#holding myself back from drawing/writing more but like. this is just a crop rotation. as i finish up what i need to

[moe-broey]

Guy who digs his claws into everything he touches whether he likes it or not vs guy who constantly feels like it's on borrowed time and is generally unwanted and easily replaceable. Fight

[theroomofreq]

Personality Before Punctuality: Chapter 2

James Potter plays in a band but spends his mornings in the bakery chatting up Lily Evans. Lily spends her week days selling pastries, but on weekends she goes to see James play guitar. 

The second part to my meet cute muggle au! 

Read on AO3

Lily flung open the door to The Hallows, her bag knocked on the door frame as her quick pace carried her into the bakery. 9:07, Okay not terribly late, she could work with that. Her morning walk had little to no distractions and after yesterday she figured she had better be more timely than usual. Lily blew her bangs out of her face as she looked up to find one of the primary bakers, Simon, engaged with a customer.

Yikes, Simon hated customers. Lily increased her pace as she made her way around the counter, her bag dropping un-ceremonially to the floor. She chanced an apologetic look at Simon before turning to the customer in front of her.

“Evans, have you tried this treacle tart?!”

James Potter had a mouthful of tart and a goofy grin that came with his question. 

Lily’s eyes roamed down his figure wondering how she had missed him. The first detail to notice was his hat, Potter had a large black bucket hat that fit snuggly on his head, the strap and buckle pulled tightly across his sharp jaw line. Apparently black was his theme today, as his long-sleeved shirt and trousers match his hat color.

 “Of course, Potter” Lily couldn’t hold back her grin as he shoveled another bite into his mouth “This week is especially good because Simon here made it. He always makes the best pastry crust” Lily placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and hoped her honest compliment would get her out of being late this morning.

“Flattery will not excuse the tardiness Lily, but it doesn’t stop you from being my favorite” Simon gave her a small smile, which Lily counted as a win. “Wonderful to meet you James” 

“Likewise” Potter replied as Simon walked back into the kitchen. 

 Potter leaned up against the display case crossing his arms as he smirked down toward Lily. “I’m glad I caught you again.”

“At the bakery where I work? Yes, you’re very lucky to find me here.” She couldn’t hold back the sarcasm that dripped out of her mouth.

The way James rolled his eyes had an affectionate feel, “Oh come on, you know what I mean Evans. I didn’t know your schedule at all, this was really all I had.”

“So, what was your plan?” Lily said, her eyebrows quirked up, “Show up here every morning until I finally came in to work?”

James seemed to startle as he stood up from his relaxed position, his eyes went downcast as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yeah, actually that was the idea…” His eyes turned up at Lily with a bashful look.

The way his eyes locked on her resulted in Lily biting down on her lip as her cheeks flushed. Before she could reply the door chimed as another customer walked into the shop. James began to back away from the register and Lily, as his eyes wandered around the bakery.

“The table to your left has the best chairs” Lily mentioned, hoping that her invitation to stay would come across.

Potter’s eyes lit up as he made his way to where Lily suggested, walking backward toward the table with a lazy gate that had Lily captivated the whole time. Perhaps it was the way he rubbed his hands together or how held her gaze the entire time, regardless Lily loved what an all-black look did for James Potter.  

Regrettably, Lily tore her eyes away from him and back to the latest customer to enter The Hallows.

 ----

As a Wednesday morning, the bakery wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a steady stream of people who came in to buy pastries. She knew most everyone that came in, as she had a good grasp on who the regulars were and what they would buy. Often, she found herself sending glances toward James, who sat alone at his table writing away in a notebook he had pulled from his back pocket. 

She was grateful he had chosen to sit with his back to the front door, he was less likely to be noticed this way, especially because his stag tattoo was facing the wall not the open shop. Well that, and the obvious fact that she had a brilliant view of him as he focused on his writing, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, or even shot glances at Lily.

There was something about James Potter that made her believe that he did everything at 100%. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up as he scrawled across the page, never stopping for a moment as rotated his book to add notes or circle a word. It could’ve been the way that she caught him looking at her, his deep eyes latching on to her movements as she did her job. Whenever she caught him staring (which was very often) he didn’t ever look away, his smile just got brighter as he winked or waved in her direction. It might’ve even been the way he kept coming up and buying more sweets.

Yes, it was definitely the sweets. He seemed hell bent on trying every item available at the bakery. The fifth time he sauntered up to the register Lily rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make yourself sick Potter”

“Probably, but I just can’t help myself around sweet things.” James said as he quite obviously looked Lily up and down with a smirk. “Meaning…”

“Potter. I know” Lily interrupted. “I know what you mean. You’ve been gawking at me for hours; you are anything but subtle.”

“You’re one to talk red” James said, propping his elbow up on the counter, “I’ve caught you sending eyes my way many a time as well.” He rested his chin on his hand while winking at Lily. 

“Right. I’m fit, you’re fit. Good to know we are on the same page here. Now get back to your table, my break is in an hour.”

“Anything for you love.”

---

“Do you work at all the rest of the week?” James asked her between bites of bread.

“Tomorrow evening and Sunday” Lily told him.

She ripped off another chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. Lily decided to spend her break sitting with James as he reviewed his favorite sweets and asked her about her schedule. 

“Brill, I uh, wanted to ask if you would come to my show on Friday night” The smile he tacked on at the end was hopeful.

“I didn’t know you had a show this week? I haven’t heard anything about it- where are you playing?”

“Oh well, yes, it is a bit of a secret. Sirius’ idea really” He gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. “Our lead singer, my best mate he’s got a real flair for the dramatic that one. He convinced us to play at one of the places that first gave us a shot. Something about taking care of the little guys and standing up to the man. We are all pretty passionate about it now”

“Yeah, alright I’d love to.”

“Yeah, okay great actually, that’s excellent!” James gave her a megawatt grin. He looked down toward his notebook again and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Finally, he stopped on a page and ripped it out before passing it across the table towards Lily.

The note seemed distinctly James and Lily wasn’t really sure what that meant, she didn’t really even know this man all that well, but the page felt like James Potter. In the middle of the page was a hand drawn logo of a bar, The Hogs Head, with a large arrow that pointed to the time he would be playing. The time was circled multiple times with a small note that said, “Be punctual Evans”.

Across the top of the page was her name, written in a cursive script that was far prettier than she had ever penned her own name in. Lily’s eyes lingered a long time around her name and the drawing right beside it. James had drawn a small portrait of Lily laughing, her nose was scrunched close to her eyes which seemed brighter than usual. It was incredible what he had drawn of her with a simple black marker, the lines on her face and her freckles were expertly drawn, Lily’s breath caught as she looked up at James. He was staring intensely at her through his dark eye lashes, slowly his lips pulled to the side in a very signature smirk that Lily simply couldn’t handle looking at for too long. 

Lily shook her head trying to throw out that smirk, she knew she was in deep trouble when she had to pinch her leg before responding to James, “I didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“Nah, ‘m not. The gorgeous things in life end up drawing themselves” Potter spent a long time searching her flushed face before continuing, “I actually have to run to sound checks now, but trust me, I can’t wait to see you Friday.”

He reached across the table and gave her hand a tight squeeze before standing and walking out the door. Lily watched him go wondering how the way he had touched her so briefly had turned her legs to jelly. 

 ----

“Damn Lils, that Potter bloke won’t even know what a guitar is much less be able to play one once he sees you.”

Lily flashed a smile into the mirror towards her best friend, “You don’t think it’s too much do you?” 

“Absolutely not, we didn’t spend 2 hours trying on outfits for you to start second guessing how hot you are” Marlene let out a low whistle to prove her point.

Lily swatted at her flatmate, it did not take her that long to get ready- but even if it did, it was worth it. She’d decided to wear favorite black crop top which rested just above the smallest sliver of skin before her skirt pulled tightly across her figure hitting just about mid-thigh. Her favorite sheer tights matched her black Doc Martens perfectly and to top it all off she’d left her hair loose, Lily guessed Marlene was right, she was pretty damn hot.

Lily looked in the mirror one last time, she was ready to blow James Potter away.

---

Marlene pushed open the doors to the small venue, the outside made it look small, but it was actually pretty large on the inside. The lights were dimmed, and the crowds filled the room with a low roar, the place had an air of grunge to it. Lily glanced down at her watch, she and Marlene had showed up at the exact time Potter had written down for her, but there was no one on the small make-shift stage.

“Looks like that Potter bloke has you pegged already,” Marlene laughed as she pointed to a sign to the left of the stage.

“The Marauders” the messy scrawl on the sign read, “Tonight at 8”

It was 7:30. Potter must’ve given her an earlier time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, if James really knew her, he would know she wouldn’t dare to be late to see him. 

When The Marauders walked on stage Lily’s eyes locked on James, she felt a twinge of annoyance as he sauntered out waving at the crowd. It wasn’t entirely fair for someone to be that good looking, his white long sleeve contrasted perfectly with his black bottoms and shoes. As he stepped up to his mic he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm before resting it across the strings of his guitar.

 Honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the rest of the band, the guitarist was just too mesmerizing. Was she obsessed with him? Probably. Was her heart rate going through the roof for reasons other than seeing a really good band? Definitely. Was she going to spend the rest of her night shamelessly staring at James Potter? Absolutely.

 As Lily came to terms with how quickly this man had taken over her thoughts the past few days, James turned around to walk to the back of the stage. The sandy-haired drummer was talking animatedly with the shaggy haired singer, for some reason Lily couldn’t quite remember their names. Potter threw his arm over the singer taking a moment to nod at the flustered drummer before pulling away a now red-faced front man. Potter gave his friend a final shove toward the forward microphone and the set list began.

