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ssa-dado · 1 day

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5 - Antithesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, slowest burn in history

Summary: The BAU tackles a complex case involving international victims and cryptic messages. Hotch’s growing insecurity intensifies as an agent returns from an undercover operation, revealing his close past with you. At the hotel, you and Hotch have a heated argument, exposing hidden vulnerabilities and unspoken boundaries between you two. Hotch struggles with his feelings of being just a replacement and questions his connection with you. Rossi confronts Hotch, encouraging him to be the partner you truly need.

Warnings: Usual CM case stuff, grooming (it feels to me, at least. To someone wouldn’t but idc), angst

Word Count: 6.1k

Dado's Corner: the dreaded chapter, I've been working on it for a week and still I'm not completely satisfied yet. I had to use another OC character, I'm sorry if you're bothered with that, but even if I hate him with all my heart he will be helpful in the future to narrate Y/N's backstory. If this broke your heart, synthesis might even more

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Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

●

It was yet another early morning at the BAU, and as usual, you walked into the office to find Hotch already at his desk, a cup of black coffee in hand, looking as composed and sharp as ever. No matter how early you tried to get in, Hotch always seemed to be one step ahead and especially today, you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You know, Hotch, that’s 76 coffees you owe me now,” you said, dropping your bag on your chair and crossing your arms, pretending to be stern. “Maybe it’s time to rethink your strategy. You could try showing up late, just once. Shake things up.”

Hotch glanced up, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I have to keep beating you just to remind you of your constant failure.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the side of his desk. “Wow, Hotch, who knew you were this petty? I bet you’d stay up all night just to make sure you’d beat me here.”

He chuckled softly, not denying it. “Well, someone has to keep you grounded. Can’t have you thinking you’re invincible, partner.”

In the past couple of months, the term “Partner” had become a running joke between you two. Whether by design or coincidence, Gideon and Rossi kept pairing you together on cases, and even when they didn’t, you’d find yourselves seeking each other’s opinions anyway – you were desk mates after all, it was impossible not to rely on each other’s expertise. Yet the nickname stuck, a testimony that had made working together more natural than either of you could have ever predicted.

Your familiarity with Hotch’s desk arrangement had grown, too. You knew his precise system of organizing case files, the way he stacked them according to urgency, but today, something was different. As you glanced at his desk, your brows furrowed in confusion: the stack of case files was unusually tall, casting an odd shadow that didn’t quite match its usual shape. It looked as if something bulky was hiding underneath.

“Hotch, what’s with the fortress of case files?” you asked, pointing at the strange shadow. “Are you hiding something under there?”

Hotch hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t expect to be caught in the act. With a slight, amused shrug, he grabbed the files and lifted them off the hidden unknown object – or the unob - revealing a thick book on architecture history.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “A World History of Architecture?! Didn’t take you for the type, I’m surprised.”

Hotch looked down at the book, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I picked it up after the Frank Lloyd Wright case,” he admitted, almost shyly. “That night we spent going over his designs at the library, I don’t know why but something about it stuck. I guess I wanted to know more. So I’ve been reading this during my ‘waiting for you to show up’ time.”

You smirked, leaning in to examine the book. “SSA Aaron Hotchner, secretly an architecture buff. Who would’ve thought? Next thing I know, you’ll leave the Bureau and go to architecture school, you would still owe me 76 coffees though.”

He scoffed playfully, closing the book and setting it aside. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go that far. But it’s been... nice. You know - learning something just because I want to, not because I have to.”

You gave him a teasing nudge. “Hey, don’t underestimate yourself, partner - maybe one day you’ll be the next Frank Lloyd Wright of the FBI. Designing prisons, interrogation rooms, you name it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to profiling, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Just as you were about to tell him your kitchen needed some renovation – so he could start with something easy – an unexpected way-too-familiar voice interrupted from behind.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, and there was SSA Peter Rogers - one of your closest friends you ever had since you were fifteen - standing in the bullpen with his easy smile and that overly confident stance of his, just as you remembered him.

“Pete!” you exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you rushed to hug him, the familiar warmth on your body you missed so much made you hold on to him a little longer. “What are you doing back so soon? I thought you were still overseas.”

Peter shrugged with a modest grin. “Operation wrapped up early. Figured I’d come back and see what kind of trouble you’ve been causing around here.”. That smile of his had the ability not to change one bit since the first time you saw each other, causing you to travel six years back in time.

▪︎

It was the first day of your mother’s Italian Literature class at the university. You were just fifteen, juggling between high school and university courses, your hunger for knowledge insatiable as a shield from what was daily happening between the walls of your own house. You always sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously, letting your brain disconnect from reality in order to lose yourself in the lyrical beauty of Leopardi’s poetry.

Peter had been sitting a few rows back, finishing his degree in linguistics. He’d noticed you immediately, you were quite easy to spot as you were visibly way too young to sit in that room – and if it wasn’t enough, you made sure to ask at least a question to the professor, at least once in the lesson, always being deeply engaged with the material. Hence why after that particular class, he approached you with curiosity.

“Hey, you’re not the typical student, are you?” Peter asked, leaning against the desk beside you. “You’re taking university classes while still in high school? That’s quite impressive.”

You looked up, a little taken aback by his easy confidence but not put off. “Yeah, I’m kind of…double-booked,” you replied with a shy smile. “I just really love literature. My mom’s a professor here, so she lets me sit in when I can.”

Peter nodded, intrigued. “I’m Peter, by the way. Linguistics major. So you must be some kind of prodigy, huh?”

You laughed. “No, not a prodigy. Just…curious. I love philosophy, languages, psychology, all of it.”

The two of you clicked instantly, and since that encounter both of you would always exchange notes, in order to make sure none of you ever lost a word said in the class. Peter became a sort of unofficial mentor, “Have you ever thought about profiling? It’s all about understanding people, their languages, their motives. With your skills, you’d be amazing at it.” He asked one day after class.

That was the very day you learnt what a profiler was.

▪︎

Peter greeted Hotch with the same familiarity. “Hotch! Good to see you again, man. I missed having my desk buddy around.”

Hotch stood up, shaking Peter’s hand with a polite but reserved smile. “Welcome back, Peter. I heard about the undercover operation. You handled it exceptionally well, no one expected for you to come back so soon.”

Peter shrugged, his usual modesty in place. “Thanks, Hotch. It was a tough one, but we got the job done.” He immediately turned his gaze towards you “Y/N, who knew you would have stolen my desk too”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, glancing at the two of you briefly. That “too” echoed in his mind, the sudden realization just hit that there was more history between you and Peter than he’d previously understood, founding himself feeling like an outsider.

Peter, ever observant, caught the flicker of something in Hotch’s expression. “So you know Y/N? She’s one hell of a smart cookie,” he said, looking between you and Hotch with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing off the compliment. “Oh, please Pete let’s not start with this just yet”

Peter laughed, leaning closer to Hotch as if about to reveal a secret. “Did she ever tell you she can sing? Like, really sing. She’s incredible. I’ve heard her at a few college events back in the day.”

Hotch looked at you, surprised, taking in this new piece of your past. “No, she never mentioned that.

You felt your cheeks heat up, flustered by Peter’s unexpected praise – especially because you were both standing in your workplace. “That’s because it’s not important,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Besides, Peter’s just exaggerating. I’ve only been in the field twice with Hotch anyway, so there’s not that much to tell, most of my work has been here at the office.”

▪︎

A year ago, you attended a conference at the FBI Academy, and Peter was there as a speaker, discussing linguistic analysis in criminal profiling. It was the first time you’d seen each other in years, and the connection was immediate, even stronger than your days together at the university.

‘’Y/N is that really you?! You’ve grown so much you’re making me feel kind of old” Little did you knew that you would spend the entire evening catching up, sharing stories of your separate journeys still having in common your mutual love for the complexities of language and behavior.

“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” Peter told you as the two of you sat at a table, away from the noise of the main event. “I knew it from the moment I met you. You’ve got the mind for this work.”

You’d been touched by his confidence in you, feeling like the teenage girl he’d mentored all over again. “Thanks, Pete. But you’ve always been the one pushing me forward, I don’t know if I’d have chosen this path without your nudging.”

Peter’s smile was genuine, warm. “You would’ve found your way, Y/N. You always do.”

▪︎

The more Hotch listened to the two of you catching up, the more he felt that gap, as if Peter was pulling you back into a shared history that he hadn’t been part of.

Peter grinned, nudging you playfully. “Always aiming for perfection, huh?

You tried to brush it off, cheeks warming under their combined scrutiny. “Oh, please. That was a long time ago.”

Peter shrugged, turning back to Hotch. “But she hasn’t changed. I can see it in your eyes, you know?! Same drive, same brilliance. So, how’s she been doing? What cases has she solved?”

Hotch took a moment, his expression unreadable as he considered Peter’s question. “She’s been doing great,” Hotch said finally, his voice measured. “We’ve worked on a few tough cases together, a few high-profile cases. She’s brilliant, as you know, we’ve had our hands full. But it’s good to have you back - we can always use the extra help”

Peter nodded, his enthusiasm palpable. “Looking forward to jumping back in”

Before anyone could say more, Rossi approached, cutting through the atmosphere with his usual flair. “Well, looks like we’ve got our team for the day. Gideon’s out, so Peter, you’re coming with us. We’ve got a complicated case ahead, and I’d rather have all hands-on deck, we might be in desperate be of two linguists on this one”

Peter’s eyes flicked to you, then to Hotch, his smile never wavering. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The team’s arrival at the police station was met with a wave of unease that hung heavy in the air. The case they were stepping into was far from simple. Multiple international tourists had been brutally murdered, each crime scene marked by cryptic messages in different languages. This was a killer who thrived on complexity, and with every new clue, the puzzle seemed to grow more intricate.

Rossi led the team inside with his usual calm authority, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone who had seen too many crime scenes in his career. Peter and Hotch moved in tandem, flanking him on either side as they entered the station. The moment they stepped inside, the chaos enveloped them like a wave crashing on the shore.

The police station was a flurry of frantic movement and tension. Officers darted between desks, paperwork scattered in their wake, and phones rang incessantly, demanding attention that no one seemed able to fully give. The space, clearly not designed to handle the intensity of a high-profile investigation, felt claustrophobic and stifling, the walls closing in under the pressure of a case spiraling beyond control.

The air was thick, not just with the stress that permeated the station but with the unmistakable grit of dust being churned by the old, neglected air conditioning unit overhead, blowing more dirt than relief, only adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Everyone was on edge, their nerves stretched thin by the weight of a situation they were ill-equipped to handle. Rossi could almost taste the desperation in the room, a palpable sense of urgency that clung to every officer as they hustled to keep up with demands they were never trained to meet.

Rossi exchanged a knowing look with Hotch, both of them wordlessly acknowledging the uphill battle they were about to face - not just against the unsub but against the limitations of a team clearly overwhelmed.

The lead detective, a grizzled man with a permanent scowl, approached Rossi, barely acknowledging the rest of the team. “Agent Rossi, we appreciate the Bureau’s help, but I hope you realize this is a time-sensitive situation. We’ve got international press breathing down our necks, and the mayor’s about ready to pull his hair out.”

Rossi nodded calmly, his authoritative presence immediately establishing control. “We’re here to provide a profile and assist in any way we can. What can you tell us about the latest victim?”

The detective began briefing but his eyes kept darting towards you, flickering with something between doubt and annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m sorry, but are you sure you brought the right team? She looks like she should be at a college lecture, not a crime scene.”

The comment hit like a slap, and you felt the familiar burn of frustration flare up. You’d been here before, countless times, actually. You were used to your youthful appearance and academic background drawing skepticism, but that still didn’t make it any easier to swallow, especially in that particular case. Before you could respond, Peter jumped in, his voice carrying a mix of defense and pride.

