teetering on the line between caution and recklessness, when it came to you. Jaehyun wondered if it wasn’t just cowardice that kept him from you, if he was meant to love you and look after you but not as he wanted. Still, he nodded, still he leaned in; because it was what he always wanted. Kissing you was what he’d dreamt about, all those nights he’d dozed off before you. Jaehyun told you, “Of course.”

And he kissed you. Slowly, taking time; time that both of you still felt like you were running out of.

When he left, you climbed back into your bed and pressed play. You waited and waited and stayed up until it happened again; something new flowing through your speakers. Something you’d never heard before. Your screen was colored copper, the music lilted and spun you around until you could imitate the world spinning; a direct link to Johnny. Strange.

You called Johnny again, he didn’t answer. The tone rang once more and you told him, “I still miss you.”

Two weeks, six days.

📻

Mark’s graduation came.

Haechan offered to come with you, Jaehyun had made plans to go with Jungwoo. You knew Johnny would be there, you didn’t let go of Haechan’s hand because of it. It had been a month since you’d all been together, it had been a month since the explosion and you were still tending to the burns it left. You were still recovering, taking time to find solid ground.

Jaehyun called your name, lost somewhere in a sea of people and he still found you. Haechan pointed him out to you, pulled you over to him, pushed you towards him. Jaehyun hugged you, Jungwoo stood to the side, “You went with the blue dress.”

You looked down, “Yeah.” A night with Jaehyun and you sifting through your wardrobe, a night with you and Jaehyun laughing over time. A night where you let his playlist play in the background and kept your ears tuned into it, waiting for a new song. Jaehyun suggested blue. Johnny’s favorite color was blue. You shook your head and commented, “It’s Mark’s school color.”

“Ah. Right.”

Haechan cleared his throat behind you, tapping the graduation program against his open palm. You turned to him, looked back at Jaehyun and Jungwoo, “You remember Haechan.”

“You said you loved my book.”

Jaehyun laughed, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“New ending and all?”

“I actually…we never got through it. She kept the last couple of pages from me.” Jaehyun looked between the two of you, “I’m sure it’s as good as the first one, though.”

Haechan nodded, eyes glued to the side of your head and mouth moving to smirk, to smile, to comment, “Right, well, there’s probably a reason for that.”

Jungwoo interjected, “We should go sit.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Yeah.” He looked back at you; in blue, in the blue dress he picked, “I’ll see you after?”

“Yeah.”

Then they left and Haechan lingered at your side; he waited until you stood up straight, until you pulled yourself up from slumping and looking after Jaehyun. When enough time had passed, when the crowds thinned and Haechan had given you a moment to breathe, he let his thoughts loose, “He doesn’t know the ending?”

“No. Let’s go sit.”

You were so proud of Mark, Haechan had never seen you smile like that: he could count each of your teeth if he took the time to do so. He watched as you clapped, as you cheered, as you wove your way through the crowd until you found him. Mark, circled by people Haechan might know by name, but not by face. You jumped at him, cheered for him again, hugged Mark so tightly and told him, “I’m so proud of you.”

And Mark grinned, just as you were, hugging you just as tightly. He told you, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it, Mark.”

“Have you seen him?” Haechan could hear everything. He knew who Mark was asking about, he saw the way you faltered and he stepped closer just in case. Mark took notice, turning his attention and reaching out a hand, “Is this Haechan?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Congratulations.” He added, “I dropped out.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah. Well, it’s not for everyone.” Mark redirected, “These are my friends, uh, that’s Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin…wait, shit. Jaemin was just here.”

Haechan waved Mark off, distracted himself with introductions and gave you the opportunity to answer Mark’s question, “No. I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s here with Yuta and Taeyong. Ten, too, but I think he had to leave a bit early.” Mark waited a beat, fixed his cap back onto his head and posed another question; a newer version, “Did you want to see him?”

“See who?” You knew the voice before you saw his face. You could recognize the person behind you, no problem. Mark watched your eyes grow wide, watched the way you processed it all. Yuta was behind you, head coming to rest on your shoulder, “Me?”

You and Mark spoke in unison, “Hey Yuta.”

“Congratulations, baby. You did it.” Mark rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, basked in the praise and blushed at the pet name. Yuta pulled back, put you at arms length and looked you up and down, “And you. I haven’t seen you since New Year’s eve.”

“Yeah, I-”

“I know. It’s alright. You’re in blue, huh?” Yuta’s eyes sparked, he looked over your shoulder and they filled with flames; bright blue and dancing, “Wonder why.”

You could see him, then, just past the flames in Yuta’s eyes; reflected just over your shoulder. The room was spinning, your heart was pounding in your chest and you wondered if it could still keep time with his. Johnny was over your shoulder and you couldn’t make yourself turn around. Yuta did it, for you, hands on your shoulders and gentle as they could be. Johnny was there. He was standing right in front of you, hands in his pockets and a tentative smile on his face, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

The crowd kept conversation moving around you, Mark and his friends, Mark and your friends. The room was filled with sound that got lost in your rotation, in the gravity surrounding you and Johnny. Even just next to you, even a foot away from you, even with his hands hidden away, he made your world spin. Johnny smiled more and told you, “You look great.”

“I miss you.”

“I know.” He knew it would be better if he didn’t say it, but Johnny couldn't keep himself from telling you, “I miss you, too.”

“God, Johnny…I…” You didn’t know where to begin, this wasn’t the place to figure it out. You felt the weight of the world under his gaze, you felt the gravity of Johnny pulling you in, “You promised me. You said if it didn’t work out, we’d stay friends.”

“Is that what you want?” No. It wasn’t. You couldn’t say it, it wasn’t the place for it. Johnny didn’t wait for you to answer, offering you something else, offering you a different opportunity, “We’re going to Jungwoo’s to celebrate. You should come.”

“I-”

“Please come. I want you to.” Johnny added, “Mark would, too. It’s for Mark.”

You nodded, “Okay. For Mark.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

Haechan was back before the space Johnny left became too much. He pulled at your hand, tugged you through the crowd and asked, “So, that was Johnny?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Jungwoo’s apartment was full; it always was. Mark and Jeno, Renjun stayed in their gowns, letting them drape and drag; Jaemin had stolen Jeno’s, tied like a cape, Mark was drunk enough to follow. Jaehyun was somewhere, he must have been, Johnny too. You were glued to Haechan’s side, whispering every thought into his ear and letting him rationalize it to you until he slipped away to the bathroom and left you on your own.

You went to the kitchen, then. You stepped out of chaos and into dim, familiar lighting. Eyes closed, you leaned against the counter and let your shoulders sag. You’d been carrying everything on them; every word, every look, every moment of silence between the two of you and every kiss from him. The music from the living room faded into white noise, you pressed a hand to your chest and counted the seconds between each heart beat until you came back to Earth; until you’d grounded yourself.

“Hey you.”

His voice was behind you, just over your shoulder again. You turned, “Hi Johnny.”

“Are you…are you okay?” He laughed it off, “That’s a loaded question. Did you need some time by yourself, I guess. I can leave.”

“No.” You needed him to stay, “No, I don’t want to be alone. Haechan went to the bathroom, I just…I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Your author is here?”

“Yeah, he came with me to the ceremony.”

Johnny nodded, he came further into the kitchen. He tried to keep his eyes down, he tried not to think about you in the same spot, a year ago. Johnny tried to keep his head straight, tried stay in whatever moment you could give him. But you’d told him I miss you and Johnny could feel his heart start beating again, he could feel himself come back to life. A month had gone by and Johnny thought he could let you go, with time. If that’s what you wanted, he’d do whatever he could to give that to you. Johnny would give you everything, he’d lay the world at your feet if you just asked him to.

“I miss you so much.”

“Me too.”

You were stuck in this loop, hesitant to take it a step further. If Johnny had let you go, you wouldn’t recover so quickly. If you’d let him go, he’d lose himself again. After a month, after clinging onto hope he couldn’t clarify was real, Johnny didn't want to lose himself, again.

He came closer, “You said you wanted us to be friends.”

At the same time you said, “You added songs to the playlist.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never did.”

“Me either.” You needed to be honest. Jaehyun was here somewhere, your time was fleeting, “I don’t want to be friends.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t be friends, again.”

“What do you want, then?”

Jaehyun excused himself from a conversation with Taeyong and Doyoung, he pulled himself through bodies crammed into Jungwoo’s living room and worked his way to the kitchen. His throat was dry, he was feeling light headed and lost; like he was losing part of himself. He couldn’t hold anything, not for the last month. You’d taken time, he’d taken some, too. He loved you and loved you and let you love him back, but Jaehyun knew. He could feel a new feeling settling in his chest. He loved you, he always would, but it was different.

He couldn’t place it. He was afraid to.

He’d spent years loving you, hiding in a feeling that lingered, hiding in the idea of being in love with you. There was a reason you hadn’t moved past that, he could see that with time. He could feel it, he found a new place to linger when it shifted. Jaehyun knew he loved you, his best friend, at ten and thirteen. You were the first. He loved you at almost sixteen, when he was piecing your heart back together. He loved you and you loved him at twenty, when distance tugged at your heart strings; longing for the boy who felt like home.

Jaehyun loved you in September, close to a year ago, before he really ever thought to say it. When it thought there would always be time. But, when Jaehyun stepped into the kitchen, when he crossed the threshold with footsteps hidden under the music, Jaehyun knew.

He saw the way you looked at Johnny, hiding again in his secrets. He saw the was Johnny stepped closer to you and the way you trembled when you confessed, “I want you.”

And Jaehyun knew. So Jaehyun left. He excused himself from a conversation he wasn’t part of and he left.

📻

It was two days later when you came to him, when you found Jaehyun in the loft again and stood across from him; space between you, always space. You knew. Your heart had ached for him, had sought him out, had found home with him. For years. But, you knew.

He didn’t move, you didn’t either. The birds chirping in mid-May air filled the void until Jaehyun swallowed cowardice in favor of bravery and said - not a question, but a confirmation, “It’s not me, is it?”

Your head shook, your hands did too, and your heart fell to the floor when you looked at him and said, “No. Not anymore.”

With nothing left to say, Jaehyun told you, “I…I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. Please, don’t be. We both…we waited too long.”

“We.”

Your hands clasped in front of you, holding one another still when you reminded Jaehyun, “I loved you, too. Jaehyun, I loved you just as long, just as much. Please just don’t forget that.”

“I know. I won’t.”

“I still do.” It was easy to say, now. It had taken years to place, years to understand. But you loved Jaehyun, you always would. You told him as much, “I won't stop.”

“I know. Me too.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

He smiled, as softly as he could, “You’re my best friend, too.”

When you left, when the late spring sun was the highest it would be, you took a moment to look back. At Jaehyun, at the loft, at every moment spent there. He was at the window, looking down at you with a face you’d never seen before. Jaehyun looked at you and he smiled and the way his dimples caved reminded you of ten and thirteen, of sixteen and twenty. Of every moment you’d cherish before.

Camping in the loft, birthday parties and slumber parties and constellations between the two of you.

A memory to linger on, a memory to cherish.

You waved at him and Jaehyun waved back. Then, you walked back to your house, stepping over the same potholes that had been there for years.

He was there, in the middle of the street, when you got closer and closer to your house. He was there, with his shirt blowing in a May-almost-June breeze. He was there with his hair flopping into his eyes and a smile, a blinding smile, a smile filled with sunlight to rival the summer sun. Johnny called out to you, “Hey beautiful!”

And you picked up pace, picked up into a sprint until you’d gone far enough to jump into Johnny’s open arms. He was waiting for you, Johnny was waiting for you. His lips found your cheek first, your neck next, just under your ear and then your lips, “I missed you.”

You’d seen him the day before, Johnny let it slide. He held you close and agreed, “I missed you too, baby.”

“You wanna go get ice cream?”

“Anything for you.”

He meant it. Johnny lowered you to the ground, held you just as close to him as you’d been, brushing his nose against yours. He let the breeze sweep your hair into his face, tangle with his, flutter around the two of you like the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Johnny felt a flip, a flutter, something like hope filling him to the brim before you asked him, “What’s going on in there?”

“I love you.”

You grinned, you beamed, you poured starlight into him in broad daylight. Johnny melted when you stood on your toes to kiss him, to promise him, to confess like a secret, just for him, “I love you too, My Romeo.”

previous. masterlist.

[xiaojunsdino]

gonna read some FLUFF after dhwc omg

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[philajazzproject]

In these anxious days, it is important that we keep our minds occupied with affirming and engaging activities // We suggest our FREE mixtapes. A truly powerful one is Musica Potente: which translated into English literally means, "Powerful Music" // It's a compilation of Latin rhythms from past PJP concerts, featuring performances by @pablobatistapercussion @suzzetteortiz Christian Noguera & Andres Cisneros of @timbalona @lukecarlosoreilly @dg8music and more. It’s hosted by Philly Latin Jazz historian, producer and community activist, Jesse Bermudez // GET IT HERE: https://bit.ly/3d8wPFR // #LatinJazz #PhillyJazz #LukeCarlosOReilly #PabloBatista #SuzzetteOrtiz #DennisGuevera #ChristianNoguera #AndresCisneros #JesseBermudez (at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/B94VNJ-DHWc/?igshid=9oex983lpy5z

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (six)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, six

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving/giving), fingering, not so dry humping (frottage). big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 8,437

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee jeno, huang renjun, na jaemin, lee haechan (donghyuck), lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, qian kun, ten lee, jung sungchan, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung

author's note. chapter six is here! it’s shorter because chapter seven is twice as long, but this felt like a good place to cut it! so, enjoy enjoy! (crying editing this chapter because Sungchang mentioned). also, i don’t know what happened? i had this scheduled to post at 10:30 last night and then it didn’t post it?? i woke up thinking i flopped because i didn’t have any notifs 😭 i’m so sorry

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“You’re so beautiful.”

Johnny’s voice was soft, his fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. You watched him, every move he made, every breath, every blink, and wondered if you’d ever get used to those words from his lips. The way his lips curved around each syllable with an easy, definitive smile. How his eyes didn’t waver, held a sincerity Johnny was never short on. Humming, a pleasant pause to thank him, you looked down at his fingers and said, “I remember when we met.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew, “What do you remember?”

Johnny when he’d yet to grow into his limbs, when his arms were a bit too long for the sleeves of his uniform and his legs carried him in acre-long strides. Johnny when his charm was settling, solidifying into sincerity; Johnny’s sparkling eyes when they were filled with unpredictable fireworks, instead of ever-shining sun. There were few discernable differences between that Johnny and the man in your bed, waiting for you to breathe.

You looked back to him, “I told you that your tie was crooked and you ignored me.”

Johnny laughed, chest pressed against you and rumbling with the sound. His hand extended to settle on your waist, pulling you closer to him, still, “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Curling into him, you added, “You got in trouble for it thirty minutes after, though. I think it was your third or fourth day.”

“Hm. I didn’t know how to tie a tie.”

You nodded, head on his chest, and confirmed with, “Your mom only bought you clip-on ties. You told me.”

“What else?”

“You seemed so much older than me.” It was a strange thought, the memory of Johnny so young but feeling larger than life, larger than this world. For as long as you’d known him, in all the ways he’d changed, that much was still true, “Everything about you, just…the way you existed. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does.” He’d come in the middle of the school year, just before his birthday. He did everything he could to blend, everything he could to integrate. He found you and he found Jaehyun and Johnny found a place to fit, “You had that bright yellow backpack.”

“I still have it.”

“And your astrology book.”

You traced the tattoo on his arm, “And you asked me what the stars had to say about when you’d be losing your virginity.”

He kissed the top of your head, muffling another laugh in your hair. Johnny closed his eyes, ���Do you still have your book?”

“Mm. Probably. I think it’s downstairs.”

Johnny pulled back, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheek. Then, fingers on your chin, he tilted your head up and kissed your lips. Johnny who had grown into his arms and his acre-long legs. Johnny who grew his hair longer, who knew how to tie a tie. Johnny who had sunlight in his eyes, who kissed you like it killed him not to. You let your heart swell, holding onto the memory of him with one hand and holding this moment in the other. His lips that curved around sweet words moved slowly with yours; Johnny would always move slowly with you.

“Do me a favor.” He kissed you again, only briefly, “Go find your book?”

“What?”

“Go see if you can find it.”

Sunbeams flickered in his eyes so brightly you could confuse them for fireworks, traces of your memories still lingering in him. Johnny smiled at you, nudged you, pulled himself from the bed and you after, “Why are we doing this?”

The warmth of your blankets faded too quickly, Johnny’s warmth following just as fast. He urged you towards the door, hands on your waist and pushing you backwards, “Go on. I’ll meet you down there.”

You grumbled, “It’s cold.”

But you went. Johnny asked and Johnny smiled, so you went. Your house was dark, two o’clock casting shadows and a particular sense of calm. Your living room was only lit by a sliver of moonlight, just in the center. Your bookshelves lined the furthest wall, behind your television and on either side; a collection that never stopped growing, a collection that needed to be shifted and straightened regularly. Books you’d read and cherished, annotated and scribbled love notes to the authors, the characters and their enemies in. They were stacked in wobbling towers on the floor, leaning against each other for support when they started to fall.

You knew where the astrology book should be; torn to pieces, pulling apart along the spine and frayed at the edges. It hadn’t moved in years, tucked away on the second shelf from the top. Your bare feet padded across the living room, stepping carefully around precarious stacks until you found it. It felt lighter in your hands, smaller.

You cracked it open, let the dust on the cover rub off on your fingers while you skimmed over your notes, “Huh.”

You’d dog-eared five dates; two in February, one in August, one in September and one in late October. It was a relic of its time, frozen and preserved. February 9th had his name scribbled at the top, Aquarius highlighted in neon green, unpredictable underlined in black. Your memory of Johnny came back to life in front of you; crooked tie, shorter hair, fireworks bursting in his eyes.

“You found it.” His voice was close behind you, “Can I ask you an astrology question?”

You turned and looked at him, Johnny still so much bigger than this world, larger than life, “Sure.”

Johnny came closer, “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?”

Your heart jumped, flipped, exploded in your chest. Any oxygen you had in your lungs fled, leaving you to gasp for air, for an answer. Johnny watched you, the easiest smile he could manage on his face. He was stepping closer still, hands wrapped around his sweater until he was toe-to-toe with you, lifting it over your head and pulling it down.

He took a moment to look at you. His sweater fell against your thighs and he worked at the sleeves until they were rolled up to your wrists. Johnny didn’t hide that he was shaking, didn’t hide that he was nervous and excited and bursting with adrenaline. You’d told him that you wanted to be his. Make me yours, you’d said. But, he had yet to ask and Johnny didn’t ever want to assume - not when it came to this, not when it came to you.

So, he explained, “I didn’t ask yet, officially. I wanted to ask.”

The spine protested the way your hands gripped the book, “Me or the stars?”

Johnny looked at the open pages, the word unpredictable underlined, then smiled at you. It was all he could do, he was riddled with hope, “Both. You, mostly. But, both if it helps.”

You caught your breath then - he was looking at you like that. For months, unnoticed. For months, undetected. For six months, Johnny waited and settled on certainty, on sincerity. If you asked for it, he’d give you that time. He’d tease you, he’d kiss you and Johnny would make a game of it; one you could both win, one you’d love to play. But, Johnny would give you that time, if it’s what you needed, if it meant you’d be his.

If the stars said to, he’d double it.

Make me yours, Johnny. You’d made your decision over dinner, over stolen kisses at a Halloween party, over a dance at a festival and that look. So, you swallowed and said, “I say yes.”

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat when he asked, “And the stars?”

“They say yes, too.”

Johnny swept you up in his arms, lips on yours in an instant. He was still shaking, adrenaline leaving his body in short breaths between kisses. He could feel the world rotating, felt it move underneath him and knew it was a miracle he was steady on his own two feet. He whispered your name, followed it with, “My Juliet.”

Then, Johnny thanked the stars. He sang their praises into your lips and begged them not to go cross at the sound of your nickname. To have a sense of humor, to give his Juliet and your Romeo a better ending. Johnny held you in a sliver of moonlight and asked the stars for no ending, at all. Just you.

Only you.

📻

11:37am Hey man

11:37am I think it’s just gonna be you and Jaehyun tonight

11:38am I’m gonna spend the day with my girlfriend

“Yo.” Mark’s phone buzzed once on the table, twice in the palm of his hand. He blinked just as many times, watching as the messages from Johnny came in, processing them, letting his jaw drop as a reaction, “Yo!”

His fist balled, slamming against Jeno’s arm to his left, “What happened?”

“They’re together.” Mark was hushed, his answer almost lost in the bustle of the cafeteria. His eyes felt like they’d fall out of his head, bugged as they were, “They’re fucking together.”

Renjun leaned over Mark’s other shoulder, “Johnny?”

Jeno shook his head, “Holy shit. He did it?”

Renjun settled back into his seat, “See Jaemin, it’s possible.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“This is incredible.” If he could bottle this feeling he would. His expression shifted to reflect every emotion he cycled through until it settled into an ecstatic grin. He pushed himself away from the table, “I’ll be right back.”

Then, Mark crossed the cafeteria phone pressed to his ear. Johnny answered, “Why would you call?”

“Because I’m excited, dude.” He was weaving through people, no clear destination, “You asked her?”

“I said I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend and you called?” He could hear you laughing, Mark’s cheeks ached. Johnny told him, “I asked.”

“Dude, when?”

“Dude, last night.”

He leaned himself against a wall, “I can’t believe this.”

“Sure you can, Mark.” He listened to the background noise, unidentifiable sounds, the two of you moving together. Together. Together. You and Johnny were together. Mark’s laugh came out like a hoot, rushed out and echoed in the hallway. Johnny joined him, briefly, “Look, we’re just waking up. So, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m so happy for you, Johnny.” He was. More than what felt reasonable, but it was out of Mark’s control. He was ecstatic, “Both of you. Seriously.”

Then, Johnny told him, “Thanks man. Me too.”

The line went silent after that, leaving Mark to buzz on his own. He paces three laps the width of the hallway, smiling to himself, celebrating by himself. Mark basked in his uncontainable feelings for as long as he could, before he raised his phone again and made one more call.

“Hey, Mark.”

“He did it.” He was bursting at the seams, “Jaehyun, Johnny fucking did it.”

📻

Johnny’s head was in your lap. Your fingers played with the strands of his hair, twirled them around and let them fall. His fingers traced up and down your calves, occasionally chased by his lips. The movie you’d turned on was nearly forgotten, falling into the background every time he kissed your skin. Johnny hummed against your leg, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” When he looked up at you, you did your best to smile back, lips pulled tight. Your hands fell to your sides, palms flat on the couch while Johnny rotated, turning to face you, “What are you doing?”

“You’d tell me if I was pushing too far, right?” You nodded, Johnny’s hands caught yours and pulled them back to his hair, “Good. Keep going.”

His lips kissed your thigh, soft and brief, but enough to make your heart pound. One kiss by your knee, another higher, another higher still until he’d pushed the fabric of your shorts to the side to kiss along the line of your panties. Johnny breathed you in, eyes closed, “Too much?”

You sighed, “No.”

“Keep going?”

“Please.”

His fingers tugged at the fabric again, nose nuzzled against your clothed pussy for a moment before he placed a kiss at your core. Higher and higher until another one circled around your clit. You tasted like heaven, still, like perfection falling apart at the simplest touch underneath him.

“Babe?” He didn’t lift his head, voice muffled against you, “Can I taste you, again?”

You nodded your head.

Johnny chided, “Words, baby.”

“Yes, please Johnny.”

He sat up in a second, hands wrapped around your ankles and pulling at your legs. He moved himself to the opposite end of the couch, letting you lay back and find comfort before he lifted your leg again. His kisses were sloppier, rushing back up your leg, and his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. Johnny felt starved and it hadn’t even been twelve hours. Pulling at the waistband, he slid your shorts and panties down your legs, dizzy at the sight of you, again; overwhelmed by your glistening pussy in the daylight.

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

You hid from him, face behind your hands, “Johnny, be quiet.”

“Not a chance.” He hovered over you, hardening cock brushing against your clit when he whispered against your lips, “You’re perfect, baby. All mine.”

“All yours.”

Then, Johnny was back between your thighs, lapping at your pussy; drinking you in. His tongue pushed inside, circling to taste every drop before he steadily thrust in and out. He held your thighs down, fingers bruising your skin as you writhed and wriggled, arched against him, “Feel good?”

“Feels so good. Feels so fucking good.” Your voice was broken, barely above a whisper, “‘More.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Johnny focused his attention on your clit, sucking it between his lips and moaning against you, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Mhm.”

He slipped two in, lifting his head only to watch how your jaw hung open. Johnny smothered himself with your pussy, barely coming up for air, sucking and moaning against you. He added a third finger, “So wet for me. Dripping.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me.”

Your mind was lost, fogged over completely at his touch, the way he sounded, the way he made you feel. Your hips bucked every time he hooked his fingers inside you, with every kiss or kitten lick on your clit. You were gone, mindless, “More.”

“My Juliet is greedy.” He hooked his hands under your knees, tossing one over his shoulder and then the other, “Good to know.”

He dove back in, messy and wet. Johnny’s drool mixed in with your juices, dripping down onto the couch. He pulled back, leaving you breathless, a rush of cool air on your cunt. His fingers were in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from the tips before he put them back in, using his other hand to lift your ass up off the couch. The angle had you seeing stars, head thrown back.

“Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.” Your legs were shaking, stars blurring into pure white as you came on his tongue, on his fingers, down Johnny’s chin. You were everywhere on him, “Fuck. Oh my God.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, sucking your wetness off of them again before he settled back on his heels. His cock was pushing against his pants, only for a second, before Johnny pulled it out and spit on his hand. He kept his eyes on you, wrecked in front of him and bucked into his hand, “You’re fucking incredible, baby.”

Your eyes opened slowly, the sight of him jerking himself off sent a shiver to your core, “No. No wait.”

“Wait for what?” His hand never stopped. You pulled yourself up as well as you could until you were in front of him kneeling. Johnny couldn’t breathe, “Open.”

Your jaw fell, waiting for his cock. Johnny slapped the tip against your tongue once, twice, three times before he eased it in, rocking just slightly. You wanted him to use you, wanted him to feel just as good as he’d made you feel. Wanted Johnny to look at you like this, always; those sunbeams shining in his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Use me.”

His hips stuttered, “Huh?”

“However you want, Johnny.” You sucked at his tip, tongue tasting the precum leaking from his slit, “Just use me.”

“Come here, beautiful.” He pulled you up. Johnny settled into the couch, sitting upright and guiding you onto his lap. You waited for him to lower your hips down, sink you onto his length, but he didn’t. Instead, Johnny held your hips, sliding his cock through your wetness before letting it slap against his abdomen. He sat you down, positioning his cock between the two of you, then breathed out, “Move.”