There’s something about seeing a band play live that is exciting, the energy from the crowd is thrilling, the band going all out while playing, and the way your emotions come in waves. But, seeing a band that you love? Exhilarating. The long lead up before the song begins, singing along to your favorite song, the vibe of hearing a chorus live for the first time, all of it is magic. 

Lily was convinced that none of these feelings held a candle to seeing James Potter play. His entire body thrummed with the music, it wasn’t just his foot keeping pace, but his whole body moving as he played. The guitarist was emotionally involved in every note he played, the way his eyes followed his fingers, and how he strummed the chords perfectly in time. The smirk on his face was absolutely startling when he came in with a powerful riff or ran through a difficult set of chords. Lily decided that watching James perform was enthralling. 

As The Marauders lead singer said their goodbyes Lily finally remembered his name, Sirius Black, it wasn’t that hard to remember now that she wasn’t distracted by Potter’s arse. The moment Sirius waved goodnight, Potter placed his guitar on his stand and jumped off the front of the stage. 

Lily watched him weave through the crowd as he was stopped by many individuals for a photo or signature. Her attention was pulled from Potter as Marlene placed a hand on her arm.  

“Lils, are you okay if I head out now?” Marlene asked the question timidly, “I promised Dorcas I would stop by after the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were seeing her again?” Lily was surprised her friend had kept the news from her, she was usually so open about her latest relationships

“It’s new and I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged, “I didn’t want to jinx it or anything.” 

Lily shook her head at her outgoing friend now turned shy at the thought of Dorcas. “Get going then, I’m sure she is waiting for you.” 

“Thanks Lils,” Marlene said as she pulled the redhead in for a hug, “Maybe we will both get a bit lucky tonight.” 

Ahh, there was her friend. Marlene practically ran out the front doors toward her new girlfriend. Lily turned her eyes back to the crowd searching for Potter, before she could locate him someone stepped right in front of her path blocking her view. 

“You’ve created a lot of grief for me Evans.” Sirius Black stood cooly in front of Lily, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked evenly at her. 

“And what would that be Black?” Lily crossed her arms challenging whatever Black was about to go on about. 

“You’ve driven this fool out of his mind the last few days” Black jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Potter who walked up next to him. “All I’ve heard the last bit is all about Lily Evans, how witty and gorgeous you are. It is enough to turn me completely mental.” Sirius had a smirk on his face, but Potter looked warily at his friend. 

“I’d be happy to foot the bill for any harm my wit and or beauty has caused you.” 

Potter’s jaw dropped at Lily's quip while Sirius threw his arm around his mate and cackled. “I can see why you’ve been tracing her name every night” Sirius said as he used his other hand to pat James’ chest, “See you at home mate.” 

Sirius untangled himself from a now flustered James and turned to Lily, “Evans, it’s been more of a pleasure than you realize.” With a final wink sent to Lily, Sirius walked off into the crowd. 

“Tracing my name?” Lily posed the question while looking toward his left arm, the sleeve still flush with his wrist, whereas the other sleeve was racked up to his elbow. 

“Well, err,” the flush across his face deepened as James pushed up the sleeve to reveal the arm that Lily had signed a number of days ago. The writing was dark and thick, as if she had written it moments ago. 

“I just really liked the mark you left on me, and I didn’t want to lose it. So I, err, I’ve been tracing it over every night, so it stays with me.” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. 

“Who knew you were such a softie Potter?” 

“Only around you Evans.” He took a step forward and grabbed her hand, “Thank you for coming, did you have a good time?”

“It was incredible! You were incredible!” Lily felt her face light up as she talked about the concert, “That last song was unreal, I loved where you came in at the end!” 

“Thanks, I wrote the song but it was Remus who came up with that section, he’s the musical genius of the four of us.” 

Potter began leading her towards the exit as he continued on about the song. He held tight to her hand as he walked her out the front doors, his other hand gesturing wildly as he explained the underlying tones of Pete’s keyboard and how it meshed with his chords. 

He stopped just outside of the bar before standing directly in front of her, his smile was reaching across his entire face as he took her in. “Evans you look stunning tonight.” His eyes roamed down her legs before returning to her freckled face. 

“Almost as good as my Hallows apron right?” Lily’s voice came out a bit breathier than usual. 

“Just about” 

James reached out toward her, allowing the crimson locks to run through his fingers as he looked intently at her. Lily struggled to swallow as his eyes ran across her face, his hand tucked her hair behind her shoulder before running down her arm. Shivers ran after his hand until he secured it against her own, pulling her a step closer to his body. 

“Listen, Evans, The boys and I always used to go back to the flat and just hang around after we played here. In the spirit of nostalgia we’re going to be doing it again, and I was hoping you’d come along tonight?” The hopeful smirk was back on his face as he looked down at her. 

“Lead the way Potter.” 

Lily let a smile break across her face as James mirrored her emotion, with a tug on her hand he pulled her alongside him into the night.

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

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Epilogue: Part 1

1. No Longer

My heart is lighter than air as I mount the stairs after reading my story, my soul, to Mom and Lucas. I tuck the notebook beneath the blankets on the side of the bed closest to the window, the side that Taemin always fills. Then, I walk into the cold-tiled bathroom to shower and wash myself of all past pains, all past shames, all past fears.

Stepping into a set of canary yellow pajamas that I haven’t worn in years (because they were lost to my Rugrats phase), I decide that I will embrace life’s changes. I will no longer be afraid, and I will no longer cling to the shadows, and I will follow Taemin into the light, and there—

“No,” I correct myself as I meet my reflection after wiping the fog from the mirror. Nobody ever grows in the blink of an eye. No change forced into a single breath ever lasts past the exhale.

So why— why do I keep trying to rush myself?

I have to learn patience. More than anyone else, I should understand my fears and hesitations. If I can’t treat myself with compassion, then who will? As much as I love Taemin— which is far too much to quantify with mere words even if I write in every empty notebook filling the bookshelf— can I rely on him to love me into the person I was born to be? Should I?

I don’t know, I answer as I lay myself down to catch up on hours or lifetimes of lost sleep. I don’t know how much I should want or need Taemin’s love. But I do know how much I crave my own love. My own admiration.

It’s not that I desire my love alone; it’s just— there is no substitution for self-love. I want to meet my reflection, which I have avoided for years, with a smile for the rest of my life. The next time the wind blows, I do not want to question who I am, or who I was, or who I might grow to be.

As I close my eyes at Taemin’s texted request, I make a simple resolution that I will likely wrestle with for the rest of my days: be kinder to me. Write love letters to me. Count the stars in my eyes. Learn my virtues as well as I have memorized my vices. Love me.

Love me.

I will.

2. Touch

The door opens with a deafening BANG that stirs me from a deep sleep. Lucas’s warm breath hisses into my ear, “There’s a burglar in the house.”

As I bolt upright, he screams and I whimper. Our heads collide. While we rub at the maroon lumps swelling on our foreheads, I ask in a voice muddied by sleep, “What?” The word is unintelligible to my ears, but Lucas understands.

“There’s a burglar in the house!” He repeats, throwing my quilt onto the floor. “Come on! We gotta rescue Mom!”

Because I am tired enough to believe Lucas— or, more likely, I believe that my blissful dream about Taemin’s kisses has morphed into a bizarre nightmare— I obey. Rubbing the sleep out of my puffy eyes, I follow Lucas into the hallway. I run on the tips of my toes because the floor is frozen.

Bravery courses through my veins, warm and throbbing, when muffled voices from the kitchen reach my ears. Probably because I don’t feel awake, and therefore I am indestructible, I assert, “I should walk in front.” Lucas is shielding me with his bulky body. “You know, because I am a black belt in Taekwondo.”

“I am not letting you walk in front!” Lucas growls through gritted teeth, glaring at me over his shoulder. I don’t know what floods his mind with the delusion that he is the dominant one. I don’t know why he always forgets who the boss is (me). How many times do I have to remind him?

“Some lunatic is holding Mom hostage! I’m not losing you too!” Lucas swings a bat that I have not yet noticed. “Plus, I have the weapon!”

The bat nearly bashes and bloodies my nose, but I catch it and push it away, glaring. “You are a danger to yourself and others,” I tell him.

If my mother were being held captive downstairs (and my now awakened brain argues that she most likely is NOT), I would not trust Lucas to rescue her. That’s not entirely true. In a fairytale, Lucas would be one of those knights who fights evil with a pure heart, not with a sword. The only issue is that we don’t live in a fairytale. I wish we did, though.

Before Lucas can descend the first step, I grab the back of his shirt and use all my strength to hurl him behind me. With my hands raised defensively (in preparation for the unlikely worst-case scenario), I make it halfway down the stairs. Then Lucas, being an idiot, tackles me, and we tumble down the rest of the way.

It’s only through divine intervention that we don’t break any bones— namely, our necks. It’s only by an undeserved miracle that I don’t suffocate under the brunt impact of Lucas’s full weight.

While my face, which I had protected from the bat just moments ago, grinds into the floor, Mom laughs. (So, she is very clearly not in danger.) Lucas gasps, “Taemin?”

Great. The last person I want to catch me landing face-first at the foot of the stairs.

I lift my head to stare at him. Taemin. My Taemin.