“Detective, she’s not just some college student. Y/N’s one of the best linguists you’ll ever meet, and she’s cracked more complex cases than most agents twice her age. I’d trust her instincts over anyone else’s, any day.”

There was a quiet confidence in Peter’s words that seemed to force the detective to take a second look, though his skepticism remained stubbornly in place. Hotch, noticing the tension, stepped forward, his expression firm. “Agent Y/L/N’s skills are exactly what we need for this case. If anyone can figure out what the unsub is communicating, it’s her.”

The detective hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but we don’t have time for trial and error. Every minute we waste is another chance for him to strike again.”

“We’re all already aware of this, Detective. I’m sure you know that making my work any more difficult than it already is isn’t going to benefit any of us.” You finally had the courage to bite back.

As you settled into the briefing room, you felt Peter’s hand gently squeeze your shoulder, a silent but reassuring gesture as he said, “Don’t let it get to you.” You glanced at him, grateful for his unwavering support, and gave a small, determined smile in return. You were here to do a job, and you weren’t going to let some old-school cop’s doubts throw you off your game.

Once inside, the team gathered around the evidence board, covered in photos, maps, and printed copies of the unsub’s cryptic messages. Hotch and Rossi started dissecting the behavioral aspects, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the linguistic patterns.

Peter set up next to you, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, just like old times. “This one’s in German,” Peter pointed out, highlighting one of the messages. “It’s a proverb that loosely translates to ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ but it’s the context that’s strange. He’s placing blame close to home.”

You nodded, your mind already racing through the implications. “And this one in French, ‘Nul n’est prophète en son pays’ - ‘No one is a prophet in their own land.’ He’s building a narrative where he’s the misunderstood hero, vilifying his victims in the process.”

Hotch watched from the corner of his eye, noting the seamless back-and-forth between you and Peter. It was clear that you two shared a deep understanding of each other’s thought processes, effortlessly piecing together the unsub’s motives and the cultural implications behind each message.

Rossi leaned over to Hotch, his voice low. “They’ve got something, don’t they?”

Hotch nodded, keeping his expression neutral even as a flicker of something uncomfortably familiar passed through him. “Yeah. They do.”

As you and Peter continued to dissect the messages, the detective returned with another dose of skepticism. “So, what’s the point of all this? We know he’s targeting tourists, but what’s the endgame?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his judgment holding yourself to punch him in the face, but Peter jumped in, his confidence never wavering. “The messages aren’t just random: they’re statements about identity, belonging, and betrayal. He’s targeting people who represent something he feels threatened by, probably linked to his own experiences.”

The detective was confused by the complexity of the message Peter was trying to communicate but at least he seemed less doubtful. Hotch and Rossi exchanged another look, Peter’s ability to not only support but elevate you was undeniable, and it left a lingering question in Hotch’s mind that he couldn’t quite shake, an unresolved history between you and Peter that was palpable to everyone in the room, even if no one dared to say it aloud. As the team continued to piece together the unsub’s twisted narrative, it became increasingly clear that the linguistic clues were the key to unlocking his motive.

“Here’s the first message,” Peter said, pointing at a wall covered in scrawled Italian text. “‘Chi semina vento, raccoglie tempesta.’ He’s quoting an old Italian proverb. It translates to ‘He who sows the wind shall reap the storm.’ Classic justification tactic. He’s blaming his victims for their own deaths.”

You nodded, running your fingers along the paper. “He’s using cultural proverbs to deflect responsibility. It’s not just about justifying his actions; he’s making a statement that he’s in the right, that the victims somehow deserved this.”

Peter smirked, recalling your sharpness from years ago. “You know, you’ve always had this annoying habit of being right. Remember that time back in your mom’s class? You corrected Professor Ricci about Dante’s theological influences.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. I just couldn’t let it go.”

Peter turned to the others, Rossi didn't throw away his shot. "Remind us, Peter. I'm not going to let an opportunity like this slip from my fingers"

Peter jokingly cleared his throat. “Y/N stopped the guest professor right in the middle of the lecture and said,”

He made sure to pitch his tone up in order to mimic yours “While Dante’s work is often linked to the influence of Saint Augustine, we also need to remember that his beliefs were also shaped by the dominant philosophy of his time: Platonism, especially the Neoplatonists and Plotinus.’ The whole room was stunned, and Professor Ricci just stood there.”

Hotch couldn’t help but smile, picturing a younger version of you challenging a university professor with such confidence. Yet there was something more bubbling up in his blood, this was another glimpse into a part of your life he hadn’t seen, hadn’t known. It made him feel strangely out of the loop, like an outsider looking in.

Peter continued, still caught up in the memory. “You finished him when you also provided proof to support your thesis”

“Of course, how else was I supposed to-“

He immediately cut you off. “Early Christian thinkers adapted Greek philosophical ideas, particularly Plato’s concept of eternal forms from which the material world originated. This was quite convenient for the Christian theologians of that time, indeed this philosophical influence is evident in the biblical phrase - and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.' You had everyone in the room, including the professor, rethinking what they knew about Dante.”

You shrugged modestly, glancing at Hotch, who seemed both amused and thoughtful. “I wasn’t trying to show off. It just… bothered me that no one pointed it out – and because of that my mom forbid me to attend her class for two weeks straight. Pete, I’m still thankful for your notes.”

Hotch chuckled softly, meeting your eyes. “Some things never change.”

The team continued working for hours straight, but the frustration began to mount. Despite your and Peter’s best efforts, the linguistic puzzles refused to crack completely. The police officers were growing visibly impatient, and you could feel their skeptical glances as they hovered around the room.

One officer, who had been particularly dismissive, sneered as he walked by. “So, this is the genius team the FBI sent us? Still no answers?”

The comment hit harder than it should have, and for a moment, you felt the sting of self-doubt. Peter, noticing your silence, shot the officer a glare. “We’re not here to waste time, Detective. We’re here to solve this.”

Peter leaned closer to you, his hands grabbing your shoulders, speaking softly so only you could hear. “Don’t listen to them. We’ll get it, like we always do.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the creeping sense of inadequacy. Hotch watched the exchange, noting the way Peter seemed to know exactly how to lift you up when you needed it most. He wanted to say something reassuring himself, but the moment passed, leaving him feeling strangely sidelined.

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the team left the station to get some rest. At the hotel, Rossi and Hotch were assigned to share a room, while you and Peter were given the one next door. As you walked down the hallway, Rossi turned to Hotch with a pointed look.

“You know, Aaron,” Rossi said with a grin, “if I catch you working tonight, we’re gonna have words. You need sleep just as much as the rest of us. I’m serious when I say I’m a light sleeper, so I swear, if you keep me up with that damned desk light, you’re a dead man.”

Hotch gave a tight-lipped smile, appreciating Rossi’s concern – even if he expressed it in his own unique way - although he knew he’d never be able to turn his mind off. “Don’t worry, Dave. I’ll try my best.”

On the other hand, in your room, you and Peter settled in, and immediately surrounded yourselves by case files and coffee cups. You tried to solely focus on the work, but as the night wore on, the conversation drifted, after all it had been over six months since you’d seen each other, and there was a lot to catch up on. Peter leaned back, studying you with an easy smile.

“You’ve changed, Y/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You’re still that perfectionist who can’t let a puzzle go unsolved, but… there’s something different.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… trying to keep up, I guess.”

Peter reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture that was both familiar and affectionate. “You’ve always been better than just keeping up. Don’t forget that.”

You found yourself caught between the comfort of Peter’s presence and the tug of unresolved emotions that you hadn’t quite figured out.

“Let’s go to sleep, shall we? I think we’ve done enough work for today” He winked at you as he placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the bed.

“Oh don’t worry, you should sleep though. I think I might go down the lobby to clear my head for a bit.” You lied to him, but you couldn’t ignore your gut feeling telling you that there was something else you hadn’t considered yet.

Similarly, just across the corridor, the case weighed heavily on Hotch’s mind, and despite Rossi’s threat, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d figured out what was missing. Hours passed with Hotch lying in the dark, the puzzle pieces of the case refusing to align, finally, at nearly two in the morning, he couldn’t take it any longer. Careful not to wake Rossi, he grabbed his files and slipped quietly out of the room, making his way to the lobby to continue working.

To his surprise, he found you there too, hunched over a table with notes sprawled out, lost in concentration. You looked up when you heard him approach, unable to hide your surprise.

“Partner,” you said with a grin, noting his rare appearance in his white t-shirt, checkered blue pants pajamas, with the slippers provided by the hotel at his feet. “I’ve got to admit, this is new. Did Rossi finally threaten you into losing the suit?”

Hotch smirked, taking the seat across from you. “He did, actually. But desperate times, right? I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

You chuckled, enjoying the casualness of the moment despite the late hour. Hotch spread out his files, his brow furrowing as he glanced over them. “I think there’s something we’ve been missing, there’s a pattern in the language choices. It’s not random. He’s escalating with each message.”

You leaned closer, your fingers tracing the messages. “You’re right. It’s chronological. He’s building something: a timeline, like each phrase is a step toward his endgame. It’s not just blame; it’s justification.”

Hotch nodded, grateful for the way your mind seemed to work so fluidly alongside his, especially in the late hours of the night. But as you continued to dissect the sequence, Hotch’s thoughts drifted back to earlier, watching you and Peter work so seamlessly together. The old familiarity, the easy way you bounced ideas off each other, it had been hard to ignore. And now, in the quiet of the night every sensation was amplified, especially the ones he’s been trying to brush off for the entire day, they stung a little more than he wanted to admit.

The ease of the moment was shattered when Hotch suddenly broke the flow of your thoughts with a wry comment. “You know, I’m surprised you’re even here working. I figured you’d be busy... catching up with Peter. He’s been flirting with you nonstop since he came back.”

You froze, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. The casual, almost careless tone hit a nerve, and you could feel a flicker of anger flare up inside you. “What’s that supposed to mean, Hotch?”

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms, trying to mask the hint of frustration that was seeping through. “Nothing. Just an observation. It’s not like you haven’t been a little distracted since he got back.”

You stared at him, incredulous. The casual arrogance in his words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, the frustration that had been building all day came spilling out. “You really think you know everything about me, don’t you? Just because we work together, you think you’ve got me all figured out.”

Hotch’s expression tightened, caught off guard by the sudden burst of anger. “That’s not—”

“No, let me finish,” you said sharply, your voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “You don’t know me, Hotch. You have no idea what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with. You’ve worked beside me for months, calling me partner, acting like you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t. You don’t know the first thing about who I am or what’s going on beneath the surface.”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the sting of your words left him speechless. You were relentless, every word cutting through his composure. “You think just because we’ve been working together constantly, you’re entitled to know me? To judge me? But you know what, Hotch? You’re wrong. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, the carefully maintained façade he wore slipping for just a moment. “I’m not judging you,” he said, his voice low but strained. “I’m just trying to figure this out, okay?”

“Figure what out?” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “The fact that you’ve been constantly analyzing everyone around you while keeping yourself locked away? You think that you’re the only one capable of reading people like an open book? You act like you’re open and honest, but you’re not. You insist on wanting to be called ‘Hotch’ on the job by everyone, and you think I wouldn’t catch onto that? You do that because ‘Aaron’ is too personal and ‘Hotchner’ is too formal. You straddle the line because you’re scared to be either. You’re terrified of being too close to anyone, yet you don’t want to seem too distant. It’s like you don’t even know who you are.”