His fingers pushed into your hips, your waist, your ass. Anything he could hold onto to get your hips grinding on him. Your pussy slid against his cock, wrapped around him and wet. The tip pushed against your clit with every thrust, both of your moans echoing in the room.

Johnny licked his lips, one hand reaching up to grab the back of your neck and guide you to him. You kissed him, uncoordinated and sloppy, lost in the rhythm of your hips and his. He was breathing heavily, chest rising rapidly as he chased your lips, chased his high.

“It feels so good.”

He nodded his head, resting it against yours, holding you there. Johnny begged you, again, like he needed to know he had you here, “Look at me.”

You did, eyes locked on him. Your hips couldn't follow the rhythm you’d set, both of you humping and grinding against each other, erratically before Johnny moaned, “Cumming.”

It was drawn out, the way he said it. Johnny was shaking underneath you and never letting go, the intensity of his own orgasm pushed you over the edge, again. Head tossed back, calling out his name like it was the only thing you could remember.

He pulled you against his chest, let you collapse there and catch your breath. He felt like he’d pushed too far, clarity coming back to him like a wave. So, Johnny held you until you came back down and hoped he hadn’t crossed a line.

He asked, “How do you feel?”

“So good.”

“Not too far?”

You leaned back, holding eye contact with him again and promised, quietly enough for only Johnny to hear, “Not too far. I promise, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

“Come take a shower with me.”

Again, he nodded, “Okay.”

📻

Saturday came quickly, after a whole day hidden away with Johnny. Your boyfriend Johnny. Johnny who knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to keep your world spinning and Johnny who promised he’d figure out the rest. He held your hand as you walked down the street to Jaehyun’s, keeping you wrapped in his sweater for one more day.

He stopped you in the middle of the road, centered in front of Jaehyun’s house and staring up at the loft, “You ready?”

“It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.” You hoped his sweater would summon a pinch of Johnny’s certainty, trying to convince yourself that a night in the loft would be normal. Knowing that it wouldn’t be, feeling Jaehyun on your lips, Johnny everywhere else. You looked at him, “It’ll be okay.”

Johnny knew you were worried, if it wasn’t written clearly on your face, you’d told him as much. In the steam of your shower, with Johnny’s hands on your skin, you told him. You’d whispered it like a secret against his bicep, “Tonight will be different.”

He lathered you in milk and honey soap, massaged it into your skin, “Why do you think that?”

“Because we’re different.”

He was kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up so he could rest yours on top. Johnny switched your legs, letting you use him for balance, before he looked up at you - beautiful you, vulnerable with him, willingly vulnerable. He’d spent six months wondering how he could get here and now, all he wanted to do was stay, “Different how?”

You snorted, “You know how.”

The cheeky grin on his face made you laugh more, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

You played the game, “Because you have a girlfriend.”

Johnny stood up, imitation shock perfectly on his face, “I do? Who? Should I be here with you?”

“Of course you should be.”

“And why is that?”

Giving in, caving for Johnny’s charm, you switched spots and pushed him under the water. You brought your lips to his chest, kissing where the last leaf of his tattoo ended and telling him, “Because I’m your girlfriend.”

You could feel him shiver when Johnny pulled you flush against him, “You’re my girlfriend.” Then he whispered, “How insane is that?”

Jaehyun’s house was daunting, now, a new reality. You’d never hesitated on his sidewalk like this, never thought twice about climbing the iron steps. Johnny pulled at your hand and repeated your words back to you, “It’ll be okay. It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.”

Mark had gotten there first, taking the steps two at a time when he arrived. Jaehyun could hear him before he could see him, the clunk of his feet, then the door hitting the wall, then his backpack hitting the floor. The youngest asked, “Are they here yet?”

Jaehyun was at his piano, tapping keys one by one in a scale, “Not yet.”

“Can you believe it, man?” Mark was at the window, pulling off his coat, his hat, watching the empty street like it would pull you from your house, “Johnny thought he’d change his mind.”

“Did he?” Jaehyun met Mark where he was, hands tucked in his pockets. He saw you, then, hand-in-hand with Johnny. Jaehyun let the words rush out in a sigh, “Looks like he didn’t.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. I think he just wanted to be sure, you know? He’s so careful about this kind of stuff.”

Jaehyun noted, “Yeah. He is.”

At that, Mark looked at him, pulling his attention away from you and Johnny - boyfriend and girlfriend, together, you and Johnny - to ask, “You okay, man?”

Jaehyun took only a second to react, adjusting himself to stand upright, fixing his expression so it was believable. He was falling apart, but he told Mark, simply, “Yeah. Weird work week.”

And they left it at that.

When you’d climbed the stairs, when you pushed the door to the loft open, Mark rushed the two of you. Shouting out his excitement, arms secured around the two of you, “Oh my God!”

Johnny laughed, hand still holding yours, squeezing a reassurance before he patted Mark on the back, “I’m starting to think you thought she’d reject me.”

“I’m just excited, man. This is so exciting.” He was so eloquent when he could nit pick his words, but in moments like this Mark was repetitive, vibrating with too much energy and excitement to articulate, “Congrats you guys.”

You heard bottles clink across the room, followed the sound to where Jaehyun stood. He looked at you for a second, felt his lips tingle - the last place you touched - and then agreed, “Congratulations you guys.”

His hand extended to Johnny first, then Mark, then you. The way Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on the neck of the bottle, at the tips of yours, was something kept between the two of you. Johnny told him, told the both of them, “Thanks.”

And you echoed it, eyes on Jaehyun.

Your astrology book was open on your coffee table, turned to the page with February 14th at the top. Jaehyun’s name was scribbled, just like Johnny’s. Two pages filled with notes, with highlighted marks and underlined words. You’d studied it, when you were younger, grew frustrated at the surface level explanation of someone you knew had so much more depth. Looking at Jaehyun now, trying to read him like your book, it was impossible.

Jaehyun felt lost to you.

You had felt it coming, but the reality of it made the beer you swallowed down even more bitter.

Johnny pulled at your hand, “Alright what’s the plan for the night.”

There wasn’t one - there never was. Hours went by in a blink. You’d let Johnny mix you nonsensical cocktails, sipped them down in the middle of the mattress and eased yourself into the night. Johnny carried the conversation, kept your attention with every word. Mark’s laughter echoed off the walls, mixed with yours and Jaehyun’s, sometimes overpowered them. Jaehyun sat at the piano, watching and listening, looking away whenever you peeked at him.

It was tearing you apart.

Mark was too far gone, six celebratory drinks in and wobbling on his feet when he asked, “You guys kiss and stuff, right?”

You choked on your own drink, eyes wide, while Johnny laughed and rolled backwards. He’d sat himself by the windows a while ago, finishing a story and crossing his legs. Mark was near Jaehyun, eyes slow blinking and a lazy smile on his face.

He laughed out a drawn out, drunken, “What? It’s a fair question.”

Jaehyun shifted in his seat, “You’re drunk, Mark.”

“Yeah, obviously.” The youngest was still smiling, shining brightly with mischief while he looked between you and Johnny, “I think you should kiss now.”

“Mark, what the hell?” Your own laughed must’ve sounded forced, or maybe just as drunk as his. Still, you slowly shook your head, “We’re not kissing in front of you.”

“Come on. Why not? When was the last time you kissed?”

Johnny answered for you, glancing at the time, “Six hours ago.”

“See!” Mark gestured vaguely, excited, using his last wind to make his point, “That’s way too long. Don’t you guys want to?”

Again, Johnny answered, truthfully and certain and with a quick wink, “Always.”

“Then do it.”

You looked at Jaehyun. He tapped at the piano, eyes down. You were happy - Johnny made you happy and that’s what Jaehyun wanted. But, you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stand the way he avoided you. Your heart was a lump in your throat, impossible to swallow down. Then, Johnny was in front of your standing at the end of the mattress and reaching out his hand. He smiled, you melted at the sight, the beams of light in his eyes turning you into a puddle, “Come on, baby.”

You thought you might have been the only one to hear it, until Mark squealed. You let the world outside of you and Johnny fade, knowing Jaehyun was in the corner doing the same - fading you out, turning away, closing himself off. You needed Johnny, needed him to hold onto you. So, you took Johnny’s hand. You let Johnny pull you to him and fall into orbit.

“Hi.” You whispered.

He said it back, “Hi. Too much?”

“Maybe a little.”

“We don’t have to.”

But you shook your head. Mark was right, six hours felt like too long, after a little more than twenty-four and, “I miss you.”

Johnny laced his fingers in yours, “I’m right here.”

He leaned in, Mark said something like, “They’re doing it” an octave higher than usual, clapping his hands like a seal. Johnny leaned in and you titled your head up to meet him in the middle, letting his lips mold to yours, move with them, just like you had all last night, all day.

Then it was over. Johnny turned to Mark and asked, “Happy?”

And from the way Mark kicked his feet, from the way he jumped up and onto Johnny, you knew he was. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the laugh. Jaehyun was on his feet, stepping around the two of them with a pat on Johnny’s back, “I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone.

Johnny and Mark found a new topic to pick at, collapsing into each other in laughter, in drunken camaraderie. You watched for a moment before finding an excuse with reason, “I’m gonna get some water.”

Then you followed after Jaehyun.

He could hear your footsteps behind him, soft and careful, lingering just over his shoulder. Jaehyun held his breath, fingers fumbling with twisting the lid off the bottle. He couldn’t focus on it, his chest tight again, alone in his kitchen with you. Eventually, the metal scraped enough on the glass so the cap fell, clinking against the countertop. Jaehyun ignored it, his breath easing its way out of captivity in his lungs, and poured.

“I submitted my edits.” He didn’t turn, the silence between you filled with the sound of whiskey in a tumbler, “Lee Haechan has notes.”

His shoulders were stiff, “Oh?”

You nodded, silent and knowing he wasn’t looking. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your throat, your ears, “He wants to meet with me.”

Jaehyun only hummed.

“Please.” You didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to plead, for Jaehyun to hear it. It seemed fruitless to beg him, to let this silence swallow you up and put more space between the two of you, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips, “We just keep apologizing to each other. For what?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’ve said that. Nothing is happening.” His world is crumbling, Jaehyun was lying to you while he was lying in ruins. The haze of alcohol made everything seem slow, heavy, impossible. He turned, leaning against the counter but still looking away, “We’re all just adjusting.”

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do.”

“Then please. Please just be honest with me.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, “I am.”

The circles you’d spun in were wearing you down. Every conversation you’d had with Jaehyun for the last month spiraled the same way, until the ground caved in underneath you - another layer added each time, worse and worse the further down you went. Your heart was aching; if the daylight found you euphoric, the night and the drinks and the way Jaehyun avoided you found you in a state of misery.

The same conversation, the same circles, the same sickening feeling in your gut watching your best friend close himself off. February 14th in your book; distant underlined in black, detached highlighted in neon green. Jaehyun was two feet away and had never been further from you.

Anger replaced hurt long enough for you to say, “You’re so full of shit, Jae.”

“I’m full of shit?” That was the tipping point. His eyes were on you, zeroed in and pinched in a glare. Jaehyun tilted his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, the glass hitting the counter harder than he’d anticipated when he was done, “Has it always been him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny. Has it always been Johnny?”

“No.”

“It’s just him now, then?” Jaehyun stepped closer, “You just woke up and decided that?”

You froze, hand at your sides and head tilted, “How do you think this works?”

“I don’t know and you won’t fucking talk to me about it.”

“I can’t talk to you about it!” You could hear the music from upstairs and hoped that it was loud enough to drown you out, to mask your explosion, “This is what happens. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it’s going to be. That’s the whole point, Jaehyun. Do you know where all your relationships will go from the start?”

He shook his head, not as an answer. Jaehyun shook his head and rolled it back, letting the debris settle around him, “Obviously not.”

“Why do I need to have so many answers for you?”

“It’s the same fucking thing you did with Sicheng.” It wasn’t. He didn’t mean it. Jaehyun sought out an escape and latched onto a lie, again. He watched the way your face twisted and immediately wanted to take it back. But, he doubled down, “Look how that ended.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” You didn’t wait for him to tell you, stepping back, “You’re out of your fucking mind. We were kids, Jaehyun.”

He called your name, stepping after you, taking up the space you’d been in before. Jaehyun was overwhelmed by cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin, “We’re not kids anymore.”

“Exactly.”

Jaehyun’s voice was quiet, “Did you fuck him?”

You stopped, “What did you just say?”

“Did you fuck him?” You didn’t budge, you didn’t answer, you didn’t blink. Jaehyun ran his hands through his hair, “This whole thing is a game.”

Clarity came and went, weaving through your words, the music, the things Jaehyun said. Another layer of the Earth crumbled from another loop, “It’s not and for some reason that bothers you. You just won’t fucking admit it.”

“It doesn’t.”

“We’re having the same conversation, again, because it does.”

He was in front of you again, wavering again, “I don’t want to lose another friend because you want to fuck around.”

Johnny and Mark moved two floors above you, footsteps and laughter loud enough for you to hear in the silence that fell between you and Jaehyun. Fury and confusion mixed like another cocktail for you to swallow, another drink you’d choke down tonight. It was too much, every second, every word, every thought. It was all too much.

You blinked.

Jaehyun watched the tear roll down your cheek, watched it curve at your jaw and felt like he was going to be sick at the sight. He could see his bedroom door, considered how the night would’ve gone if he’d just gone to bed, cut himself off. Instead, he’d gone too far. Jaehyun reached for you, the most natural thing for him to do, his hand out in front of him. You pulled back. You kept pulling back.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it.”

He said your name again, a broken whisper in the back of his throat, “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I - fuck, that’s not…”

“You didn’t lose Sicheng. You won’t lose Johnny.” Jaehyun wanted to correct you - that’s not at all what he was worried about. You kept pulling back and he kept pushing, doing everything he could to ensure he’d lose you. Every step was a misstep. Jaehyun was terrified, stuck in this moment, this loop. Your hand wiped the tear from your face, the ones that followed its path, “But, until you figure out what you do mean, I…I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Your arms wrapped around yourself, comforted by Johnny wrapped around you, soothing you in the way Jaehyun would if he could reach. The ground held your attention, eyes cautious in case it gave way, again. You weren’t sure how much Earth there was to spare, how much of your foundation you and Jaehyun had left. He watched you shake your head, erase all the thoughts that had you so far away. Then, you told him, “Whatever this is. I don't know who we are anymore.”

Jaehyun couldn’t tell you. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he thought he knew. In a world before he watched you kiss Johnny and feel something, before he saw your face when you really liked it, Jaehyun thought he could figure it out even though, “You said you felt nothing.”

He didn’t know you had heard him, he didn’t know he’d said it out loud, until you asked, “What?”

So, for the last time, he lied, “I said we’re nothing. We’re the same as we were.”

“Don’t. We keep saying that and then this keeps happening.” You looked at him, for the last time, “Figure it out.”

Then you left. Jaehyun waited until he heard your footsteps join Mark and Johnny. He stood perfectly still in his kitchen, breathing faster and faster with every second until he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Then, Jaehyun went to bed, freezing.

📻

A week had gone by quickly and the world adjusted around you, around Johnny, around an ache that still lingered and you tried to push down. A week had passed and you worked hard to find your footing on frosted over pavement, sidewalks that shone under a layer of ice - water from a late night storm. A week had passed and you were suddenly halfway through November, choking down the silence between you and your best friend.

The café helped in filling the quiet, bustling midday while you waited for your faceless author. Your latte cooled in front of you, the steam from it evaporating as the minutes passed by.

Then, he was there - Lee Haechan was exactly how you pictured him and somehow shockingly different. His oversized blazer hung open around him, tan against a plain white shirt and jeans. The black beanie on his head left a dent in his hair when he pulled it off and introduced himself, confirming your name and saying, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same.”

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow lifted, “Really?”

“Of course. I really enjoyed your book.”

Haechan laughed, straightening upright, “You did? You sure had a lot to say about it.”

You balked, “I mean…that’s my job.”

“Right.” He tapped at the table, “I didn’t disagree with most of it. Honestly, you’re the first editor that gave me honest feedback. So, I guess I should thank you.”

“I thought this was your first book.”

Haechan nodded, “It is. You’re the sixth editor that’s gone through it, though. Seventh if you count my friend, Sungchan.”

You leaned forward, wrapping your hands around your mug before bringing it to your lips, “Why so many?”

Haechan easily matched your position, leaning closer and smirking, “Everyone was full of shit.”

“And I’m not.”

He shrugged, “You might be. But, I liked it.”

He was something else - charming in a way that was almost off putting, confident and calm, “Okay. So, why did you want to meet?”

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Excuse me?”

Haechan leaned back again, watching as the waitress set his drink in front of him and crossing his arms, “I write about love. You’ve been in love right?” You nodded, slowly, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. You had no way of knowing where this was going, Lee Haechan was unpredictable, resolute when he asked again, “Tell me about it. The first time.”

“Okay, sure.” You’d spent years avoiding the topic and the last month circling back to it. Your head throbbed at the thought, but you told him, “He was an exchange student. He…I don’t know, the moment I saw him I felt like I just needed to be near him. He was so quiet and reserved, at the time, and it felt like he was a mystery. Does that make sense? I’d spent my whole life until that point surrounded by the same people and he was so new.”

“A shiny new toy to play with.”

Words that were unintentional knives, poking and prodding at the memory of Jaehyun in his kitchen. The implication that Sicheng was a game, that Johnny was too - Jaehyun had thrown the same knives. And, when they tore at your skin, when his words drew blood, Jaehyun was shocked. Haechan had no way of knowing how his words pierced fresh wounds, how you’d felt them reopen and used your latte to choke down what pain followed. He just watched you, curious as he’d been when he came through the door, and waited for you to speak.

“No. No, he was more than that. He was, I don’t know, bubbly? Vibrant and when he smiled it was like magic.”

“Wow.” Haechan sat with that, mulled it over while he sipped on his own drink. He looked at you, after a hard swallow and asked, “Is that Jaehyun?”

Your pulse stopped, veins cold and lifeless, hands squeezing tightly around your mug. Blinking, you begged Haechan for clarification, “What?”

“Jaehyun.” He took another sip, watching silently as you spiraled, “Is that your first love?”

“No. Jaehyun is…” The word was lost on you; Jaehyun was ice, he was cold and he was something he’d never been. Jaehyun was supposed to be your best friend, but he was shifting into something else, into a ghost and the thought made you nauseous, “He’s my friend.”

He hummed, “You mentioned his name in your notes a few times. I figured it was a reference.”

“He helped me. He…he let me read your book to him so I could work out my thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d left his thoughts in, as well.” You looked down into your mug, followed the swirl of the foam, “I’m sorry. That was really unprofessional.”

“I don’t mind.” Then, Haechan pushed, asked more from you than you were prepared for, “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

There was nothing you were less sure of, not in that moment. But you knew what he was implying, you know how his words grabbed at your heart and tried to jumpstart the feeling you’d been chasing for years. That familiar ache you tried to push down. You shook your head, “I have a boyfriend.”

Haechan nodded, “Ah.”

Your phone buzzed, nudging a spoon closer to the edge. 12:49pm Come over tonight?

“Boyfriend?” You nodded, “Do you love him?”

“We’ve only been together for a week.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about him.” Haechan pointed to your phone, Johnny’s message still visible, “Love is strange. Every time I think I understand it, I find a new version somewhere else, in something else or someone else.”

“Maybe it’s not love, then. Maybe it’s infatuation.”

“Infatuation is messy.” Haechan shook his head, “There’s a purity in love, something untainted and clean about it. Love is a white light, infatuation is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Haechan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and placing it on the table between you. It was a page from his book, torn from the manuscript and scribbled on. He watched as you read over it; a passage about the love interest, a comment about the main character credited to Jaehyun. Haechan cleared his throat, “Jaehyun said the way Sanghoon felt was fleeting. The way it’s described was fleeting, ungrounded.”

“Right.”

“And you said…” Haechan leaned over the paper, himself, fingers tracing along your written notes, “What is more akin to love than desire to float away.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s more pure than a desire to fly? Love should feel like that.” Then he smiled, teasing and wide, “Light in color, light in weight.”

You looked at him, “You seem like the type to have an opinion on everything.”

Haechan barked out a laugh, “You’re right. I like talking to you.”

“I’m undecided.”

“Fair enough.” He checked his watch, humming at the time before he told you, “I have to go. We should meet again, though. And, really, think about it.”

“About what?”

Haechan was standing, securing his hat on his head again and taking another long sip of his drink before he looked directly asked you and repeated, for the second time, “Do you love him?”

📻

Taeyong’s apartment was warm; pleasantly covered in dim lights dangling from the ceiling, music lilting out of a speaker hidden by bodies in a small crowd. He ushered you in, “Hey you.”

His hug was welcome, just as warm as his home, “Hey Yong.”

You could hear Mark’s laugh, tucked away somewhere around the corner, mixed in with every other sound you had yet to match to a sight. The air was heavy with the smell of food, lingering on Taeyong’s clothes, on the apron tied around his waist. Taeyong slid your coat onto a hanger, put it in the closet and came to stand behind you, “He’s in the kitchen.”

You looked back at him, “He told you.”

Taeyong snorted, stepping around you into the apartment, “He’s telling everyone that will listen. Come on.”

As soon as you rounded the corner, as soon as you were in his line of sight, Johnny saw you. You watched the end of his sentence taper off, the way he stilled his stirring and the conversation he’d been having with Ten. Johnny locked onto you and opened his arms as wide as he could, heart full in his chest, “There’s my girl.”

You fell into him, breathed him in for the first time in two days - since your meeting with Haechan left you spiraling and Johnny turned spirals into comfortable, comforting spins. He held you close as you mumbled, “Hi babe.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Johnny held your hands around his waist, locked them there, “I like how that sounds.”

Johnny kissed your lips, Mark broke from his conversation with Yuta to hoot, to holler, to watch you tuck yourself back into Johnny, “Jesus.” You pushed your way under Johnny’s arm, “What are you making?”

He shrugged, closing the distance again and wrapping around you from behind, “Ask Taeyong.”

Johnny kissed your neck, palm flat on your stomach, the other guiding you to look back at him again. He wanted to kiss you, it was all he could think about all day. So, he blocked you from Mark’s view and moved his lips to yours, “Missed you.”

“Saw you this morning.” Johnny’s hand slipped down from your chin, down your arm, down to hold your hand in his. Insatiable was the closest to what he felt, “Missed you, too.”

“Stay with me tonight.” Johnny’s breath was hot against your ear, “Please.”

You hummed an agreement, sighed and leaned further into him, “Okay.”

Ten chopped vegetables behind you, “There are other rooms for that.”

“You can join.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, Ten tossed a slice of carrot over his; laughing when it bounced off Johnny’s cheek and fell to the floor. Johnny turned back to you, “Did you see everyone else, yet?”

“Not yet.” You’d placed the spoon back into the pot, stirring the broth that bubbled and popped, “Who is here?”

“Yuta, Kun, obviously Mark and Ten.” Johnny looked around the room, “Jungwoo is on his way, Yangyang is running late and picking up Renjun.”

His name missing from the list didn’t go unnoticed. Do you love him had plagued you for two days. Words from a stranger that had embedded themselves in your brain, clawed at it until you didn’t have a choice but to listen. Johnny was warm against you and it was a comfortable distraction. Johnny was careful with you, easing you into view and keeping some things secret for the two of you. I wasn’t talking about him.

Part of you knew he wouldn't be here. Jaehyun would put as much distance between the two of you as he could; Taeyong was across the city, Taeyong lived in another world. You thought about asking Johnny to stay at yours tonight, to bring you back to your world and let you hang onto the last bit of closeness you had with Jaehyun. You were spiraling again.

“You okay?”

You nodded, “Kitchen is hot.”

“Come on.” Johnny pulled you from the heat of the stovetop, “Ten, can you stir.”

“Tell Kun he has to come cut.”

The living room was cooler, by far, louder and filled with interweaving conversations. You followed the end of one conversation and listened as it carried on into another, filling the empty space Kun had left on the couch.

Yuta had dyed his hair fire-engine red since the last time you’d seen him, a vibrant contrast to the layers of black he wore. He was engulfed in his conversation with Mark, elbows on his knees and leaned in. Mark, opposite him, seemed more at ease after his assessment date had passed. His hands moved wildly in front and around him, illustrating whatever he was relating to Yuta.

Taeyong was perched on the armrest of his chair, the one positioned in front of a shelf of his own work. His fingers were stained with paint, fading but always present, as they tapped at the screen of his phone. He looked up, lending his voice to the conversation when it was useful, turning his attention down when it wasn’t. Taeyong was similar to Johnny in that way, always moving with intention.

Kun and Ten were chatting in the kitchen, working around each other in remarkable sync. You were sure Ten had a new tattoo, just above his elbow, but he was too far away to tell now. Kun had pushed his glasses down from the top of his head, focused on the dish in front of him.

It made you feel sick, sitting in a space so full of life and still lingering on such an empty feeling. If you sat quietly long enough, you’d get lost in those thoughts. But, Johnny had his hand in yours and, when he could feel your grip loosening, he squeezed his fingers around yours and whispered something beautiful, something sweet. Something so wonderfully Johnny that you went from drifting to floating, only a slight difference between the two.

But it was enough for you to notice.

Kun told you all the food was ready, wiping at his hands with a towel before you all filed into the kitchen. Taeyong’s doorbell rang a second later, he rushed to answer it, “It’s probably Jungwoo.”

Just like Mark, you could hear him before you saw him. Jungwoo came into the kitchen with an announcement spilling from his lips, “I brought a surprise.”

Hope swelled in your chest, head turning and seeking him out. Searching for dimples, for a tugged at tie, for his laugh and his smell and the way he’d look for you, first. Ten spoke up, “Doyoung?”

And your hope shattered.

It was only when everyone filed out of the kitchen, only when you and Jungwoo remained, that you thought to ask, “Is Jaehyun not coming?”

Jungwoo licked at his fingertips, tasting a sauce Kun said was his specialty, “No. He couldn’t make it.” Jungwoo poured a ladle full of soup into his bowl, eyes flicking to you when he asked, “Didn’t he tell you?”

You lied, knowing the words fumbled coming out of your mouth. You lied, blinking and focusing on your already full plate. You looked up at Jungwoo and lied, “Yeah. Right. I must have forgotten.”

Jungwoo watched you leave the kitchen then, his phone heavy in his pocket with a message from Jaehyun.

8:12pm Tell me how she is.

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[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (ten)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, ten

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 15,915

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. kim jungwoo, best friend mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, lee donghyuck (haechan)

author's note. i deleted 5k of johnny/yn smut, because it felt gratuitous. (maybe i’ll release it as a bonus) so, there’s not smut in this, though it is suggestive. how are we feeling y’all?

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“Something happened.”