He stands across from Mom at the kitchen island. His hands are reaching into a bag from some fast food place— McDonald’s, I think. His eyes are wide, glittering, and not blinking. His pretty pink lips are rounded into a perfect “o” shape.

Although embarrassment burns through my entire being, I do not try to hide my face. I cannot look away from Taemin. He is a dream come true breathing beside Mom. He is a dream come true wearing that hoodie he stole from my bag once upon a time in an American hotel room. He is a dream come true when his only makeup is the natural blush born on one cheek, crawling across the bridge of his nose, and pooling onto the other cheek.

He is beyond beautiful. He is beyond a dream come true. And I love him. I love him so much it hurts.

Or maybe loving Taemin doesn’t hurt at all. Maybe all that hurts is Lucas’s elbow digging into my back.

Snapping out of the drooling admiration of my boyfriend, I wheeze, “Get off, Lucas!” I only start to catch my breath when Lucas stands and I start to rub the aches out of my ribs.

Without helping me onto my feet or offering the briefest apology even as a formality, Lucas skips into the kitchen. I roll my eyes. Sometimes— rarely— Lucas is annoyingly inconsiderate. A lot of boys are, I guess. Dumb. As he plucks a fry out of the bag Taemin’s hand is lost in, Lucas asks, “What are you doing here?”

Taemin doesn’t answer, though, because his attention is fixed on me. He gawks at me, jaw hanging, as I walk into the kitchen. I do not wonder why he is staring, and I do not dare to match his gaze.

The cold air raises goosebumps on my arms, legs, and the thin strip of skin exposed between my shorts and cropped tank top. (The tank top, by the way, dons the main Rugrats characters, most notably baby Dil Pickles, AKA my favorite baby ever). This set of pajamas has always been reserved only for sleeping. Before Lucas dragged me out of bed to confront a non-existent burglar, I hadn’t worn it outside of my room because— well— it isn’t exactly comfortable or appropriate considering the rotating cast of characters (usually Lucas and Heechul) constantly roaming around the house.

Folding my arms over my exposed stomach, I try to hide my lower body behind Mom’s side of the island. The smile that I offer in the hopes of deterring her from noticing my attire is defective, of course. Mom’s eyes rake over me with an interest rivaling Taemin’s. Because he is enthralled by the overflowing McDonald’s bag, Lucas is the only person who isn’t ogling me. He has never really stared at me. Maybe that’s why we are best friends.

Pinching at both of my cheeks (as if they aren’t red enough already), Mom squeals, “You look adorable, Lei!” And I want to disappear.

Reaching across the counter-top to link his pinky with mine, Taemin winks. “I agree.” And I want to glare at him for flirting right in front of Mom. Except I don’t. Except I melt when I meet his eyes for a fleeting fragment of a second.

Ever my ally when it counts, Lucas draws attention away from me. He kicks at something on the side of the island he shares with Taemin. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively. “Is this your suitcase, Taemin? Planning to go somewhere?”

Finally, I can breathe. Taemin breaks his study of me to look at Lucas as he nods. “Yeah, that’s mine.” He steals my breath again when his eyes flicker between me and Mom with the question, “Is it okay if I take my things upstairs?”

Lucas stares at me with wide eyes. His mouth falls open. He wants to scream something like, “WHEN DID YOU PLAN TO TELL ME THAT WE ARE OFFICIALLY ACQUIRING A TAEMIN?” But he heeds my silent plea to, you know, not scream, so he bites down on his lips.

Of course, I had already uncovered Taemin’s plan to move in. I accepted it. More than that, I had been anticipating it. I had been dreaming about it— not that I ever would have divulged such a secret. However, I do not know how or even if he has gotten Mom’s permission.

She smiles when Taemin, Lucas, and I look to her for a response. It’s a genuine smile; the kind that etches faint dimples into her cheeks and lights her entire face. “Make yourself at home, Taemin!”

Mom’s lack of protest should be stunning, but it isn’t. She is the same woman who invited Lucas into our house for Christmas five years ago and allowed him to turn a guest room into his personal bedroom. She is the same woman who allowed Lucas to sleep under our roof after she started to suspect that we were dating. As a mother figure, Mom spoils Lucas rotten. As a manager, though, Mom has always set boundaries with him.

With Taemin— well, not even Mom is immune to his charms. She allowed him to share a room with me throughout the American tour. If (when) he asks, she will probably allow him to share a room with me throughout the European tour. Because she was so lax as a manager, it only makes sense that she should open the door to our home for him, too.

I think Mom has a superpower. She knows from a glance who to lock outside. She knows from a glance who to welcome with open arms and a smile. I’m glad that she uses that power to protect me. More than that, though, I am glad that she uses that power to nudge me toward happiness.

Emboldened by Mom’s grin, Taemin rounds the island. Smiling at me with his eyes and his lips, he catches me around the waist. His hands are so soft, so warm. Exactly what you would expect his touch to feel like. Heaven on earth. The kind of touch that pieced together a shattered flower in the garden.

Taemin’s smile pecks delicately at my forehead, right on the spot Lucas made red. It doesn't hurt anymore. “I brought some food if you’re hungry.”  

Then, before I can thank him, Taemin’s smile pecks at my lips. Right in front of Mom and Lucas, who probably watch this scene from my notebook breathing and alive before their eyes. Taemin whispers, “I’ll be unpacking if you need me, baby.”

Before I can decide whether I enjoy melting into his touch with an audience, Taemin releases me from his embrace. He walks to the stairs and ascends, carrying his suitcase, and my breath, and my heart with him. My heart— he has been holding it carefully, mindfully, gracefully, and I— I just hope I haven’t been too careless with his.

As I watch Taemin until he fades from view, I resolve to be more careful. No— careful is the last thing I need to be. I should try to love him more openly. Fearlessly. I want to give him the love that he has given to me; I want to give him the love he has dreamed about.

Dreaming about the future, dreaming about right now, my legs turn to jelly. I lean into the island for stability and look from Mom to Lucas, wondering what they are thinking.

Do they think that Taemin is settling into my world too quickly? Would they believe me if I told them that Taemin and I have been together in lifetimes past? Would they consider me a fool, a stranger, for believing in something like that? Do they think that I am a fool for wanting this life— for wanting Taemin— so badly?

I wish I didn’t care. I wish my mind wouldn’t twist into these labyrinths that I have only recently learned to navigate through with pen and paper. More than anything, I wish I could be like Taemin: too devoted to the idea of destiny to search for outside approval.

Soon, I tell myself, I will be confident on my own. For now, I take comfort in the smile Mom gives to the ceiling because she knows I will burst into flames with eye contact. For now, I am empowered by the smirk Lucas throws my way before he bites into a hamburger.

Nobody objects to Taemin's presence. My Taemin. And it’s because it is there on his wrist for anybody to see: we are meant to be.

3. Waiting

I assumed that Taemin would claim the guest room across from my bedroom, but I gather that he isn’t there as soon as I fill the doorway. The guest room is empty, dark, untouched. Afternoon sunlight faintly breaks through the thick black curtains lining the window.

This room doesn’t suit Taemin, I realize as I eye the black blanket and the black nightside lamp atop a black nightstand. Everything in his room at the SuperM house had been unearthly white. His room was like a castle in the clouds. He would never gravitate toward such a dark place where the light barely gets in.

His laughter trickles into the hallway and carries the sun into this dark corner of the house. Following the rays, tracing that melody, I find Taemin on my bed, wrapped in a cocoon made of my quilt. Chewing through a chocolate chip cookie, he reads my book by the light leaking in through my curtains, which have been drawn since his most recent departure.

Something about the scene makes my heart leap. It’s the realization that he is here with me, in my space, laughing because of something I wrote.

“Taemin!” I greet him with a whine as I close the door.

Like he is embarrassed that I have caught him sneaking glances at the story we promised to read together, Taemin gasps. He closes the book and tucks it under his pillow. After stuffing the small remaining bit of gooey chocolate into his mouth, he licks his fingers clean and folds his hands behind his head.

“Lei!” He smiles up at me.

Sighing, unable to fight the smile from my face, I flick the lightswitch. I walk to the bed, squinting to assess the mess he has made on my sheets with his dessert. “You got crumbs everywhere,” I fuss as I swipe those I can see into a pile on the floor.

Taemin wraps his hand around my wrist. He knows his faintest, briefest touch will inspire me to stare into his eyes where the stars have gathered. Sometimes, this is scary: finding myself in him. Always, this is breath-taking. Always, this is beautiful.

He is still smiling. Almost always smiling. Never affected by scolding. Well, never affected by my scolding. He trembled at the mere imagination of Mom’s disapproval. Maybe I should threaten to tell her about his messy eating habits, but I won’t. I don’t believe much in making empty threats. No matter how Taemin should annoy me, maybe even if he managed to break my heart into a million bloody pieces, I would probably never tell Mom. I have never been a tattle-tale.

To tempt me into bed with him, Taemin tugs on my wrist. When I resist the pull, he pouts to tempt me to kiss him. “I was gonna clean after myself!”

My eyebrows arches skeptically, so Taemin insists at a shrill pitch, “I was! I am! Just not now.” The ribbon tickles my skin as he laces our fingers together. “Now, I want to hold you.”

Subtly, I nod to the window. In a voice that is not quite mine— it is too quiet— I say, “It’s not time for you to hold me.

I don’t know why I said that. I can’t understand why my voice can betray my deepest desires when I want to lay with him, I want to be held by him, I want to kiss him, I want to melt into a more perfect being with him, I want to write another moment with him.