Hotch stared at you, your words hitting deeper than you knew. You had seen right through him, through the carefully constructed barriers he put up to keep everyone at a manageable distance. He didn’t know how to respond because, for once, someone had called him out on the one thing he feared the most: his own inability to truly connect.

“I keep things professional because it’s easier,” Hotch admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of vulnerability. “Because it’s safe.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Safe? You call this safe? You’re so busy keeping people out that you don’t even realize how much you’re missing. We’ve been partners at work, sure, but that’s all it’s ever been, right? Professional, compartmentalized, no mess, no feelings. That’s how you want it.”

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

You sighed, your anger waning but the hurt still fresh. “You don’t have to figure out anything, you said that yourself – I thought - It’s not enough for you Hotch, and not even for me.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, both of you staring at the scattered papers on the table, as if the answers you sought could be found in the scrawled handwriting and cryptic messages. But this wasn’t something that could be solved with profiling or deduction. It was messier, more personal, and neither of you were sure how to navigate it.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For making you feel like you’re just another piece of the job.”

You nodded, the tension easing but not entirely gone. “I appreciate your apologies but if you really want to change things up all you have to do is to agree to be vulnerable with me, that’s all.”

You turned your attention back to the case, pushing through the lingering discomfort to focus on what you could control. You worked in silence, each of you lost in thought, both aware that this argument had pulled something to the surface that couldn’t be ignored.

By the time you finally cracked the pattern in the unsub’s messages, the sun was beginning to rise.

As Hotch made his way back to the room at nearly 4 a.m., he was trying to be as quiet as possible, mindful not to wake Rossi. But as he slipped inside, he was met with the sight of Rossi already awake, leaning against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?” Rossi’s voice was low but carried a playful edge, tinged with the knowing tone of someone who had seen this behavior from Hotch too many times before.

Hotch tried to hide his fatigue, rubbing a hand over his face as he set the files down on the desk. “It was important. I found something we missed. Had to double-check.”

Rossi’s smirk didn’t waver. “You found something, huh? Or did you just need an excuse to get out of this room and clear your head?”

Hotch stiffened, but he knew there was no point in denying it. “We figured out the sequence, the messages weren’t just random. They were chronological, like a timeline leading to his next target. We were close, but we couldn’t afford to miss it.”

Rossi nodded, his expression softening just a little. He knew Hotch was right; they were on a tight timeline with no room for errors. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “You could have figured that out in the morning, Aaron. You can’t solve every problem by burning the candle at both ends.”

Hotch sat down on his bed, glancing at the clock, Rossi’s words lingered, cutting through the tension Hotch had been carrying all day. “I know. But you said it yourself—we can’t miss anything.

Rossi studied Hotch for a moment, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’ve been different since Peter came back,” Rossi said, watching Hotch’s reaction closely. “It’s like you’re working twice as hard, pushing yourself even more than usual. What’s going on?”

Hotch’s expression tightened, his usual stoic demeanor wavering under Rossi’s probing gaze. He knew exactly Rossi could read from his face what had just happened between the two of you. “I just… wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything,” he repeated, his tone defensive.

Rossi wasn’t buying it. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of his own bed, facing Hotch directly. “You’re not fooling me, Aaron. I’ve seen this before. You’re not just worried about the case. This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hotch looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the files on his lap. But Rossi’s words hit too close to home, and he couldn’t ignore the knot of emotions that had been building inside him since Peter’s return. “It’s not what you think,” Hotch said quietly, though even to him, it sounded unconvincing.

Rossi leaned back, giving Hotch a knowing look. “Look, it’s natural. You and Y/N have been working closely, you’ve got this rhythm. Peter comes back, and suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not the only one who clicks with her. But it’s not a competition, Aaron. You’re more to this team, and I’m sure you are to her as well, than a stand-in.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. He had spent the last few months building a partnership with you, appreciating your insights and the way you challenged him. But Peter’s return had stirred up insecurities he hadn’t even realized he had.

“It’s not that,” Hotch said finally, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. “I just want to make sure we get this right. Peter’s good at what he does. It’s just… different.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “Different isn’t bad, Hotch. And you’re still you. You don’t have to prove anything: to her, to Peter, or to anyone else.”

Hotch nodded, though Rossi’s words did little to ease the knot in his chest. “Thanks, Dave. I know.”

Rossi watched him for another moment before standing up, his tone lightening as he made his way back to his bed. “Just remember, she was never looking for a replacement for him while he was gone. She’s looking for a partner. And you’ve already proven you can be that.”

Hotch lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind, he knew he needed to get some sleep, but his thoughts were restless. It wasn’t just about the case anymore, it was about finding his place, about understanding what you truly meant to him beyond the walls of the BAU. As he finally drifted off, he promised himself that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t let his insecurities cloud his judgment. He’d be the partner you needed, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to fit into your life outside of work, too. If you ever let him after today.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader

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strawberry-seob · 2 days

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I'll Go ✩ kjs

🍓pairing: afab!reader x jongseob, and afab!reader x intak

🍓genre: au, fluff, age gaps (reader is older), slight hurt/comfort, minor love triangle, caregiving/caretaking elements/moments, slow burn, falling in love with your sibling's best friend

🍓rating: teen & up audiences (but please see author's note below)

🍓 summary: jongseob is your younger brother shota's long-time best friend and now that you’re all adults, you begin to see him differently

🍓warnings: alcohol use, smoking (cigarettes), swearing/language, mentions of menstruation/menstrual care, accidental head injury/hospital visit

🍓word count: 35.1k (split into multiple chapters within this post)

🍓author's note: i wrote this fic as a series on ao3 so that readers could have a choice to read the smutty parts or avoid it, based on their preferences. i probably won't format a fic like this again but since that is how i did this one on archive, i will be posting the other two nsfw parts separately (they will be a progressive continuation starting from the end of this story's last chapter)

Chapter 1: I'll Go

It had only been a year, but so far, being adult roommates with your little brother Shota had proven to be nothing if not interesting. From his terrifying sleep walking, to the “science experiments” in the kitchen, and his habit of staying up all night playing video games with his best friend Jongseob, there was never a dull moment. It was way more interesting and fun than living alone ever would have been. This was especially true, given your age difference: at nineteen, Shota was wild and crazy in a way that you remember being several years prior. You had chilled out, but you affectionately doubted whether he ever really would.

Despite the messes around the apartment, living with Shota was a generally positive experience. On a certain afternoon, however, a scheduling mishap on his part turned into one of the more awkward situations you’d encountered, and you were still trying to figure out how you felt about it.

Early that Saturday morning, you’d woken up with a heaviness in your belly that only meant one thing: that time of the month.

Although usually very careful about tracking your periods and keeping the house stocked and ready for when it was supposed to come around, life had gotten chaotic enough lately that Mother Nature had brought your monthly gift mostly by surprise. You hadn’t started bleeding yet but you knew you would soon, so you swallowed a couple painkillers on an empty stomach (a bad habit you’d picked up due to your debilitating cramps), slapped a pad in your underwear, and crawled back into bed in the fetal position.

You woke again later that morning to the sounds of obnoxiously high-pitched giggling coming from the living room. Ugh. Another thing you’d forgotten was that Shota had invited Jongseob over to hang out for the day to work on homework (which would inevitably end up being 99% video games, and 1% homework). They were both attending the same college and thus had the fortune of taking some of the same classes and being able to help each other with homework. Jongseob was the kind of person to whom school came naturally, while Shota needed quite a bit more help most of the time, so you were at least glad he had a friend like Jongseob who was willing to help him so much.

From the sounds of it, however, it didn’t sound like much homework was actually getting done. You groaned and crawled out of bed, barely able to stand up straight due to the cramps. You gave yourself a cursory glance in the mirror and almost jumped at the sight of yourself. You were used to Jongseob being over all the time and didn’t really care about what he thought, but you decided to run a quick brush through your hair anyway and throw on a sports bra under your t-shirt. Actually, nope, fuck that, the sports bra was coming right back off. Way too tight.

You shuffled into the kitchen and started the electric kettle, pulled out your favorite pottery mug, and a raspberry leaf teabag. You’d always been told that it was good for menstrual symptoms and couldn’t really tell whether or not it helped, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. Jongseob walked into the kitchen and jumped, letting out a hilarious yelp, his hand over his heart dramatically. As much as your stomach hurt, you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Cut it out, y/n,” he whined, “I didn’t even hear you come out here. Wait… you okay?” he asked, his voice taking a slightly more serious tone. You realized you were gripping the counter with your other hand as you poured the steaming hot water into the mug. “Ah, yeah. Just don’t really feel great this morning.”

“Ah shit, you better not get me sick,” he replied, making an X with his arms in your direction playfully, then turned to pour himself a bowl of Shota’s cereal. “Don’t worry,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Not contagious.” He raised a confused eyebrow in your direction but didn’t press the issue.

You looked over at him again. “I like your hair, by the way. It suits you.” You could see the back of his neck tinge ever so slightly pink, as he reached a hand up to one of his wavy bleach-blonde locks and tugged on it self-consciously. The color contrasted nicely with his light pink hoodie. “Oh. Uh, thanks,” he muttered, not looking at you. You smiled to yourself and looked down at your tea, still steeping. As you’d gotten older, one of the things you were trying to work on was sincerity. But you were usually so sarcastic and Jongseob was so shy that it just probably ended up coming off as weird or even teasing. Oh, well. You had to start somewhere.

You heard Shota’s phone ring from the living room, and he answered. “What do you mean, where am I? Noooo that wasn’t today, was it? Okay, yeah. No, I’ll be right there, sorry!” and as he hung up, you and Jongseob flinched as your brother let out a dramatically shrill scream. He then leaned into the kitchen casually, hands on either side of the doorway, as if nothing had happened. “Uh, so! That was Jiung. I didn’t realize I had dance practice today. Haha! Well I did, but I didn’t realize that today was today, y’know?” he smiled sheepishly, trying to look as cute as possible.

Jongseob smacked his arm playfully, scolding him, “Dude, you can’t keep doing this to me, I have so much homework to get done and nowhere to do it. And I don’t wanna have to go to the library again!” Jongseob lived in the university dorms with a very rowdy dorm partner who cared way more about hooking up, smoking weed, and blasting his shitty music than about anything academics-related. Not that Shota was the quietest person in general, but he knew when to be quiet, and Jongseob appreciated that.

“Wait, you guys,” you interrupted. “Jongseob, why don’t you just stay here?” you offered. Jongseob and Shota both looked back at you, their eyes wide. Jongseob opened his mouth to say something, but Shota was quicker. “That’s a great idea! Welp, that settles it, buddy. You’ll be fine without me, you’re here often enough that you basically live here anyway.” Jongseob let out a little yelp as Shota pinched his side, and he smacked his arm again, trying to ignore his friend’s flippant response.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay with that? I don’t want to impose,” he complained, scratching the back of his head self-consciously. Shota butted in, “They’re fine, they would have never said anything if they didn’t mean it.” You were ready to argue when you realized he was actually being serious. Like now, every once in a while your brother said something that shocked you because it made you realize how well he actually knew you.

“He’s actually right. I really don’t mind, I’ll probably just be in my room, but just let me know if you need anything. Plus, you do basically live here half the time.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks, y/n,” Jongseob smiled, his crooked canines showing for a moment. You remembered him getting bullied for them when he was younger, but as an adult, they were more charming than anything. He and Shota had both resolved to not get braces when they were younger, and even though you would never tell them to their faces, you thought their smiles were adorable.