Haechan was across from you, relaxed in a way that felt like a taunt. You only looked at him, only shook your head, only focused back on your work - his work - and told him, “Nothing happened.”

There was a note in your pocket, tucked in your coat and resting against your leg, that implied otherwise. It burned and burned and singed the lining until you felt it on your skin. Three days had gone by, three days into what sometimes felt like spring, what lingered of winter. Three days of reading and rereading I miss you too and doing nothing about it. Your hand fell to your side, resting on top of Jaehyun’s note. It was simple enough to lie, to let Haechan and his novel and his not-so-new ending be a distraction. Haechan was not a simple person, “You’re really bad at lying.”

“And you’re bad at writing.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He smirked, he lowered his head and smirked, “If you’re going to insult me, make it believable.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Nothing happened.” You nodded, he nodded. The café around you was still for a moment, a quiet Wednesday mid morning. It was quiet enough to hear your pen scratching, the clink of dishes and knives and forks, the cogs in Haechan’s brain rotating with a screech before he said, “Close your eyes.”

“I’m not doing that.” You tapped the papers in front of him, “Pick your cover.”

“I’m not doing that.” He leaned closer, “Come on. Close your eyes for thirty seconds. Humor me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Because you’re tense and it’s making me tense. I don’t want to be tense. So breathe, close your eyes and relax for a minute.” Haechan gave a smile, one he didn’t commit to but that you were sure was supposed to be reassuring. Then, he reminded you, “Like I said, mopey you hurts my book.”

You leaned back, shoulder blades sinking into the plush chair behind you. You could feel the shift of it, the weight of a piece of paper folded up three inches by four moving in your pocket and leaving heat behind as it did. Jaehyun, on paper, still leaving you burning. You clicked your tongue, then your pen, and relented, surrendered, closed your eyes to block out Haechan looking smug across from you.

Sighing, you said, “They’re closed.”

“Good. Relax.” More clattering, more clinking. Someone laughed, loud and boisterous, across the room. Haechan let out a breath and you, you kept your eyes closed. You let every sound go through you until it felt right to open your eyes to them, to identify and clarify them. Haechan was quick to stop you, “Not yet.”

“You said thirty seconds.”

“I lied. Keep them closed.” He grabbed something off the table; another sound, of it dragging against the marble, “How is Johnny?”

You smiled, you couldn’t help it. Eyes still shut, you just grinned, “He’s good.” You spent every moment you could with him, “He’s really good.”

You were so wrapped up in him. Haechan made a sound, followed by scratching, followed by another question, “When are you going to see him next?”

That morning, six hours ago, Johnny had kissed your lips, your forehead and pleaded, “Come see me at work.”

You’d told him, “I have a meeting.”

Johnny pouted, lips pushed out and plump from kissing you; from a morning of nothing else but kissing you. He’d spend every morning, every afternoon, every evening like that if you’d, “Just come see me when it’s done.”

“Okay.” With a nod and whisper and the rustling of your sheets, you agreed. With another kiss, a prolonged kiss, one last kiss, he left. So now, with your eyes closed in a café, you told Haechan, “Later. When I leave here.”

“Aw. Why didn’t you invite me?”

“Because I think you two would get along. Too well.” They were too much alike. There was a shift in Johnny, sometime in October. Somewhere between I think I like you and You’re a star, Johnny had morphed into a version of himself you never even considered before. Haechan was like Johnny before, Johnny as he was sometimes still. Johnny who loved to taunt and tease, “Two against one isn’t fair.”

“Oh, I have to meet him, now.” The noise in the café picked up, a crowd coming in and filling the space with new sounds. It felt ridiculous to be sitting with your eyes closed, “Do you miss him?”

“I saw him this morning.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You relaxed, then, into the memories of Johnny - Johnny this morning, Johnny last week, Johnny as he is now and how he was before. The same smile crept onto your face and you let it, gave into it, basked in it. It was impossible to fight, “Yeah.”

“Huh. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

Haechan scratched at something, scribbled something new and said, “You really love him.”

Your eyes opened, despite his scolding, “I…yeah, I think I do.” I think I like you echoed in your head. It didn’t feel so strange, only thinking about it. It was a step towards saying it to the one who needed to hear it. It was a step in admiring it. Thinking about it and saying it, out loud, to Haechan, “You didn’t think I did?”

“Not what I said.” He pointed at you with his pen - your pen - then tapped it against the pad of paper in his lap. You could see words scratched quickly, some resting on the line and others missing the mark. Lee Haechan, the café therapist, jotting down notes and asking you, “How is Mark?”

This was a pattern and you knew what came next, “Mark is fine. He’s finishing up school.” You knew who came next in this exact line of questioning. Johnny, Mark and the one setting fire to your skin, still. The one tucked away in your pocket. You warned, “Haechan-”

“How is Jaehyun?” Your face fell, Haechan watched it fumble and plummet, “Any word?”

Burning, burning, burning. Three days. Instinctively your hand rested on top of it, again, pressing the heat further into your skin. You hesitated, you knew that you did and you knew that Haechan did, too. Your eyes were wide open now and, after ten minutes of having them closed, you couldn’t hide what was written in them; pouring out of them. Haechan hummed again, chewed at the end of your pen and hummed.

There wasn’t any use in lying. You couldn’t think of a reason to try, “Yeah. A few days ago.”

“And?”

“He said he missed me.”

“After two weeks?”

You corrected him, “After two months.”

“Right.” It was Haechan’s turn to shift. He adjusted in his seat, pulling one leg up to cross over the other, “I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“What?”

“I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“You’re too short to be talking in riddles. People will think you live under a bridge.”

“You have so much bite in you, lately. I kind of like it.” It read on his face, pure amusement when he went on, “I’m talking about the book. Sanghoon. I don’t think he was her first love.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Riddles and riddles, Haechan spoke with purpose but it hardly made sense. He wasn’t frustrated when he explained, but he was serious. Maybe stern, “Your first love. Do you think he was the first?”

“I…yes?” Reflecting on Sicheng had gotten easier with time, still you shifted in your own seat, “I loved him. A lot.”

“Right. But was he the first?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He put his notepad down, placed it in front of your so you could read it clearly; nonsense words, lyrics to a Michael Jackson song, a sloppy drawing of a coffee mug. Nonsensical, as he ever was. He pointed to one of the covers, one of three on a sheet in front of him, “I like this one.”

📻

Your phone rang at 6:43am.

The first ring you didn’t notice, the second one sounded like a melody in your dream. The third time and the song was too familiar, too clear to be a dream, so by the fourth ring you came to. Back to reality, back to your room, blinking yourself awake through the fifth ring until the call was missed.

[1 Missed call from Jae]

The voicemail came a moment later, after you’d sat up, after your stomach dropped. After you’d picked up your phone and felt frozen in time. Your thumbs hovered over the screen, two hands wrapped around something so small - something locked in it that was so, so big. After six minutes, you let the message play.

“Hey. I…I’m - you’re probably sleeping. I just was…can we talk? If you still want space, that’s fine. But, I will, uh, I’m outside and I’ll wait a few minutes if you…if you decide. You - yeah, okay. Bye.”

Six minutes had passed. Six and another two, after you’d pressed play. Jaehyun sounded…you hadn’t heard his voice in two months and he sounded the same, familiar, like something you’d lost. He sounded like your Jaehyun. Your limbs untangled themselves from a mess of sheets, checking the time on your phone once - 6:52am - twice - 6:52am - three times - 6:53am.

Then you were standing at your window, looking down at familiarity; a black car, his black car, parked and running outside of your house. Your fingers moved on your screen again, typing out, 6:54am I’m coming down.

He was leaning against the passenger side door when you finally looked up, staring at you intently with his hands deep in his pockets. Jaehyun was holding his breath, watching every step you took and counting the seconds until you were directly in front of him. A reflection of the past, a replica of Halloween night, time looping and repeating itself.

But the chill was different, from October to March. In October, the cold meant something was ending; summer had come to an end, the sun needed more rest than usual. The breeze that bit your skin in October was a precursor, a preview, an introduction to months of wrapping yourself in something, desperate for warmth. You chose Johnny.

In March, though, the cold was fleeting; the sun started staying in the sky longer, letting its beams kiss the Earth in an attempt to revive it. In March, the cold wasn’t as harsh, it didn’t bite as hard, it was a transition into spring and the promise of warmer days. March, indecisive and unpredictable, was meant for hope. You stood on your front step, your coat pulled tightly around you until spring settled in. Jaehyun let out a breath and you watched it dance in the air, watched it disappear.

The sun was just now thinking of rising, preparing to start a new day and Jaehyun was just thinking of speaking, preparing everything he’d thought for the last two months. It would all rush out at once, if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t move with intention. He cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your own voice was strained, still tired, still dreaming. You took a step closer, “Hey.”

“Can I…” Jaehyun pointed to your steps, faltered and pointed over his own shoulder, “Or do you want to…?”

“Um, we can talk here.”

Jaehyun came to you, hesitant. Every step was agonizing until he was there, just in front of you, “I’m-”

Two months of time, two months of space, “Don’t say sorry. Please don’t say sorry.”

Jaehyun blinked, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, you could do everything to fight them off, but you knew tears were coming. They lingered at the corners of your eyes, “Just not that. I’m so tired of it.”

“Me too.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, a rush of anxiety and uncertainty, “I-”

You hugged him. It was simple and it was instinctual, the way your arms wrapped around his neck, the way your face buried into his neck. Breathing him in, pushing away two months to stand on your porch and wait for him to hold you, too. Jaehyun did, simply and instinctually, arms around your waist as tight as they could be. It was silent for so long, never too long. It was comfortably silent and still, five days into March, waiting for the two of you to come back to life.

You stayed like that for ten minutes, letting the sun start rising around you. You stayed like that until your sniffles turned into tired laughs, laughs turned into more silence, shared silence.

The two of you were sitting on your porch when you finally asked, “How have you been?”

“Uh.” Jaehyun thought, honesty weighing on him, “Okay, I guess. Alright.”

“Yeah?” You chose to believe him, “That’s good.”

“You?”

“Good. Really…I mean, I’ve been good.” It was the truth, but you didn’t want to deny it, didn’t want to discount it, “I missed you, Jaehyun.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Mark played messenger.”

“Yeah. Poor kid.” Jaehyun knew he should ask, so he swallowed the lump in his throat before he did, “How is Johnny?”

It took you a moment to say, “He’s good, too.”

Then, Jaehyun gathered his thoughts, his intentions, and said, “I don’t really know…I didn’t think about how this would go. I almost left.”

“Hm.”

“I just wanted to know where we stand. I just wanted to see you. I know two months isn’t that long, but it-”

“It’s an eternity.” Jaehyun turned to you, eyes focused on every move you made, trying to find his way back inside your head, “Two months is too long. I know I said I wanted to take a break-”

“You had every right to.”

“But, I missed you so much.”

You wondered how many times you could say it; I miss you. Jaehyun did, too. I miss you felt like a substitute for I’m sorry. You didn’t know how to stop saying it, how to stop time from looping until you’d run I miss you into the ground. It felt like the only thing left to say, something to ease your way back after time and space and silence.

The sun had come up enough to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue, tickled with hues of orange and pink. Jaehyun’s phone sounded in his pocket, ringing until he pulled it out and checked the time, “I have to go.”

“Sure. Of course.”

He stood up, “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk more later.”

“We can try.” You stood when he did, hands brushing off dirt at your sides, “I’ll call.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jae.”

“Bye.” He turned to leave, hands tucking back into his pockets as he moved down three steps. Jaehyun had made it halfway down your path, halfway to his car, when he stopped, “Can I ask something?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Anything.”

Jaehyun’s smile was shy, almost playful. He was teetering on the edge of asking or bailing, brushing everything off and leaving you to wonder. He was embarrassed in a way, nervous in another; feeling strange stopping to ask you, “Are we still best friends?”

You laughed, his heart beat faster until you said, “Of course.”

Jaehyun told you, “I’ll see you.”

And then he left.

You waited until you got inside to fall apart, allowing yourself a moment in the quiet of your house. You waited two months for something you started to end, allowing yourself to hope and wish and want for him. For something. You waited two weeks and pretended that everything was fine, as it should be. And in a blink, it was. In a blink, Jaehyun was at your door. In a blink the pieces of you that he’d taken came back, fell into their places like they’d never left.

Like he’d never taken them.

Like you’d never handed them to Jaehyun and pushed him out and out and out.

Your phone was on your bed when you’d crawled back up the stairs. It was instinct to pick it up, to call him and tell him everything you could. He answered on the second ring, “Good morning, beautiful.” Johnny’s voice was like heaven, a perfect sound to your tired mind, “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah.” You sat on the edge of your bed, “Jaehyun was just here.”

Johnny said, under a breath, “Oh.”

“He called and asked if we…if we could talk.”

“Did you guys talk, then?”

“Yes.”

Johnny wanted to be supportive. He was supportive. He knew how the past two months had gone, he knew the way your lips twitched when you told him things were fine, you were fine, everything was fine. Johnny knew how much you’d missed Jaehyun. And, even if he could still hear Yuta and Taeyong in the back of his mind, Johnny pushed it away. If it made you happy, he’d swallow suspicion he wasn’t keen to have and Johnny would ask, “How’d it go?”

“I think well.” You let out a long breath, falling back and sinking into your waiting sheets, “I think it went well.”

And Johnny smiled, knowing you couldn’t see him. He smiled and hoped that it read as relief, that you could hear it in his voice when he told you, “That’s so good, baby. That’s great.”

📻

Johnny kissed your cheeks, your neck, just behind your ear. His lips found unmarked skin and littered it with affection, adoration. The morning had come in slowly, so he was taking all the time he had with you, letting the sun fill his bedroom with light at whatever pace it pleased. You were beside him, beside yourself with that feeling you’d placed but hadn’t said - not to him. His apartment had turned into a habitat for all the butterflies he’d conjured, all the fluttering feelings Johnny inspired.

His fingers pulled at your shirt - at his shirt - where it rested, bunched up, at your waist. Johnny suggested, “Stay here with me. All day.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?” He kissed down your neck, again, “Do you have plans?”

“I do.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny pulled back, “What are they?”

Your eyes sparkled, twinkled, filled with light and fueled by mischief when you said, “Whatever we’re doing right now.”

“Oh, so you’re funny now-”

“I always have been-”

“You’re funny and you have jokes.” It was vicious the way his hands dug into your sides, how his fingers tickled at you until you were desperate to be out from underneath him. But you giggled and giggled until you erupted into laughter and Johnny drank in every sound you made, a broad grin ever-present on his face. His lips went back to kissing, his teeth went back to nipping and Johnny was lost in a mess of bliss, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Kiss me?”

“Been doing that.”

The sun was coming up behind him, his bedroom slowly filled with light. You looked up at him, eyes still sparkling, and brought his fingertips to your lips, “Not here.”

“You want me to kiss you,” Johnny came closer to hover over you, one finger tracing the outline of your lips, “Here?”

“Please.”

And he did. It was slow, just as the morning had started off, then all at once it was so much more. His room was covered in sunlight and you were covered with him. Johnny had you hypnotized, had such a hold on you that you might fall without him. He’d rather you fall with him, Johnny would rather you stay just like this and fall into sync with his heart, his mind.

He thought to say it, again. For him, it had almost been a year and he was bursting with words still unsaid, still patiently waiting for the right time. He knew you felt it, he could just say it and the world would keep spinning; it might spin faster, more smoothly, with purpose. Johnny put everything he had into kissing you, quiet moans and even softer sighs falling into you.

He settled on confessing, “Today isn’t long enough. Need you like this always.”

“You have me.”

“What else should I do with you?”

He knew the answer. Johnny felt the heat coming off your body, heard the way you gasped when his fingers grazed your skin. His mind was reeling, his hands were roaming, doing everything he could to hear you call for him, “Want you.”

“Right here, baby?” His hand pulled at the back of your thigh, draping your leg over his hip and grinding down into you. The sound you made had Johnny gasping for air, pressing breathless kisses into your collarbone, “Louder.”

“Johnny, I-” The way he was positioned, the way the sun decided to rise, had Johnny haloed in a perfect ring of light. It was blinding, looking at him directly, but you couldn’t look away. He was drenched in the light of a new day and - even if the sun was in the room with you, even if it burned everything around you - you didn’t look away. It would be worth it, just to see the light in his hair, in his eyes, the way it burned inside him.

Johnny kissed you, lips hungry for you and thought to say it, again. It was almost every thought he had in his mind, looking at you underneath him. The sun was kind, the way it kissed your skin. Johnny envied it, knowing the rays were covering his own marks, warming you in ways he just couldn’t. The words were so close to coming out when he whispered your name, called you, “Baby, I-”

You said it, “I love you.”

And, like his lips opened into an echo chamber, Johnny said it back, “I love you.” He took a moment, let the words settle, let his heart beat race before he repeated it, again, “Oh my God. I love you.”

It felt like a shock to your system, sending you into overdrive, “I really…Johnny, I love you.”

“My Juliet. Holy shit.” Again, your name fell from his lips, “I love you.”

Your heart burst, the words kept spilling from your lips and his; like a melody, like a canon. If Johnny said it, you did too. If you kissed him and whispered it, he did the same. It was impossible to stop. Johnny grabbed your hand, put it over his heart so you could feel how it beat; just for you, only for you. Every time you kissed him it beat a little faster, when you called his name you could feel it skip.

“That night.” He stuttered, his hips rolled against yours, “The night you saw your star, I wanted - God - I wanted to take things slow.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“I wanted to say it and I couldn’t, it felt too soon.” He was panting above you, trying to explain something you understood. But, for Johnny, leaving something unsaid was like torture, so he explained and he confessed and he waited for the moment to be right be vulnerable say, “I wanted to make love to you.”

It sounded so silly, so Johnny laughed. Admitting something so simple felt ridiculous, but it was a weight off his chest, all the same. You held his heart, held his face with your other hand. Johnny wouldn’t look anywhere but into your eyes, “Will you do that now?”

“I would love to.”

📻

It was quick, the way it happened. How things fell back into place.

Jaehyun called. He told you about his day while the world was quieting down, you’d sit and listen and respond as you should. His voice was a comfort, his voice was like home. Hearing Jaehyun speak - even if it was about something you’d never understand, mergers and deals and meetings you’d never be part of - you would listen. You’d take every moment, hang on every word, press your phone to your ear until it was too hot. Then, you’d put him on speaker and listen to Jaehyun speak; like an old song, a nostalgic song, a song you’d always know.

You would text Jaehyun; send him pictures and paragraphs, links and clips and quips just to remind him that there was still a place for him with you. There was always a space for Jaehyun in your life. You’d ask him to come over, stop by the loft and Jaehyun knew you’d end the night with Johnny, that you were always thinking of him, tiptoeing around mentioning him; Jaehyun’s best friend Johnny. But, he was content to have the time he did with you. If it was fleeting, if it was borrowed. Any time he could have, at all.

“You wanna grab food?” You had called this time, phone cool against your face. Jaehyun had picked up on the third ring, “I’m meeting Johnny at nine.”

He agreed to it, “Yeah, I can make that work.”

It had taken one week for you to fall back into pace with him, fall back into the routine of starting and ending your days with Johnny, making time for Jaehyun in the middle, “Should I invite Mark?”

“You can.” He added, “That would be great.”

The three of you sat around a small table, plates of food taking up every corner. Jaehyun next to Mark next to you next to Jaehyun. It was too early for dinner, much too late for lunch, but it was quiet and it was comfortable. Jaehyun relaxed into it, dipped his toes into the routine of three again, knowing four was coming next. Knowing that avoiding the fourth would only work for so long. Who do you think is hurting her?

He’d circled back to that for two months, wearing out a hole in his bedroom floor from the laps he’d done. Jaehyun would sit and he would dwell and he would wish on every star he saw; for courage or something close enough to it. Close enough to what he needed to make his way back to you. His cowardice ate at him until his birthday, until he saw you on his doorstep and sat frozen in his office; just past the door, just down the hall.

And still he did nothing, not even when he was prompted. Nothing that was significant enough, not for two weeks.

He didn’t think he could stomach it. But what you’d said had been so simple and he could mimic that. Jaehyun could do simple; complexities could destroy him.

Mark grinned around a bite of food, puffing out his cheeks to make room for a mumble, “This is so good.”

“The noodles?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he flipped his hat backward on his head, then Mark went on, “But us being back together. It’s really good.”

Jaehyun agreed, reaching across the table to wrap noodles around his fork, “Yeah. It is.”

Then Mark asked, “Does Johnny know?”

And like the winter had come back, like ice was waiting for a moment to freeze him over, Jaehyun stopped. He looked at you, out of the corner of his eye, and waited, waited, waited for you to move. For you to say something.

You didn’t falter, smiling at Mark and taking another bite, “Yeah, he knows.” Jaehyun didn't know that, a week and a half in and maybe he should’ve assumed, “He was going to try and meet us here.”

Jaehyun picked at his plate, Jaehyun attempted simplicity and nonchalance, “When did you tell him?”

“As soon as you left.” Eyes set on Jaehyun, you swallowed another bite, coughing when it got stuck on your pride. Haechan was right, there was some bite still in you and your teeth were barred when you added, “We don’t keep stuff from each other.”

It was like a cue; you spoke, the doorbell chimes, Johnny walked in. Jaehyun saw him first, Johnny coming around the corner and into view. He watched every step, how Johnny only looked at you until you could see him - tunnel vision for you, eyes only for you. Johnny grinned and said, “Hi babe.”

So, you turned, “Hey, Romeo.”

And Jaehyun swallowed, waiting to be addressed. Johnny clapped a hand on Mark’s back, smiled down at him, then he finally acknowledged Jaehyun. He came around the table with his hand out, Jaehyun got to his feet and accepted it; when Johnny pulled him in, when Johnny held his face, when Johnny pushed Yuta and Taeyong out of his head and said, “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Yeah.” It was. In some ways. It was terrifying and it was good, “You too, John.”

It was quick, the way it happened. How you all ended up back in the loft.

Johnny and you, Mark and Jaehyun. It was Mark’s suggestion, it was by Mark’s urging. It was Mark crying about his midterms in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, on the phone with Johnny, on the phone with Jaehyun.

“Who is getting snacks?”

Mark volunteered, “I will! I dragged you all here.”

“You didn't drag us anywhere, Mark. We want to be here.”

Jaehyun asked, “Who is going with?”

“Baby?” Jaehyun still wasn’t used to hearing Johnny call you that, even your name sounded new when he said it, “I’ll buy you ramen if you go.”

“Not a good enough deal, babe.” It rattled him more, coming from you, “Haechan made me go to a spin class.”

Mark was leaning against Johnny, elbow extended beyond his own height to reach Johnny’s shoulder, “That’s your author, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that normal?”

Johnny answered for you, “It’s not. But, from what I’ve heard, neither is he. But, I’ve been on my feet all day.”

You challenged, “You sat on FaceTime with me in your office for three hours. Try again.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Johnny stepped away from Mark, pulling you into him and picking you up. The two of you spun, the two of you laughed and Jaehyun still tried to adjust to the two of you. Johnny put you down, put a kiss to your lips, “Fine. Come on, Mark.”

It was quick, the way Johnny noticed it. How Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you.

He tried not to notice, he tried to brush it off as paranoia; Johnny wanted to blame Yuta and Taeyong and two months of time between you and Jaehyun. It was increasingly difficult to do. Things that Johnny had written off as normal - before New Years, before Christmas, before Halloween - not settled underneath his skin, made him itch. Jaehyun with his eyes on you, only on you. Jaehyun with a dimpled smile whenever you spoke. Jaehyun holding onto every word you said, leaning closer and closer until Johnny felt like he could scream. He couldn’t tell the difference between the exaggerations of a paranoid mind and reality.

Johnny was losing his hold on reality, when it came to Jaehyun and you. It had always been territory he hadn’t touched; if Johnny started picking at layers now, he’d be digging for an eternity. But the way Jaehyun was with you the first night you’d all had dinner made Johnny weary. The way Jaehyun said goodbye when Johnny picked you up - taking you a way to spend another night with him, a night of whispered I love you’s with him - made Johnny nervous.

And the way Jaehyun looked at you, when Mark and Johnny made their way out of the loft, made him suspicious in a concrete way, in a way that urged him to turn to Mark and ask, “What do you think?”

A question halfway through a thought, so Mark was right to be confused, “What? What do I think about what?”

Mid-March was warmer, warning still, but the nights were still cold. Johnny excused his shiver with a breeze when he elaborated, “About them?”

“I’m glad they’re talking again.” Mark mulled over his thoughts, Johnny could see him come to a conclusion, “I didn’t think they would, for a while.”

“Right. Yeah.” Johnny kicked at a pebble, a piece of uprooted asphalt, “I think it would take more than that, don’t you?”

“Probably.”

Johnny was cautious because Mark was right; it was good to have all of you together, again. Johnny would be elated if it weren’t for Yuta and Taeyong and he’s in love with her. He knew it was out of place to ask, he knew that he might raise more questions. But, Johnny wanted to know, “Do you think there’s anything, I don’t know, weird between them?”

Mark ran through his catalogued thoughts, scanned through his memories with careful precision. You and Jaehyun were the same as you’d always been, the only way Mark had ever known you to be. The only thing that was different was you and Johnny; Johnny loving you loudly and you loving him back. So, Mark shook his head, denied it and joked, “Nah. He’s always been weird about her, though. I think things will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“And! Now we can plan the camping trip.”

It was quick, the way your conversation shifted. How Jaehyun stood next to you and watched Mark and Johnny take off down the street.

You’d done it so many times, stood in the exact spot you were with Jaehyun next to you, watching Johnny and Mark run past your house and into the night. So it would never feel out of place, it felt like home. Jaehyun brought you a drink, the ice tapping against the glass. His fingers brushed over yours when he handed it over and you both pulled back, pulled away, pulled apart.

You glanced at him, noticing all the ways he’d changed in two months; his hair was shorter, it looked darker but you wouldn’t be sure. He seemed taller, but you blamed that on optimism - looking up at Jaehyun, looking towards the way things would change. Hoping they would settle into something closer to normal, as soon as possible.

The two of you sat down once they were out of view; looking up, now. Counting and memorizing the stars. Jaehyun told you about his day and you listened. You told Jaehyun about Haechan and his book, his changed ending, how he’d seeped into your life. Haechan had crossed the line between client and friend in the last two months. You didn’t mind at all. He asked about Johnny, so you answered. He tried to be okay with it, tried to be supportive. Jaehyun saw the way you lit up talking about Johnny, even more when you were around him.

So, what Jaehyun said next made sense.

It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration, a realization that tore at him. One that he didn’t want you to confirm; Jaehyun could see it, “You love him.”

You kept your eyes on the stars for a moment longer; on your star, where it should be, where Johnny put you in the sky. Then, you looked at Jaehyun and confessed, agreed, confirmed, “I do.”