Remembering my promise to become his dream come true, to slowly grow into the person I have always wanted to be, I take the first step. Again, I break the habit of resisting— resisting the fulfillment of my hopes because I have too long feared the fall. Before Taemin can argue, before his eyes can narrow in wounded disappointment, before the newest bruise I might have carelessly inflicted on his heart can scar, I bend to catch his pouting lips in a kiss.

He tastes like chocolate. I heard once that chocolate makes people feel a little happier, so I waste no more time battling the urge, the dire need to kiss his lips again and again. Harder this time, softer next time, deeper this time, shallow next time. I kiss him every way I know how, every way I have ever imagined, and still, there must be more ways to discover.

Taemin tries to hold me against him. He tries to pull me into him, and it’s so hard to resist. I do not want to resist, and this time there is no champagne to share in the blame. There is only him. There is only me. There is only the need to blur that distance, that difference, until there is none at all, but I—

There will be another time. There will be a time when Mom isn’t answering calls in her office downstairs. There will be a time when Lucas isn’t roaming the halls or watching SpongeBob on the living room television or playing video games in his room down the hall. There will be a time when I am not filling some internal void with this physical expression of love. There will be a time when I am not wearing a set of pajamas donning my favorite infant cartoon characters.

When I break from the kiss for a breath, I bring both of my hands to tug down at the hem of my shirt. No matter how hard I tug, no matter how much I plead, I remain exposed. Why, then, do I keep begging? Why do I waste my energy by pleading for such an unnecessary miracle?

Taemin doesn’t understand either. He sits upright and, frowning, reaches for my hands. “Why do you keep doing that?” His brow furrows as he presses kisses to my knuckles. Then, he drops my hands around his shoulders. While I trace the threading in my old gray hoodie, wondering if and how I will ever make it mine again (if I even want to), Taemin says, “You look adorable, you know. Mom said so too.”

I crinkle my nose, and Taemin cries, “It’s true! It’s cute that the tiniest little bit of your tummy is showing! It’s nothing to hide, baby, especially not from me.”

I am blushing too deeply to meet his gaze. Numbly, I ask, “Especially not from you? What does that mean?”

“I mean that there is nothing that you should hide from me.” He smiles to comfort me, I think, and not to tease me. “Besides, this—” his fingers brush against the skin exposed beneath my shirt and spark a fire in my gut. I recoil from the flame, giggling. Only fools giggle at fire. “This is nothing I haven’t seen before.” Taemin winks.

My face flushes at the reminder of the New Year’s strip Rock-Paper-Scissors game. Never— never will we forget. Never will Taemin let us forget. He’s such a brat. I roll my eyes and grumble, “Really, Taemin—”

“We don’t regret it,” he reminds me softly, pressing a kiss to the bend of my elbow, “because there is nothing to regret. We were born to find each other. We were born to see each other. Don’t hide. Don’t hide from me.”

Shivering at the frequently recurring realization that I don’t want to hide, I never wanted to hide— I just thought I needed to hide— I nod. I try to bite through my smile, but I can’t. I can’t contain my happiness. “I know, Taemin. The thing is, I can’t kiss you with baby Dil Pickles watching!” I point to the character on my shirt, and Taemin throws his head back laughing.

His eyes are beautiful crescents when he beams at me. “Fine, baby.” He nudges me toward the closet. “Hurry and change. I’ll be waiting!”

4. It’s You

From the floor of my closet, a pile of clothes greets me, and I respond with a gasp. I am not especially attached to my clothes. By no means do I call myself a fashionista. It's just, everything in my room has a specific place.

Lucas calls my insistence on maintaining order in this one corner of the universe that is mine "compulsive control." I call it "organization," and, to tell you the truth, I don't think it matters much what Lucas says in this instance. Everything is organized in the most efficient manner and, seeing as this is my space, everyone should take my word for it and not move my stuff.

The culprit is obvious. Taemin has left my clothes, a bundle of dresses reserved for red carpet events, at the foot of a life-size Taeyeon poster. Replacing my dresses on their rack are Taemin's clothes— an unorganized assortment of plain black and white t-shirts.

It's amazing how quickly I roll the hearts out of my eyes. After stepping into a pair of pink sweatpants and pulling one of Taemin's shirts over my head, I call his name. I try (and fail) to bite the annoyance out of my voice by digging into my bottom lip.

Perhaps picking up on my tone, Taemin does not run to my side. He is probably sneaking more glances at our story as he responds from my bed, "What, baby?"

His voice is sickeningly sweet. Artificially sweet. He knows that he has done wrong, but he does not apologize.

His sweetness melts into something much more bitter when I say, "Come here!"

Huffing, Taemin fills the doorway wearing a frown. His arms cross tightly over his chest. His eyebrows knit together. "What?"

I was annoyed enough by his lack of consideration for my clothes— the nicest ones, I might add— before he started pouting like a spoiled child, like I had done something wrong. Narrowing my eyes, I demand, "What are you so upset about?"

"I remember this part." Taemin stares down at his feet. "This is the part where we have our first real fight, and I don't want to do it."

My scowl softens at the reminder that Taemin lives with the traces of our past lives together. That confusion of navigating through timelines— the blurring of the past and present— must be a curse in some ways. Maybe it's a worse curse than the perpetual fear of the future that has always haunted me. In some ways, I guess, I'm glad that I don't have any memories of past lives. In some ways, I guess, I'm glad that Taemin is here to lead me.

After beckoning Taemin to my side, I let my fingertips brush against his hand to prove that I'm not angry— at least not permanently. I allow my touch to linger to demonstrate that I don't want to fight either. I just want to understand: "If you knew that this would result in a fight, then why did you throw my dresses on the floor?"

Staring down at the pile he made, Taemin shrugs. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His pout makes my heart feel heavy. I have every right to reprimand his carelessness, but I can't do it when he looks so pitiful. I don't want to do it. I love him too much. I only want to see him smile. I have always been like this: incapable of frowning at those I love for long. Some might consider this sort of pacifism passivity— a weakness— but I don't. I just want peace. I just want happiness.

"Don't say such things about yourself," I say with a gentle authority that reminds me of Mom. Forcing my attention away from Taemin, I start to pluck his shirts from the rack, explaining, "You would have much more space for your things in the closet across the hall, you know. Here. I'll help you move—"

"I don't want to move!" Taemin's entire body stiffens as he argues. His face pales. "I want to be with you!"

"You are. You will be, forever." I rise to the tips of my toes to press the promise to his lips. "Like you promised, we will sleep together every night. It's just— you need space—"

The color returns to Taemin's face as a deep, unnatural maroon. Skin should never turn that color. "I don't need space! I don't want space!" His voice trembles and shakes the entire house.

"Closet space, Taemin." I sigh at his undue panic— his determination to misunderstand me.

This headache forming around my temples— does it visit him when I am rattled by the slightest breeze? I hope not. The mere imagination that it does gives me all the more reason to find my footing.

"I'm talking about closet space. And if you don't need that—"

Looking very much like a child as his hands form fists at his sides, Taemin swears, "I don't!"

"Then I do." By now, all of his shirts are draped over my arms. By now, anyone who wasn't as deeply in love as I am might have lost their temper.

"This closet is way bigger than the other one though! This closet is the size of a store!" The stomping of Taemin's foot drills into my brain that his fixation on my closet has little to do with his attachment to me. He is being materialistic. And I don't like that.

"Materialistic?" Taemin parrots as he follows me on my march into the guest room. After he slams the door shut, his arm hooks around my waist and whirls me around so that my face nearly collides with his chest. Most of his shirts fall from my arms onto the floor.

The furrowing of his eyebrows should be an intimidating sign of anger, maybe, but I can only think that he looks cute. Like a little boy. I can only think that he isn't that much taller than me. He isn't that much bigger than me. He probably isn't that much stronger than me.

Rationally, it is decided: I am not afraid of Taemin. Should his grip around me tighten painfully, should the warm flame in his eyes turn scalding— and I do not expect them to— I could (and would) flatten him.

Once I decide that I am not afraid, I realize that I am amused. Everything about this seems unreal and almost comical, like his Na Jaemin induced fit of jealousy. All at once, I want to laugh, and I have to bite down on my lips to maintain my composure.

"I didn't say that," I assert. I am not confrontational or combative, but I do not like to shrink below sharpened stares. "You're using your soulmate mind-reading powers, which, by the way, is a very unfair tactic. You would learn to control that."

Taemin blinks at me. I wink at him. And I catch the faintest outline of a smile before his face hardens. He is play fighting now, I realize, and as butterflies swarm across my stomach I agree with what he once said; it is an exciting way to flirt.

"So you—" he almost smiles again— "you were just thinking that I am materialistic?"

Although I say nothing to confirm or deny that— why would I say anything to insult Taemin?— his subsequent outburst could convince anybody that I sincerely called him a selfish bastard or something. After scooping his shirts off of the floor and snatching those remaining in my arms, he storms over to the window. Forcing the curtains apart, he asks, "Would a materialistic person do this?"

"Do what?" I challenge, raising my eyebrows. "Play with the curtain?"

Taemin drops his shirts onto the foot of the bed. He grabs one, forms it into a ball, and hurls it out the open window.

Objectively, it probably isn't that funny, but I laugh so hard that my knees go weak. Luckily, the bed catches me, and I can muffle my laughter with a pillow.