Shota hurriedly changed into some joggers and an oversized t-shirt, grabbed his wallet and phone, and rushed out. “I’ll be back in a few hours!” he yelled without looking behind him as he slammed the door. You sighed with a smile, looked at Jongseob and shrugged. He smirked and headed to the table to start on his homework. You removed the teabag from the mug, tossed it in the trash, and you’d almost made it to your bedroom when you were hit with a devastating wave of cramps across your low abdomen that radiated into your back and down your legs. You hissed in pain, bracing yourself in your door frame, and heard the faint squeak of the dining room table chair on the hardwood. “Y/n? You good?”

“Ah… yeah. I’m fine,” you replied with gritted teeth, trying not to let your voice sound as strained as it felt, but to no avail. You cringed as you heard a louder creak from the chair sliding on the floor once more, and soft footsteps approaching. “You don’t sound fine– o-oh my god!” Jongseob exclaimed as he rushed towards you, reaching out to steady you but hesitating, his hands hovering, not quite touching you. You cursed inwardly, realizing what you had to do.

“Okay listen, I know this looks bad, but–”

“Are you kidding? You can barely stand, y/n! Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Shota took my car to practice but I can order an uber or something, or–”

“Jongseob, you really listen to me. I’m fine,” you responded firmly. He looked back at you like you were crazy, his hands still hovering, unsure if you were about to collapse. “It’s my fucking period, okay?”

“Your–” Jongseob started, then paused, realization coloring his face a bright shade of pink. Here we go , you thought to yourself, already exasperated. He pulled his hands back, looking to the side, then back at you. “Okay, but. I mean… are you okay , though? You look like shit, no offense.”

You laughed, stiffly walking into your room and curling up on your bed, as he remained in the doorway. You looked up at him sideways. “You know what, if you’re offering… would you mind heating up my heating pad for me? I think it’s in the hutch, and it just needs two minutes in the microwave, and you gotta flip it halfway through.”

“You got it, dude,” he replied with a mock salute, rushing back down the hall and nearly killing himself tripping over his too-baggy jeans. You giggled quietly and rolled onto your back, legs bent for comfort, and slapped both hands over your face, sighing deeply. This was weird. Right? You guessed it could be worse. But with that thought, another cramp crashed through your body, wracking your hips with pain, and you turned your head to the side, moaning into your pillow as Jongseob walked in. He hesitated for a moment, not used to coming into your bedroom, but seeing the way you obviously weren’t about to stand up and take it from him, he walked over and handed it to you. “Here you go. Sorry about your, uh. Sorry you gotta deal with all this,” he said awkwardly.

“Just one of the many blessings of having a goddamn uterus, my friend!” you replied, laying the heating pad across your lower abdomen and sighing at the relief it brought. You looked up at Jongseob and he glanced to the side as soon as you made eye contact. There was a pause of silence as he looked down at the floor, fidgeting with his oversized hoodie sleeves. “Yeah. Um. Is there anything else I can do? Like, to help?” he asked.

“Yeah, go get a gun and shoot me,” you responded, your voice monotone. He laughed, his voice bright and slightly raspy. “Okay sure, will do,” he said, shaking his head and closing your door as he stepped out. Before the door closed completely though, he paused. “I’ll be in the dining room. Seriously though, let me know if you need anything. ‘s the least I can do since I’m a guest. ”

“You’ve way surpassed guest status, dude. But okayyy, thank yooouuu,” you replied, dragging out the words and trying to sound annoyed, when you were in fact relieved that he couldn’t see you smiling. Living with Shota, you didn’t really know what it was like to be taken care of in any way. That guy was such a baby that you were constantly in parent-mode.

This wasn’t bad. It was a little weird, but it wasn’t bad.

After about an hour or so, you dragged yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Opening the bottom cupboard, your face fell. No. This cannot be happening. You rummaged through the space, knocking everything over, opening every drawer and cupboard imaginable in the bathroom, with no luck. Your pad and tampon supply had completely run out. Why the fuck hadn’t you just started using a diva cup? You cursed yourself inwardly.

You rushed out into the living room, hand on your lower back (which was still on fire), and rummaged through your bag, because surely there had to be a stray hiding somewhere, right? Right?!

You sighed, frustrated. Jongseob looked up absently from his textbook at the table. “Whatcha lookin for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” you retorted, a mischievous smile on your face. He frowned, quickly realizing. “Ah, sorry,” he replied, looking back down at his book, his ears tinged red.

“Nah it’s all good. I just really didn’t want to have to go to the store today, but that’s what I get for not paying attention, I guess.”

He looked back up at you, worry pulling at his features. “You’re going to the store? In your condition?”

“Not like I have much of a choice! Motherfucker. When it rains, it really does pour. You want anything while I’m out?”

Jongseob stood up. “I’ll go,” he said.

You burst out laughing. “You? You’re gonna go to the store and buy my tampons? Don’t make me laugh, Jongseob. I appreciate the offer, but it’s all good. I got it.”

His face reddened at your response, but he stood his ground. “Y/n, look at you. You can barely walk. Just let me go, it’s not a big deal.”

“You don’t even know which ones I need!”

“Just… text me a photo of what the package looks like,” he replied quietly. Your face softened. He was really serious about this. And this shouldn’t have embarrassed you this much, but it did. Plus, he was right. You’d been determined to go to the store on your own but you were literally bracing yourself on any surface you could find, just to be able to walk around the house. Plus, you felt like you might have an accident any moment. Whatever happened, it needed to happen soon.

You dug around in your purse some more, pulled out your credit card, and handed it to him. And for the first time today, you felt your own face heat up. “Okay. Thanks, I really owe you one. I’ll text you what I need.”

“Cool,” he responded, a triumphant smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth but not quite making it. You assumed he was more excited about winning the argument than doing the task at hand. He grabbed his phone and keys and was out the door before you knew it. You headed to the bathroom to take photos of the empty packages of pads and tampons in your cupboard, then walked out into the hall and stood in the empty, quiet apartment for a moment with mixed feelings of warmth, relief, and embarrassment. But then, feeling another wave of pain and nausea coming on, you headed back to your bedroom to lay down.

About half an hour later, you heard the apartment door open, the sound of what could only be Jongseob removing his clunky shoes, and the muffled sound of a plastic bag. Your body relaxed in relief, as you’d become more and more uncomfortable as the time passed. You heard footsteps, followed by a couple gentle knocks at your bedroom door.

“Come in!” you yelled weakly.

“Hi, um, here’s the stuff,” he began timidly, peeking in. “Do you want me to put it in the bathroom, or–”

“Can you just bring it to me?” you whined. “I’ll put it away, don’t worry about all that. And thank you again, so much. You really didn’t have to do this. I feel weird,” you slapped a hand over your face, peeking up at him.

“Ah shit, please don’t. I don’t wanna make you feel weird. It’s really okay,” he replied, walking cautiously up to your bed and setting the bag on the floor. “I feel it’s the least I can do for just kinda hanging around here all the time. It’s no big deal at all.” There it was again, that flush spreading across his cheeks. You thought about how you’d been trying to be more sincere, less of a shithead to both him and Shota; and you wondered if he’d been trying to do the same. This softness that he was showing you, it wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility, but it just wasn’t something you were used to. Not from him.

“Well… thanks. You’ve really made my life a lot easier today,” you responded. He smiled, bowed his head slightly and rushed out, shutting the door softly behind him. You opened the bag and your jaw dropped at the sight. Not only had he gotten both the pads and tampons you needed, but he also grabbed your favorite chocolate and jelly candy. Your eyes watered. When had Jongseob grown up to be such a sweetheart?

You pulled out your phone, not feeling like walking all the way out to the dining room:

y/n: seob!! the candy, are you kidding me? :’)

js: hehe ur welcome

y/n: i know i said I owed you one, but like… for reeeeal. This is fucked up

js: meh, it was your money. I just saw it at the checkout and thought you might want some

y/n: [cry emoji] [heart emoji]

js: [salute emoji] [tongue sticking out emoji]

You went to the bathroom to take care of things, then returned to your room. Feeling much more relaxed than before, you laid in bed once more, snacking on the candy lazily. You could feel your pain medication wearing off, but were too tired to get up and take some more, so you kept scrolling on your phone until you drifted off to sleep.

Your nap was perfect, until suddenly, it wasn’t. Crushing pain in your lower abdomen and back cast waves of nausea throughout your body. You curled up onto your side in the fetal position, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but nothing you were doing was helping. The pain was becoming severe, but you felt like you would scarcely be able to get up. Barely awake, you began to groan in pain, tears threatening to spill, and that’s when you heard the knock on the door.

“Y/n? You okay?”

Oh, great. In the haze of your nap, you’d almost forgotten that Jongseob was still here. You moaned a weak response that didn’t really come out as words.

“I’m gonna come in, okay?”

“Kay!” you yelled, eyes squeezed shut. Jongseob walked in a little less cautiously than before. “What’s goin on? What do you need?”

You tried to answer, but were dealing with a cramp so severe it had taken your breath away. You groaned into the pillow.

“Do you need medicine?”

You nodded, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Heating pad?”

You nodded again.

“Okay hold tight,” he replied, rushing out. He came back not long after with the heating pad all warmed up, a couple painkillers, and a glass of water. He gave you the heating pad first, so you could lay it across your abdomen, and handed you the painkillers and water. As soon as you took them, you laid back down on the bed, wincing in pain. You hadn’t had a period this bad in a while, and although you’d technically be fine, you were in so much pain you couldn’t think. Your breathing was rapid and you held onto the heating pad for dear life, when you felt a light pressure on your back.

You hadn’t noticed that Jonseob had sat himself on the bed next to you, but there he was, rubbing gentle circles into your back. At his touch, the tears that were threatening to spill finally came. Not surprisingly, this caused Jongseob to panic.

“Oh… oh my god I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked frantically, pausing his movements. You shook your head “no,” and realizing that this situation was way beyond the weirdness of before, just decided to give in to the comfort that was being offered. You grabbed his hand and moved it down to your lower back.

“Right here. It hurts so bad. Please don’t stop,” you hiccupped pathetically. He hummed gently and began hesitantly, most likely because your shirt had ridden up to expose the skin of your lower back. With the agony you were in, you couldn’t be bothered, but he pulled the back of your shirt down to cover your skin and continued the gentle motions. Your breathing slowed a little, and you leaned into his touch.

He began humming softly, and as the pain meds started to kick in, your body started to relax more, and, grateful as could be, you felt like you might drift off to sleep again. “Seob?” you said drowsily, your voice wet with barely dried tears.

“Yeah, y/n?” he asked quietly.

“You’ve been so sweet today. But please don’t tell Shota about this. I’ll never hear the end of it. You probably won’t, either,” you said with a wry laugh. Jongseob laughed heartily in response, breaking through the tension in the room with a breath that he seemed to have been holding.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it.”

Chapter 2: Don't Go

Over the next several weeks, you noticed Jongseob coming over a little more often than usual, if that was even possible. He’d started spending the night most weekends and even some weeknights. You’d have to start charging him rent, you thought, laughing inwardly. As if you could ever do that. He constantly complained about how broke he was, and every time you asked him why he moved into the dorms instead of trying to move in with you and Shota, he always offered some lame excuse about the requirements for his financial aid or not wanting to burden you, or he would just change the subject entirely. You really didn’t mind him coming over so much, you just wondered what his thought process really was. It didn’t make any sense.

Meanwhile, winter was coming to an end, and with it, winter term at Jongseob and Shota’s university. One Saturday morning as you were all in the common area, Shota blurted out, “We should do a movie night. To celebrate the end of the term.” You looked up at him from your oatmeal, and Jongseob, sitting next to him on the couch, just replied, “Okay dude, let’s do it. When?”

“Tonight!”