There was a pull in your chest, just next to your heart. A fallen piece of you, one Jaehyun had a hold of, had missed its mark. It hadn’t found its place, it hadn’t settled, it was restless.

“That’s good.” He had worked so hard not to lie anymore. It was good, it really was good. You loved Johnny, he was sure Johnny loved you back, “He loves you, too.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of crazy.” You asked him, “Do you know how that feels?”

Jaehyun wanted to beg for the world to end, for the conversation to taper off without him having to answer. He looked down at his hands, at the glass he’d held onto. He counted the melting ice cubes, saw the stars reflecting in his whiskey, and Jaehyun did all he could to say anything other than: God, I wish. That he wished it was you and him, that he always would. It was too much a part of him for Jaehyun to stop.

He looked up at you, finally faced you again and, like he would live vicariously through it, love vicariously, asked you, “Describe it.”

“I think-”

The door opened behind you, “Hey babe?”

You lit up, brighter than the clearest night, shooting across the room like a star, “What’s up?”

“Come help with the bags?”

It was agonizing, the way Jaehyun watched. How time moved in slow motion, when he saw you with Johnny. It was like you had dug your nails into the very fabric of time and held onto it for dear life, pulling everything to a halt. It felt intentional, like you were making sure he saw every glance, every touch, every kiss between the two of you. Every kiss. The way your lips curled into a smile whenever they met Johnny’s; at the thought of him, the sound of him, at the sight.

He was left in your wake, standing with his drink in hand and watching you in slow motion with Johnny.

Mark came in with bottles clinking in his arms, “Johnny said the camping trip is a go.”

📻

Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

“I thought you knew.” Yuta’s reasoning changes every time Johnny asked, “I thought it was obvious.”

If Johnny had been looking for it before, it might have been, “It wasn’t.”

“To you.” He could tell he was exhausting the subject, he was exhausted on his end. Johnny had locked himself in his office, filling the space with every doubt he had until it became too crowded - much like his mind. He called Yuta, then, “And to her.”

“You don’t think she knows?”

It was a relief. A sickening, nauseating relief to Johnny. It could all crash down when Yuta said, “I can’t answer that.”

It was days later, when Jungwoo stopped by the cafe and Johnny hadn’t seen you since the night before, that he touched the subject again. Johnny made light conversation, comfortable conversation. He listened to the stories Jungwoo told him and sipped on a coffee he’d made; his fourth for the day. Then Johnny leaned forward on his elbows and prompted, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungwoo only nodded.

“Do you think…Jaehyun.” He had no clue how to approach the topic. Johnny stumbled over words he hadn’t thought out, “I talked to Yuta and Taeyong and they think that Jaehyun is-”

Jungwoo let out a breath, eyes focused on the pattern swirling in his cappuccino, “I think you need to ask Jaehyun about it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You might have to.” Jungwoo’s shoulders shrugged, “None of us can answer for him.”

Johnny was defeated, he slumped back into his chair and let the nausea take over. Denial felt like confirmation. Jungwoo refusing to answer felt like an answer in itself and Johnny couldn’t accept it. He couldn't avoid it and he couldn’t face it, “Right.”

📻

Jaehyun found his way to your door, the night before your trip. Your duffel bag was on your bed, open and empty, with stacks of clothes around it. He watched you sift through the piles, pull things out and toss them to the side. Jaehyun intervened, “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t look away from the state of your room, from the mess you’d made, “Let’s go.”

It was quiet, it was calm, until the rain started. Jaehyun wound up and down streets, weaving through neighborhoods until he’d found his way out. The music he played was low, familiar; I love this boy so much. You had your head pressed to the glass of his window, focusing on the world passing by, the raindrops slipping down. April came in with a shower, starting early on its nurturing, on growth.

Come May, there would be flowers. Come May, the world would have shifted and changed and blossomed into greens and pinks, blues and yellows, vibrant reds, purples, oranges; a rainbow coming to life after the rain.

January and February felt like a lifetime ago. The memory of the first two months felt just as cold as they had, in real time. They were covered in ice, in silence, in unwelcome change. You tried not to dwell on them, tried to sit in this moment, in Jaehyun’s car. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, rounding a corner with ease.

You wondered how many moments like this you’d have with him, just like the mornings in his kitchen. You couldn’t help but feel like they were still slipping away. The rain could wash him away from you again and it was terrifying. Enough to make you blink back tears, enough to make you clear your throat and tell Jaehyun, “Stop the car.”

He did, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You unbuckled, opened your door and climbed out. Into the rain, instantly drenched, hoping that the first shower of April would help you to grow. You needed the nurturing back to life after a winter that was so harsh, too harsh.

Jaehyun watched from behind the wheel. He saw every drop that landed on your skin, soaked through your clothes, flattened your hair to your head. Then, Jaehyun unbuckled, leaving the car running and running to you. He didn’t say a word, you didn’t either. The two of you stood in the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder in the rain. Silent, unmoving.

The rain fell and fell and fell. The sky was too dark for the late afternoon, covered in grey clouds. Jaehyun’s headlights were bright, like a spotlight on the two of you. He stepped back towards his car, “Stay here.”

You did, watching as he ran back to his car, listening as he turned up the music. Jaehyun came back, hands shaking as he reached out, and he offered, “Dance with me?”

“Yeah.”

He held you against him, had your head tucked under his chin. Jaehyun held you as close as he could and moved the two of you in tandem. The music was still quiet, fighting against the rain to be heard. You could only hear it cutting in and out. But, when the stereo failed, Jaehyun made up for it, humming the melody into your ear.

It was in the silence that your mind wandered; just like in his car. You thought about Haechan, scribbling onto a notepad in a cafe. I don’t think he was her first love. Jaehyun’s heart was beating loudly in your ear, thumping evenly.

You’d listened to that same heartbeat so many times before, you could understand how he was feeling just based on how many times it thumped. Jaehyun’s heartbeat was as familiar to you as your own and you’d forgotten how that felt. You’d forgotten what it was like to be silent with him.

You stayed that way, still in the middle of the street, just the two of you and the rain. After a while, you pulled back. Jaehyun watched as you took his hand in yours and lingered next to him.

“Can I tell you something?” The rain fell between you, drenched the two of you. Jaehyun nodded, hand squeezing yours tightly in his, “I’ve been think a lot about - about first loves.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I…I think I always thought it was Sicheng. It makes sense that it was him, I loved him and it felt like the first time, while it was happening.” He urged you to go on, another squeeze, another nod. You looked at where your hands met, tried to breathe in the downpour. You were brave enough, emboldened enough, maybe embarrassed but determined all the same, to look at him and say, “I don’t think it was him.”

Jaehyun came closer, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Sicheng was my first love.”

“Then,” He didn’t want to speak. Jaehyun didn’t want to ask anymore questions. He was fine not knowing, he was fine coming to his own conclusion; Jaehyun was fine with a confession lost in the percussion of a rain storm. He was fine not knowing, but he didn’t stop himself from asking you, stomach twisted in knots, “Who do you think it was?”

The sigh you let out masked your words in a whisper, drowned out by the rain. The rush of air escaped your lungs and swept your thoughts off their feet. You couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t think to stop it, and you didn’t look away when you told him, “You. It was always you.”

Jaehyun didnt breathe for a while. March had ended and you were welcoming April, but it didn’t give way to spring yet; there was still enough bite in the air to see the heat leave his body as he gasped for air. But, he waited too long, again. Jaehyun stood silently until you shook your head and turned away. Your eyes focused on the puddle forming underneath and around your feet, watching as each raindrop fell into it.

You moved, letting your fingers pull from his one by one. Jaehyun moved, too; maybe to run, maybe to speak, maybe to tell you, “Me too.”

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Jaehyun only stood still.

You said, “I have to go. Johnny’s coming to help me pack.”

He was reminded, all at once, why he couldn’t speak, “Sure. I- yeah, sure. I’ll take you home.”

You rode silently, drenched in the front seat of his car with your hands flat on your lap. Jaehyun only asking, “Are you cold?” as you came down the hill.

📻

The campsite hadn’t been touched by spring, yet. It was cold shades of brown, pine and beige; gloomy at best. The pine trees around it reached as close to the sky as they could manage, scraped against the lowest clouds and swayed in the strongest breeze.

It hadn’t changed, since the last time you’d been. It was always in the same state. Early April was rain showers and puddles, frosted over mornings and sunny afternoons. The weather was unpredictable, just like in March, changing everything in a blink, in the smallest second.

Everything could change in a second.

“Who is sleeping where?”

Mark positioned himself between the two campers; each with a bed big enough for two, each with little else inside. Johnny poked at the beginnings of a fire, stopping only to lift his eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”

It was a reasonable question, to Mark, it made perfect sense, “I mean who is pairing up tonight?”

Johnny looked at you, you looked at Mark. Mark put his hands on his hips and looked at Jaehyun, waiting for someone to answer, “Well, I’m sleeping with my girlfriend.”

“Fine, but we’re rotating tomorrow.”

“Why would we rotate?”

“Because we always do.” The youngest came closer to the fire, “It’s how this works.”

Johnny put the poker into the ground, twisted it until it was stable enough for him to lean on. He looked amused, he looked curious; Johnny had the look on his face that he always did before he would tease Mark, “Do you need a night with Mom, Markie?”

“Shut up, dude.”

“If you have a bad dream, Mark, you can always come into our camper. We’ll leave room for you.”

“Johnny, Jesus.” You laughed, to ease the tension. You laughed to comfort Mark, “We can rotate around, I don’t mind.”

“Again, why would we do that?”

Jaehyun weighed in, “I don’t mind either.”

He’s in love with her. Johnny’s stomach churned, twisted, tied itself in knots. It’s obvious. He watched Jaehyun close the trunk of the car, counted the footsteps he took and the way he faltered on where to go; next to Mark or next to you. When Jaehyun chose, Johnny closed his eyes. It’s obvious. He was reading too much into it, he was spiraling into something he didn’t understand, something Johnny hated.

And Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

He sighed, exaggerated to cover the way he shook. Johnny heaved a sigh, heaved another log on the fire and he relented, “Fine.” It was only three days, “We’ll rotate.”

Day one was unpacking. It was settling in until midday, gathering around the fire when you were done. It was Mark playing melodies on his guitar and mumbling through lyrics he only half-remembered. He stumbled over chords, fingers chilling on the first night of April. Day one ended with you and Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun.

Day one was simple, easy enough, tame enough for Johnny to wrap himself in you, in the quiet of your camper. He let his mind relax, let his body fold into and mold to the shape of yours; arms and legs in a tangled mess. Johnny pushed back your hair, using what little light he had to look in your eyes and whisper, “I love you.” Like you’d forget if he didn’t remind you. Johnny kissed you and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Can I touch you?” He buried his face in your neck, “Please baby. Miss the sounds you make. Miss the way you taste.”

“What if they hear?”

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, baby.” Johnny pleaded, knowing his words held more weight than he’d hand you, “Make sure those sounds are just for me.”

Day one ended with hushed moans, sighs laced with his name and yours and “I love you” chanted like a mantra. Day one ended with you gasping for air, clutching at Johnny’s arms as he rocked his hips slowly into you, panting into your hair, your neck, mouth wrapped around your breast. Day one ended with Johnny’s lips on yours and his cock buried inside you, where he was meant to be.

Day one ended with Mark sleeping soundly and Jaehyun wide awake; hearing everything he shouldn’t, every sound that could break him.

When the sun came up on day two, things had started to shift. The four of you stumbling down trails, the four of you in fits of laughter, the four of you around the fire again and sharing your time. Jaehyun was stiff, Jaehyun hadn’t slept; not as soundly as Mark, not as spent as you, not as satiated as Johnny. Day two was Jaehyun looking away whenever Johnny touched you, whenever you said Johnny’s name. Day two was Jaehyun excusing himself to rest, trying to erase the sound of you coming undone for Johnny from his memory.

Day two ended with you and Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun.

He was still stiff, still tense, sitting on the edge of the bed you’d shared with Johnny. Jaehyun couldn’t stomach it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He was caught in a loop, again, torturing himself with memories that didn’t belong to him, with something he was never meant to hear.

Johnny lingered outside with you for as long as he could; until your head became too heavy to hold up on your own, until your eyes fell closed in extended blinks. He looked at the camper, he passed you off to Mark, and Johnny heard Jungwoo, “You should talk to him about it.”

Day two and Johnny stepped into the shared space, “Hey man.”

Jaehyun tried to smile, “Hey.”

“Can-” He thought back to January, how he didn’t give him the option. But, he was persistent then, he was determined then. He wanted to ease whatever you were going through, so Johnny pushed and pushed and pushed. Now, he gave Jaehyun the option. He gave him an out that Johnny wanted to take himself, to avoid a conversation he didn’t want to have, “Can we talk?”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate long enough for Johnny to notice, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad we’re all together again.”

“Me too, John.”

Johnny nodded, then he dove head first, “I really love her. I think you should know that, hear it from me. I don’t want…I just think it’s important.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Jawhyun was sweating, “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

He didn’t want to skirt around it, “Do you love her?”

With more hesitation, noticeable hesitation, Jaehyun answered, “Of course I do.”

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” He wanted clarity, he was terrified of it. Jaehyun and Johnny were confined, there was no avoiding it, “Do you…do you love her like I do?”

He couldn’t answer. Truthfully he knew the answer was no. Johnny loved you in a way Jaehyun wasn’t meant to know. Johnny loved you with a ferocity Jaehyun didn't have. The way Johnny loved you was unique to him, so Jaehyun could never love you the same. The answer was no.

Jaehyun loved you in the way he loved coming home; you were warmth, you were familiarity. Jaehyun loved you like he’d lose himself if he ever lost you, again. He loved you in quiet moments, in silent conversations, in glanced and in secrets. Jaehyun would only ever love you in secret, in the lies he told to hide it.

He shook his head, flattening his hands on his knees and wiping off the sweat. Jaehyun prepared himself for another lie, another place to love you quietly, “No, Johnny. I don’t.”

It would’ve been enough to ease his mind. It would’ve been enough to pull Johnny from the edge of jealousy. The two of them settled in, Johnny turned out the light and found his place, his side of the bed.

Jaehyun tried. He could smell you on the sheets, breathing you in slowly and knowing that you’d…you and Johnny. His mind shut off. His lies unraveled. It would’ve been enough to end day two with peace. But, Jaehyun let out his held breath, his inhale of only you and he mumbled, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.”

Day three and Johnny was back on the edge. Jaehyun’s words joined Jungwoo’s, wrapped around Yuta’s until he couldn’t even look at his friend; his best friend. The way Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you. Every time Jaehyun came near you, nudged you’d said your name Johnny burned, morphed into something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a jealous person, he wasn’t a jealous person. Johnny was never a jealous person.

Day three was you and Johnny hiking alone, stealing kisses and mumbling “I missed you” like one night away was the end of it all. Johnny spiraled at the thought. He stole you away for day three, he hid you behind trees and kissed you like he did on Halloween, “I love you, my Juliet.”

“I love you, Romeo.” He begged you to call his name, to hear it slip from your lips, “Johnny. Johnny.”

He used your voice to quiet three others, on in particular; Even if I did. Even if. It wouldn’t matter.

I did.

Jaehyun waited with Mark, spent the day with Mark; spent the day lost in his own thoughts. He could still smell you on his skin, on the shirt he’d slept in. It was all he could focus on, when Johnny pulled you away. Mark had said something sensible, something like, “Gotta give the lovebirds time.”

And Jaehyun agreed, like he was supposed to. He found his comfort in lies, again, “Yeah. They deserve it.”

It wasn’t regret that he felt, he knew he made a misstep when Johnny wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t look at him. Jaehyun knew it was the wrong thing to say “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.” It was the only bit of truth he let slip out. Jaehyun didnt regret it, but he was worried.

Everything could change in a second and everything could crumble.

Day three was a final fire on a clear night, the four of you in a perfect stance around the fire. You shivered, arms wrapped around yourself and mumbled, “It’s cold.”

“Here.” Jaehyun pulled at the zipper of his sweatshirt, “I’m getting warm.”

He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Jaehyun took the path around the fire that went around Mark, just to get to you. He held open his sweatshirt and let you slip into it, let you pull it closer. Another misstep. Jaehyun took a step back, hand on yours when he tugged at the sleeve. Something stirred in him, seeing how it fell on you, something Jaehyun had stopped trying to control. It was always you.

“Thanks, Jae.”

He wasn’t bold enough to look at Johnny, couldn’t bring himself to look back at you when he said, “No problem.”

Silent conversations, glances, lingering and lingering and the way Jaehyun lingered around you. Johnny wasn’t jealous, he was teetering on an edge he’d never been close to; his laugh got tangled in bitterness, caught in his throat when he said, “This is so fucked.”

It was childish and he could admit that. It was fueled by something he’d never felt and Johnny was terrified of that. Unwavering trust in you clashed so violently with his crumbling trust in Jaehyun and there was no way for Johnny to stop it. The space he took up, the space between you and Jaehyun, wasn’t enough to ease his mind.

Jaehyun spoke, because Jaehyun had heard him and Jaehyun was teetering, too. Trying to keep things from crumbling, trying to hold it together. He thought of January and February, about losing you. He was remembering you in the rain, remembering you pressed against him. He was living in memories, challenging something - someone - he shouldn’t, “What was that?”

Johnny almost jumped, almost threw himself over the edge on principle alone. He want jealous, he was upset, “I said it’s fucked.”

Mark perked up, “What's going on?”

You stood still next to him, hands in the pockets of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Johnny was shaking, you could see his hands trembling at his sides, but you didn’t move. Jaehyun looked at Johnny, the two of them locked on to each other. He tried not to tremble when he said, “It’s nothing Mark.”

“Right. It’s nothing.” Johnny’s lip curled, “Fucking liar.”

“Whoa. Hey, Johnny. What the fuck was that?”

Mark tried to laugh, “What just happened?”

“Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Mark wouldn't let up, you could feel the Earth shaking underneath your feet and Mark was encouraging it, more and more. He didn’t know, Johnny had to remind himself. He’s always been weird about her, but Mark didn’t know, “Did you guys fight last night?

“We can rotate again.” You suggested, “I’ll go with Jaehyun tonight.”

Jaehyun could scream. He stayed silent.

“You’re absolutely not doing that.”

You looked at Johnny, “Why not?”

“Let him tell you.”

Crumbling, crumbling, crumbling. Something was shifting, the plates of the Earth, the foundation the four of you built. You could feel it happening, could see it in front of you. Jaehyun shook his head and Mark got more involved, “Can someone please just say what’s happening. Why can’t she room with Jaehyun? That’s the next rotati-”

Johnny was seething, “Because he’s in love with you!”

The four of you stood like pillars around the fire; Johnny next to Jaehyun, next to Mark, next to you, next to Johnny. Johnny was choking back so much, fighting against himself and the things he wanted to - needed to - say. His hands shook at his sides, only calming when he balled them into fists. And Mark did his best, Mark did too much, Mark didn’t need to be involved at all. He raised his hands, palms angled down and said, “Okay, let’s calm down. That’s not true, right?”

At the same time, you whispered, “What?”

“Say it.” Johnny spoke through gritted teeth, never looking away from Jaehyun. For a moment, the sound of the fire crackling was the only thing you could hear. Jaehyun made no moves; not to speak, not even to blink. You all just stood there until Johnny scoffed and said, “Tell them you’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Jaehyun tried, “Johnny, I-“

“Fucking say it, Jaehyun.” Johnny growled, his words cut with an edge you had never heard from him, “Stop fucking lying to me.”

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

“He is and he needs to fucking admit it!”

“Johnny, man, please-“

“Fuck off, Mark.” The youngest recoiled, hands dropped. Johnny wanted to scream, “Jaehyun you have five seconds.”

Jaehyun was unreadable, again. Shut off, shutting down. Your focus bounced between the three of them, frozen completely and burning up - from the fire, from the way Johnny shook, from the way Jaehyun swallowed and the way Mark stumbled back. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. You tried to say something, voice caught and coarse against your throat, “This-I don’t…Johnny.”

He ignored you, he was right to do so. Stumbling over words you couldn’t gather, pulling them off the ground and stringing them together into nonsense. Johnny counted, “One.”

“What do you what me to say, John?” Jaehyun’s voice wavered. He knew the answer. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Johnny kept counting, “Two.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn again, two of five chances Johnny was giving him to just say it. To just fucking be honest with him, with you, with himself. Jaehyun only said, “Stop. We can…let’s talk about it.”

“We’re talking about it. Right now, Jae.” Johnny’s voice raised, it echoed, it consumed everything around the four of you. You thought the trees might bend to it, given the chance; the Earth might quake, shake, crack open from the force of it. Johnny kept shaking, kept counting, “Three.”

Mark took another step back. He looked over his shoulder at you, something like sympathy on his face. He might have seen it coming, he might have known all along. Mark wondered, for a moment, how you didn’t know. Still, he tried his best, he did too much, “Hey.”

You only said, “Mark.”

Jaehyun begged, “Johnny, stop - stop fucking counting!”

For the first time, Johnny moved. For his first move, he stepped towards Jaehyun. He cleared half the space between them and shouted, trees faltering around him, “You’re in love with her. Say it! Four.”

“Johnny.” It was somewhere between pleading, definitely threatened, but strong. Jaehyun didn’t want to be doing this. He just wanted to look at you. Johnny kept his attention, another step before he was as close to Jaehyun as he could be - the two of them shouting over each other and filling the space between chances four and five. Jaehyun tried to urge Johnny back, “Back up, John.”

“Don’t fucking touch me-“

“Back the fuck up-“

“All you have to do is admit it-“

“Johnny, fucking stop for a second and-“

“She’s right there, tell her you sack of-“

“Jesus fucking Christ-“

“Say it!” Johnny shoved at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his last count, his last chance coming out, “Five.”

“Fine! I am, okay?” Jaehyun’s voice was booming and shaking and strained, like he was desperately holding back his words and pouring them out, all at once. You watched his fists ball up and release, watched him square himself towards Johnny.

Your boyfriend, Johnny.

His best friend, Johnny.

“I love her.” The crack in Jaehyun’s voice wasn’t missed. He threw his hands up, stepping back, “I’m in love with her, is that what you want to hear, Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed. It was exactly what he wanted to hear and it was shattering everything in him. Ruin the dynamic he said. Jaehyun, his best friend. Jaehyun, your best friend. Jaehyun, a fucking liar. Johnny saw red and then white, an absolutely illuminating rage filled him, but he didn’t move to hit Jaehyun. His body ached for it, wanting to feel how Jaehyun’s skin would break if he just swung at him. But, Johnny didn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t scream as he had been, he let everything fall silent. Let it all settle.

Johnny let Jaehyun’s words linger for all of you for too long. He let it all go on for too long.

Mark blinked and breathed out, “Jae, man, what the fuck?”

Jaehyun finally looked at you. The way your breathing was frantic, how Johnny’s hat sat on your head, but Jaehyun’s sweatshirt covered you and kept you safe from the cold; protected you from it. He watched your eyes searching for an answer in the flames of the bonfire, the shoe imprints in the dirt where you’d all been standing, in the trees around you but never up; never to the stars. He wanted to go to you, wanted to move. But, Jaehyun could feel the ground starting to swallow him, holding him completely still. He could feel everything stop the moment you looked up. If he hadn’t been looking already, he wouldn’t have heard the way you said his name. A whisper lost in the wind, “Jaehyun.”

Johnny interrupted, looking down and jaw clenched, “How long?”

“John. Let’s just stop for a minute, okay.” You wanted to beg Mark to stop, “Everyone chill out.”

“Years, Johnny.” Jaehyun answered, kept his eyes on you and told Johnny with a quiet confidence, “Years.”

When Johnny looked up, he immediately wished he hadn’t. The way Jaehyun looked at you over the fire, the way you kept your eyes on him with your hands shaking at your sides. He laughed, he couldn’t stop it, “Can’t even say it to my face.”

Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself, he dropped his head and bit back, “And why the fuck would I need to?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

“Stop.” The word clawed its way out of you, fighting against your mind and your heart to come out, “Stop.”

Johnny looked at you first, Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he could, Mark turned and stepped closer to you, “Hey. It’s okay, alright?”

You said, only to Mark, only for him to hear, “It’s not.”

He looked over his shoulder, back at Johnny and Jaehyun and everything falling out and apart between them. The way they both looked at you, the concern and a silent apology from both of them. He looked around the campsite, expecting to see the proof, the aftermath of the explosion. There was nothing, just silence and a stillness he hated. You all hated it. Mark reached out for you, taking either arm in his hands and pulling you to his chest. He didn’t care if Johnny swung at him, he suspected he wouldn’t. Mark just wanted to stop at least one world from crumbling.

So, he chose yours, “Rotate.”

Johnny spoke first, “Mark, what the hell?”

“Rotate.” It was his only solution, “I’m taking her with me. You two figure out your shit.”

He knew it wasn’t shit. But, Mark was going to put an end to it, if no one else was making a move to do so. He put you in front of him, guiding you to one camper and ignoring anything behind him. Johnny said his name at least three times, yours at least four. You thought you heard Jaehyun say, “I’m going.”

But Mark was in your ear, “Don’t. Don’t look at either one of them. Go on, go inside.”

You did, he followed and closed the door behind you. Mark kept his back against it for a moment and waited for you to move first. He waited until everything caught up to you, waited for it all to slip through the cracks and push into the camper; the safest place he could take you. When it did, Mark watched your shoulders fall, watched you implode in on yourself before he moved closer and pulled you back, again. The aftermath evidence he was looking for fighting not to crumble to the ground in his arms. Mark held you and soothed you and still did too much.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He reminded you, you wished it worked, “You didn’t do anything. They’ll work it out. You just stay in here with me, okay?”

You thought about asking him how he was so calm, how Mark - the youngest, the brightest boy you’d ever know - was so collected in this moment. You wanted to apologize for something you were barely involved in, apologize for the way he’d been dragged into it. Instead, you let out a shaking breath, one mixed with a quiet sob, and you let Mark carry weight that wasn’t his; weight he shouldn’t have to bear.

Mark got you to calm, then he got you to sleep. He stayed with you, next to you, humming something he’d written and drifting away, himself. And, for a while, it worked. For a while you slept and you drifted, as well.

Something pulled you back down, plummeting to the Earth and reality and waking. Mark was still next to you, covered in blankets and the moonlight, sleeping sound. Something like envy, maybe gentler, settled in your chest. Envy that Mark’s mind would let him sleep, that he had that opportunity. There was no anger to it, just the wish to be in that position. You sat up, blankets pooling at your waist and fingers wrapped up in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Part of you itching to peel it off of you, the other part wanting to drown in it. Either way, your head was aching, your heart, too.