"Get your face out of that pillow and look at me!" Taemin loses his battle against laughter too. By the time I look at him, though, he has forced his face into a scowl as he tosses another shirt. "I'm proving to you that I don't need expensive clothes to be happy! I don't need a big closet or a fancy bedroom! I had those things at the SuperM house, and I easily, happily, left them behind for what I do need."

I almost roll my eyes. Taemin is the cheesiest person alive sometimes, but I like that. He is a drama queen all the time, but I like that too. I like everything about him— even (and maybe especially) what might seem like flaws to others. His episodes are ultimately harmless. They inspire that side-splitting sort of laughter that paints my world anew with colors I never knew existed.

"Oh yeah?" Swallowing my giggles, I try to train my smile into an apathetic line. I can't do it. I am losing this skill that I spent so many years developing, this habit that I once swore was integral to survival. Is that a shame? Or is that a blessing?

A blessing, I decide. How many smiles have I killed in these last several years? Far too many to count. Far too many to mourn. I never again want to subdue my happiness.

"And what do you need, Taemin?"

Before Taemin can answer, a voice outside— Heechul's voice— shrieks, "STOP THROWING SHIT OUT THIS WINDOW!"

Faintly, I hear Mom retort, "Leave those kids alone, Heechul, and get back over here! You're supposed to be helping me!"

"These are men's shirts!" Heechul must look up into the window; suddenly, Taemin hurls himself onto the bed, almost landing on me with a force that would leave me gasping. "You just let the boys in this house do whatever the hell they want, Kim! Except me, of course. I have to obey a billion rules and jump through a trillion hoops, and even then I'm still. . ."

As Heechul's voice trails off, Taemin exhales loudly. He must have been holding his breath. "I guess they're working through their issues. Heechul is helping Mom and Lucas clean the pool. We should probably go out there tonight and make good use of it, huh?"

Taemin curls into my side and wraps an arm around my waist. Always, he gets what he wants. He really has charmed the universe.

Because he has charmed me too, I do not shy away from his touch. "It's freezing outside, Taem. You'll be hard pressed to find me in a bathing suit in the peak of summer, much less in the darkest depths of winter."

"I'm sure there is some setting to warm the water, Lei. We wouldn't have to freeze."

Taemin is right, but I don't tell him so. Rather than floating adrift in blissful silence, Taemin wonders, "What's your problem with bathing suits? You didn't wear one and get into the pool on tour either."

I joke, "I prefer to keep my belly button hidden from the world." It's funny, considering how many crop tops I have worn during promotions.

"You don't have to show it." Taemin presses his finger on my shirt, indicating my belly button. He draws shapes— he spells his name, I think— over my stomach. "You could wear one of those pretty one-piece suits. Or you could wear my shirt— this one, maybe. You look especially pretty in my clothes."

My cheeks burn as I thank him for the compliment. Carding my fingers through his hair, I ask, "Do you wanna hear about the last time I got into the pool?"

Taemin nods, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

“When I turned eighteen, Soo and Minseokie— Kyungsoo and Minseok, I mean— threw a huge party. They invited everyone in NCT 127 plus Ten, so—” my lips curl into a smile as I tease— “you can relax, Taem. Jaemin wasn’t there.”

Taemin’s snort of a laugh tickles my neck. “Oh, great. That means I only have to be jealous that Ten, Taeyong, Mark, Lucas, and Baekhyun— Baekhyun, of all people!— have seen my beautiful girlfriend in a soaked bikini top!”

Almost— I almost point out that the bikini top is much less scandalous than the undergarments he saw on New Years Eve— but I decide against it at the last second. I gasp, “How do you know about that?”

“They’ve mentioned it!” Taemin lifts his head to show me how his eyes roll. “By ‘they,’ I mostly mean Ten. He thought it was funny enough when Johnny pulled you into the pool fully clothed. He thought it was funnier when Baekhyun yelled, ‘Take it off, Lei!’ or whatever he said.”

The memory makes me squirm. “Gee, well, I’m glad Ten remembers it fondly. Since I survived that incident, I’ve realized that it’s impossible to die from embarrassment.”

“If it’s any consolation, everyone agreed that you looked amazing,” Taemin says. It’s not a consolation at all; I squirm more. “And then Jongin told them to stop spreading inappropriate stories about our newest member.”

Finally, I crack the smallest smile. “Sometimes, it seems like Jongin is the only one truly on my side!” My dramatic whine elicits reluctant laughter from Taemin.

He wants to remind me that Jongin’s loyalty had been hard won, but he doesn’t say so plainly. “I was on your side first,” he hums as he drops a kiss on my collarbone. “I’ll be on your side forever.”

Raising my pinky, I repeat, “Forever.” This word that once sounded foreign in my voice, this word that was once too big to fit into my mouth is now all I can say when I look at Taemin.

Smiling, he links his smallest finger with mine. We stay intertwined like this for a while. Forever, maybe. We exist comfortably in silence. We aren’t even kissing. We are just laying together in a pinky promise, shrouded by the realization that there is nowhere we would rather be. There is nowhere else to be.

Taemin fills the silence. “Can I ask you a question?” When I nod, he asks, “Why do you have a giant poster of Key in your closet?”

Blushing slightly, I explain, “Key is one of my fashion icons. He’s the main one, actually. By his poster, I hang all of my eclectic, experimental clothes— the ones I’m not brave enough to wear yet. By Taeyeon, I hang all of my pretty clothes— formal wear, mostly. Then, by Amber’s, I hang all of the sporty stuff.”

“Why am I not a fashion icon?” Taemin’s bottom lip forms a pout, and I have to kiss him. I have to. I can’t let these opportunities pass.

I mutter, “Obviously you didn’t look under the bed,” burning at the thought that Taemin will likely (definitely) discover the extent to which I idolized him as a child. I will have to hide his photocards some place he will never find them.

At that, Taemin sparkles. “What?”

To derail him, to delay the inevitable, I say, “If you looked under my bed, you would have found my Key photocards. Then, you wouldn’t have to wonder why he’s my sole male fashion icon.”

Taemin’s lips purse like he has chewed through a lemon. I have seen that face only once, lifetimes ago, on that morning after I gave him my ribbon. “Well, you wouldn’t like Key very much at all if I told you that he beat my ass in a closet once. If you knew that, you might understand the dread that washed over me when that poster looked me in the eyes! You’d probably take it down!”

Instantly, I retort, “I would do no such thing!” and Taemin huffs. “Why did he beat you in a closet, anyway? What did you do?”

Taemin blinks harshly. His eyes burn into me. “I didn’t do anything!”

I find that hard to believe. Not that Key disciplined Taemin, but that Taemin had done nothing to deserve it. Regardless, Taemin will confess to no wrongdoing, so I quietly resolve to consult Key later. For now, I pack my curiosity away and kiss Taemin’s cheek.

“Now you’re gonna play sweet?” Taemin raises his eyebrows.

“It’s now or never.” I raise my eyebrows too. “Take it or leave it.”

Drawing a deep breath to expel his sudden and unwarranted surge of jealousy toward Key— Key, who I have met only a handful of times— Key, who only knows me from those days of following Amber— Taemin fits his lips with mine.

The kiss seems to remind Taemin that I love him as someone different, someone more than an idol. When he parts from my lips to kiss my cheeks, forehead, neck, and every exposed inch of skin, he smiles.

“It’s you, by the way,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is warm, but it makes me shiver. “You are who I need. Or want. Or crave. More than expensive clothes or fancy bedrooms or big closets. More than anything, Lei. My Lei.”

Once upon a time, I didn’t know how to respond to his sudden declarations of love. I didn’t trust myself to speak. But now— now I couldn’t bite back the words on my tongue if I tried.

“It’s you,” I breathe past his lips. “You are who redeems broken flowers. You are the only person in the world who can pluck the moon from the sky, and you placed it in my clumsy baby hands—”

Taemin interrupts so quietly that I shouldn’t hear him whispering, “You speak so beautifully. Write it down. Write it down so I don’t forget, please. Write it down so I can’t forget.”

Needless to say, I will do as he asks— whatever he asks— after I express out loud, “You make me fall in love a million times a day, Taemin. My Taemin.”

5. Everything Has Changed (Lucas’s POV)

Life is different now that Taemin lives here. I'm not sure how much I like it.

I like the way Taemin looks at Lei. It's the way he's always looked at her. He squints to make out her features because he knows that she is the sun. I like the way she melts into his embrace. For the first time since we met, she seems to forget (at least for a second, which is sometimes as good as forever) that someone is always watching. I like the feeling that we are living in the happy ending of Lei's book.

Lei is happy— smiling. So I am happy— smiling.

I wanna say that I don't like how Taemin kisses Lei right in front of me and Mom, her family. I wanna say that affection should be displayed privately. That's what Lei always said. But I can't say that. I've never believed that. Not when Lei first said it, and not now.

I definitely don't like how Mom's eyes sparkle when she looks at Taemin. I don't like how I have to raise my voice to get her attention. Her attention used to come for free. Now, it fades when I blink my eyes. Now, when I open my eyes, she is looking at Taemin.

And I don't like how cold it is in Taemin's shadow. I don't wanna live here. And I hate how jealousy ties my stomach in knots. I've never been jealous before. I don't wanna feel like this.

I don't like that my smile hurts my cheeks. It's too heavy. My smile has never been too heavy before.

I don't like that there is nobody to share these twisting dizzying feelings with. There is nobody to make sense of them after Lei gulps down lunch and runs upstairs to him, leaving me alone with SpongeBob.