“Tonight?” you and Jongseob both blurted out at the same time. Shota appeared completely unfazed, his eyes glued to the first-person shooter game that Jongseob had been playing with him all morning. “Yeah! Tonight. I’m pretty sure the guys from school should all be available. I’ll text them.” You and Jongseob glanced at each other and smiled. He shook his head and looked back at the television screen.

“Do the guys from school include Keeho?” you asked, and Shota hissed underneath his breath as his character suddenly died. Jongseob laughed triumphantly at his victory, causing you to restrain your own laughter. His laugh was so funny and shockingly high-pitched, and when it was loud, it almost always caught you off guard. Shota looked over at you. “Yes,” he said blankly, his eyes showing zero understanding of the nuance of your question. You nodded. “Cool. He’s really funny. So I was just wondering.”

“Yeah, he’s funny. Do you like him?” Shota responded dryly, pulling out his phone nonchalantly. Oh boy, that backfired. “No!” you replied immediately. “Not in that way. I thought. I mean…” you hesitated, suddenly wanting to be swallowed by the floor. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Like… Keeho?”

Shota looked over at you, dark eyes huge and round, face blank. He was so damn cute, but you wished he was able to pick up on subtext a little better. “Yeah, of course I like Keeho. We wouldn’t be friends if I didn’t.” You looked at Jongseob, but he was just scrolling on his phone, clearly tuning out the both of you.

“That’s not what I…” you sighed. “Nevermind,” you said with a chuckle, “just let me know if there’s people coming over tonight so we can get ready.” At that, Shota’s phone chimed and he held up an index finger obnoxiously, still looking at his phone. “There is indeed, people coming over tonight!” he yelled, jumping up excitedly and tackling Jongseob on the couch, eliciting a string of screaming and profanity that had you laughing uncontrollably.

“Alright you little freaks, my only request is that you help clean this place up before everyone comes over,” and at this, they reluctantly stopped their play fight and got to work.

Several hours later, you heard the first knock on the door, and you opened it to find Intak and Jiung, each armed with a 6-pack and a bag full of snacks. You welcomed them in warmly, and before you had a chance to shut the door, Keeho and Taeyang darted up the steps and made their way in as well.

Shota made a beeline past the other guys towards Keeho and hugged him, laughing and hanging around his neck long after a normal hug would have been over. Yep, here we go , you thought to yourself. Keeho didn’t seem to mind the attention, you noticed, as he kept one hand firmly on Shota’s back and the other free to gesture dramatically while he talked to the others or to sweetly fix Shota’s bleach-damaged bangs when they got tangled over his forehead. You smiled at the affection shown in this group, but made a solemn decision to keep an eye on Keeho. Shota was the most important person in the world to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear seeing him get hurt.

“Hi,” a voice beckoned behind you, and you turned to look up at Jiung, smiling at you sweetly, his dark, sharp eyes contrasting fiercely with his blazing copper locks. “Sorry, is it okay if we put these beers in the fridge?”

“Of course!” you beckoned him and Intak towards the fridge, helping them move things out of the way to make room for the drinks. Taeyang was still talking and laughing with Keeho and Shota near the entryway, but you noticed that Jongseob was still on the couch, joining in the conversation every now and then but mostly scrolling on his phone and looking a little out of place.

Most of Shota’s friends at school were in dance or some other music-related field (all of the guys who came over tonight were on his dance team), but Jongseob was an English major, making it so that he had some overlap with Shota’s classes but certainly not as much as the other guys. You knew Jongseob was mature and didn’t get jealous too easily, but something about the sight of him being the only one on the couch tugged at your heart, so you took a seat next to him, plopping down with so much force that it jostled him.

“Sup,” you said, opening a not-yet-cold beer. “Sup,” he half-said, half-laughed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. You offered him your beer and watched out of the corner of your eye as he took the first sip, wincing a little at the bitterness, but recovering quickly. He took another drink, this one a bigger gulp, and you smacked his thigh playfully. “Agh!” he yelled, rubbing his leg, as you got up to fetch another. As you sat back down next to him and opened the second beer, he offered you a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, sipping your drink, as the rest of the guys started to congregate closer to the living room. It had been a while since you and Shota had had people over, and you were reminded of how small your place was. With just the couch and loveseat, there probably wasn’t enough room for everyone.

“Ah shit, do we need to grab some floor cushions or a chair from the dining room?” you started, but Intak and Jiung urged you to sit, reassuring you that everyone would fit just fine.

Shota sat Keeho down on the loveseat next to him, while the other three guys squeezed onto the couch next to you and Jongseob. Jongseob had been seated at the far left side of the couch, so to your right sat Intak, Jiung, and on the very right side Taeyang, who was squeezed so tightly against the arm of the couch that he ended up sitting on the floor between Jiung’s legs. You began to stand up again, stressed about the hosting situation and kicking yourself for not preparing better.

“Taeyang, can I please get you a pillow, or–”

“Ma’am!” he screamed too-loudly, eliciting an eruption of laughter from the rest of the guys. Taeyang had such a pretty and elegant face, that it contrasted hilariously with his near-constant ear-shattering yelling. “Please sit down,” he demanded. “My ass is cushion enough. I’ll just lay on top of all of you if I get uncomfy.”

“Okay, okay, suit yourself” you laughed, holding your hands up defensively and realizing you were no match for the most diva-esque of Shota’s dance friends. You didn’t love being referred to as “ma’am,” but Taeyang was so funny that you could let it slide.

Shota turned on the TV and started scrolling through the movies when you realized you didn’t even know what movie he’d planned on making everyone watch, but when he landed on an incredibly disturbing horror movie and started it gleefully, you realized you wouldn’t have even needed to guess. Despite looking like an actual cherub, your brother was obsessed with all things horror, to the point that you weren’t even sure if he watched any other genre.

The movie started and you tried getting comfortable, but found it embarrassingly difficult to ignore the seating situation. Despite Taeyang’s gracious decision to sit on the floor, you were still squeezed snugly on the couch with the other guys, tightly enough that your thighs and arms were pressed against Jongseob on your left and Intak on your right. The contrast between the two was distracting: Jongseob on your left was not much shorter than Intak but he was so much smaller. He was wearing a cozy gray sweatsuit but you could feel the smallness of his body underneath it, his arms thin from spending all his spare time reading and writing. You could also tell that he was trying to make himself small, to give you as much space as possible – despite how futile that was.

Intak, on the other hand, was large, solid, and muscular, dressed in fitted jeans and a boat-necked black t-shirt that dipped slightly to display his defined collarbones. He wasn’t quite manspreading, but he certainly seemed to feel comfortable taking up space, his hand resting on his thigh, and consequently touching yours passively. Once you’d noticed this, there was no paying attention to the movie. You tried your hardest, but ever since Jongseob had rubbed your back when your period cramps were about to kill you weeks before, you’d realized how embarrassingly touch-starved you were.

You figured, however, that Jongseob probably just saw you as an older sister. Intak, on the other hand, had flirted with you on more than one occasion, and he was absolutely stunning. Still, something about the situation had you feeling slightly uneasy, a feeling that went away gradually with each beer.

The movie ended up devolving into everyone taking a drink every time Keeho or Taeyang screamed (which honestly just sounded like an excuse to get really fucked up really fast). You’d been taking tiny sips, but it didn’t seem like the others had, since Shota was basically laying on Keeho at this point, Taeyang was screaming at Jiung to rub his shoulders and Jiung was clearly about to snap; plus, Intak had started to brush his hand up against your thigh a little more carelessly, and Jongseob… wait, where was Jongseob?

He’d gone to the restroom but that had seemed like a little while ago. So either he was shitting his brains out, or…

You got up from the couch quickly and headed towards the bathroom. Knock knock knock , you tapped on the door quietly, trying not to alert anyone else back in the living room. “Seob? You okay?” you asked quietly, your face pressed to the door. The only thing you heard on the other side of the door was slurred murmuring, which was concerning. You tried the door handle and it was unlocked. Cracking the door just a tad, you announced, “I’m gonna come in, okay?” The only response you heard was a defeated-sounding groan, but it didn’t sound like a protest, so you carefully tiptoed through the door and latched it quietly behind you.

The sight you saw next was one of the most pitiful you’d seen in your entire life, and it made your heart lurch painfully in your chest. Jongseob was hugging the toilet bowl, sitting with his legs to one side. He had stripped down to his white undershirt; he’d lost his sweatshirt and it was hanging halfway out of the bathtub. You could see a thin sheen of sweat on his arm, on which was resting his head, the ends of his hair sticking to the back of his neck uncomfortably.

You walked over to him and got down on your knees, your legs a little wobbly, as you realized that you were a little drunker yourself than you’d realized. “Sorry Seob, I should have made sure you were drinking water. You okay?” He nodded into the toilet bowl and groaned, still not looking up. But in the next moment, he retched, and seemed to only be dry-heaving; you realized he’d probably already vomited everything in his stomach. You felt a sudden surge of melancholic protectiveness, and began rubbing his back. You could feel his shoulder blades poking out; he was so small, and as it dawned on you that he was probably a hopeless lightweight, you made a mental note to yourself to never let him drink around you again without you keeping an eye on him.

Bang Bang Bang!

The sound of someone pounding on the door made you jolt. “Occupied! Use the one in my room!” you yelled, and heard sloppy-sounding footsteps headed towards your room. That must have been Shota. You turned your attention back to the mess before you. Jongseob hadn’t moved from his position, his head still resting on his arm. You wondered if he was asleep, and with your other free hand, you began to run your fingers through his hair gently, pushing it out of his face. His hair wasn’t yet long enough to “hold up” while he puked, but you figured this was some kind of equivalent.

After doing this for a few minutes and making yourself sleepy in the process, you got up, grabbed an empty glass from the counter, and filled it with tap water. “Okay buddy, are you ready to sip some water?” you asked, to which he answered with a vehement shake of his head “no.” You sighed. “What about rinsing your mouth out, at least?” It looked like he was about to shake his head again but he paused and turned slightly towards you, accepting the glass of water. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glanced at you for a moment to accept the water before taking a sip and spitting the water into the toilet. “There you go,” you encouraged, taking the glass from him.

He put his arms back up on the toilet seat and rested his head there again, but this time turned towards you. He made eye contact with you and started giggling, which made you giggle back, but you didn’t know what you were laughing at. You were just still a little drunk. “Y/n,” he whined, his voice low, raspy, and tired, as he closed his eyes again. “Yeah?” you replied, smiling and ruffling his hair. “Thisis… ssoo embarrassing.” You couldn’t help but laugh again, at his slurred speech, but also at the situation. “Eh, it happens to the best of us, don’t sweat it,” you reassured him, patting his back lightly.

Head still resting on his arms, he opened his eyes and looked at you sideways again, but this time he didn’t say anything, he just stared, a goofy smile on his face. You noticed that the flushing in his face brought out his freckles, and this realization made your throat a little dry for some reason. You took a sip of the water and cleared your throat. You looked back and he was still staring at you. You made your eyes dart to the left and right, then shrugged. “What?” you asked him, feeling more and more self-conscious by the moment. He giggled. “Nothing,” he replied, still smiling.

“Okay funny guy, I think it’s time to get you to bed,” you announced, motioning towards him but generally unclear on how you were going to make this happen. “Just leave me here, y/n,” he argued. “I’ll sleep in the tub. Plus, I might throw up again.”

“You are not going to sleep in the tub, dude, you’ll wake up unable to move your neck and it’ll be my fault for letting you. C’mon, you’ll be way more comfy in a bed. Here, hold onto me,” you instructed him as he slung an arm around your shoulder to help you half-walk, half-carry him out of the bathroom and towards Shota’s room. But when you arrived at his doorway, the door wide open, you found Shota in bed, limbs tangled with none other than Keeho’s, both of them fast asleep. It dawned on you that if anyone else had stayed over, they’d likely be taking up the couches.