You couldn’t pinpoint a single thing you felt; guilt and anger and confusion and fear and something you’d never know. Something indescribable, something new and all-consuming within you. You wanted to move, you wanted to run until your legs burned, at the very least stretch them out and breathe in fresh air. Suddenly, everything felt too cramped and tight.

You wanted to be wrapped up in him, to have him calm you down, but to have him pull you back down to earth. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on any part of you. You wanted him to trace patterns against your skin.

You wanted to scream.

As slowly as you could, you pulled yourself out of the bed and the camper, latching the door behind you and slipping into your shoes. April was cold, not as cold as November, but now it felt just as different. The chill that went from the top of your head to your toes shook you enough to close your eyes and collect yourself. You angled your head upward before you opened them, again, wanting to take in the stars; borrow every bit of light they could offer.

They twinkled against the clear, midnight sky. They blinked down as you blinked up, breathing, breathing, trying to breathe. Shaking your head, you looked somewhere neutral; the void between the two campers, the gathering of trees still upright and reaching towards your stars, at embers of a forgotten fire, across the empty campsite.

You saw him then, in the same moonlight that Mark was in but shining, like it was the sun. Jaehyun stared back, from behind his steering wheel, unmoving. So much of you wanted to move to him, let your feet pull you over to him, to tell him….tell him. Anything. Everything.

Years, he had said. Years.

But, you didn’t move. Neither did he. Two opposites across from each other, only breathing, taking each other in and not making a single fucking move. Slowly, you released the breath held hostage in your lungs and wrapped your arms around yourself. Jaehyun’s lips moved, maybe your name slipped out, you’d never know. You crossed the void between campers and pulled your eyes to look away from him, not willing to see any change when you slipped inside and said his name, “Johnny?”

He shot up, your name clear and filling the room. It took half a second for him to claw his way out of the bed and wrap himself around you; just as you wanted. Johnny held you as tightly as he could, mumbling apologies, kissing them into your skin. He was frantic and worried and, for the first time since you’d known him, Johnny’s certainty was wavering. You held him just as tight, just as close, lips pressed into a line to keep yourself from crying.

His cheek was pressed against the top of your head when he said your name once more and his final, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It was so soft, the way your hands held him and the way you spoke. Johnny held you tighter, scared it meant you were slipping away; terrified of you slipping away from him. You pulled back only to look up at him, “Just talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

Johnny sighed, he wanted to kiss you - he didn’t know if he still could and he wished everything had been different. He wanted to go back and stop himself from exploding, “I don’t know. I…I really don’t know where to start.”

You nodded, eyes on him. He blinked out tears, ones you were quick to wipe away for him, up on your toes to kiss the trail they left behind. Johnny sighed, shaking as he was before but for a completely different reason. He couldn’t describe it, he didn’t want himself to even feel whatever it was. It was unstoppable until you’d come through that door. You pulled him towards the bed, pushing him to sit down and climbing in next to him.

Johnny didn’t let go of you the whole time; in anyway he could touch you, he did. The two of you leaned back together, facing each other and staying silent for a moment before you asked, “How did you know?”

He swallowed, “Taeyong and Yuta. Then Jungwoo.”

“Hm.”

“Yuta said…he said it was obvious. I hated that.” Johnny tried to laugh, the sound was so bitter, “Jungwoo said to ask Jaehyun.”

“When?”

“February, then again last week.” He paused, “I tried to talk to Jaehyun about it. I tried to be subtle and maybe I shouldn’t have, but Yuta was right.”

You scooted closer, hand to Johnny’s cheek, “What do you mean?”

Johnny lifted his hand to cover yours, “It was obvious. And the more I saw it…I just got more and more angry. Everything he did, every time he was near you, I just…God, I’m not a jealous person.”

“I know.”

“But, he was hiding it. It felt like he was playing me, like it was a trick or a joke. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just tell me.” He was right. It made the guilt you felt worse, stronger. He closed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he have said anything?”

You asked, as carefully as you could, “Would it have changed anything, Johnny?”

He didn’t want to answer, but Johnny would be a hypocrite to lie at this moment, “Yeah. Probably, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hey. Not now, okay? Before, maybe. I could’ve gotten over a crush.” He pulled your hand to his lips, pressed his words into them and hoped they’d stay there. Hoped that every time you pressed your fingers to your skin you’d remember his lips there, the things he’d promised against your fingertips, “I love you. I fell in love with you and now…”

“Now, what?”

Johnny had to think for a moment. He had to gather everything he’d felt in the last week, the last six months, everything he’d seen and heard and knew; put it all together into something that made sense. He looked at you for as long as he could, for as long as his heart would let him before it shattered too. Because, “I see how he looks at you.”

“Johnny.”

“And I see how you look at him.”

You froze, blood running cold. You’d never know what he expected you to say to that, how he expected you to react. Johnny could always predict what came next, but today ripped away everything he’d known. He was uncertain.

He let out a breath, “The two of you…”

“There is no two of us, Johnny.” You promised him, you meant it. Your heart was aching in your chest, “There is me and you. Jaehyun-“

“Don’t say his name. Not right now.” Johnny cut you off, he shook his head and rustled the sheets beneath the two of you, “I can’t hear it, right now.”

“We are completely separate. Whatever he feels-“

“What about what you feel?”

“I love you.” It came out desperate, you were desperate. Your fingers wrapped around his tighter and you’d pulled yourself as close to him as you could. Johnny just watched and breathed, you did the same, “I love you, Johnny. That’s what I feel.”

And he told you, “I love you, too.”

Like it was all either of you needed to hear, you fell silent. Like it was everything that needed to be said, neither of you spoke after. You held each other and synchronized your breathing, sharing kisses and breaths and sighs until you fell asleep, pressed together. Even still, even with so little space between the two of you, there was still enough space for the word neither of you could, would, ever wanted to say;

But….

📻

Johnny had stripped you of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt; replaced it with his own, the one he’d been wearing that smelled like him, like smoke, like you. You woke up wrapped in him, twice over, and breathing him in. The sleeve of his t-shirt had rolled up, your fingers found their way to trace the leaves permanently inked on his arm. Johnny was still asleep, but he shifted and shivered and pulled you closer.

You could pretend, like this, that everything was fine. You could close your eyes and breathe him in, breathe against him, just breathe. Anything that had happened the night before couldn't reach you, like this.

You just had to stay.

Johnny’s eyes finally opened, he smiled…he tried to smile, “Hi.”

And you kissed him, without hesitation, having just woken up. You thought back to November, you thought about the times you’d shied away from it. Johnny didn’t think much of anything, lazily kissing you back; slowly, carefully, comfortably. He tried not to think about how many times he’d have you like this, from now on. Johnny wanted to be optimistic, but…

“Hi.” You told him, breathless, “I love you.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling you onto his chest and securing you there, “I know. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Your breath caught in your throat, choked you and choked back tears you didn’t want to let out. Not yet. Johnny said “I love you” and it sounded like “goodbye.” So, you told him, “Don’t apologize to me. You don’t have a reason to.”

Packing was silent; hopeless and tense. Every sound echoed in the epicenter of Johnny’s explosion, Jaehyun’s as well. You were all standing at ground zero of something unpredictable.

Jaehyun wouldn’t look at you; he is in love with you. He kept his eyes down, he kept his mouth shut, he stayed as far away from you and from Johnny as the campsite would allow. Johnny did the same, avoiding his best friend. It was a dance, a performance, a nightmare that you were wrapped up in.

Mark only did his best.

The car ride was silent; the radio was too low to make out, Jaehyun’s engine rumbling just as low. Mark sat in the passenger seat with his eyes forward, his hands neatly on his lap. He’d look at Jaehyun, he’d look at you, Mark would look at Johnny and then he’d focus forward, again. No one said a word, no one thought to. You didn’t know if any of you would think to speak to each other, again, and it took everything you had to keep the sobs clawing at your chest from breaking through. It took a small smile from Mark, it took looking anywhere but at Jaehyun, it took Johnny holding your hand and resting his head on your lap.

He stayed there for the entire trip; reveling in the way your fingers tugged at his hair, the even breaths you forced yourself to take, the twists and turns of the road. Johnny fell asleep like that, cradled in your lap, face upwards so even if his eyes were open he could only see you. He didn’t know if he could look at Jaehyun, he certainly didn’t want to look at him. Johnny knew. Once Yuta said it, once Jungwoo avoided it, he knew. Hearing Jaehyun confirm it, hearing his best friend outright say he was in love with his girlfriend, Johnny was having a hard time swallowing it.

But you held him. You held Johnny and if he closed his eyes, it was the only thing that felt real; that was real. You and Johnny in the backseat of a car, together.

The hand you had tangled in Johnny’s hair was hot, damp with sweat. You were frantic and if you were hiding it well enough for Johnny not to sense it, for Johnny to fall asleep, you didn’t know how. Every breath you took shook your whole body, every breath was strained. You looked out the window, to Mark, down at Johnny and the peace he found; deserved peace after a restless night. In the mirror, you could feel Jaehyun’s eyes. It made breathing impossible when you caught him, when he caught you. It took the little air you could gasp and rushed it from your lungs.

Jaehyun couldn’t look away from you, in the rear view mirror; for a while, for too long. He was lost in the way your fingers twirled Johnny’s hair, in the way you’d smile down at him. Jaehyun’s hands were wrapped around the steering wheel with such force he thought it might crumble. He could remember Halloween - a similar position, Jungwoo in the front seat and you and Johnny in the back. And Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it then, just as he couldn’t now.

He was hopeless, tense. And he couldn’t look away.

It was only when Mark yelled, when he grabbed at the wheel and said, “Dude, look out.”

Jaehyun swerved, he adjusted, he looked back at you. You were wide-eyed behind him, hands around Johnny to keep him with you. Keeping Johnny safe, keeping Johnny secure. He looked away from you, then, and focused back on the road; back on something he could control, mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

To Mark; for the car. To you; for everything else.

To Johnny.

📻

Mark was pissed.

There wasn’t a better word for it or any way around it. He was pissed and he was trying his best not to be. It wasn’t working. He was in the loft with Jaehyun, going back and forth between watching the storm clouds roll in and Jaehyun spiral out of control. They’d dropped you and Johnny off an hour ago and from the moment Jaehyun parked his car in his own driveway, he’d been like this. Mark had the opportunity to leave, but he was in a bitter protest, a war within himself and with the only other person in the room because, “You had the opportunity to tell her.”

“I know, Mark.”

“No, like way before this. Way, way before this.” Mark had his hands clasped, ringing them as a means of comfort - it wasn’t working, “You said years. You had years.”

Jaehyun stopped pacing, only for a moment, “I know, Mark.”

Maybe pissed wasn’t the word he needed. Mark was heated, “Then why now? They’ve been together for almost a year, Jaehyun.”

“I fucking know, Mark.” It came through gritted teeth, forced and booming, “I don’t know what the fuck…I don’t have an answer for you.”

Not heated, Mark was furious, “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t mean it, but Jaehyun pushed in a fury, “I don’t need your help.”

Not pissed, not heated, not furious. Mark was livid, “Fine. Figure it out. I’m going to check on her.

That seemed to stop Jaehyun entirely. Mark gathered his things and Jaehyun stopped, looking out the window towards your house. It was almost as if Mark had put the idea into his head, set it into motion and rolling down the street. The storm had started outside, it had leaked through the windows and down into the loft. Now it was inside of Jaehyun and urging him to say, “I need to go talk to her.”

“No you don’t.” Mark didn’t spare him a look, “You need to sort your shit out. Johnny is probably still there.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Mark knew, Johnny had texted him and asked Mark to make sure you were okay - whenever he had the chance. Jaehyun knew because he watched Johnny leave, watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and make his way towards the bus stop. Your boyfriend, Johnny. His best friend, Johnny. Still, Jaehyun turned on his heel and stomped towards the door. He didn’t say a word, barely heard Mark say, “Fuck.” over the downpour.

He did hear Mark’s footsteps trying to match his stride. Jaehyun could hear Mark screaming his name as they ran down the stretch of road to your house.

He could feel Mark reaching out for him, grabbing hold of his soaked-through shirt in an attempt to hold him back. Nothing would’ve stopped Jaehyun; not the rain, not Mark, not his best friend, Johnny. Jaehyun shouted your name first on the street-side of the gate, then once more with every step he took closer to you.

You had to come outside. You had to talk to him. He had to see you.

Mark stood still, like there was a barrier between your property and the sidewalk he couldn’t quite cross. He watched everything unfold before him, still cataloging, still livid, but now worried. Jaehyun was begging you to come out, Mark was silently pleading for you to stay in.

Your door creaked open, silencing Jaehyun’s words and silencing Mark’s thoughts. There you were, face stained with tears, in the same clothes they’d left you in an hour ago. Your arms were crossed over your chest and each breath you took shook your whole body. You didn’t say anything, not one of you did. The three of you stood in complete silence and let the rain overtake you, let it lead the conversation with rhythmic pitter-patters.

Jaehyun spoke first, “Please.”

“Please what, Jae?” His name from your lips could kill him on a good day - this was, decidedly, not a good day. Not even close, “What do you want?”

“I-please just talk to me.” You looked over his shoulder to Mark, drenched in the street waiting for whichever one of you needed him first, “I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”

You echoed what Mark had said to him, it stung more coming from you, “You had years, Jaehyun. That’s what you said. Years.”

“So did you.” He bit.

You and Mark took a step forward at the same time. The rain had yet to touch you, but it taunted the tips of your toes - bare feet freezing in the early fall air, “What did you say?”

“Look at me and tell me you didn’t - that you don’t feel the same way.” Jaehyun squared his shoulder, his tone wavering but demanding all the same, “You’ve had years, too.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Johnny knows it, too. Everyone does. Johnny, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeyong - everyone. Fuck, even that Haechan guy picked up on it. We’ve both had years.”

He stepped closer, you didn’t pull back, Mark came closer, “Stop it.”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Another step from Mark to combat stillness between you and Jaehyun - years of stillness. Years. It was like the youngest was waiting for a cue, some sort of signal that you needed him, before he intervened.

“I love Johnny.”

Another sting, but not a denial. Jaehyun felt bile swirling up and threatening to spill over. Still, he stood firm, ignoring the chill and ignoring the rain. He was solely focused on you.

“Tell me you don’t love me, too.”

A clap of thunder shook the ground beneath you as you opened your mouth to speak. You startled where you stood, arms tightening around yourself. Jaehyun took another step.

He was on the bottom step, you stood at the top. You remembered Johnny in a similar position nearly a year ago and gnawed at your lip to keep from crying any more. Jaehyun pressed, close enough that you could hear him whisper, “Just say it and I’ll go. This can be done. We can be done.”

He wished his voice didn’t shake with his last words, staring you down and hoping you didn’t notice. Jaehyun was sure being done with you would break him - worse, it would destroy him. His hands were in fists, shaking at his sides from a combination of adrenaline, fear and cold. He was begging.

You looked at Mark again, closer than before but still too far to hear hushed words between you and Jaehyun. You shook your head, “I can’t, Jae. You have to go.”

The two phrases contradicted each other. You couldn’t tell him you didn’t love him, but you needed him to go. Needed to be done. Needed to destroy yourself and the part of you - the biggest part of you - that still held onto him. Shaking your head again, you took your turn to beg, “Please, Jaehyun. Just go. I…I…”

Jaehyun’s voice lowered, shaking but certain, “You lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t. Jaehyun, please.”

“When I kissed you, you lied. You said you didn’t feel it and I know you did. I know you did and I should’ve done something about it, then. I didn’t and I’m sorry.” He was shattering, shards of Jaehyun were chipping away and falling to the ground in front of you, “It shouldn’t be like this. I fucked up. Don’t lie to me again.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Please. Don’t lie to me again.”

Mark was there in a second, pulling at Jaehyun’s shoulder again and urging him backwards, “Come on. You gotta give her space.”

He started pulling Jaehyun backwards, you stood and watched. Every sob that had stored itself in your chest, compressed and pushing to get out, shook you like the thunder shook the ground. Your arms clutched at themselves, pulling at whatever you could to keep yourself grounded. Jaehyun kept you grounded - it was always Jaehyun. Then it was Johnny. Now it was just you, alone on your front stop watching your best friend being dragged from you.

You were floating away and nothing was there to tether you. Jaehyun was shouting over the rain, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I know I messed up, I did. I should’ve… I can’t…please, I’m so sorry. Don’t.” He pushed at Mark’s hands, “Get the fuck off of me. Fuck!”

A symphony of sounds you wish you could erase from your memory; Jaehyun shouting to you, the scraping and slapping and scuffling from Mark pulling him away, your own sobs and the rain. It was a nightmare and you weren’t waking up.

It took twenty minutes for relative silence to find you - twenty minutes of solitude, of raindrops and sobs that lost their timbre to the thunder. You were freezing, maybe that’s why you couldn’t move - your feet were frozen to the cement beneath them. The world was frozen in time. Until you could hear footsteps, until you could see Mark at your gate, still drenched with his backpack over his shoulder.

You crumbled, then. Mark wasn’t there to catch you when you landed back on Earth, but he scooped you up and brought you back in. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta get you inside.” His voice was soft, gentle as took you into your home and shut the door behind you, “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“Mark, I-“

“It’s fine.” Mark stopped you, “Johnny would’ve killed me if I let that go on any more. Just tell me what you need.”

A knife straight to your heart, you let out a breath from the pressure, “Don’t say their names. Either one of them, for now.”

Mark dropped his bag and pulled off his wet shoes, then his socks, “Done. What else?”

“Can you…” A swirl of guilt and something completely indescribable filled you, starting at your thawing toes and working its way to the top of your head. A voice reminding you that Mark shouldn’t be involved. It ate away at you, “Change into dry clothes Mark.”

“Yeah, I was going to.” He squatted down to sift through his bag, looking for something both clean and dry to put on, “Do you want me to make tea or something? Or like, I don’t know, you could take a warm bath? That might…I think that might help.”

You watched Mark’s eyes dart around, cataloging or searching, something. Mark Lee was just as lost as you were, grasping at anything he could after watching the world implode. It hit you then, even if Mark wasn’t at the center of the implosion, he was still at the site. The flames burned at his skin, the fumes filled his lungs; harsh words were still thrown at Mark like knives.

The most innocent party of the four of you still was part of this, whether he should have been or not.

You stepped towards him, pulling him up and making a point not to let go. Mark just watched you, still trying to list the things he thought might help, “Breathe, Mark.”

“I’m breathing” He nodded his head, rapidly, you think it might have hit him, then. The aftershock, the implosion, “I’m breathing.”

You repeated, holding his hands and holding his gaze, “Mark, breathe with me.”

“I’m…what the fuck?” He shook his head, this time, looking down and letting droplets fall from his hair, “What the fuck is happening?”

“I’m so sorry, Mark,”

“No, you didn’t do it. You don’t need to be sorry.”

You nodded, urged him to go change and made your way into your kitchen. You made the tea he suggested, you ran water so he could take a warm bath. The two of you settled in the living room, kindred and confused spirits, sipping on tea and wrapped up somewhere safe, together. You kept it that way, you kept Mark comfortable and safe until he fell asleep on your couch.

Because there was no way he could know, there was no way you could ever tell him that you weren’t innocent in this, as he was.

Because, even if you loved Johnny - and God, do you love Johnny - Jaehyun was right.

You couldn’t look him in the eye and say he was wrong; you absolutely loved him, too.

previous. masterlist. the end.

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (five)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, five

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving), fingering, missionary romantic penetrative sex, so much kissing). overuse of the words beg, ache and spin and variations of them. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 9,312

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta

author's note. hey everyone. i want to first thank you for your patience and understanding, with this delay. the second thing i want to address is the genre tags - specifically jaehyun slow burn. the only thing i want to say about it is this: for every baby step jaehyun takes, johnny will take strides. that doesn’t mean that it’s johnny focused, just that johnny is moving faster that jaehyun is. i sincerely appreciate all the incredible things you have all said about dhwc, i hope you continue to enjoy it. but please keep in mind this is a long fic! we have obstacles to overcome, a story to build together! thanks for building with me 🫶🏽

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here!

“I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun was on your doorstep, his tie loose around his neck and his hair pushed back.

For two days, he’d sat with himself, gone back and forth with all the things he’d wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to beg. Jaehyun wanted to contain himself how he’d been for years, but his heart was holding onto strings, trying to tie them into knots to hold everything in place; himself, you, the two of you together.

For two minutes, his hand shook, lifting to ring your doorbell, curling into a fist to knock on your door, pulling out his phone to call you. The weight of his key in his pocket urged him to just open the door. Jaehyun felt desperate in a way that made his bones ache, in a way that was almost comical.

In a way that, when you opened the door and saw him there, made him swallow and say the only thing he could think to, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, for an eternity, for much too long. He was shaking again, composure wavering with every second. Finally, you spoke, quiet and hesitant, “For what, Jae?”

For everything. For waiting. For doing nothing. He shook his head, “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.”

“I want you to be happy.” Jaehyun paused, waited for the words that took two days to find him, “You know that, right?”

Again, you confirmed, “Yeah.”

“Does…does whatever you and Johnny are, does that make you happy?”

The answer wasn’t no, it was so much more complicated. Every thought of Johnny was complicated, but the simplest answer was, “It’s really new, Jaehyun.”

“Sure.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, that makes sense. I just never thought…”

He couldn’t say it, couldn’t force the words from his lips. Jaehyun was still to scared to give himself away, even with the threat of losing you, in his mind entirely, right in front of him. If felt pathetic, it felt unreal. He’d spent years wishing he could do exactly what Johnny had done, wishing he could be where Johnny is and now, when it was teetering on too late, he still couldn’t do or say anything to stop it.

Jaehyun wondered if he’d ever be able to or if the way his heart swelled and beat for you would be just on the tip of his tongue, forever.

“You never thought what?” Mark was right. It was all too weird. There wasn’t a better word for it, nothing that could shake that fact that Jaehyun, your Jaehyun, was weird. Your world stopped again, the chill of November hit your skin, and you could feel him slipping away. You didn’t know how to make it stop, what to grab onto to pull Jaehyun back to you, “Do you want to come inside?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“I have to get ready.” So much of you didn’t want to tell him, “I have a date.”

“With Johnny.” Jaehyun followed you up your stairs, “What time?”

“In an hour.” You stepped into your room, Jaehyun stayed behind, leaning on the doorframe and watching you move, “I don’t know what to wear.”

He remembered telling you we’ll support you. The echo of him saying I want you to be happy minutes before caught up to him, at the top of the stairs. The air was thick, the way it had been two nights before. You’d sat in the tension through the night, masking it as best you could while Mark was still there. It lingered until they left - Mark first, gathering his things and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You and Jaehyun picked up in relative silence; clattering dishes in the sink, the shuffling of your feet, the TV muted but flashing brightly and lighting the room.

Jaehyun had adjusted a throw pillow, watching as you folded the last blanket, before he said, “I should go, too.”

“Okay.” The couch was a barrier between you, both standing at opposite ends. Jaehyun looked at your bandaged hand, up to your face, down to the floor. You watched him, dimly lit but beautiful as he always was, “Are we okay?”

He nodded, his heart only partially in it. He wanted you to be okay, if wishing and wanting counted for anything. God, he’d wish and want forever. More than he should. So, Jaehyun nodded and said, “We’ll be okay.”

Then it was quiet again. Jaehyun didn’t make any moves to actually leave and you didn’t encourage him to. It was silent in your living room, welcoming the fourth day of November as the clock pushed to midnight. It was late, it was too late. He was too late, but Jaehyun didn’t move. He spoke again, “Why him?”

“What?”

“That’s the last thing I want to ask you.” It had taken him all night to say it; the last question he wanted to ask you and the answer he dreaded the most. Jaehyun looked up, “Tonight, at least. Why Johnny?”

Your mouth opened, hanging there for a second before you shrugged, “Why not?”

He laughed. Jaehyun laughed, without a trace of amusement, “That’s not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say, Jae?”

“Anything.” He was slipping again, another leaf to the ground, another chill down your spine, “I want to understand it because it came out of nowhere.”

The TV flashed, vibrant blues and pinks, a shade of yellow - colors of an ad that washed over the two of you. Silence settled again, tension settled again, stillness and something so indescribable, untouchable between the two of you. Jaehyun waited for an answer, a real answer. He felt like he’d only asked half of his final question, but the follow up was something he’d never be able to say; why him and why not me?

The thought had been circling in his mind, preying on every thought he had and every move he made for three weeks. Since you called him, since you told him Johnny told me he likes me. Longer than that, maybe, if Jaehyun could be honest with himself. He’d been feeding the predatory question since your birthday, “Why him?”

But, you didn’t answer. The truth wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, wasn’t something you could tell him. Not like this. Because it wasn’t you. So, you didn’t answer him. Instead, you stepped towards your door, ignoring your frazzled reflection and told him, “I have to get up early tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun followed, pulled on his shoes and watched as you pulled away from him. You sat on the steps, wrapped around yourself and counting the tiles in your foyer. Jaehyun said, “Sleep well. I’ll call you.”

He didn’t call. For two days, the tension grew into unease, into strain, into an unshakeable dread. Jaehyun couldn’t call. Instead, he came to you, followed those strings back to you and now, he was here. He watched as you pulled things from your closet, put them out on your bed, made a mess of your room in the process.

Jaehyun saw the pictures of the four of you, the three of you, of just the two of you on your walls. He saw his shirt at the top of your hamper in the corner, another one hanging from a drawer. Jaehyun took in every inch of the familiar space, how there were bits and traces of him in every corner. Why him?

It was selfish. Jaehyun was so intertwined with you that he couldn’t separate himself from your happiness and it was selfish. He looked at his feet, but articulated clearly, “I’m really sorry for the other night.”

“You said that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lifted his head to look at you, “You won’t lose me.”

You stopped, turning to look at him, “I feel like I already am.”

“No. Never.” Jaehyun took a tentative step across the threshold, “How is your hand?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

You pressed your thumb to the slight mark on your palm, “Is it really so different? If Johnny and I - if we just try?”

“I didn’t think you’d date within our circle. Not again. I know how that sounds, but it just took me by surprise and I think, I don’t know. I didn’t know how to react.”

“I get it.”

“I’m not reacting well, huh?”

“Neither am I.”

Jaehyun moved, even more, to stand in front of you, “What does that mean?”

He tried to twist the hope in his voice into concern, curiosity. Jaehyun watched you carefully; when your forehead creased with a thought and your lips parted only to sigh, his hope swelled in his chest. You sank down to sit on the edge of your bed, looking up at him, “When he told me, I didn’t know how to react. I still don’t, sometimes. I didn’t think, not in a million years did I think it would be Johnny.”

Jaehyun nearly choked, “Did you think it would be someone else?”