I don't like how eager I am to get out of the house once I think about Lei and Taemin cuddling and kissing and falling forever in love in my home. It's not that I don't support them. It's no that I don't ship them. I do! I always have! Nobody ships it more than me! It's just—

I don't know. I don't really want to think about my feelings anymore. They're making my head hurt.

After stepping into my slides, I shuffle past the kitchen and into Mom's office. Quietly, way too quietly for me, I say, "I'm gonna clean the pool, Mom."  

When she looks up from her computer, Mom sees that I'm not entirely happy. That must scare her. I'm almost always entirely happy. She sets her phone down on her desk. "Okay, honey." She stands, and I smile because she has dropped a call for me. Maybe things haven't changed that much. "Let's go!"

Cleaning the pool is a weekly chore. Usually, Heechul and Lei help too. Heechul sits on a sun chair and supervises while sipping boba tea. Lei brings her BlueTooth speaker and plays music for us. Mostly SHINee. She's a good DJ.

This time, though, it's just me and Mom because Heechul was kicked out for fighting with Donghae and Lei is writing more memories with Taemin. And I miss them.

All of a sudden, I feel so sad that I can't really say anything as I do my chores. Can't really say anything unless I wanna spoil the happy ending. I don't. Lei deserves it. She has worked so hard for it. Can't really say anything unless I wanna ask Mom if I'm still her favorite son. And I'm not sure I do. I'm not sure I wanna hear the answer.

I'm kinda relieved when Mom leaves to answer the ringing doorbell. It gives me a chance to wipe at my eyes and catch my breath. I'm really relieved when she returns with Heechul following close behind.

Smiling, I wave with both hands. "Hey, Heechul!"

And Heechul waves back at me with the hand that isn't holding his boba tea. The world seems normal for a second when he rolls his eyes. "And where the hell is the girl? Doesn't Lei know that, as a member of this family, she has to help out around here?"

This family. My family. We're intact. Yay!

Mom returns to my side to help fish leaves out of the water. "Lei is busy, Heechul, so don't go looking for her."

Mom doesn't mention Taemin at first, probably because she knows that Heechul will flip his shit. He's insanely protective of Lei, and I don't think he even knows that she's dating Taemin yet. He won't like another boy moving in, especially not right after he (and Donghae) was just evicted.

So I bite down on my tongue, determined not to say anything about Taemin either. I kept the secret from Mom long enough, so I know I can keep it forever. The only problem is: Taemin starts throwing his shirts out the window like an idiot or something.

I watch, slackjawed, because I never knew Taemin would do something like that. Yeah, Lei mentioned that weird tantrum about Jaemin, but I thought she was just hyping it up for the story. I should've known better. If anything, Lei tries to downplay everything.

Heechul murmurs exactly what I'm thinking: "What the hell?"

And he runs to the window and screams, "STOP THROWING SHIT OUT THIS WINDOW!"

And I'm scared for Lei, but I kinda want Taemin to get in trouble.

Taemin doesn't get in trouble, of course. When Mom yells for Heechul to come back to help us, he scoops one of the shirts off of the ground. Taemin's Mom must write his name on his shirt tags too.

Squinting at the tag, Heechul reads, "Taemin," in an awestruck sort of voice. Weirdly quiet. Too quiet for him. His wide eyes burn into Mom. "Taemin is staying in your guest room? And he's throwing shirts out the window?"

The guest room? My forehead wrinkles. I would've sworn that Taemin would try to hang his stuff up in Lei's room. I think he's forgotten how to live without her.

Mom focuses intently on the water. The tips of her ears burn red, but she has an amazing poker face. We should go to the casino some time. With my brain and her poker face, we could be billionaires!

"Taemin will be living here from now on." She talks in that calm, even voice that I usually only hear at the studio. "Considering Lei's cleanly nature and Taemin's reported propensity for— er— passionate fits, I would assume that he is the one throwing his clothes around."

"Taemin moved in? Permanently?" Heechul's jaw drops. He doesn't even sound angry like I expected. He just sounds surprised. Almost starstruck.

Am I relieved? Or annoyed?

Mom nods, so Heechul asks, "Why?"

I expect Mom to answer again in her manager voice, but she doesn't. Smiling and swaying so suddenly that I think she's gonna fall face-first into the pool, Mom says, "They're in love!"

"Who?" Heechul bellows.

Can Lei and Taemin hear Heechul from the guest room? Or is even Heechul not loud enough to shatter their happy ending?

Heechul demands to know: "Who's in love?"

And I can't bite my tongue for another minute. I cheer, "Lei and Taemin!"

Man, I know I'm feeling too much at once. I know I'm on a roller coaster of emotions and it's hard to tell if I'm going up or speeding down, but one thing is clear: Lei and Taemin were meant to be. And I don't know how many 'meant-to-be's get to be, but I'm sure as hell glad that they do.

I don't know how Heechul can look so stunned by what must be the most obvious love in the whole world. I don't know how anyone can say that they haven't noticed Lei's ribbon around Taemin's wrist. I haven't been able to look away from it for months. I don't think I'll ever look away from it! It's like the sun, ya know? Too bright to ignore. Too beautiful to overlook.

Heechul wheezes, "Lei has a boyfriend?"

Mom nods. Her words can't make it past her smile, so I take it upon myself to correct Heechul. "Lei has a soulmate!"

Heechul blinks at me. "So let me get this straight." Sitting on the edge of a sun chair, he sets his drink down at his feet. His hand raises to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "On tour, Lei actually fell in love with her ultimate idol? The same boy she used to listen to every single night? And you—" he points at Mom— "not only did you fail to mention this to me, but then you let him move in without consulting me?"

"I don't have to run everything by you first, Heechul," Mom says coolly. "First of all, I only recently heard the sweetest love story of all time. Maybe if you didn't piss me off so bad that I had to kick you out, you would have been around to hear it straight from Lei's mouth!"

It's unlikely that Lei would have read the story in front of Heechul, I think, but I guess you never really know. Heechul's face turns red at Mom's berating.

"Anyway," Mom sighs, "who am I to stand in the way of true love?"

"You're her mother, for one thing." Heechul's brow furrows, and my eyes roll. There's nothing more annoying than when he tries to act more mature than Mom. "You're his manager AND her manager for another! How are you going to explain this shit to the agency when they have a super idol baby?"

Oh. My. God. Lucas Tue WOULD be a super idol!

At the thought of my future (inevitable) baby nephew, I drop my cleaning equipment and clap my hands. My face hurts from smiling again, but in the best way! I take it all back! Yeah, I want to be Mom's number one boy, but that doesn't mean that I don't want Taemin here. I do. I need him here because I want Lucas Tue!

Plus, I'm totally okay with losing my number one spot to Lucas Tue! He'll be everyone's favorite!

"Cut that out, boy!" Heechul huffs at me. "We don't want babies!"

"I do!" I argue with Heechul's glare. "I want a baby!"

Mom cuts her eyes at Heechul. "Stop looking at Lucas like that! And stop assuming the worst of Lei and Taemin! You know that she's much smarter and much more responsible than I ever was. If and when she starts expressing her love like that, she will be careful. Besides—" Mom smiles. She looks so much like Lei when she smiles. Pretty— "I don't subscribe to the belief that surprise miracles ruin lives."

Surprise miracles. That's what Lei was to Mom, right? I know that's what Lei was to me. She was my first friend in the agency. I think— no, I know that I've never felt lonely because I found her.

Surprise miracles. That's a kind of funny phrase. Nobody ever expects a miracle, do they? I don't know.

All I know is that Mom speaks like a poet. All I know is that I've never wondered who taught Lei to speak. They're so much alike, and I love them. I'm glad they found me. I'm glad we're together. I'm glad we'll always be together.

As I sit on the ground, I smile up at Mom. The sun breaks through a cloud and makes the winter air a little warmer. "When I drew our family tree the other day, I made a spot for Lei's future baby! I asked her to name him Lucas Tue, and I told her that we should just call him Tue. And then she said that she would talk it over with Taemin."

Smiling back, Mom ruffles my hair. "That's adorable, honey!"

Heechul is less enthusiastic. He doesn't smile. "They're already talking about kids? He's already moved in?" Heechul runs both hands through his hair. "Shit, this is moving too fast for me. Just yesterday, the girl was saying that she would never date!"

Grinning because Lei had grown past the word 'never,' I explain, "She only said that because she hadn't met Taemin yet. If you think about it, they're not moving that fast; they're just making up for lost time."

At dinner, right after Mom shoves Heechul out the door, I announce, “Mom! Since today’s special because Taemin moved in, I’m gonna drink my last beer!”

Mom gives me two thumbs up from the doorway connecting the dining room to the kitchen. So I open the fridge with a smile. But I don’t find my beer in the fridge. I find it at the table. Open. In front of Taemin, who holds a giggling Lei in his lap.

Just like that, I don't like him much anymore. I don't really care that Lei is in his lap; I just think it's a little tasteless that he presses a lingering sort of kiss to the shell of Lei's ear right in front of Mom. I think it's a little weird that Lei just lets him. But all I REALLY care about is my beer gone to waste and Mom's total lack of sympathy.

"That's mine!" I yell when Taemin reaches for the bottle, bringing it up to his lips that are swollen and red from kissing Lei all day. "I was saving that beer! I was looking forward to it the whole time we were on tour!"

Lei's blinking tells me that I should be embarrassed. I am, kinda. A little bit. I never lose my temper. It's just— those drinks are special to me! Mom orders them because she knows they're my favorite in the whole world. And now Taemin has stolen the last one! And there's no way he's enjoying it as much as I would!