You sighed. “Okay change of plans,” you said, leading him to your own bedroom instead. You opened the door, led him inside, and plopped him down onto your bed. You helped him get under the covers and were about to go back out to the living room when Jongseob wordlessly grabbed your hand.

You paused and bent down towards him. “Seob? You need anything else?”

“Don’t go,” he responded sleepily, eyes closed, clearly half-asleep if not fully asleep at this point. You’d been so stressed out seeing him this sick for the first time that you were nearly powerless against his request. You ran your free hand through your hair, weighing your options and unsure of what to do, when Jongseob yanked you into bed.

There was no way he knew what he was doing, you thought, and you were a little worried about what would happen in the morning, but right now you were tired, still buzzed, and not in the mood to fight, so you got under the covers and let him cuddle up next to you. You laid on your back as he turned towards you, slung his arm around your waist, and pressed his face against your arm. You stared at the ceiling, stifling laughter at the absurdity of your situation, while trying to ignore the way your heart rate sped up. It was probably just the alcohol, you thought, as you drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3: Waking Up

You woke up the next morning to the sensation of your head pounding. You opened your eyes, looked at the ceiling, glanced to your left and nearly jumped out of your skin. Jongseob was curled up towards the wall away from you, his hair sticking out in all directions, lightly snoring. You looked down and you were fully clothed; he was too. You clutched your chest, letting out a huge exhale of relief, as the previous night’s memories started to come back to you.

You gingerly crept out of bed, trying not to disturb him. Thinking back on how sick he'd been, you figured he would be asleep for a while. You grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the bathroom, and quietly set it on the nightstand with a couple aspirin and a piece of ginger candy. You left the bedroom, latching the door gently, and headed out to the living room, passing Shota’s room on your way. You glanced in as you walked by: sleepy Shota, but no Keeho. The rest of the place was empty too, so you figured the guys had all gotten up a little earlier and headed home; it was late in the morning, after all.

As you started picking up beer cans and prepared to make breakfast, Shota wandered down the hall, looking at you sleepily. “Good morning, party animal!” you teased. He groaned and smiled, rubbing his face. “So… you and Keeho? Last night?” you inquired carefully. “What about us?” Shota responded, confused. You gave him a look. “Dude. You guys went to bed together.”

“Oh yeah, that! I was in a cuddly mood – you know how I get when I drink – and there was no room for him in the living room since Jiung and Intak took up the couch and Taeyang took the loveseat.”

“Oh. So… just… friend stuff?”

Shota looked at you, more confused than ever. “Y/n, you get so weird whenever you talk about Keeho. Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

You laughed, annoyed at how dense he was. “Trust me, I’m good. I don’t think I’m his type.”

“You never know!”

“Oh, I think I might…” you muttered under your breath, quietly enough that he couldn’t hear you. “Oh, about last night. Shota, I’m gonna tell you something… and you have to promise not to get all weird about it.”

“No promises, but what’s up?” Shota asked, his curiosity piqued. At that moment, you heard your bedroom door open, and you both looked in that direction. Shota looked at you, his brows furrowed inquisitively, and before you saw him, you both heard Jongseob yelling down the hall, “Y/n? Why was I in your bed?”

Shota’s eyes widened. “You did not ,” to which you exclaimed “I swear it’s not what it looks like!” and as Jongseob entered the common area, Shota gave him a horrified look, which was all the false confirmation he needed to start panicking. “O-oh my god, don’t tell me we–”

“You slept with my sister , dude? Really?” Shota demanded. He didn’t look mad, just in abject shock. Jongseob’s face looked like it was burning up, and this nightmare of a conversation had moved so quickly and chaotically that you hadn’t been able to get a word in, but you were fed up.

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” you yelled, a little louder than you meant to. Shota’s head snapped towards you, his eyes large and focused. You immediately regretted your volume; he hated it when you got angry. Jongseob looked in your direction but couldn’t seem to make eye contact with you, his face still on fire.

“Jongseob, listen. You got really sick last night. I was going to put you in Shota’s bed but Keeho was there – I know, I know, stay focused, that is not what we’re talking about right now,” you snapped as Jongseob stifled laughter and glanced in Shota’s direction before turning his attention towards you again. “So I put you in my bed and I was gonna go find somewhere else to sleep, but you yanked me into bed like a clingy little monkey. Nothing weird. We just slept.”

Silence hung in the air for a few agonizing moments. “Y/n, why didn’t you just say that?” Shota asked innocently, a guilty smile forming on his face. You darted over to him and put your hands on his neck, mock-strangling him, as he screamed and pretended to be murdered by you, and Jongseob’s laughter broke the tension in the room even more.

Once you’d wrestled Shota to the floor and then forced him and Jongseob to begin cleaning up the rest of the mess in the living room, you started on breakfast burritos for the three of you. As Jongseob bent over to pick up one of the cans, however, he held his hand to his head, grimacing. You tried not to notice, but felt yourself watching him a little more closely since last night, feeling a little more protective than usual. “Seob? Did you take the aspirin I left on my nightstand?” you asked. His eyes darted towards you, looking embarrassed. “Ah, um, no, I didn’t realize that was for me.” You smiled, rolled your eyes and waved him off in the direction of your bedroom, and he shuffled off down the hall.

You pulled a bag of frozen hashbrowns out of the freezer and poured some into a preheated pan, stirred it around with some cooking oil, and popped a lid onto it to let them soften up. Shota headed to the bathroom as Jongseob came back out. To your surprise, he took up the space next to you and started helping with the prep, chopping the block of ham that you’d pulled out. He didn’t normally help you cook breakfast when he was over, so this was a nice change.

“Hey,” he began.

“Uh, hey?” you said, looking over at him with a confused smile. He didn’t look at you, and kept his eyes on what he was doing. “I wanted to thank you. Y’know… for taking care of me last night. I feel really bad about it, and pretty embarrassed. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” You could see the tips of his ears reddening, and grabbed one of them playfully, eliciting a surprised yell from him. “Back it up,” he yelled, “or I’ll touch you with my ham hands!” he held his hands out to you menacingly and you put your hands up in surrender, laughing.

“Listen, don’t feel bad. It’s fine. I said this to you last night, and I’ll say it again, but… it happens to the best of us. I’ve been there before, so I know how nice it is to have someone looking after you,” you reassured him. He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place, his melancholic brown eyes filled with a mixture of gratefulness, shame, and something else that took you slightly off guard. “Plus,” you continued, deciding to step out on a limb with what you were about to say.

“You’re pretty cuddly. It could have been worse.”

Jongseob’s jaw dropped and he looked like he was about to say something, but just covered his face and dropped into a squat, a low scream muffled by his hands. You laughed triumphantly, ruffling his already-messy bleach-damaged hair. However, although you’d meant to tease him , you felt your own face heating up, and felt grateful that he wasn’t looking at you.

You went back to cooking, as Shota came out and sat on the couch, started up the gaming console, and yelled at Jongseob to come join him. Jongseob squinted his eyes at you and you stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, before he left the kitchen.

The rest of the day went as normal, the three of you just hanging on the couch, until Shota heard his phone chime and let out a small gasp. You wondered if it was finally Keeho’s confession.

“Y/n?” he looked over at you.

“Yeah?” you answered, raising your eyebrows at him and smiling expectantly.

“Intak… wants to know if I can give him your number.”

You stared at him. Jongseob looked at Shota, then at you, brows raised. You glanced at Jongseob, then back at Shota, whose eyes were wide, waiting for your response.

“U-uh, I mean, sure? Why not, right?” you replied. You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. You were single, and apparently he was too (you’d hoped so, based on the signals he was putting out last night), he was attractive, really attractive. He seemed nice.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s up to you entirely,” Shota responded, his face a blank slate. You furrowed your brows, annoyed at his lack of emotion on the matter. “Well, you know him better than I do. Do you think it’s a good idea? Are you comfortable giving him my number?”

Shota looked down and bit his thumbnail for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought. He looked back up at you and smiled brightly. “Yeah. He’s a good guy. I don’t see why not.” You glanced at Jongseob, whose face seemed to fall ever so slightly at Shota’s endorsement. But he looked away right as you caught this. “What’s the problem, Seob? You think he’s too young for me?” you teased. Intak was a couple years older than Jongseob, but still several years younger than you.

“No!” he insisted, his ears turning pink as he scrolled on his phone casually. You eyed him suspiciously, then looked back at Shota. “Alright, just give it to him I guess.”

“Okayyy,” Shota sang, texting Intak back furiously.

The remainder of the afternoon dragged on lazily, with the guys playing video games on the couch, and you restlessly moving from the living room to the kitchen to your bedroom, wanting to be productive but feeling too tired from the alcohol the night prior. Later that evening as you scrolled in bed, you received a text from an unknown number. You smiled and opened it, a gentle flutter in your stomach as you’d guessed correctly: Intak.

You texted back and forth with him for a while, just light smalltalk at first. He asked how you were feeling after last night, you asked how he got home and apologized for disappearing in the middle of the movie. You left out the part about Jongseob getting sick and sleeping in your bed, wanting to protect his privacy, so you made it sound like you were the one who wasn’t feeling well. He said he thought you were really pretty, and that he’d love to take you out sometime, causing you to blush and hide under the covers even though you were completely alone in your room.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt giddy, but slightly off. You assumed it was just the nervousness at the prospect of talking to someone after so long.

Yes… that had to be it.

Chapter 4: Settling Down

You and Intak had continued texting almost nonstop since that evening, and had settled on going to see a movie the next weekend, Friday night. He’d asked which movie you wanted to see – you said you didn’t care – and the both of you therefore ended up settling on an action movie that you really didn’t care for. It was, however, fun. Intak was a perfect gentleman: he picked you up, paid for and carried the snacks, and when he dropped you off, he didn’t ask to come inside. At the front door of your apartment, he did, however, lean in to kiss you.

This caught you by surprise, but it wasn’t totally unwelcome. You closed your eyes and leaned into it. His lips were slightly chapped but soft nonetheless, and the kiss was over before you knew it; chaste, and quick. You smiled at him, your face warm against the cool spring night air. He smiled back bashfully, looking to the side and biting his lip. “Text me?” he asked. “Yeah,” you responded quietly. He touched your arm briefly before heading down the stairs, as you walked into the apartment.

You stepped inside, the smile still plastered on your face, but the moment you walked inside, you regretted not controlling your face better: Soul and Jongseob immediately started to roast you.

“Oooooooo, who’s got you smiling like that?” Soul yelled from the couch, wiggling all his fingers at you teasingly. Before you could control it, you could feel all the blood rush to your face and Soul started laughing maniacally. You made eye contact with Jongseob and he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, just looked back at the TV and giggled quietly next to Soul.

“Leave me alone ,” you groaned, unable to stop smiling, now thoroughly embarrassed as you opened the fridge door aimlessly, mostly to make yourself seem busy. You collected your thoughts and your body suddenly noticed the constricting sensations of your date night outfit, which you couldn’t wait to get rid of. You hurried to your room and changed, coming back out in baggy sweats and a tank top, headed to the fridge, and opened a beer.

You took a long, cold gulp of it in the kitchen, then walked over and sat down on the couch next to Jongseob who was sitting cross-legged, his loose olive-green shorts bunching past the knees, and an oversized black band t-shirt pooling in his lap. You’d noticed his dark roots had started coming in, and thought the contrast against the blonde actually looked nice.