You. Your eyes were locked on his. You. It was impossible to say it, now. It might have always been. The regret that weighed you down and kept you seated on your bed was crushing, bruising every inch of your skin with could have beens and the word you. Jaehyun didn’t move, statuesque before you.

I had hoped for you was left unsaid, hiding in the way you simply stared at Jaehyun.

Because it was too late, it was too early; either way, the time wasn’t right. Never right, never sure, never certain. Honesty still found its way past your lips in a confession, “Sometimes I think that I just really like the way he kisses me.”

Jaehyun’s heart plummeted, dropped from his chest to the center of the Earth and blackened in the heat. Of course you’d kissed Johnny, of course Johnny had kissed you, of course you liked it. You really liked it. He didn’t know if you heard his quiet, “Oh.”

“I think I like him.” You covered your face, head in your hands, “This is so dumb, Jae. I don’t even remember what it's supposed to feel like, when it’s new. I’ve been so…”

Wrapped up in you.

Jaehyun urged, “Keep going.”

You couldn’t, holding your head to keep it on your shoulders, to give every thought a barrier it couldn't push through. I’m too wrapped up in you.

“Is it good enough to just think you like someone?” Your voice was muffled underneath your palms, “Shouldn’t you know? Shouldn’t I know?”

He didn’t have an answer. Jaehyun wasn’t sure if you even wanted him to answer, if the question was rhetorical, if the words just needed to be said.

Instead, Jaehyun took your hands, pulling you to your feet, and prompted, “How do you feel?”

He was trying to help, he was supporting you. If it was how he stayed here - framed on your walls, crumpled in the hamper, fading on your bathroom counter - he would support you. Jaehyun squeezed your hands in his, ducking down to try and see your eyes; he was looking for the stars, looking for you to shine. You stared back at him, “Comfortable.”

He nodded, “What else?”

Your eyes never left Jaehyun’s, “Safe.”

Jaehyun squeezed your hands, licked at his lips to hide how dry his mouth had become. He needed something to hold onto, he needed one more string. Jaehyun tried to smile, “That’s good.”

“It’s good.” Johnny was good. You looked down at your hands, how Jaehyun’s wrapped around and intertwined with yours, “Will you be honest with me if I ask you something?”

“I’ll try.”

“Are you okay with it?”

As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted letting them slip. You felt his hands tighten around yours and yours did the same. That feeling, that sinking feeling that you were losing him creeping back in.

You knew the answer and maybe you shouldn’t have asked it for that reason. You knew the answer and the two of you had danced around it, tiptoed around it, built bridges and scaled buildings to avoid it. You knew the answer and Jaehyun did, as well. He almost answered, he took in a breath to steady himself and answer you.

But, Jaehyun wanted you to stop, he sensed you wanted that, too. Both of you knew it was a conversation you needed to have, it was another lead that needed to fall. But, the Earth didn’t change from spring to summer, from summer to fall, from fall to winter overnight. You needed to tell him when you could easily get the words past your lips and Jaehyun needed to hear them when they didn’t feel like needles, like knives.

So, he stopped you.

He looked at the clothes you’d put out, hands still holding yours, “Wear the dress.” It was killing him, “Mark said you were going to dinner.”

You looked over your shoulder, “The dress?”

“Definitely.”

You’d worn it on New Year’s eve, the last time he saw it; surrounded by friends, confetti, balloons. A vision that blurred his vision and made Jaehyun feel weak, defenseless, hopelessly lost in you. He wanted to kiss you, the last time he saw it; when you counted down from ten as loud as you could, when you rang in the new year with a glass of champagne, cheering and cheering and joyfully cheering. Jaehyun wanted to kiss you then, silence his hopelessness with your lips, fill a moment so fresh with nothing but you.

Every inch of him ached at the memory.

“Go on. Get dressed.”

He turned his back, then, using modest and privacy as an excuse to quell what felt like agony in his chest. Jaehyun studied every inch of your nightstand - the things that littered your floor, his own feet, the ceiling - holding his breath and keeping his eyes down until you called his name, “Can you zip me?”

“Of course.”

His fingertips were chilled but soft on your back, pulling gently at your zipper, smoothing out the fabric at your hips. You could feel his breath on your neck when Jaehyun said, “Wear your hair up.”

“You think so?”

His fingers brushed against your arm when he said, “Yeah.”

“Okay.” You turned to face him. Ignored the knot in your stomach, the heated skin where he’d touched, told him, “Thank you.”

He didn’t want you to thank him, not for this. Jaehyun didn’t want you to say thank you while he picked out an outfit for you to wear on a date with another man. A friend that wasn’t him. A friend. His friend - his best friend, Johnny. Not now, not when he’d found a new way to torture himself; that dress, that dress, that dress. The memory of longing to kiss you slipping from the past into the present as easily as you’d slipped into that dress. Still, he nodded, stepping back and saying, “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

Jaehyun found himself in your kitchen, your speaker playing music he’d missed upon arrival in the living room. He poured himself a glass of water, chugging it down and gasping for breath when it slithered its way into his stomach. Another glass went down before he calmed himself down. His mind was circling around every word you’d said, trying to pull them apart for another drop of hope. The water hadn’t been enough to quench that thirst, it hadn’t even touched it.

Jaehyun focused for too long on you telling him “Sometimes I think that I just really like the way he kisses me.” The thought of Johnny’s lips on yours drained his already depleted source of hope. His feet dragged him into the living room, sinking into the couch while he waited and listened to the melodies from your phone, the clattering from your bathroom, his own breathing.

If he’d kissed you, eleven months ago while you were in that dress, Jaehyun could convince himself none of this would be happening. He would never have to imagine you kissing Johnny, he wouldn’t have to hear to talk about it. Jaehyun wouldn’t be digging deeper and deeper into the Earth, carving out his own grave.

Jaehyun leaned forward, reading the title of the song lilting. At the top of your screen, he saw the title - your name and carefully selected emojis. Jaehyun cursed his curiosity when he swiped down and saw his name. His name on a list of songs put together for you. The hearts framing your name, the smiles, the sparkles. Jaehyun’s throat felt dry, again, his head felt light.

“How do I look?” You were behind him, bare feet undetectable when he was caught up in his own thoughts. Jaehyun stood up, taking you in. The dress was the right choice, your hair tied back was the right and the red lipstick you’d picked was the perfect choice. He couldn’t catch his breath, “I don’t know what shoes to wear.”

Two pairs hung from your fingertips, Jaehyun weakly pointed to one, “Those. You look perfect.”

He knew you would.

You wavered, dropping both pairs of shoes to the floor and smiling the best you could, “Thank you.”

He’d picked the perfect look for you to go on a date with a friend who wasn’t him.

Jaehyun had lost himself in a playlist for you made by him.

And now he was losing his mind, watching as you came closer. He could stand in that moment forever, taking you in like that. He could pretend it was for him, he could stay quiet and keep his heart to himself. Jaehyun could’ve gathered any of the things he’d left unsaid and let them loose; put them at your feet and given you the chance to hold them for yourself. He could’ve let you see if the weight of his heart and his mind and his soul - everything that you had a hold on - was too much, too little, just right in your arms. Instead, he took a step towards you and asked, “Can I try something?”

You blinked, “Try what?”

“I want to help. I want you to be happy.”

“Help with what, Jaehyun?”

He looked down, watched his fist clench and loosen, then he pulled at your own hands, “Can I kiss you?”

It was so quiet he almost missed it, “What?”

“You said you think you just like when he-” He swallowed, “When he kisses you. So, if I kiss you and it doesn’t feel, I don’t know, right, it could help.”

“I don’t know.”

He wanted to beg. His mind working overtime to convince himself he was helping, his heart knowing he was traveling back in time to New Years, to start over, to pull you back to a place he’d never had you. To a place he had only silently hoped he could have you. Jaehyun tried to play it casual, to keep himself centered and tethered to you, to this moment. He looked up at you, “It could help.”

Tunnel vision. Everything that wasn’t Jaehyun was lost, every sound and sight and smell. He was all you could see. It could help. It was a taunt and he hadn’t any clue. It could help in the way it would destroy you to know what kissing Jaehyun would feel like. He wanted to help, he wanted to help, he wanted you to slip away. You looked down at your hands, how Jaehyun’s thumbs rubbed circles into your palms. Too late, too soon, not right.

You nodded before you could think not to. Before he was gone, completely, and pushing the thought of Johnny to the back of your mind, you nodded, “Okay.”

Jaehyun nodded, too. He was trembling, hopelessly lost in you, again and always, and this moment, aching to know if you could tell how he shook. But he took a step towards you, leaning in and down and closer until your breath mingled. Until he could smell your perfume, the warmth of it, the scent that was so uniquely you. Then, his lips were on yours - soft, so soft, unmoving for a moment.

The whole world was unmoving.

You squeezed his hands in yours, moving your lips first, slowly and cautiously. It took everything in you to hold back, to not melt into him completely and lose yourself. It could help. He was right, even slightly, because kissing Jaehyun was nothing like kissing Johnny. It was unlike anything. You were breathless, grounded, lost and home all at once.

He pulled you closer, tongue slipping past your lips for a second - begging begging begging you to let him in. Jaehyun’s hands were on searching for a home, one at your hip and the other holding your face. He couldn’t breathe, he didn’t know if he wanted to. If Jaehyun had to stop kissing you to breathe, he’d suffocate where he stood.

You let him in, tongue running along his bottom lip, moan leaving you and melting into his mouth. He swallowed it down, fingers holding tighter still around you. He couldn’t tell himself he was helping when you made sounds like that. But Jaehyun couldn’t pull himself away, either.

You did.

You pulled away from him and Jaehyun was reminded he couldn’t will January back when November had already begun. Your hand covered your lips, scorched and swollen. Jaehyun looked at you as you looked at him, neither of you stable enough to speak, to think.

“Jaehyun.”

He gathered himself enough to ask, to foolishly ask, “Did it help? Did you feel anything?”

He wanted to beg. He would get down on his knees if you’d tell him yes. You stood still, breathing in the air that carried his words to you. Then, breaking your own heart you shook your head.

Breaking Jaehyun’s heart, you shook your head and stepped back.

Ripping your heart and his from your chests, you shattered both of them on the ground and shook your head. The only words he could hear clearly were, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“I…” His lungs fought every breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“You didn’t feel anything?”

You felt fire. You felt your heart racing. You felt every touch and breath. You felt everything. Your body was still tingling, still trembling, still urging you to wrap yourself in him.

“We…we shouldn’t have.”

You didn’t answer him, not directly. It didn’t go unnoticed. Jaehyun took a step back, for himself, hand swiping over his face before it settled on his hips. He took you in, your red lipstick smudged, your hair falling from its hold, your dress shifted. All signs he’d touched you, held you, kissed you. He’d kissed you and you felt nothing; you shook your head, you said you shouldn’t have.

He watched the way your chest was rising and falling, how you were just as short of breath as he was. Suddenly, it was too much. You were right, it didn’t help.

Jaehyun didn’t say anything after that. Anything he could think to say, anything he’d want to say would be too hasty, too harsh, would hang in the air between the two of you before his words crashed down and made everything worse. He left, silently, stuck in his head. He left, knowing you were standing in your living room with the taste of him still on your lips, waiting for someone else. Jaehyun left and didn’t turn back when he heard you call his name once, twice.

Johnny was at the end of your pathway when he opened the door, hand on the gate. He didn’t look up, didn’t notice Jaehyun - his best friend Jaehyun - until the sound of the younger’s feet stomping on the concrete pulled his attention. And Johnny was cheerful, Johnny was kind, Johnny didn’t have a reason not to smile at Jaehyun and say, “Hey, man!”

Jaehyun was cold, still in his head, lips still on fire where you’d touched. He wondered if Johnny would notice the stain of your lipstick when he said, “Hey. Have fun.” His voice wavered, filled with a quiet hostility Jaehyun couldn’t control, when he tacked on, “She’s all yours.”

You were. He could feel the winter creeping in, the end of your season. Jaehyun’s lips were on fire, but the rest of his body was frost bitten.

Johnny nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” He stopped when they’d met halfway, Jaehyun was so determined to keep moving, but Johnny grabbed his shoulder and asked, “We’re on for tomorrow, right? Mark said he might be late.”

Jaehyun masked that he’d forgotten, a usually scheduled event, a concrete gathering - a weekend in the loft, “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You alright, man?”

Jaehyun took a moment, he wondered if Johnny even noticed. He wondered if the way Jaehyun licked at the hint of red lipstick on his lips was telling, noticeable in the least. Jaehyun wanted to know if Johnny could smell you on him; the notes of cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin. He was desperate to look down and see if any fibers from your dress had crept onto his suit, latched themselves onto him - a sign for him to not let go. Jaehyun lingered on the taste of you, brought his hand to his lips and felt the heat of them before he shook his head - quickly switching to a nod, “Yes. Yeah, I’m good. Just…be good to her, John.”

Johnny laughed, head tilted back weighed down by his amusement, “Sure thing, Dad. My intentions are pure.”

“I’m serious, Johnny.”

Johnny slowed his laughter, brought his head upright and forced out the last breath of his amusement. The look Jaehyun gave him was clear and Johnny was never one to brush off his friends' concern. So, Johnny squared his shoulders and nodded, again, “Of course. You know I will, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun nodded back. He looked over to your window, thought of you in your dress, your perfume, your lipstick. He took a step back, thoughts swept away in a November breeze - a cruel reminder of winter slowly approaching - and said, “I know. See you tomorrow, man.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, Jaehyun.” Johnny wasn’t bitter, not hostile in the way Jaehyun had been, not concerned with any traces of venom in his words. It simply wasn’t there. Johnny spoke gently, the softest reminder to Jaehyun that it was him. This was Johnny, “I’ve got her.”

With another nod, a final nod, Jaehyun repeated, “I know.”

I’ve got her.

His lips were singed. I’ve got her felt dangerously like snow.

You were frozen where you stood, confined and rooted to the spot where you’d stood with Jaehyun. You had done all you could to fix yourself up in the reflection of your television; tugging at the fabric of your dress, swiping your thumb across your lips, tucking strands of hair back into place. You felt nauseous in a way you couldn’t explain.

Jaehyun still lingered on every inch of you.

When Johnny stepped inside, you were facing away from him. His eyes followed the shape of you, the curves of your body he’d tried to memorize on the first day of November. His fingers wiggled at his sides, danced at the thought of touching you again, of committing you more to memory. Quickly, Johnny tucked them into his pockets, “You look gorgeous, babe.”

He was there, right where Jaehyun had been.

One replaced the other, Johnny stood where Jaehyun had and it threw you off balance. Nauseous, stomach twisted in complicated knots. You couldn’t look at Johnny for a second, knowing the world would pick up pace again as soon as you did. The vertigo would be enough to knock you down. Johnny deserved better, Johnny deserved better.

You lifted your head.

He looked incredible, he looked excited. Johnny couldn’t, he wouldn’t even think to hide the fact that he was smitten; beaming in the foyer and filling the room with radiant light. Your heart could’ve stopped beating, taking him in. Instead, it picked up pace, thumping against your chest, begging to burst out, free to follow Johnny’s light. He said, “Hi.”

You repeated it back, still breathless, “Hi. You look…”

Words were lost, you wondered if you’d reached your quota for the day. Your limited vocabulary in Johnny’s presence was recurring, only this time you couldn’t blame alcohol. Jaehyun had taken every thought with him. You were silent, suddenly so dumbstruck. But, Johnny took over where you fell short and eased you with a laugh, “Can’t believe I made you speechless.”

It took a moment before you laughed, too, nausea replaced with that shyness seeping into your skin, “Shut up.”

It was quiet enough to be kept to yourself, a throwaway command you didn’t really mean. But, Johnny watched the way your mouth moved; that same red lipstick from Jungwoo’s party painted onto your lips. So, he teased, as Johnny loved to do, “What was that?”

He took a step towards you, stepping out of his shoes and slipping on the wood in his socks. You laughed again, urging him to come closer. He meant it, you looked stunning in the dim light; in any light, in every light, in absolutely no light. Johnny would find every moment to remind you. He came closer still, floorboards by the couch creaking under the weight of him, “What did you say, babe?”

The air in the room shifted; it was lighter, playful. Just the way Johnny was. He could grin and laugh and wiggle his eyebrows and, suddenly, you were at ease. You were settling down and the world that was spinning all-too-quickly, rotated smoothly instead. He could blind you with his smile, fill your vision with light until you’d smile back just as vibrant, just as bright.

“Nothing” You tried to find your place in this moment, stumbled to find your footing with Johnny, yet again. It could help. Your arms fell in front of you, hands clasping at your hips, brushing against the finger prints Jaehyun had left cooling there. You shook your head, let a grin settle on your face, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You sure?”

He was toe-to-toe with you, his wiggling in his mismatched socks against your bare feet. You laughed hard, doing what you could to scoot back before he caught you. Just like that, Johnny flooded your mind, your air, the space around you. He smiled down at you and you could almost forget how your lips were freshly kissed. His hands found your hips, replaced the fingerprints that could have helped, pulling you in. You held your ground, “Positive.”

“Oh good.” Johnny heaved an exaggerated sigh, dancing fingers tapping against your hips, to your waist, back down again, “I thought you told me to shut up. Was gonna kiss you until you said sorry, but that would’ve been a waste of time. So, you ready?”

You laughed even harder, “Well, now wait a minute.”

Whiplash. Vertigo. A dizziness that wasn’t unwelcome.

Johnny held up his hands, “No, no. I can admit when I was wrong. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your lipstick.”

That lipstick. He had to wonder if you knew, if you only had one perfectly red lipstick, or if you knew. That lipstick, that song - the first song on his playlist for you. If you were in Jungwoo’s kitchen, Johnny might fall all over again. His favorite memory to run back to.

You pulled him from it, “Ruin it.”

“Ruin it?”

“Please.” If there were any smudges leftover, you didn’t know. Johnny didn’t either, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, “Kiss me, Johnny.”

He did. Not without a smile, not without a careful, comfortable pause. Johnny kissed you and you melted against him; spinning in a world that was for the two of you, alone. Your eyes closed, basking in it, feeling his hands and his lips and the tickle of his hair on your cheeks. It felt so different, Johnny and Jaehyun and Jaehyun and Johnny and you wanted to stop circling around the thought. You wanted your world to orbit around one thing; the sun, the brilliant and beaming sun.

Your heart felt like it was breaking in your chest, at the thought. It was being torn in two, and when Johnny’s lips moved against yours, it was welded back together; whole in your chest, thumping in your chest, seeking warmth in your chest. Johnny’s lips were warm, his touch was warm, his words and his thoughts and the way he wanted you. All of it was filled with so much heat.

It was getting colder out, you’d be a fool to stray away from the fire. Johnny pulled back, “Come back to me.”

Your eyes stayed closed, lost in thoughts, lost in orbit, “What?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Back to Earth, come back to me.”

Seeking out his lips again, you whispered back, “I’m here. I promise.”

“How do I keep you here?” Johnny’s lips lingered over yours, hovered in wait, “Tell me what I can do.”

You didn’t answer, unsure if you knew how. It had always felt like a vortex in your mind; unavoidable, pulling you in at the worst moments. Your tether had always been the same, had always been…always been. Head tilted down, you glanced towards the door, remembering your tether walking away after he’d set you loose in the sky. After he tried to help. And now Johnny was in front of you, pulling you to him; beaming in the foyer, kissing you in your living room, asking you what he needed to do.

“I don’t know.”

He kissed your cheek, your nose, your forehead. Then, Johnny brought his head down to eye level and told you, like he’d thought of the answer himself, “Then, I’ll keep trying.”

“Johnny.”

“Come on. Let’s go eat.”

📻

Your laughter echoed in the nearly empty space of a cleared out studio; it bounced off vibrant glass sculptures and swirled around inside the hallowed out ceramics. Johnny let the sound fill every corner of the room before he joined in, wanting to hear it clearly before it was lost in his own laughter. You were wrapped in his sweater, again, curled up in it on a pile of layered blankets and sipping on wine he’d picked out, wine he’d poured for you, wine he could taste on your lips when he leaned over to kiss you.

Johnny would whisper, “One more.”

Johnny would pull you closer, “Please?”

Johnny would brush his lips against yours and beg, “Babe.”

And your skin would prickle, would come alive underneath him, against him, with him. Johnny would kiss you and you would come to life. He looked up at you, leaning on one elbow, nursing his own glass of wine in his other hand, “How was dinner?”

“Really good.” The plates scattered around the two of you were remnants, littered with crumbs, stacked up and tipping over, “Did you make it?”

“No, Taeyong did. I think Yuta set everything up for us while he cooked.” He looked around the room; the dimming candles, the flickering twinkle lights, your pile of blankets and the bouquet of roses in a vase Taeyong had made. Johnny tapped at the blue and green glass, pulled at a red petal, “We have to come take a class.”

“We do?”

He nodded, a smile pulling at his lips - a smile that was always waiting to make an appearance finding another reason to come home, “We do. We made a deal.”

“We as in me and you or we as in you and Taeyong?”

“Second one.”

“I’m collateral in your bribe, then?”

Johnny took the last sip of his wine, lips still curled in a grin around the rim of the glass. It clinked against the boards of the hardwood floor when he placed it down, the same boards that groaned when he scooted closer and said, “Too beautiful to be collateral.”

“Oh my God.”

Johnny’s hand slipped into yours, pulled up the sleeve of his sweater so he could feel you. Your eyes wandered over every piece of art; Taeyong’s art that lined the walls, the art his students made stacked on shelves, the paintings he’d commissioned or sought out from local artists at a flea market. It was all perfectly curated, perfectly Taeyong. Johnny watched as you wandered off again, waiting for you to come back to him. Not once did his eyes leave you, not once did he think to look away. Johnny was surrounded by masterpieces and his favorite was still you.

He’d spent the last several days on a tightrope, balancing between anticipation and memories of you. Johnny was replaying memories that flooded his senses; overtook them, blurred them, rendered him useless at the thought of you. He was happy to indulge in it, he was happy to revel in the moments he knew he was lucky to have.

He had told Taeyong and Yuta, “I didn’t know we’d get this far.”

He had told them, “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Johnny had laughed, in disbelief, “It’s crazy, right?”

“How is Jaehyun taking it?” Taeyong’s hands were coated in clay; it stuck underneath his fingernails while they kneaded the lump into a new shape, cracked and dried on his wrists. He tacked on, “And Mark?”

Johnny shrugged, “Fine, I think.” Johnny knew not to say too much, but he knew after Halloween there wasn’t much more to say about it. His chain mail, your angel wings, your kiss swollen lips and your head on his lap. He knew your boundaries - especially where Jaehyun was concerned, where Mark was concerned - but Johnny also knew it was an open secret, “Mark is pretty happy about it, actually. I haven’t talked to Jaehyun about it, yet.”

Yuta had nodded his head, leaning back into the chair across from Johnny. The two of them watched him for a moment, shared a look Johnny couldn’t miss, then Yuta said, “He cares about her, a lot.”

“Of course he does. He’s her best friend.” Then Johnny did his best to give them security, reassurance, comfort when he said, “We’re treading lightly, taking things slow. She’s got control of the whole thing.”

Taeyong wiped his hands on his apron, “Right.”

“Besides, it’s completely different. I’m not trying to be her best friend.” Johnny smiled, Johnny shrugged, Johnny shook his head and told them, “I just want her.”

Your eyes settled on the pottery wheel behind him, “They know? Yuta and Taeyong?”

He hummed his answer, head bobbing in a nod. They knew enough, they knew as much as he did, as far as where you stood went. He’d covet what they didn’t know; your touch, your kiss, the way he vibrated at the thought of being able to touch and kiss you, again. Johnny glanced over his shoulder, “Did you want to make something, now?”

“Can we?”

“We can try.” Johnny was up on his feet, hands reaching out for you and pulling you up. He kissed your knuckles, “Come on.”

He moved around the room carefully, stepping over your stacks of plates and the unfinished works put to the side. He rummaged in cabinets and cupboards, eyes focused in the darkness while you focused on him. On Johnny. His cologne lingered on his sweater, surrounding you in him even when he was out of reach. You pulled his sleeves back down around your hands, burying yourself deeper the knit; perfect for this night, perfect for this moment.

Johnny came back with an apron slung over his shoulder, another in his hands. He wrapped the strings around himself, securing them before he beckoned you back to him, fingers bending and his head nodding backwards, “Here. Let me.”

“Do you want me to take this off, first?”

“Nah.” His hair fell into his eyes, brushed against his cheeks, “You look too perfect in it.”

His fingers took their time tying your apron around you, lingered at your waist, at the small of your back. He felt starved of you, even when he was inches away. Johnny worried he’d push for too much, but every part of him was hooked on you; addicted to you. He liked the feeling too much and he’d remind you, when he could think to articulate it. In this moment, he just wanted to hold you.

So, Johnny urged you towards the wheel, the stool stationed there, and sat you down. He pulled another just behind you and scooted as close as he could to you. The lump of clay he’d found thumped against the table, echoing as your laughter did in the studio. Johnny watched you, the tentative way you touched it. Then, he reached forward, took your hands in his and guided you, showed you carefully how to move, how to mold.

He breathed you in, “Here, like this.”

You held your own breath, letting his fingers work yours, entranced by their hold. Johnny was entrancing, intoxicating the way he led you. You didn’t look back at him, found his reflection in glass work across from you instead and locked onto it, “Have you done this before?”

“A few times.” Johnny was so close, a puppeteer for you - a weakening, melting marionette. He pulled at strings that made your stomach flip, that made your breath catch and your heart swell. Johnny kept you with him, “Taeyong showed me.”

You laughed a bit, “Like this?”

He snorted, “Not quite.”

Then you turned to look at him, focus drifting from his reflection, from the clay, from anything that wasn’t Johnny. He was so concentrated, still, content to let you take him in until the breath you let out shook you, until Johnny could feel the wave run through you. Only then did Johnny lift his head and ask, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, you tried to nod, “I’m okay.”

He smiled, everything that Johnny Suh was radiating for you to see - just for you, only for you, “Is it too much? Too Ghost?”

“I’ve never actually seen that movie. But, no, not too Ghost.”

Johnny felt gravity pulling at him; something like it pulling him closer to you. You were magnetic and, for as strong as Johnny was, he couldn’t fight against it. He didn’t even try. Johnny kept leaning, kept sinking, kept seeking you out until his foot lifted off the pedal and he pressed his lips to yours. Johnny kissed you like he always did, how he always would - if you let him. He kissed you and kissed you and pulled back to give you time to breathe, to react, to slow down.

You pulled him back to you, clay covered hand staining his shirt with your fingerprints, just over his heart. He’d let you claim that spot, he’d make it yours if you asked him to - he’d admit that it probably already was, “What are we making?”

Johnny looked down; his hands held yours around a misshapen, partially hallowed out lump. His head dipped to the side, “A rock with personality.”