"Sit down, honey," Mom tells me, "and I'll pour you some wine."

"I don't want wine!" I want to say, but I can't bring myself to talk back to Mom. I don't want her to glare at me like she glared at Donghae and Heechul before locking them out, so I just grit my teeth and obey. Life is so unfair sometimes.

"I'll take the wine," Taemin says softly. His voice doesn't sound right. It doesn't sound natural. How can he turn heads with the quietest whisper when I have to yell?

He gives Mom this eerily perfect, almost inhuman smile before holding the beer out to me. "Here. I only took one or two sips. Take the rest."

Call me a germaphobe if you want, but I'm not big on drinking after people— especially not people who have spent the day swapping spit with my (figurative) sister. I glare at the beer because I can't glare directly at Taemin. I know this politeness is an act, a scheme to get Mom to like him better. He's fake!

Lei thinks so too, judging by the look she casts over his shoulder as I cry, "I don't want anything you've put your lips all over! That's disgusting!"

Lei makes me sick. She says something cringy like, "I don't think your lips are disgusting Taem!" before kissing his pout.

I scream in disgust, but the kiss is brief. Cute. It makes something inside of me scream in joy. But that joy loses to the rage that burns in my gut when Mom smiles at their display. Joy dies when Mom ruffles my hair and sets the glass of wine before me, saying, "Share with Taemin, Lucas."

My face burns. Share? Mom has never told me to share before!

"Share," I hiss. The word is too foreign. I don't like how it sounds; especially not in Mom's voice, and especially not in my voice. I stab into a piece of beef in my bowl. "What haven't I shared with Taemin lately? I share my best friend, I share my house, I share my Mom, I share my beer—"

"Lucas," Mom says in that warning tone that she usually reserves for work as she eases into the seat beside me— the seat across from Lei and Taemin. She raises a single eyebrow at me. "Behave."

My eyes widen. Behave? Mom never tells me to behave at home!

This stupid little smile spreads across Taemin's face when our eyes meet. That smile convinces me that I can't stand him. We are enemies. Obviously, I like him as an artist. I like him as Lei's soulmate. But I don't like him as my brother. I hate him as my brother.

I swear, he winks at me as he gulps a mouthful of my beer. And if Mom wasn't watching, if I wasn't afraid of hitting Lei (and then getting my ass kicked), I would throw my chopstick at his head.

Sweetly, Mom asks Taemin, "Have you had a good day? Are you comfortable in the guest room?"

When somebody asks questions like that, you're supposed to say 'Yes and yes. Thank you, ma'am!' Apparently, nobody ever taught Taemin that.

Resting his chin on Lei's shoulder, he says, "I had the best day, but I think I would be a lot more comfortable if my closet was like Lei's."

Lei rolls her eyes as she swallows a mouthful of salad. “Taemin, we’ve talked about your closet fixation. You said you didn’t need—”

It's clear that Taemin was joking from the less polite, less eerily perfect smile twisting his lips as Lei scolds him. Mom doesn't seem to pick up on that, though. She argues, "Of course he needs a big closet, Lei! He's a pop star! If he's going to stay here, we'll have to renovate the closet to meet his needs."

A closet renovation? I've never had one of those! I mean, I've never asked, but still! Taemin gets his wish granted just because he made some stupid joke!

"Taemin—" he beams when Mom says his name— "I'll make some calls tomorrow. You'll have to room with Lucas or Lei during construction."

I give him this look that screams, "You're not rooming with me, butthead!" but he doesn't notice. He's too busy smiling at Mom and then laughing at the rolling of Lei's eyes to notice that he's made me lose my appetite. Maybe he wouldn't care anyway.

. . .

Lei finishes eating first. She pecks Taemin's forehead before excusing herself to her room. She has never stuck around at the table after finishing her meals, and I guess Taemin's presence doesn't inspire her to change that habit.

I lost my appetite during the closet renovation chat, but I refuse to leave Taemin alone with Mom. It's obvious that if I give him the slightest edge in our competition, he'll win.

In the end, Mom sends us upstairs together, despite Taemin's offer (which prompts my offer) to help with the dishes. So we see the sign pinned to Lei's door at the top of the stairs at the same time. Glittery pink letters scream, "Keep Out!"

Taemin glances at the sign before he reaches for the doorknob. Maybe he can't read English that well. Or maybe he can't read cursive. Or maybe he's never been on the receiving end of a 'Keep Out' sign. But I can, I can, and I have. So I ask, "What are you doing?"

Over his shoulder, Taemin glances at me. His hand is still around the doorknob. "I'm going to bed. Lei and I promised to sleep together every night."

I already knew all about their sleeping arrangement, but I didn't expect Taemin to mention it so plainly. So matter-of-factly, with only the faintest traces of a smile around his lips. It's weird.

I point at the sign. "It says 'Keep Out.' It looks like she changed her mind."

I'm being an asshole, and I don't like it. I know well that Lei didn't change her mind about anything, and Taemin should too. He should know that she never makes empty promises; she keeps even the broken ones. He should know that the sign is meant for me, and I'm just— I'm just sad, so I want him to be sad too, even if it's just for a second.

Man, I'm on my own nerves. I need to sleep this off.

Because I don't trust myself to open my mouth without saying more bullshit, I brush past him on my way to my room at the end of the hall.

[shwnus]

Against Protocol

Pairing: Reader x Jinyoung (Got7)

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warning(s): Mature/Graphic content, violence

Word Count: 2,808

Summary: You are the right hand man to Kim Soojin, owner of one of the biggest ‘studios’ that specializes in prostitution. You’ve seen plenty of men that work in the business, but this one in particular stood out. Rules say you can’t get involved with any of the sex workers, but your heart and mind have other plans. 

A/N: This was a request made by @brittbrat2017, I hope this is what you were wanting~

You took a sip from your cup, coffee burning your tongue as it slid across it. You quickly swallowed, setting your cup down next to the documents scattered along the table. The shop was buzzing with noise, the smell of coffee beans filled your nostrils.

"Have you found any new workers lately?" a voice across from you asked. You turned your attention to the woman in front of you. Kim Soojin, owner of Red Eclipse (and also your boss), tapped her crimson nails against the table top. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, strands of hair framed her delicate features.

"Nothing yet." you answered, eyes falling to the papers in front of you. The pen in your hand glided across the surface, creating a story. As the list of clients grew, it seemed that the list of workers shrunk. You scribble aimlessly as you turned towards the door, the creaking noise catching your attention.

The man who walked in took your breath away. His dark locks fell in front of his equally dark eyes. His features were soft, yet sharply defined. Plump, pale pink lips that you couldn't help but admire as he spoke with the barista. Your eyes wandered over every curve in his body. Broad shoulders, small waist, fabric hugging his legs in all the right places.

"What about him?" you inquire, eyes never leaving his figure. Soojin followed your gaze, and smirked once she knew who you were talking about. She pushed herself out of the chair, "I'll go talk to him, wait here. And wipe that drool before it gets on the paper." You blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing red as the back of your hand dragged along your lower lip. Your attention landed on the papers once more, as you mustered as much strength as you could to avoid staring. Moments later, your boss had returned, a scrap of paper with numbers sloppily scribbled on it landed in front of you. “Looks like he’s interested in working with us.”

Your fingers tapped along the keys as you set up an appointment for a client. It was a couple weeks after seeing Jinyoung, and you haven’t had a chance to introduce yourself. You were sat in your office, music softly hummed in the background as you stared at the computer screen. It was getting late, the artificial light above you burned down on you, causing both light and heat to graze you. The night air making its way through the window was sticky and humid. You got up from your desk, your seat rolling backwards as you closed the window. You fanned yourself as you turned the fan on. It buzzed to life, rotating and bringing a cool breeze into the small space. You fell back into your seat, scooting yourself closer to the computer.

Knuckles on your door interrupted your typing. “Come on in.” you spoke, somewhat loudly. You froze in place as you noticed who was opening your door. Jinyoung walked in, a gentle smile on his face. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you noticed what he was wearing. He was clothed in all black, wearing a crop top and leggings. Your eyes wandered to his toned abs, then lower. Fuck, he has a nice ass.. you thought. You continued to stare until his voice snapped you back into reality.

“Enjoying the view?” Your eyes widened but you quickly brought yourself back to reality. You waved a hand in the air, “I’ve seen better.” That was a lie and you know it. He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh, have you? Then how come I seem to be getting booked the most?” You shrugged. “How should I know? I’m not here to fuck you, I’m here to get you money.” Just kidding, I’d definitely fuck you. Shit, NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT. He chuckled, shaking his head, hair falling in his eyes.

“Anyways, I realized I haven’t gotten a chance to introduce myself, yet.” He said, walking towards your desk. You stood up faster than you meant to, and bumped your knee against the wood as a result. You winced, but kept a straight face, and smoothed out the wrinkles in your shorts. He outstretched his hands towards you, “I’m Jinyoung.” “Y/N.” you responded, shaking his hand. “Nice to be working with you, Y/N,” he comments, “Do you have my schedule for tomorrow?” You nodded, turning around and picking up the document with ‘Jinyoung, Park’ scribbled at the top. Handing it over, you said, “Looks like you’re meeting your client around 7.” His eyes scanned the writing on the document, “Perfect.” He breathes, giving you a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” “Most likely,” you smirked, “I’ll be cooped up in here if you need me.” You gave a small wave as he walked out of your office. You sat down, huffing as you leaned back in the chair. Dammit, I need to stop thinking about him..