“So?” Jongseob asked, catching you off guard, as you turned to look at him and he was giving you a mischievous smile, his eyebrows raised. “So what?” you responded, sincerely confused. “What movie did you guys see? How was the date?” he asked, looking at you like you were crazy. For some reason, Kim Jongseob asking you how your date went made you feel strange, as butterflies threatened to break through your ribcage and you felt your face heating up again. You recovered quickly, though.

“It was good!” you answered, trying your best to look and sound casual. “We saw that new Godzilla one, I can’t remember the name of it. Lots of carnage and explosions and mayhem, Soul would have loved it.” Soul’s eyes stayed glued to the television screen, his fingers working furiously at the video game he was playing, and whined loudly, “Dammit y/n, I really wanted to see that one!”

“Just because I saw it doesn’t mean you can’t also see it, you little weirdo. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil it,” you responded, laughing at his immature reaction. Jongseob’s eyes went back to the TV, his questions stopping there. You felt like he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to press. Something in his demeanor tonight was confusing, and you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. But something seemed off.

The next morning you came out to the kitchen in your pajamas and saw that Jongseob was already in the dining room doing homework. It didn’t look like Soul was awake yet. “Good morning!” you greeted him cheerfully as you started the electric kettle. “Morning,” he responded, sounding heavily distracted, his back hunched as he typed furiously on his laptop.

You knew he must be in focused-writing mode, because he was usually much friendlier when you came out, so you decided to leave him be. You popped a couple slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster and continued making your tea. Jongseob sighed audibly, catching your attention. You looked over at him, his chin propped in his hand, expression looking displeased. “Everything okay over there?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” he replied, unconvincingly. “Actually, Y/n, would you mind doing me a huge favor?” he asked, turning towards you inquisitively. You looked back at him, wondering what it could be. “Uh, I guess? What’s up?” you answered hesitantly, bringing your breakfast to the table as he angled his laptop in your direction.

“It’s this piece I’m working on for my poetry class. I keep going over it again and again, but there’s something off about it. I don’t like it. It felt different in my head, and I’m not sure what the problem is. Will you read it and let me know what you think?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” you replied, relieved that it wasn’t really anything serious. You did a quick scroll through the document and it was pretty long, about a page and a half. You scrolled up to the top and started reading. About halfway through, you realized it was a poem about unrequited love. Something in your chest tugged. The idea of Jongseob longing for someone and them not returning his feelings made you feel a little sick to your stomach. Did this poem come from personal experience? Or was he just drawing on other inspiration, trying to come up with something for the class?

Realizing you had stopped paying attention to what the lines said, you subtly started over, but not subtly enough to avoid alerting Jongseob. “Ugh, is it that hard to get through? See, I tried to make it flow well but I’m worried I keep overthinking it and–”

“No it’s not that,” you interrupted him, “I think I’m just still waking up. I don’t read a ton of poetry so I gotta get myself into poem-reading mode. But also…” you hesitated for a moment, “..this piece is kind of a bummer. Don’t tell me someone’s got you brokenhearted, dude.”

Jongseob flushed deeply but played it off immediately, clearing his throat and immediately replying, “Oh it’s just for the assignment, I’m drawing on a bunch of different stuff, don’t worry ‘bout it.” You laughed in response, noting how pink his face got. You weren’t convinced, but decided against pushing any further.

As you started over and continued slowly through the poem, you reached the end and realized you knew what he meant. The last bit of the piece fell a little flat, like the emotion throughout didn’t quite carry through to the end, or like something was being left out. You read the last third again, and rested your chin on your hand, fingers drumming on your cheek thoughtfully. “Okay, I see what you mean. It’s totally this last chunk. It almost feels… dishonest?”

“How do you mean?” he asked, scooting his chair next to yours, brows furrowed and angling the laptop towards him slightly and studying the screen as he strained to read the section you referenced. You tried not to react to his face suddenly being so close to yours, as you used the trackpad to highlight the beginning of the part that seemed off.

“Like, starting right here. It kinda feels like it switches to something a little too analytical. Like, I dunno, like the poem is trying too hard?” You scroll up to the beginning of the poem. “See, the way it begins and the way it flows into the middle, you’re describing a feeling in a way that feels very emotional. Like the reader can really feel what you’re feeling. There’s a certain rawness to it.”

“Mhm, okay,” Jongseob responded, nodding his head as he continued listening to your feedback.

“But right… here,” you continued, hovering the cursor on the second page near the end, “it’s like you back away emotionally and start getting a little too smarty-pants about it. Don’t get me wrong, the writing is still really good but it just suddenly becomes so much less personal-feeling. Like in the first part of the poem you’re describing the feeling of falling in love, but then in the very last part you try to be clever about the unrequited feelings, instead of continuing with that vulnerability. And… I dunno, I guess that could be intentional and still make a lot of sense artistically, even more so, but it just doesn’t flow. It loses that rawness and just doesn’t feel as honest.”

“Mmmm,” Jongseob hummed in response. He rested his face in his hand and leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, still staring at the screen. He ran his hand through his unstyled hair, barely achieving anything as it flopped right back down into his face. “Okay, yeah, that’s good. I see what you mean. That’s super helpful. And uh, sorry to bum you out so early in the morning,” he added with a shy smile, canines peeking out just barely as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey, no worries, happy I could help. Your writing is, like, really good. I know I’m not great at compliments and I basically just tease you and Shota nonstop, but… you are seriously talented.”

Jongseob smiled, bowing his head shyly. “Thanks, y/n. That means a lot coming from you.”

You fought the urge to come back with a sarcastic response and just opted for ruffling his hair and getting up from the table. In the kitchen washing your plate, you paused and turned back towards him again. “Hey, Seob?”

“Yeah?” he asked, not looking up from his laptop.

“You know you can.. Uh… like, if you need to talk about anything. Or whatever. You know I’m here, right?”

Jongseob looked up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of embarrassment and affection. “Thanks. Yeah, I guess. I appreciate that.” You smiled back at him, finished up in the kitchen, then headed to the couch to read a book. But not long after, Jongseob joined you, gently plopping down on the couch next to you. Wedging one foot on the couch to get more comfortable, he opened up a book of his own and started reading.

Your throat felt tight and you found it difficult to focus on the words on the page, having to read the same paragraph over and over. Something about the scene made your heart feel so… full. And warm. You managed to calm down and savored the moments of peaceful parallel reading before Shota woke up to start filling the house with playful noise.

Chapter 5: Let's Go

The next couple months were mostly a blur, with Intak (and the rest of the guys, really) coming over nearly every weekend to do everything from watching movies to playing video games or board games, or sometimes just sitting around with some beers and talking shit.

Even though spring term had begun and everyone had a mostly full course load, they all still made time to have fun on the weekends, which you respected. It’s not something you had found yourself doing when you were working on your undergrad (which led to some serious burnout), and like your past self, there was only one person in particular who ever missed these hangouts: Jongseob.

As the year had progressed, you’d noticed that he’d become increasingly diligent with his coursework, constantly typing away on his laptop, or laying on the couch with his nose stuck in a book. On the weekends, he was the first person up and the last person you saw before going to bed, his face always lit up by his screen – which, you’d noted, had the brightness turned all the way up and would probably result in him needing glasses before he graduated.

Meanwhile, you and Intak were casually dating at this point. But despite the dates, the constant texting, and the few late-night flings, you found yourself not feeling particularly intimate with him. You hoped he’d feel the same, because you’d hate to make things weird in the friend group. Not that Shota wasn’t already doing that with Keeho – whatever it was that they had going on; you tried not to think about it too much. But with Intak, he was such a romantic, and for now at least, you wanted things to stay casual and simple.

At the same time, you’d noticed that Jongseob had started to become a little more distant. It made sense, since he was so busy with school, and since you’d started seeing someone. But for some reason you couldn’t place, for a reason that eluded logic and that you felt deep in your gut, you didn’t like it. You’d felt like the two of you had become closer for a bit, and then he had started to withdraw. He didn’t smile as much. And he seemed so overworked.

For that reason, on a particularly sunny Saturday, with Shota gone at an extra-long dance practice with Intak and the others, you decided to take Jongseob on a surprise picnic.

On one of the nights that Jongseob had surprised you by staying up with everyone, you were all playing a drinking game which included a mini version of “never have I ever,” during which it was divulged that Jongseob had never gone on a picnic before. Everyone started babying and teasing him the moment he divulged this information, lamenting that his youth had been wasted on studying, although he hadn’t seemed to mind – he didn’t realize what he was missing, after all.

You’d gotten all the supplies the night before, complete with food and snacks, drinks, playing cards, and a frisbee. You didn’t own an aesthetically pleasing picnic basket and even considered buying one, but they were so expensive and you already had a cooler and other bags to carry the supplies in, so you decided to be frugal and skip it.

After taking a quick shower, you threw on some light makeup and a comfortable outfit and headed out to the living room. But shit , your heart was racing. You suddenly felt incredibly dumb, staring Jongseob down as he lounged on the couch in his pajamas, reading a book for one of his classes. He looked up, glanced down at your outfit, and blinked a couple times before saying, “Morning, Y/n. You look nice. What’s up?”

You fought the heat that crept into your face as you responded, “Get dressed, bitch, we’re going on a picnic.”

He blinked a couple more times, his mouth hanging open, then closed, before he burst out laughing. You put a hand on your hip while you waited for him to finish; you acted annoyed, but it was nice hearing him laugh so hard after how quiet he’d been lately.

He looked back down at his book and then glanced up at you, your hand still on your hip, your eyebrows raised expectantly. “Oh shit, you’re serious. Uhh, sorry, I don’t think I have time to–”

“Yes you do,” you interrupted him, walking over and snatching the book out of his hands, making sure not to lose his place. He made a low whining noise of annoyance and threw his head back on the couch, defeated, staring back at you from under his too-long bangs. He stuck his bottom lip out and tried blowing upwards to get them out of his face, but they just landed right back in the same spot, covering up his eyes again.

“Seob, you’ve been working yourself to death lately. I know you have a lot to do, but you’ve gotta take a break every now and then.”

“I do take breaks!”

“Doom scrolling on your phone in between homework sessions isn’t a break,” you retorted, and he rolled his eyes. You continued, “You need to go outside. Bring your work if you have to, but you’ve gotta get some fresh air and relax at least a little bit.”

At this suggestion, his face softened as he appeared to realize you weren’t going to let him get out of this. “Okay, fine,” he moaned, standing up from the couch as he headed towards Shota’s room to get dressed. “Hurry up,” you yelled down the hall at him as you started packing everything into the cooler.

He came back out after just a minute, dressed in a white oversized long-sleeve button-up, some denim shorts so baggy and long that they might as well have been pants, and a pair of white high-top sneakers. Your eyes drifted downwards and noticed nearly half the bottom buttons on his shirt were left undone, and narrowed your eyes, wondering if it was on purpose or if he’d only half dressed himself amidst his morning sleepiness. Before you had the chance to interject, he pocketed his phone, sweeping a portion of the shirt aside, clearly aware of its unbuttoned state. Weirdo , you thought stubbornly, shouldering the cooler.

“You ready?”

“Let’s go,” he responded with a sweet smile, his book bag slung over his shoulder. He’d left his hair mostly unstyled so it hung limply around his neck and nearly covered his eyes. You envied him for how effortlessly cute he looked – now, and all the time – especially when you always had to make an effort to look put-together.

As the two of you got into your old reliable Honda and started heading to the park near your apartment complex, your mouth went dry as it dawned on you that you and Jongseob never really went anywhere together without Shota. You took a nervous sip out of your water bottle. You’d been so confident about it before, so adamant in your mind that it wouldn’t be weird, but you found yourself struggling to come up with what to talk about, so you turned on the radio and both of you listened together in silence. Jongseob stared at his phone for most of the drive casually, and you wondered if he felt as awkward as you did. Probably not, you thought, as you breathed a sigh of relief once you approached the parking lot for the park.