Again, the sound of you laughing echoed around him, filled Johnny’s senses to the brim. It settled in your chest and in his, shaking you both for the moments it lasted. You leaned backwards, head falling onto his shoulder and Johnny was quick to wrap himself around you twice over; his sweater, then his arms. He kissed your neck when you asked, “Can we leave?”

“We can leave.”

“Do we need to clean up?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow and do it.”

“Not by yourself.”

Johnny buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressed into your collarbone, “You’re perfect. Let me take you home.”

And you told him, “Okay.”

📻

“How do you feel?” The streetlight at the end of your yard flickered, blinked twice behind him. Johnny was on the bottom step, again, looking up at you - a moment repeating, a familiar circumstance after one week, two weeks, three and almost four. He checked his watch, “I’m a little early.”

It was 11:37pm on Thursday. You can tell me how you feel on Friday, he’d said.

Your hands pushed at the strands of his hair that danced on his cheeks, sweeping them back before the wind could. Johnny leaned into your touch, an instinct that still felt so new to him, a developing habit he adored. He stepped closer, up one step, and wrapped his arms around you, lips level with yours; his lips begging to be kissed.

You did just that.

“Stay with me.” It was the second time you’d pleaded Johnny on your doorstep, a plea whispered against his lips. His hold around you was secure, tighter every time you took in a breath, “If you want to.”

“I want to.” Johnny slipped your keys from your hand, “I’ll stay.”

He unlocked your door, opening your house to the moonlight, the streetlight, the porch light above you. It was silent, save for your shoes on the tile and your staggered breathing. Johnny dropped his shoes, his jacket, your keys and then dropped to his knees in front of you, hand on the back of your thigh. Your dress slipped up your leg, moving in opposition to his fingertips traveling down to your ankle, slipping your shoes off for you.

Johnny pressed his lips to the skin of your calf. He waited for the shiver, waited for your reaction, before he moved again, “You look so beautiful, tonight.”

“You too.” Johnny’s hand worked at the hem of your dress, toying with where it landed on your thighs, wondering what would happen if he pushed it up towards your hips. You breathed in the silence, the sound of his own shaking breaths, “Johnny.”

“What do you need, babe?” Johnny rested his head on your stomach, “Tell me what you need.”

“Upstairs.”

The two of you moved together, slowly, stealing kisses and keeping them like secrets in the darkness of your hallway. Johnny held your face in his hands, you hooked your fingers in the belt loops of his pants, wanting him closer - always closer. He pulled off his shirt, your handprint over his heart, slipped out of his pants and his socks and any layer he could eliminate to be closer to you.

Awestruck, you watched, waiting until his hands pulled his sweater away from you, sighing as he unzipped your dress and let it fall to your hips. Johnny was on his knees, again, on your bedroom floor, guiding your dress down your hips as he guided you all night. When it hit the ground, he paused, taking in the shape of you, once more. Memorizing the way you looked, bare in front of him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His eyes were wide, gazing up at you from the floor, and his voice was hoarse when he reminded, “Tell me if it’s too much. You can tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, “I don’t want you to, Johnny.”

His lips kissed your stomach, just above your panties, just below your belly button. The warmth of him brought you to life again, sent electricity through you like a bolt of lightning. He kissed his way back up your body, standing up to lay you down. Every move he made was intentional, gentle, full of something that made your heart shake. Johnny pressed you into your mattress, grinding his hips against you.

He told you, “I can’t get enough of you.”

So you gave him all you could, legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips moved against his, both of you whispering praises, sighing promises, breathing names. Babe, babe, babe melted into baby as Johnny melted into you - not for the first time, he begged not for the last.

Your breath hitched when your phone sounded off, lighting up on your nightstand. Johnny paused, too, lifting himself from you. You thanked the darkness for hiding how you shied away, “Is that important?”

You told him, “It’s Friday.”

Johnny was beaming, breathless and over the moon, “You set an alarm for midnight?” Nodding, humming, confirming wordlessly you watched him. Johnny melted back into you, then, lips on yours when he praised, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me how you feel.” He urged, hand on your cheek, keeping you here with him, “You can answer me now.”

You felt everything. The weight of the world and of Johnny, the way you two molded together. You felt safe and comfortable and happy with Johnny, in the darkness of your bedroom, in the light of day, in the ambience of Taeyong’s studio. You felt on top of the world, unstoppable, perfect when he kissed the praises into your skin. So, you told him, “I want to be yours. Make me yours, Johnny.”

And he didn’t hesitate. He never would.

“I’m so…” Every word was mumbled, masked and murmured between kisses; on your neck, on your cheek, to your lips, down your chest. Johnny was lost in you, helplessly lost, “I’m so fucking happy. Do you know that?”

“Me too.” And you were, back to spinning, orbiting around him, around Johnny, around the sun, “More.”

“More.” He agreed.

You moaned when his fingers played with the strap of your bra, slipping it down your shoulder. He pulled at the fabric until he could wrap his lips around your nipple, tug it between his teeth and revel in the way you moaned his name. The taste of your skin, the feel of you and how you writhed underneath him; Johnny was sure he’d never felt anything like it.

His fingers took their time to move further down your body, slipping into your panties and teasing your clit. It was the first time he looked at your face, the first time he thought he could. Johnny watched how your jaw dropped, how your lips moved to say his name but the sound caught in your throat. He didn’t want to live in any other moment than this one, “My Juliet.”

“Touch me, Johnny.”

He ran his finger through your folds; teasing, teasing, always teasing. Johnny felt your wetness, how it dripped from your pussy at his touch, at the sound of his name like a hymnal, like a chant from your lips. One finger then two slipped in, his thumb circling your clit carefully, “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

“God, Johnny. Fuck.” You were falling apart on his fingers, hips rocking into every stroke, “Kiss me, please.”

Johnny shook his head, slowly.

“Want to taste you.” He corrected himself, lips pressed against your thigh. He could smell your soap, the lotion you’d used, your perfume and the sweet smell of your pussy. Johnny was intoxicated, drunk on the scent of you and aching to drink more in. He begged you, “Need to taste you, babe.”

Then he slipped your panties to the side, nose pressed against your pussy, then his lips, then his tongue. Johnny lapped at you, drank all you had to give him. He moaned into your pussy, chanted your name as you had his. His hands pulled your legs apart, held them still when they threatened to close around him. He could feel your pussy clench on his tongue, desperate for more - begging for more.

Johnny’s cock ached, throbbed, needing to be touched. His focus was on you, lips circling around your clit, “Can you cum like this, baby?” His fingers slipped back in; one, two, then a third. He curved them, pumped them inside you and watched you move in harmony with him, “Cum for me. Please, baby. Be good and cum for me.”

Johnny, Johnny. His name repeated in your mind, hushed when it spilled from your lips. Your hands were in his hair, “Oh my God. Johnny.”

“Love when you say my name, baby.” He moaned when you did, hips grinding into your mattress seeking release of any kind, “You taste so good. You taste like heaven.”

You might’ve seen heaven, too, vision turning white as your toes curled. Johnny coaxed you through your orgasm, worked you through it, guided you until your senses returned.

He kissed you, lips covered in your wetness; slick and swollen, gasping for breath. Johnny let you feel his length, pressed it against your pussy with the roll of his hips, took your hand in his and guided them down to stroke him. He was panting, a mess on top of you, when he said, “I need you.”

You told him, “I’m here. I’m yours.”

It was near a growl, the way he said, “Mine.”

“Yours, Johnny.” He’d been told that before, “I’m all yours.”

Johnny sat back on his heels, eyes raking over your body. He pulled you up, hands working to unclasp your bra. He wanted to see all of you; needed to, needed to, needed you. Johnny was doing everything he could not to rush through this, talking his time pulling your panties off. Then, he stood at the edge of your bed, committed to memory the way you looked, naked in the moonlight. He pulled his own boxer briefs off, letting them drop, hand wrapped around and working his cock at the sight of you.

Everything about Johnny was magnificent, everything about him stole your breath, every thought, every word. He was stunning, you were senseless before him. His voice echoed in your head, miles away but directly in front of you, “Condom, baby?”

You could hear yourself tell him, “Top drawer.”

Then, after a blink, after a breath, Johnny was on top of you. He was hovering over you, praises littering your skin in the form of kisses, slowly entering into you. Every inch of Johnny had you floating further and further away, watching from above your bed as he rocked into you, hit the deepest parts of you. His cock filled you perfectly, he was perfect; Johnny, perfect Johnny.

His pace picked up, he told you, “I won’t last long. Baby, I’m so sorry. You feel too perfect around me. Pussy was made for me, baby. All mine.”

You agreed, sinking back down into your body. Spinning and spinning until he grounded you there with him, hand holding yours above your head as he filled you, fucked into you. Johnny was yours and you were, “All yours, Johnny.”

“Stay with me, baby.” He pleaded. Johnny pulled up, sitting back on his heels and pulling you with him. His hips raised, burying himself deeper and deeper into you. Johnny’s arms engulfed you, holding you firm against his chest, “Stay here with me.”

Your arms did all they could to hold him just as tightly, to reassure him you were there. You clawed at his back, voice breaking with every moan, so close to the edge again. Johnny’s breath was hot on your neck, “Look at me, my Juliet. Let me see you.”

Johnny held your head in his hands, eyes locked on yours. Your lips were hung open, lost for words again, hands finding a secure place wrapped around strands of Johnny’s hair. He told you, he repeated to convince you, he’d never stop telling you, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You choked on your reply, “Johnny, I-”

Then he came, hips stuttering against yours, shaking against you. Johnny came, hand dropping from your face to circle your clit again, wanting to feel the way you clenched around his cock. You came, too, stars whiting out your vision for the second time, spinning with him.

Johnny was with you. Johnny was there with you and you were with him. He couldn’t wait to catch his breath before he asked you, one more time, “Say you’re mine, again.”

You lifted your head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, “I’m yours. I’m so yours.”

He laughed, sweat on his brow, sticking his hair to his forehead, “Until Christmas.”

You laughed with him, “We’ll see.”

previous. masterlist. next.

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (four)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, four

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, groping, dry humping (for real this time), mild burn injury to main character, smut tags will be added when it applies. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 9,303

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. mark lee, kim jungwoo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, na jaemin and lee jeno (briefly)

author's note. hey everyone. how are we feeling about angst? the theme of this chapter is hard conversations. but also jonnny is cute!

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here !

Johnny woke up first. He didn’t move, he kept his breathing even and, most importantly, he kept himself tangled in you.

November felt so different, barely the first day and it was so incredibly different. Johnny thought that it might not have been November at all, that maybe he was different and you were different and the possibility of the two of you becoming an us made everything feel different. It had been two and a half weeks, give or take, since he’d confessed. It had been six months and two and a half weeks since he started falling, since he’d been able to look at you without his heart skipping beats. Johnny had felt his heart swelling for six months and two and a half weeks, letting whatever he was feeling solidify and find a secure place in his heart, in his mind, before he did anything about it.

But, now that he had you here, now that he’d kissed you and held you and only you through the night, Johnny was thinking about the time he might have considered wasted. He didn’t regret it, but Christ he didn’t want what he was feeling to go away. Johnny wanted to be selfish, at least a small part of him. He wanted to be demanding, to fully go after what he wanted; you. Your lips, your touch, your heart, your mind and every bit of you that you’d give to him. To spend every day of November with you, like this. Or as many as he could.

To see you like this in December and January, to February. Hold you the same way in March, kiss you until April when it would have been a year for him, six months for you. In April, if time was the same for everyone, you would feel the way he did right now. In November.

April would feel different for you. The air, his arms, the way he kissed you and held you. April would feel different with the trees sprinting back to life, leaves vibrant and green and hanging tight to branches instead of brown, orange, red and falling to the ground. April would find Johnny and April would find you and things would be so different.

For now, he’d stay in November. In the chilled days, the shortened days that ended as soon as they started, in this room and in your bed with you.

You stirred next to him, wiggling closer to him still. He could feel the goosebumps on your arms wrapped around him and pulled your blankets up to cover you; slowly, softly, secure. Johnny smoothed down your hair, moving the strands that tickled your cheeks so your nose and eyes and lips would stop twitching. He took you in, the way you looked and breathed against him. A much different feeling, in November, than any other time he’d woken up with you.

His eyes wandered to your lips, plump from biting them as you slept, from the blood flowing to them through the night. He’d kiss you if he could, if you were awake and pulling him closer, eyes on him. You shifted once more, nose wrinkling and mumbling to him, “Stop staring.”

Johnny smiled, softly, and let that smile turn into a laugh. The soft beams of the sun came through your window behind you, gradually filling the room, “I won’t.”

“I don’t want to open my eyes.” Your voice was low, in tone and in volume. The way your fingers stretched around him only to settle back where they were warmed Johnny, “S’too bright.”

“I’ll close the blinds.” He told you.

Johnny had barely moved and you still pulled him back, “No. Stay here.”

So, he smiled some more, holding you how he was - maybe tighter. Johnny shifted closer to you and rested his chin on top of your head, “Are you hungry?”

“Head hurts.”

“Do you want coffee?”

You nodded, “I do.”

“Then I have to get up.”

“Please, no.” Maybe it was your mind, still wrapped in blankets and slumber, fogged over. Maybe you didn’t think of it, at all. Still, you pressed your lips to his bicep, the one draped over you and holding you close. You kissed Johnny’s arm softly and neither one of you did anything to stop the shiver that followed, “Stay here just a little longer.”

Your lips were still pressed to his skin when you spoke, Johnny would never be able to argue so long as they were. So, he stayed and even half awake, you noted how different November already felt.

The way Johnny tucked you into him, away from the light that melted into the room. How your breathing was in tandem; every time you’d take a breath in and your chest would rise, it would bump against his and press the two of you closer together. You had one knee bent, Johnny did too. The position felt close to how you’d been dancing together last night or at the festival. But, today, your heart skipped, completely and unmistakable.

You swallowed the thought, the feeling, the unexpected butterflies milling about, readying yourself to speak. Johnny’s voice broke through first, “Can I be selfish?”

“What do you mean?”

Johnny leaned away from you then, you opened your eyes and took in the sight. Beautiful as he’d been the night before, as he’d always been. He smiled at you, eyes down on your lips before he said, “I’d really like to kiss you.”

It woke you up fully, to hear him say that. The butterflies in your stomach broke into a frenzy, your heart stopped long enough to warrant concern, but you only blinked up at him. The way he smiled at you was teasing, it was perfectly Johnny. He waited and held still with that smile, watching your reaction like it was a performance just for him. Johnny let out what had to be a giggle when your eyes widened.

You tucked your head down, “I just woke up.”

“I know that.” He laughed, chest bouncing against yours, “I’ve been here all night.”

You mocked, “I know that.”

“I don’t mind.” Johnny’s hand slipped from around you to pull at your chin, lifting your head to look at him. You let him lead you, once again, “I really don’t mind.”

You blinked again, “I…”

“You can say no.” His voice was so gentle. Johnny kept his teasing smile on his face, but his tone was so sincere and unmistakable. He told you again, “You can always say no. You know that, right?”

Nodding up at him, you mumbled, “I do.”

He nodded back, “We’ll say it’s a no, then. I’ll go make coffee.”

He didn’t make a move to leave, not yet, and your eyes locked on his lips. You could still feel them on you, the exact way they’d felt the night before. You could feel the bark of the tree scratching at the skin of your back, could feel your wings folding and you could absolutely feel his lips. The sound of him moaning, breathing, saying your name.

It was a rush, a memory you were grateful alcohol hadn’t wiped away. You wanted to feel all of it, again, but sober. You wondered if Johnny kissing you and pressing you down into your mattress would feel the same as him holding you against a tree; if it would feel better. You sighed.

You moved first and sighed and when your head stopped spinning, you stood up. Your legs wobbled a bit before you turned and held out your hand, “Come on.”

“Come where?”

“With me.”

He watched you circle around the bed to stand in front of him. Noted how soft your thighs looked and how the sight of you in just a shirt might’ve done more for him than he’d readily admit. Johnny thought about kissing all the way up your leg, the sounds you’d make, the ones you made last night by the tree.

But, Johnny didn’t say anything, only let you pull him from your bed and across the hall to your bathroom.

When you bent over to rummage through a drawer, Johnny watched that same shirt slide up your thighs, enough to make him turn his head. He pushed his hair back. Everything felt different.

You turned to him, holding out a neon green toothbrush, “Here.”

Johnny laughed, fingers brushing yours when he took it, “Babe, you have a toothbrush for me?”

Goosebumps littered your skin; babe. The world picked up pace again, spinning and spinning and spinning around; babe. Internally, you fought with reacting or not reacting to the word, his smile, his touch; babe. Johnny looked so perfect, the word coming from his lips. He looked so natural, standing in your bathroom. Johnny’s smile started small, but it grew and it grew until he raised his eyebrows and turned to watch you in the mirror.

“I have a lot of spares.” You cleared your throat, flicking on the water, sliding on your toothpaste and handing the tube over to him, “You can write your name on that one.”

Johnny teased, of course he did, “I can?”

“If you want.”

Johnny kept his eyes on you in the mirror, catching each time you’d glance over at him and smile around his newly appointed toothbrush. He didn’t know it would get you flustered the way it did, a pet name he was sure he’d called you before. Johnny reminded himself that it might have been before November, before October, before everything was different. Still, he smiled, because you faltered and it made his heart swell even more.

You didn’t move when you were done, either one of you. Johnny put his toothbrush down next to yours and watched as you adjusted yourself, distracted yourself from the word that echoed between you two; babe.

“Did you like it?”

You stopped, the fussing or fidgeting, whatever you’d call it. You stopped and looked at Johnny fully, “Like what?”

“When I called you babe?”

Yes. The shortest answer was yes. So, that’s what you told him, wishing it would come out as unwavering as possible, “Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head slowly, fingers tapping on the counter in no particular rhythm, taking two tentative steps closer. He kept his eyes down, asking, “Can I kiss you now?” Emphasizing, “Babe.”

The shortest answer, “Yes.”

Johnny stepped in front of you, smiling still; you were so glad that he rarely stopped. He rested his hands on your hips, leaning down towards you and waiting, as he always did, for you to give him permission to move. When you did, his lips touched yours. Round and round, spinning until you were so dizzy you thought it was only in your head. You braced yourself, palms flat on the countertop. Johnny’s lips moved with yours, his fingertips held firm, thumbs working the fabric of your shirt up until they met your skin.

He whispered the word again, “Babe.”

And you whimpered against his lips, feeling the constant chill that hurried through you whenever Johnny touched you. He worked you up to burning, teased you and taunted until your cheeks were on fire and your palms sweat. He’d call you babe just to watch you fumble with one word. Then, Johnny would hold you and cool you down, spin the world for you, comfort you and keep you safe. It was intoxicating. It felt like shock, it felt like a dream, it felt like it was natural to be here. In your bathroom. Kissing Johnny Suh.

“Johnny.” His hands moved down to your ass, holding still until you were fidgeting again, against him, and he laughed into the kiss. The way his fingers dug into your flesh made your head fall back and away from him, a moan floating into the air instead of letting him swallow it down. Johnny was pleased, beyond that, at the sight of you, the sound of you, the feel of you against him, “God, Johnny.”

There were fewer layers between you now. You could feel his skin on yours, his leg between yours, pressing against you. He could feel how wet you were getting, the goosebumps he’d caused. He was losing his mind, a sensory overload. But Johnny would continue until you asked him to stop. He lifted you up, placing you on the counter as gently as his shaking hands would allow. He tried to breathe, to calm himself, to think clearly. Truly, all he’d wanted was a kiss. He wanted to wake up to you, to kiss you and not think twice about it. But, now that he was here, perfectly between your legs and pressed against you, he didn’t want it to end.

He just wanted you.

Johnny could feel the heat coming from your core, could feel blood rushing through his body and making his cock harder with every whimper you let out. It was his favorite sound, a sound he would chase, a song he’d play over and over until he grew sick of it. Johnny didn’t expect that would ever happen. He was breathing so heavily in time with you, your hands in his hair, lips kissing down his jaw, his neck and back up to his lips. His hips moved up, how they did last night, grinding against you. You moaned, he moaned, and it echoed into the spinning world around you.

He found a rhythm, one you easily matched, rutting against each other through only one layer of clothing. Johnny placed his hands where yours had been behind you, against the counter and holding, white-knuckled, onto the edge of the sink. Johnny moved harder, faster, kisses becoming sloppy and hurried. You were the same, moaning into his mouth, pulling tightly on his shirt, his hair, hands falling down to hold his hips against you. Johnny did the same, one of his hands on the small of your back, holding you in place. The place that felt right, the place that felt different.

His lips placed kisses down your neck, biting marks into the skin all the way to your collarbone. Johnny was shaking, you could feel it. If it was adrenaline, nerves or if he was teetering on the edge, you didn’t know. You couldn’t ask. You only knew that you felt the same. Felt your toes curling up, felt your heart pounding hard against your chest, felt the tip of his dick against your clit with each thrust and it was becoming too much. Overwhelming in a way that turned your vision white, the last sense that hadn’t been occupied by him; the way he felt, the way he tasted on your lips, the smell of his fading cologne and the drawn out moans, sighs, whimpers, whispers of your name.

“I think I might…” He stopped himself. Johnny was almost too embarrassed to admit it out loud; the rush he was feeling, the way he was close to exploding. He lifted his head, his hips never stopped moving, and looked to you. His eyes locked on yours, forehead falling against yours, and Johnny lifted his other hand to secure you there, “I’m going to…”

You watched him with hooded eyes, afraid of admitting the same. But, looking at him might have ended it all for you; his swollen lips, the tangles in his hair from your fingers, the look in his eyes when he thrust against you. The sight of him was enough, suddenly every sense was Johnny. So, you told him, “Me too. Johnny, fuck, me too.”

“Say my name again.” He was so close, “Please say my name.”

You did, eyes never looking away from his, “Johnny.”

“Again.”

Laced with a moan, “Johnny.”

Music to his ringing ears, the only sound that broke through. His voice wavered, more like a whimper and quiet right before you, “Again. Please.”

“Johnny. Keep going, Johnny.” You sighed, wanting to feel his lips on yours again, feeling your stomach tense every time his cock rocked against you, “Feels so good.”

“Feels so good.” He repeated, “Want to - fuck…I-together. Want you to cum with me, babe. Can you do that?”

You nodded, “I’m close.”

“Kiss me.” You did. Your hips rolled against him, Johnny’s rocked into you until the two of you were breathless and borrowing gasps from each other. His air filled your lungs, your toes curled and your fingers found the spot at the nape of his neck that made Johnny let out the most impossible sounds. Another echo in your bathroom, another new element to November. Johnny groaned, so drawn out and low, vibrating against you. He told you, “Cumming.”

Your legs wrapped around him, angling yourself perfectly for him, for you, for what might be an us. He moaned your name, repeating it with heavy breaths like a mantra keeping him grounded. Johnny was losing his mind, pressed against you like that, cum leaking from his cock between the two of you. His body shook, yours followed, eyes shut tight so you could watch the stars behind them. Your head fell back, a scream desperate to come from your chest was replaced with a broken, strangled whine of his name, one more time, “Johnny.”

The air in the confined space of your bathroom was heavy, holding you two still as you both came down. Johnny’s head rested on your shoulder, every breath he took was followed by a full bodied shudder. He let out a laugh, bringing what must have been ease into the air. You pressed kisses into his neck and thought back, only briefly, to two and a half weeks ago. How you’d woken up with him, and him and him. Tangled and temperate and tired, watching the rain roll down the windows.

Your face was buried in space between his neck and shoulder when you said, “I can’t stop shaking.”

“Me too. I’ve got you.” Johnny told you, unmoving but soft, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“That was incredible.” He let out a slow, wavering breath, lifting his head for a moment only to put it back down and laugh, once more, “That was…so good.”

You breathed him in; Johnny Suh, wrapped around you, “It was.”

Johnny finally lifted his head, taking you in; the way your hair stuck to your forehead, how your body hiccuped when you let out the breath you’d been holding and how your legs held him still. He didn’t mind the last bit, not at all - he never would. Johnny untangled only his arms from around you, fingers cracking as he stretched them out. Then he held your face in his hands and kissed you, as softly as he possibly could; always like it was the first and last time he’d be doing it, always like he was cherishing every possible millisecond with you.

Then, Johnny huffed another laugh, “Kissing you in bed after you’ve just woken up is a no, but dry humping in your bathroom ten minutes later is a yes. Noted.”

You covered your face with your hands, “Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t get shy now.” Johnny cackled, pulling your hands away. He kissed one palm, then the next, eyes on you as he did. He felt the goosebumps that had faded come back on your legs, your arms, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

He pulled your hand up so it was around his neck, “When you’re sleeping, when you first wake up.” He tried to stop himself from smirking, but Johnny let it settle on his face before he said, “When you cum.”

“Johnny.”

Even warning him, his name had never sounded so perfect. He kissed your lips, “I mean it. We’ll slow down again, I promise. I know you’ll still want time. But this,” He pressed himself against you, “Meant so much to me. I need you to know that.”

Simply agreeing didn’t feel like enough, but Johnny was saying everything so perfectly, “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He stepped back. You missed his warmth the moment he did, the world halted as soon as his fingertips trailed off your thigh, “Come on. Clean up and then coffee.”

You were in the kitchen the next time either of you spoke. Johnny rummaged around your kitchen, familiar and easy, making a pot of coffee and whistling a song you’d hoped he’d share with you, soon. You leaned against the fridge, eyes on him, mind somewhere in the sky. The comfortable air that had settled was nice enough to drift away in. You knew Johnny had a secure enough hold on you, a certain and assured tether, in case you drifted too far. The coffee pot grumbled and whirred, brewing in the silence. You turned to pull away October from your calendar and welcome in November, the quiet tear of the paper another layer of sound

Johnny came up behind you, close enough for you to feel him, close enough to brush but not fully touch, “The year is almost over.”

“Mhm.” You looked over your shoulder at him. Johnny was already looking right at you, “What do you want for Christmas?”

“You.” He laughed. You knew it was meant to be a joke, but something about November made it feel more real. Something in his eyes, in that smile, in the way the morning had gone, the night before, the last couple of weeks. So, you didn’t say anything for a moment and Johnny stepped back, pouring your drink into a mug and asking, “What? Nothing about it being corny?”

He handed the cup to you, a perfect grin on his face. And, when his fingertips brushed yours, when you took a sip from the steaming cup and kept your eyes on him, you asked, carefully, “What if I said yes?”

“Yes to what?”

“If I said yes…” You looked down into the pitch black liquid in your hands, felt the warmth of it, let it settle in your stomach and let your words find their place, as well, “To you having me…for Christmas.”

Johnny’s eyebrow raised, challenging as he’d always be. He took a drink from his own mug and placed it on the counter with a quiet clink, “Only until Christmas?”