The next night, your eyes glanced at the clock. Realizing it was time to leave, you gathered your things, quickly heading out of your office. You made your way down the path, the cool night air hitting your face, strands of hair landing in your vision. You wiped them away as you watched your surroundings. It was like any other Friday night, the city was buzzing with energy. You passed plenty of women in tight dresses and heels that were too tall for them to handle, stumbling as their boyfriend held their arms, laughing. The air was filled with noise the closer you got to the local bar. Your eyes scanned the area, as they always did, but something caught your eyes. Is that..

It was. Jinyoung was outside, leaning against the wall and talking to one of your clients. You slowed your pace, watching them curiously. You couldn’t make out any of the words they were sharing, but you could tell the client was hammered. She looked upset, Jinyoung was trying to calm her down. He placed his hands on her shoulders, as if to try to settle her down. She threw his hands off of her, and threw a fist. Her knuckles collided with his face, causing him to stumble backwards. Your eyes widened as you ran over to them, putting yourself in front of the two.

“Break it up!” you shouted, pushing her back. “Who the fuck are you?” the client asked, her voice slurred. Wow, she really doesn’t recognize me? You knew at that point that she was ridiculously drunk. Your eyes flicked around as you found a bouncer. “Sir?” you called out. His eyes followed the sound, and once he spotted you, he made his way over. He hummed, signaling for your response. “This woman is incredibly intoxicated, could you please call her a taxi and watch her? I need to take care of my friend here.” You gestured towards Jinyoung, who was hunched over, back against the wall, head in his hands. “Is he alright?” the bouncer asked, and you shook your head. “She punched him,” you commented, “I’m gonna take him with me.” The bouncer nodded, and you thanked him, grabbing Jinyoung’s wrist and dragging him with you to your apartment.

The two of you hadn’t spoken a word the entire walk there. As you closed the door behind you, you gestured to the couch, “Sit down.” He did as he was told, sitting down and leaning back. You made your way to the bathroom, looking around for some sort of First Aid kit. You grabbed a washcloth and quickly ran some warm water, running the washcloth under the stream. You wrung it out, then grabbed a band aid and anything else you thought may be useful. Before going back to Jinyoung, you got a couple ice cubes and wrapped them in a paper towel. “I don’t have an ice pack,” you say, walking towards the man, “But here.” You held out the makeshift ice pack. “Thanks..” he mumbled, holding it against his eye. He hissed in response to the cooling sensation, and you placed a hand on his shoulder as you sat down. “What happened?”

“Well, after I did my job, she insisted we go to the bar. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, so I went along with her. She got absolutely fucked up, and aggressive. When I tried to calm her down, the bitch punched me, and that’s when you showed up.” Jinyoung’s voice was shaking, he was angry, but trying to fight back tears. “Are you okay?” you ask, your thumb drawing circles into his shoulder. “I-I’m fine..” he stuttered, “I’m just annoyed. And, you know, in pain.” You frowned, “I can see that, no need to sass me.” “Sorry, sorry..” he breathed. “I understand, don’t worry.” You commented. “You’re safe here, I promise.” You gave him a half hearted smile, and he matched it.

“Let me see your eye.” You commanded. Jinyoung glanced at you before moving the towel away. The skin surrounding his eye was swollen, but it wasn’t anything major, looks like she didn’t punch him that hard. “It’s just a little red, you’ll be fine..” you said, setting down the other things you had brought along. “Do you want me to take the ice from you?” he nodded, handing it over. You put everything back in its place, and tossed the paper towel and almost melted ice cubes into the trash.

You went and sat back on the couch with Jinyoung. Silence filled the air as the two of you looked around the room, not knowing what to say or do. A hand landed on your thigh, “Thank you for helping me.” “Of co-course.” You stuttered, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your core. His hand trailed higher up your thigh, but before it could get any further you pushed it away. “What’s wrong?” he asked, giving you a cocky smirk. “Trust me, Y/N, I’ve noticed the way you look at me.” His fingers ghosted over your thighs, “I know you want this as much as I do..” You quickly stood up, “It’s against my protocol.” You stammered. Jinyoung pushed himself off the couch. “You think I don’t know that?” he scoffed, inching closer to you, causing you to back up. Soon enough your back hit a wall, and you had nowhere to turn. “Nobody has to know,” he sighs, hands gripping your waist. You gasped from his grip, squeezing your legs together. “If you want me to stop, tell me and I will.” His lips were now on your neck, trailing kisses up and down it. You could feel his hot breath against your ear, “Just tell me when.”

“Don’t stop.” You sighed, tangling your fingers in his dark locks. Jinyoung hungrily pressed his lips on yours, instantly tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He hoisted one of your legs up, and you moaned into his mouth, his tongue quickly slipping into your mouth. You could feel his throbbing boner pressing against your heat as you held your leg around his waist. The kisses moved back down to your neck as he lifted you up, holding you by your ass. Your arms snaked around his neck as you pushed him closer, his tongue darting out against your skin. Jinyoung carried the two of you to your bedroom (with your guidance), and he threw you onto the bed.

“Take off your shirt.” He commands, and you do as you’re told. You were practically dripping at this point. You threw the fabric to the side, and Jinyoung licked his lips. He threw his own shirt to the side, crawling on top of you. He kissed you once more, hands trailing all over your body. He unhooked your bra in one swift movement, throwing it behind him. He trailed open mouthed kisses to your chest, and took one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue flicking along your nipple. His hand massaged your other breast, and you sighed, arching your back off the bed. “Jinyoung, pl-please..” you whined, and his eyes bore into yours. He let go of your breast with a lewd popping sound. “Please what?” he said, voice husky and thick with lust. You tugged at his pants, “Please fuck me, shit, please.” Jinyoung smirked, slowing pulling down both your pants and underwear.

His finger trailed along your folds, causing you to squirm underneath him. “You’re practically dripping already, Y/N..” he chuckled, voice low and deep. He quickly got off the bed, removing the remainder of his clothing. “Do you have a condom?” You gestured towards the dresser next to your bed, “Top drawer.” He grabbed one, tearing the wrapper and sliding the condom onto his dick. He hovered over you, the tip of him barely grazing your heat. “Jinyoung, PLEASE, I’m not in the mood for teasing.” you practically shouted. His face was inches from yours, “You have to tell me what you want.” You bucked your hips up, “I want you inside me. Now.” Your voice was steady, demanding. “That’s better,” he says, and without warning, thrusts deep inside you. You swore loudly, gripping onto him as he kept a quick pace, hitting you harder and deeper each time. His thumb began rubbing circles into your clit, causing the pleasure to become almost overwhelming. Curse words and moans spilled out of your mouth, hair was sticking to your now sweaty forehead. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moving your hips to the same rhythm as him.

“Shit, I’m getting close..” Jinyoung muttered, biting his lip as he fought back moans. You could feel your orgasm building up as well, “Ji-Jinyou-ng..” you breathed, his thrusts becoming sloppier and quicker. You shut your eyes tight, your climax quickly coming over your body. You shuddered under him, screaming out his name in pleasure. Your walls squeezed around him, causing Jinyoung’s climax to follow right after yours. As you both came down from your highs, he hunched over you, burying his face in your neck. Your hands reached up, your fingers trailing along his back gently. You stayed that way for a few moments before Jinyoung lifted himself off of you. He looked at you for a moment, smiling. “What is it?” you asked. “Oh, nothing,” he responded, “You’re just.. really pretty,” You blushed at his words, “And a mess.” He finishes, laughing. You smack his chest as he pulls out, carefully sliding off the condom and tying it shut. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, tossing it into the waste bin. Once he returns in the room, you already had your shirt and panties back on. You threw his things at him, and Jinyoung gets dressed.

“Well tonight was.. interesting, to say the least,” you commented as Jinyoung finished pulling his shirt down over his torso. “Is that a good or bad thing?” he asks, plopping down on the bed. You sat up next to him, and leaned against him, your head now on his shoulder. His arm snaked around you instinctively, “Good thing, I suppose~” you said, giggling. “I saved your ass from one of our drunk ass clients and then fucked you. Not too bad for a Friday night if I do say so myself.” You looked up at him, and he scoffed, eyes now on yours. “Not too bad..” he mutters, “It seems like it was more than ‘Not too bad’.” You pushed him away, “Don’t flatter yourself.” He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah yeah..”

“How about I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?” Jinyoung asks, and your head snaps towards him. “Really?” He shrugged, “Well yeah, why not?” “Are you asking me on a date?” “And if I was?” he asked, leaning his face towards yours. “I would say yes,” you smiled, “But shouldn’t you have asked that BEFORE sleeping with me?” Jinyoung rolled his eyes, moving back, “Why can’t you just say yes?” “I’m complicated, get used to it.” You shrugged, both of you laughing. He pushed himself off the bed, “I should probably get going.” He commented, and you followed after him. “I’ll walk you out.” You smiled.

The color ran out of your face as reality hit you. “Wait..” you stopped in your tracks, and Jinyoung cracked the door open, turning back to you with an eyebrow raised. “What about Soojin? We already shouldn’t have done this..” “We just won’t tell anyone about us dating,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Really,” he leans down, kissing you, “Don’t worry! We can keep it a secret.” You took a deep breath, “You’re right.” You said. Jinyoung walked out the door, turning back and giving you a small salute, “See you tomorrow night, then?” “Are you picking me up?” “Of course!” he says, and you giggle.

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”