You shook your head, a Johnny-specific shyness, something so unfamiliar to you, creeping through your veins. Wanting to be bold in the moment, you looked up, “For however long.”

He didn’t hesitate to tell you, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Certainty, ease, it was all as simple as that. Johnny took a step towards you, “But, I want you to do me a favor, okay?”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“Think about it.” Your breath caught and Johnny caught onto it. He smiled again, hands reaching out to hold you still, steady, at ease, “I’m not saying no. I just want you to think about it some more, okay?”

“Until when? Christmas?”

“Not until Christmas. But, at least until the end of the week. Does that sound good?” Another nod, “Are you free on Thursday?”

“I should be.”

“Can I take you on another date?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at your lips, “You can.”

His face twisted in curious thought, like he was putting on a show of whatever plan he had; securing your interest in what he was going to say next. So, you laughed and Johnny said, “Then, I’ll take you on a date Thursday and you can tell me how you feel on Friday.”

You teased, “What if I change my mind?”

Johnny kissed you, chaste but lingering, “I’m really hoping you won’t.”

📻

It was raining when Johnny left your house.

It had just started, not heavy enough for it to matter; not heavy enough for Johnny to worry about walking to the bus stop, unprotected. It was small drops, scattered and infrequent, when he stood on your doorstep and prolonged his goodbye. Lingering, lingering, lingering and hoping the kisses he left you with do just the same.

They did.

He told you, “I’ll call you later.”

That butterfly fluttered in your stomach. You said, “Okay.”

And Johnny stole one more kiss before he was gone in the rain, stopping at your gate to wave at you. Stopping in the rain to look at you, one last time, like he hadn’t seen you one million times before. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop your mind from thinking, again, have you always looked at me like that?

So, you let the butterfly flutter, let it rattle inside you. And, when it felt like it was growing tired, when the wings slowed and it started to settle, you thought of Johnny; of his kiss, of the morning, of the way he called you, “My Juliet.”

And it took flight, again.

It was raining when Jaehyun woke up.

His fingers aching from the grip he’d kept on his phone all night. Somewhere in the early afternoon, some time later that he ever intended to wake up. He could hear the drops before he was conscious enough to see them, hitting the roof of his bedroom with no particular pattern. He felt his head pounding a beat after them.

Jaehyun lifted his head, his phone, whatever pride he had at whatever time it was, and groaned. His phone was a block, heavy in his palm, and completely dead. So, he rolled over, plugged it in and hoped when it came back to life, he would too.

He didn’t.

Jungwoo poked his head inside Jaehyun’s room, he wasn’t sure how long it had been - minutes to an hour. He looked exactly how Jaehyun felt, they’d split the blame between the rainy morning, Yuta’s party and the empty bottle of whiskey in Jaehyun’s kitchen sink. He barely looked at Jaehyun, last nights makeup smudged around his eyes, when he asked, “Coffee pods?”

“Middle cabinet.” Jaehyun’s voice was in worse condition than he’d anticipated, his throat raw. He pushed his covers back, shivering at the first morning of November, and continued, “I’ll get them.”

Jungwoo mumbled something back, scuffling after Jaehyun, back down the stairs he forced himself to climb up. While the coffee brewed, when they took their first sips, when Jungwoo moved to sit at the island and Jaehyun leaned back against the fridge, they stayed silent. The only other coherent thing either said for a while was Jungwoo asking, “Did she text you?”

Jaehyun sipped at his coffee, eyes closed, chest warming and stomach in knots, when he replied, “I don’t know. My phone died.”

It was raining by the time Mark made his way back home.

It was late afternoon. He’d spent most of the morning at Jeno and Jaemin’s dorm, shoveling take out leftovers and scattered snacks into their mouths to fight their hangovers and wait out the rain. Clambering down the stairs and to the door, Mark wished he’d waited it out a bit longer. It was impossible to see anything in front of him; the only thing visible were the raindrops directly in front of him, their path to the ground and the splash they made when they hit the concrete.

He watched it a minute, he thought for a minute, he considered going back upstairs for a minute before Mark reached his hand out into the downpour. He stretched his fingers out, closed them and cupped his hand. He tried to catch enough drops to make a puddle in his hand and, when he did, Mark titled his hand and let it spill to the ground with a resounding splash.

His phone vibrated against his leg. Mark shook his hand of any remaining rain drops and fished it out, letting the screen light up his face. Four new messages.

One from you, 10:36am are we still on for tomorrow? jaehyun isn’t answering me :(

He quickly replied, 1:27pm Yeah! 😃

1:27pm Sorry was at Jeno and Jaemins

1:28pm U want me to text him?

Three from Johnny, 10:42am Dude

10:42am Call me when you wake up

1:03pm If I knew it would take this long, I would’ve made other plans today 😒

Mark tapped the screen until he was calling Johnny, phone pressed to his ear while it rang. He knelt down, rolling up the leg of the sweatpants Jeno had loaned him, and when he could hear the line connect, Mark laughed, “This was your only plan for the day?”

“Shut up.” Johnny huffed on the other end, “I stayed at her house last night.”

Mark, assessing the rain, asked, “Who?”

Johnny, monotone and maybe slightly annoyed, asked, “Is that a joke?”

“What? Oh.” It clicked. Mark was hoisting his backpack over his head, looking across the courtyard at where he assumed his dorm was, and it clicked. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, one that was almost painful. Mark did try his best to seem appropriately excited - not as over the moon as he was - when he said, “Oh shit. What does that mean? What comes next?”

Whatever Johnny said next was muffled by the rain, the thunder, Mark’s own footsteps splashing into puddles he didn’t anticipate being so deep. What he could make out, though, Mark repeated, “A date on Friday?”

He could definitely hear Johnny say, “Yeah.”

📻

“I’m early.”

“S’okay.” Jaehyun stepped inside, the chill of fresh November air followed him and raced down your spine. You blamed that gust of wind for the change in atmosphere as soon as you saw him, “Mark is on his way. He just left campus.”

Jaehyun nodded, looking at you through the mirror in the foyer. It was the first time you’d seen him since Halloween, the first time he’d looked at you since October. Now, three days into November, he could barely even do that directly. Jaehyun had spent the last three days in a fog; one that matched haze covering the ground in the morning. He’d typed and typed and typed dozens of messages to you, fingers hovering over an arrow that could reach you, directly. There was a chill in his skin, through his bloodstream, down to his bones that he’d recognized as uncertainty every time he thought to just talk to you.

Instead, the last conscious, cognitive thing he said to you echoed in his head and mocked him. He could hear his own voice on repeat. Jaehyun could still taste the bitterness of the alcohol and his words, days later.

It’s not the same thing he’d said.

He knew it wasn’t. You knew that, as well. You both knew something was shifting; seasons didn’t only exist in the changing of leaves, a chill in the air, frost on the grass. Everything had its season and Jaehyun found it impossible not to think yours, together, might be changing. Johnny was the first leaf that sprouted, thrived and quickly turned and turned and turned until it went from green to vibrant gold.

You and Jaehyun were approaching winter; frost on your fingertips, fire burning somewhere deep to keep you warm.

It was silent between the two of you, uncomfortable and unsure. From the kitchen, you could hear music - music that was new to you, music that was curated for you, music from a playlist that shared a name with you. It was the only sound filling the room; that and your breathing. Just as uncomfortable. Just as unsure. Jaehyun pulled his shoes off, dropping them to the floor with a dull thud, before he spoke again, “Should we start cooking, then?”

He didn’t like how his voice sounded. To you, it fit perfectly in with the melody behind him - another new song, another flame desperate to keep you warm.

“Yeah, sure.” You thought the way your head nodded was too much, excessive in the way it bounced a few too many times. But, you stepped past Jaehyun and down the hallway to the kitchen, hearing him follow behind you and the way his footsteps fell in time with yours, “Do you want to do the sauce or the vegetables?”

Jaehyun didn’t answer, he stood in the doorway perfectly still and silent. It’s not the same thing pulling bile to his lips. Jaehyun looked at you then, staring back at him from across the kitchen, standing in the dim light and looking so… looking exactly as you should. Exactly as you always had. Exactly as he’d picture you when he missed you most. You were the stars in his sky, constellations burst from you, and he’d memorized every single one of them.

He looked at his feet, the pattern of his socks, and Jaehyun sighed, “Can we talk?”

Your hands were shaking, reaching out and organizing ingredients in front of you. They trembled and it had to be noticeable, but you told him, “Yeah.” You asked him, “What’s up?”

Jaehyun took one step, “You and…”

He paused. You begged him not to say it. Silently, you pleaded for more time, looking at the calendar you’d only just peeled away two days before. November was so new and open and there was so much time for you to think this through. Jaehyun could grant you that time, Johnny had told you that too much time to dwell and you could talk yourself out of anything.

Your stomach twisted and Jaehyun persisted, “You and Johnny.”

“Oh.” Swallowing, hands still shaking, you nodded too many times, again, “Okay.”

He met you on the other side of the island, contrasting your busy hands by laying his flat on the counter. Jaehyun let out another breath, the song filling the silence ended and he filled it with, “Are you dating?”

“No. Not yet.” Spinach, onions, mushrooms. “We don’t have garlic.”

Jaehyun’s head titled, “That’s why?”

“What? No. We, for the sauce, we don’t have garlic. I forgot garlic.” He waited for you to elaborate, coming around closer to read over the recipe in front of you, “We’re not dating because we’re moving slowly.”

“Are you?” The bitterness reprised its role, making a mess of his intentions. He hated the way you looked at him, the incredulous look he deserved, “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t fair.”

“I said I’m sorry.” Silence again. Jaehyun couldn’t think of the next thing he wanted to say, all the questions he felt nauseous asking. They were lost on him, so he sought out something else lost, rifling through your cabinets for misplaced or missing garlic, “Do you think Mark could stop for it?”

“For what?”

“The garlic.” Neither of you moves to text Mark, “But, you want to date him?”

“I forgot Mark’s beer, too.” You leaned back, arms crossed. The answer could have been simple if you could find it, the answer could have been simple if Jaehyun wasn’t the one asking, “I think so.”

“Since when?”

“Since…since he told me, I guess? Or, maybe a little bit after.”

Jaehyun filled a pot with water, stepping around you to put it on the stove. You reached in front of him, turning the knob on the burner and brushing against his stomach; another flame, another flame. You stopped, so did he.

Jaehyun looked at you, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to be sure about it.” You kept your eyes on the flame under the pot, hand still pinched around the knob, “Johnny told me what you said.”

Again, his head fell to the side, “What did I say?”

“It’ll ruin the dynamic.”

More words to taunt him, more words from his lips that would echo in Jaehyun’s head until it drove him mad. Words Jaehyun didn’t even remember until you’d reminded him and, suddenly, it was the only thing he could think of. I don’t know, John. It was near your birthday, It could make things awkward. It could ruin the dynamic.

“I’m so fucking…” Jaehyun’s head dropped down, shook twice and then turned to look directly at you, again. He could remember the conversation, the way Johnny was beaming and bursting - like he’d explode if he didn’t tell you. Jaehyun could relate, he knew the feeling better than he would ever admit. He knew how it felt to look at you and melt, look at you and smile, look at you and feel everything. It was the feeling that was the most familiar to him, the feeling he was sitting in, now, “You’re worried about it.”

You nodded, still too attentive to the water in front of you, “Yeah.”

He was too. He had been for years. It was the only thing that kept his heart at bay. Jaehyun had been telling himself for years that it was best to keep quiet, that it was best to have you as he did. If the alternative was not having you at all, he would choose to let his heart skip beats in secret. It was the only thing that stopped Jaehyun from spilling the only secret he’d kept from you, “I..”

“I don’t want to lose you.” It was a whisper, a quiet confession in your kitchen, “Or Mark.”

“You won’t.”

“I want us all to be normal.”

“We are.”

Mimicking, taunting him, you questioned, “Are we?”

You looked at him, then. The water gurgled gradually behind you, the music played. Jaehyun stood so close to you that you could feel him breathing, only when he inhaled. He tried to smile, keeping you between him and the boiling water. The corner of Jaehyun’s lips lifted, his dimple gave way, he looked just as you needed him to. Just as he always had. Your hand reached up, pressed against his cheek for a second. It was natural, the way Jaehyun leaned into and closed his eyes. It was expected, the way you both let out a breath you’d been holding. It was anticipated, the way you melted into him, the way you’d burn, the way Jaehyun kept you burning.

When your mind spiraled and begged you to lean forward, when that heat - his heat - thawed out your fingertips, you dropped your hand.

It bounced off the burner, just barely grazing the edge of the pot and the iron wrapped in flame beneath it. But, enough that you yanked your hand back and hissed, “Fuck.”

Jaehyun was quick to pull at your hand, pull you away from the stove and into him again. He took you to the sink, cool water running over the burn, “Are you okay?”

You wanted to say yes. Instead, you laughed and shook your head, a particular uncertainty you were growing to despise even more, “I don’t know.”

“Stay here.” Jaehyun was halfway out of the kitchen, “Keep it under the water.”

Every sound you heard was too much; the floorboard creaking under Jaehyun’s feet, the faucet pouring out water, the gurgle and bubble of the water in the pot, every song Johnny had picked for you - the playlist that never seemed to end, that was always growing. Every thought and feeling made your skin itch; Jaehyun in your bathroom, the burn, Jaehyun in your bathroom and the memory of Johnny in your bathroom. Jaehyun in your bathroom, digging through drawers, seeing the toothbrush you’d labeled with Johnny’s name on it. You could be sick, you could lean over the sink and let it out.

Jaehyun was back before you could, “Here.”

He pulled your hand from the water, dabbed it dry, put something on it that soothed the itch and peeled open a bandage. Jaehyun held your hand for a moment, inspecting it more, breathing evenly as he could. He lingered there, eyes unfocused and so, so quiet. Jaehyun’s vision was stained green, written over with black sharpie and spelling out someone else’s name. Some part of him knew it shouldn’t bother him, he willed it not to bother him. Begged and begged and begged for something so small to be just that. But, it was positioned so nicely, right next to yours; a bright green toothbrush with ‘Johnny’ written across the handle in bold, fresh ink. In the corner, in a cup, gathering dust was something similar; his own blue toothbrush, his own name. And, it was fading.

Jaehyun felt like he was fading. It might have been desperation, something to keep him from dwindling, dimming in front of you. The inevitable first leaf of your season had fallen, but Jaehyun would hold out until the snow started to fall. He’d break his own heart, that way, he’d make himself sick. Your hand was cradled in his. Your hand fit so nicely in his; from the time he’d met you, as a child, through every year since. It had always seemed like your hands were growing perfectly so they’d always fit together. Jaehyun wasn’t ready to let that go.

So, he didn’t think much about it before his lips moved to kiss your palm, “Jaehyun.”

“I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t look at you, again, lips still hovering in the center of your hand, “I’m…”

Mark’s voice caught you off guard, “You home?”

Your voice was more disorienting, cracking when you called out, “In the kitchen.”

Neither of you moved. You counted the steps Mark took until he was in the doorway, counted the seconds that ticked by while Jaehyun hovered and you held your breath, again. You repeated his name, close to a warning and just as quiet as before, “Jaehyun.”

And when Mark’s footsteps halted, Jaehyun secured the bandage on your hand and leaned away; his lips tingling as he gnawed on them and shut off the water. Mark asked, “What happened?”

Jaehyun cleared his throat, trying to sound cheerful when he greeted, “Hey Mark.”

“I burnt my hand.” It didn’t come out evenly, it came out rushed, “I don’t have garlic and I forgot your beer.”

“Oh shit. I could’ve picked stuff up.” He came to you, then, picking up your hand and inspecting it, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Shrugging and avoiding Jaehyun, shrugging and reassuring Mark, you said, “I think we can still make dinner without the garlic.”

“Yeah, but my beer.” Mark winced, playfully, thumb hiking over his shoulder, “You want me to run to the store?”

Jaehyun pushed himself off the counter, “I’ll go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You get settled and I’ll be back.” He grinned at Mark, then turned to you, “Anything else we need?”

You faltered for a moment, blinking and blinking and feeling the last of the heart Jaehyun had kissed into your palm. Then, you said, “Maybe more popcorn.”

“‘Make sure it’s the extra butter one, though” Mark dropped his backpack, crossing to the sink the scrub away at his hands, “Thanks, man.”

Jaehyun nodded, then he left. Slowly, your fingertips frosted again, missing the way he warmed them. You still felt sick again, felt uneasy and uncertain, standing in a room that was completely still. Mark chopped at the vegetables, he might have been telling you about his day, it was all lost on you. You could hear Jaehyun’s footsteps, the door opening and closing and the blood pumping in your ears.

Mark was a blur in front of you, fiddling with the burner and mumbling - maybe speaking clearly, you couldn’t tell, “Water’s boiling over.” Then he looked at you, Mark came into focus when he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

And you lied - maybe you hoped and by saying it, willed it to be, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

📻

Mark had pulled a chair up to your kitchen counter, a yellow Ticonderoga pencil clenched between his teeth. You’d watched him gnaw at it, the bite marks in the chipped wood, while he stared off and out and up at the ceiling. He’d made himself at home in your kitchen, as he always did, books spread out in front of him. He focused on and scribbled his notes, you chopped away at spinach, onions, mushrooms. Mark would hum in thought, tapping out a beat on the granite surface and the syncopated sound of the knife on your cutting board twisted together like percussion.

You used every sound, every slice, every small movement as a distraction; from your thoughts, from the aftermath of a conversation you knew was inevitable, from the way the center of your hand felt like an epicenter. Jaehyun had been gone thirty minutes and it felt like an eternity, and unfinished, unending eternity.

Mark was distracted, tuning into songs you couldn’t hear; his melodies, his rhythms, his words in his head. There were moments when the melodies seemed familiar, he’d look over at you and ask, “What song was that?”

You’d make a guess, it was always wrong, and Mark would go back to what he was doing; one part studying, one part scribbling, one part tracing the small patterns in the granite. He looked at you over his glasses, back at his notes, then back to you, “Can you check this phrase for me?”

“Yeah, let me finish the bread.”

He nodded, pulling the pencil from his teeth and using it to point towards you, “How is your hand?”

“It’s fine.” There was no way to tell Mark that it had frozen over, all except the center. That the burn was inconsequential, almost lost to a completely different sensation. You cleared your throat, “What are you supposed to be studying for?”

“I have a vocal assessment. It was a required class.” Mark tapped the eraser on his notebook, next to a line he’s visibly erased before, “Which is like the absolute last thing I want to do.”

“So what? You have to sing?”

He nodded, “In front of the whole class. Then they, or we, assess whoever sang to their face and I just-“ He cut himself off with a groan, drawn out and bubbling over with distress, “I don’t want to do it.”

“If a dream is the sun, my mind is like revolving Earth all day. That’s really good, Mark.”

He hummed again, “It felt pretentious. It makes sense, though?”

“Of course.” You watched him, sympathetic and careful, “Why don’t you want to sing, Mark?”

Mark shook his head, pulling his glasses from his nose to push them up on his head, “The last time I sang for an audience I was six.”

“It’s been a while.”

“It was for a Christmas pageant. I was wearing a green suit.”

You smiled, letting his memory unfurl in front of you, “A bold choice.”

“I was singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and I puked hot chocolate all over myself and the stage and a couple of the preschoolers in the front row.” Mark closed his eyes, dragging the memory from the archives - likely kicking and screaming,, “I also started crying so hard the teacher asked my mom to take me out of the gym until the end of the program.”

“Oh.” It was hard to choke down the giggle, watching the way Mark winced helped. You moved until you were next to him, pushing his books from the edge and hoisting yourself onto the counter. Mark looked at you, closed his eyes again and dropped his head so it was on your lap, “Are you…are you worried that’s going to happen again?”

“A little.”

“It won’t.” You had no way of knowing if that was true, but it felt right to say. Mark was always confident in the moments he needed to be - getting him there was more than half of the struggle. He kept his eyes closed while you smoothed down his hair and tried to joke, “Just don’t wear green or drink hot chocolate.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Johnny.” It was muffled enough that you could’ve pretended not to hear, but Mark was too close to your ear for that to be believable. The topic of Johnny Suh seemed unavoidable. Mark knew, of course he knew, and you knew that Mark knew. Still, you balked a bit, clearing your throat.

Mark continued, “I need you to be serious, okay? Please?”

“I am. I promise.” You exhaled, “Do you want to practice?”

Mark didn’t open his eyes, not yet, leaning more into your method of soothing him. His arms wrapped just under your knees, “Like right now?”

“Sure. Or we can wait until Jaehyun is back.”

“There are like…opera singers in that class, you know? Actual vocal majors, professionals and shit. I’m not…that's not me.” Mark’s whole face scrunched like he’d bit into something sour, wrinkling around his eyes and nose, lips pulled in tight, “No. I don’t want to practice.”

“Are you sure?”

Mark pressed, “I want to change the subject.”

“To what?”

There was a certain kind of smugness to the way Mark grinned at you, lifting his head only slightly like the action made a point, “Johnny.”

Of course. Unavoidable. An unforgiving topic. You sighed, gently pushing Mark’s head back down to resting, and tried to keep your tone nonchalant, “What about Johnny?”

“He stayed here on Halloween.”

The memory of Johnny in your bed, Johnny in your bathroom, Johnny brewing coffee in your kitchen and kissing you on your doorstep was still fresh. In Mark’s company, it felt safe to indulge in; like if you closed your eyes, you might still feel Johnny holding you, see him standing at the coffee pot, taste him on your lips. It played like a feature film, an exclusive release, in your head while you nodded once, twice to Mark, “He did.”

“In your bed?” Mark’s eyebrows wiggled.

You laughed, “Can you chill the fuck out, Mark?”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but in a very chill way. So, again, let’s just-“

“You know I knew before you, right?” Mark had a habit of speaking a thought halfway through, it often felt like you were playing catch up in a conversation. It was something to admire, how quickly his mind would move, think, process. This time, it felt like whiplash. But, it seemed like a point of pride for Mark, “He told me before you knew.”

“How is that possible?” Your head titled, eyebrow up and curious, “What did he tell you?”

Mark sat up and looked at you, “That he was into you. Remember when we went camping? In May?”

“He told you in May?”

“Yeah. Said he thought he might be into you, but you know Johnny. He was downplaying it, you know? It makes sense to me, I think.”

“You think?”

Mark nodded like it was a decision he needed to make, “Yeah, you two balance each other out. Like, you’re kind of two sides of the same coin. That’s the saying, right?” You nodded this time, Mark went on, “You’re the side with the face on it and Johnny’s the other side. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all.” You joked, “Kind of, I guess.”

Mark settled into his chair a bit more, “So he told me when we went camping that he might be into you. Then, I think it was Taeyong’s birthday party, he told me he was for sure into you. He saw you dancing with Yuta and got weird, wanted to leave. I think he was just drunk.”

“Huh.”

It was like he was painting a picture; the timeline of you and Johnny from Mark’s perspective sprawled out before you in vivid memories, exact dates, exact moments. You knew that party, you knew that camping trip. You’d missed everything else. Mark, of course, never would. Mark, of course, cataloged it, cherished it, kicked his feet and giggled at memories and moments that were given to him, like a gift.

“Then there was your birthday.”

Your birthday would’ve been a few weeks before Johnny had shown up on your doorstep, walked you to the movie, looked at you like that, “What happened on my birthday?”

“He told me and Jaehyun he was going to confess.” The younger let out a sigh; listfull in a way you imagined poets sighed before penning a masterpiece, “Not on your birthday, just like…soon. Then he did.”

It might ruin the dynamic.

You echoed, “Then he did.”

Mark slapped his thighs, “Now we’re here.”

It’s not the same thing.

Again, like the sound of Mark’s words ricocheted off the walls, past your lips and settled in your mouth, you repeated, “Now we’re here.”

“He really likes you.” You lingered on that thought, something about the confirmation from Mark warmed you, wrapped you up, comforted you. Chipped at the frost taking over your body. That same, increasingly familiar butterfly rustled for a moment. Mark’s voice broke through that comfort when he said, another thought spoken halfway through, “Jaehyun.”

The feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach, made you jolt, “What about Jaehyun?”

If your expression matched the disorientation you felt, internally, Mark didn’t react to it. He only shook his head and pointed behind you, “Jaehyun is back. I just heard his car.”

Your head whipped around, “Oh.”

“What was that?” Mark did notice, you did react and of course Mark noticed. You lifted Mark’s head off your lap, sliding off the counter, needing an escape. The spinach, onions and mushrooms needed something, needed attention, needed you. The bread needed to be checked on, sliced thinner, more cheese. Anything to pull yourself away from Mark. He called your name, followed behind you and asked, again, “What was that?”

“Nothing, Mark. Leave it. I just zoned out and got confused.”

“He’s been weird, too.” His tone was thoughtful, soft even, but every word made your head ache. He didn’t give you a moment to think, a moment to protest, a moment to breathe. Mark was directly behind you, laughing as quietly as he could, like he was masking a secret, “All of you have been.”

You looked over your shoulder at Mark, “Damn, okay?”

He laughed, louder, “Johnny told you what he said, right? I think that’s when it started. But, it’s just an adjustment, I guess. So don’t worry.” Then, Mark perched himself on the counter behind you, the same position you’d been before, “Halloween was weird. Kind of like Taeyong’s birthday.”

You stirred the tomato base bubbling in a pot, eyes down but ears perked at every unavoidable word Mark said, “Weird how?”

Mark mulled over his memories, again, flipping through that catalog and studying every page, “I don’t know. Weird how you and Jaehyun didn’t match this year, first of all.”

The center of your hand, the aftermath, the epicenter felt impossibly warmer, wrapped around the spoon in your hand, “We don’t always match, Mark.”

“Yeah, but you do a lot and you never match Johnny. So, weird. Also, Jaehyun kept asking where you were. I feel like he never does that, like he always just knows. Weird.”

“Things are different now.”

“Earlier when I got herewas weird, too.”

It had been forty-five minutes, now and you could hear Jaehyun opening the door.

A shiver ran down your spine and then clawed its way back up. You only turned to look at Mark when it subsided, when Jaehyun pushed open the door, when you had to beg him, “Can we change subject again, please?”

Mark only said, “Sure thing.”

Then Jaehyun was inside, standing in the doorway with Mark’s beer, the garlic, the popcorn and a look on his face he’s never let you read. He looked at you, just for a moment, something shifting quickly in his eyes, before they dropped back down to your hand. Your palms were burning, where he’d bandaged your hand, where his lips had touched. And Mark was behind you, watching it all. If you were quiet enough, you could hear the reel of film in Mark’s brilliant head spinning, whirling - cataloging.

Jaehyun looked to the youngest on the counter, “They didn’t have extra butter.”

To which Mark replied, “The girl Jaemin switched majors for is his professor.”

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