“You ever been here?” you asked him as you pulled the cooler out of your trunk. “Nope, never have,” he responded as he scanned the area, taking it all in. The park was well-maintained, boasting multiple healthy and shady trees, lush green grass, and even a duck pond off to one side. There were picnic tables scattered about, and a walking path, but you decided to spread out the patterned blanket underneath one of your favorite shady trees.

He plopped down cross-legged on the blanket as you set down the cooler, opened the lid, and started setting everything out. In just a few minutes, you had a fully stocked charcuterie board ready to go, along with sparkling strawberry lemonade and a variety of sweets on the side. You knew Jongseob didn’t like bread very much, so you’d skipped the baguette that you normally would have gotten and opted instead for crackers, cheese, cured meats, pickled vegetables, and everything in between.

As you set it all out, you felt a sudden rush of shame at the lengths you’d go to prepare something like this just for Jongseob, and realized that it would probably be best not to tell Shota – he’d be way too jealous. You reluctantly looked up at Jongseob and his eyes were wide and shining, glancing from the food up to you. “Y/n, this is crazy. I mean, it looks so good though. You should at least let me pay you back for some of it.”

“Nah, bro, you’re good,” you responded as nonchalantly as you could, avoiding eye contact and filling a mini plate with food. You poured him a clear plastic cup of lemonade and handed it to him, and once your eyes met his, he continued. “Why, though? Why are you doing this for me? Please don’t get the wrong idea,” he immediately added as you opened your mouth to respond, and he continued, “I just feel bad. This is really nice. Thank you.”

“It’s really okay, please don’t feel bad. I just wanted to have a picnic,” you lied through your teeth, “and I knew you’d be laying around at my house so I wanted some company.”

“Oh, so I’m here to fulfill your own selfish purposes, huh?” he laughed, sipping the lemonade. You grinned arrogantly, but couldn’t keep up the charade fully. “Well, yes, partially. But it also seems like you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I know you’re busy, but the way you’ve been so withdrawn this past month… it just…” you thought for a moment about what you were going to say next, his eyes on you curiously as you rubbed the back of your neck and looked out to the pond. “The way you’re constantly working and rarely taking a break these days, it makes me think of my more stressful undergrad days. I didn’t have anyone looking out for me and I got really burnt out. I didn’t know how to rest without feeling guilty.”

At that last comment, Jongseob’s face flushed slightly pink and he tried to suppress an embarrassed smile. You could tell you’d struck a chord, so you continued as he shoved an entire macaron into his mouth, seemingly now comfortable with being spoiled. “I understand the pressure of feeling like everything you do has to be your absolute best. But trust me, it doesn’t. And I know that seems so backwards, but it will pay off in the long run if you make some small sacrifices to protect your sanity.” He chewed quietly, contemplating your words.

When he looked up at you, you gave him a reassuring smile and you both relaxed into a comfortable silence while you ate. After a few minutes, Jongseob said, so quietly you could barely hear him, “Thanks, y/n. I don’t really have anyone else looking out for me like this. I don’t say it often enough, but I appreciate you, so much.” Your throat went dry at the compliment and you started coughing and reached for your drink. Your coughing fit died down and when you looked up at him, he was staring at you, holding back a laugh. You both burst out laughing in that moment, and you felt his barriers come tumbling down.

“Why the fuck are we so bad at sincerity? I swear to god, every time I’m around you and Shota I feel like I have the emotional maturity of a middle schooler,” Jongseob admitted, voice raised, and you started laughing harder, feeling relief as the tension of the situation began to melt.

To further get the jitters out, you felt like now would be a good time for frisbee so you pulled it out of your bag, pulled Jongseob up to his feet, and started throwing the disc back and forth. The game eventually ended prematurely when Jongseob accidentally threw the frisbee into the duck pond, far enough into it that there was no way of retrieving it. He apologized profusely and insisted he would buy you a new one as you both threw yourselves onto the blanket in the shaded area once again.

“Damn, Jongseob, I knew you weren’t much of an athlete but I didn’t know it was that bad,” you teased him relentlessly, since every time he had thrown you the frisbee before losing it in the pond, you had to run every which way to retrieve it since he was hopeless at throwing it straight. He laid back and lifted his arms to cover his face and groaned, pushing his bangs upwards and out of his face, which was now coated in a light sheen of sweat. He took a deep breath, apologizing again.

He then turned onto his side with surprising quickness, his head propped up on his fist, and trained his eyes on your face. “So, you and Intak? How’s that going, if you don’t mind me asking?” His face lost confidence with each moment of silence you spent thinking about how to reply. “Oh also, you can tell me to fuck off since it’s none of my business and you are in no way obligated to–”

“Oh my god stop , it’s fine,” you said with an appreciative smile and pushed him gently. “Uhm, me and Intak,” you mused, looking away thoughtfully, crossing your legs the opposite direction and snacking on some of the leftover food. “Things are going fine, I guess. No complaints. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he replied swiftly, his mouth downturned and shaking his head nonchalantly. “Was just curious. So he’s a good boyfriend? You’re happy, right?”

For some reason these questions knocked the breath out of you and despite how normal they were, you suddenly felt conflicted about how to answer them, so you just replied automatically, “Oh, yeah, he’s great. We’re great. Everything’s great.”

“Cool! Yeah, that’s good” Jongseob answered, pressing the issue no further, his eyebrows raised inoffensively, attempting to show you he truly didn’t want to be nosy. He rarely asked you stuff like this, so it had caught you off guard, but you were particularly disturbed by the fact that your first instinct was to feel conflicted, rather than confident, when answering his questions in the way you had.

You truly had no complaints about Intak. He was kind, funny, and very thoughtful. He did everything right, he was considerate, and he never made you feel uncomfortable. So why, why , did you start to feel that funny feeling in your gut when Jongseob asked you about it?

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that, I was just trying to make conversation, are you okay?” Jongseob asked, concern straining his features. You realized you’d started staring off into nowhere and biting the inside of your cheek nervously, and felt immediately regret that you’d probably made him feel like he upset you. “Oh shit, I was just zoning out, you’re totally fine,” you responded, shaking your head vehemently, waving your hands back and forth erratically.

“Okay bro, as long as you’re sure,” he said, not looking convinced, but picked up one of his books and started reading, one arm up under his head for support. You’d brought one of your own books as well because you knew he’d probably want to spend part of the picnic getting at least a little work done, and laid on your stomach parallel to him, propped up on your elbows.

It had been only around ten minutes before you heard a faint snoring coming from right next to you. You smiled, turning quietly to find Jongseob’s book resting on his face. You took a moment to take in the scene, noting the way his shirt had ridden up just enough to show his belly button, the tan skin of his stomach smooth and soft looking. One hand rested on his chest and you were surprised that it, too, looked very soft, his fingers long and delicate.

You stifled a giggle. The guy probably hadn’t done a day’s labor in his entire life. No, his work was all done with that wrinkly brain - his hands completely callous-free. But it wasn’t just that. They were so…pretty. He was pretty. You were only just now realizing this, only just now seeing him as more than your little brother’s friend. You felt oddly guilty entertaining these thoughts, but there was no harm in looking, right?

You decided to ignore your conscience as you laid on your side facing him and stared at the way his chest rose and fell with each soft snore. You felt warmth deep on your body, spreading through each limb. You were glad he’d agreed to come on this picnic with you. You were glad that the two of you seemed to be becoming actual friends, connected by more than just Shota. You were glad. You were…

… waking up to the calming scent of a bright, botanical, masculine cologne, your face touching something, your arm around someone, you were …

…

… you were waking up turned on your right side, your face pushed up against Jongseob’s arm, your left hand resting on his chest. You sucked in a sharp breath and sat up in a panic, accidentally pushing on his chest for leverage and eliciting a fit of coughing from him as he laughed at your reaction. Your stomach hurt and your heart was racing.

You sat up, disoriented, and looked around. It was still light out, but you couldn’t tell what time it was. You turned back towards Jongseob and he was in the same position lying down, eyes trained on his book, but now suppressing a devilish smile. “Jesus, I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling a shameful heat rise to your face. “How long was I out for?”

He looked over at you, his face neutral as he looked up to think for a moment. Eyes back on you, he responded, “Not that long, but I’m not 100% sure since you were sleeping when I woke up. Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cuddly, so it could have been worse.”

Your jaw dropped in shock, flabbergasted that he would use your own line against you, and he laughed, a positively evil twinkle in his eye and his crooked canines on full display. He was such a little shit sometimes, but you guessed it was karma for teasing him that one time he drunkenly slept in your bed. Your face got warmer at the memory, and you did your best to suppress it as you smacked him playfully in response, pretending to be mad. He didn’t fight back though, bunching up his shoulders and cringing away from your attack as he continued reading.

Not long after, the both of you packed everything up and headed back to the apartment. The drive home was quiet, but comfortably so. You were surprised at how peaceful you felt, even after the embarrassment of falling asleep on him in the park. Jongseob was so different from Shota, especially when the two of them weren’t together, and it dawned on you that you deeply enjoyed his company. Being around him was just so easy and comfortable.

The two of you walked into your apartment to find Shota back home, and your stomach did a little flip as you saw that Keeho and Intak had come over as well. Intak immediately jumped up to help you with the cooler, fussing enough that you couldn’t fight back, while Shota interrogated you from the couch, demanding to know where the two of you had been.

“Oh, y’know me, just got done taking Jongseob’s picnic virginity,” you responded flippantly, and as soon as the words passed your lips, you desperately wanted to put a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Intak’s face fell in confusion, contorted in grief, Shota looked at you, completely disgusted, and Keeho burst out with an ear-piercing string of laughter. You looked at Jongseob, whose face was unreadable but visibly embarrassed, and as Keeho’s laughing slowed down he said “Aww, baby’s first picnic! Cute!”

Intak’s face relaxed in relief as he said “Oh, that’s what you meant?” You shrugged, and said “Yeah, sorry,” feeling just as confused about it as he was. Why did you say the dumbest shit sometimes? You looked over at Shota with pleading eyes and he just shook his head at you but was finally smiling, as he turned his focus back to the video game that he had been playing when you walked in. “Well, did you have fun?” Intak asked as he put his arms around you and pressed his lips to your forehead. You should have found the gesture sweet, but for some reason it felt oddly territorial, the vibes not quite feeling right. You slid out of his hold and smiled sweetly. “Yeah, the weather was great today. It was super relaxing. How was dance for y’all?” you replied, making smalltalk as Jongseob settled on the couch next to Shota, his face still unreadable.

You kept your eyes on Jongseob and as he looked over at you and offered a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Intak put his arms around you once again from the side this time, and kissed the top of your head. “It was good, just exhausting,” he said, leaning into your body.

You kept your eyes on Jongseob’s, and he stared back at you for what felt like the longest moments of your life, and then he was looking back at the TV, and Intak was showing you the moves they went over in dance practice that day, and your heart felt weird in your chest.

Chapter 6: Please Go

Knock knock knock!

The sound jarred you from your concentration, nearly causing you to poke your eye out with your mascara wand. “ What ?” you screamed in the direction of your closed bedroom door. “Can I come in?” you heard Shota yell. Weird, you thought, since he rarely tried coming into your room.

“Sure?” you responded, confusion in your voice, and you heard the door open and latch gently behind him. He shuffled through your bedroom to where you were standing, leaning towards your bathroom mirror and working on your eye makeup. “What’s up?” you asked him without taking your eyes off your own reflection, face probably looking ridiculous as you made that ugly expression everyone makes when putting on mascara.

“Would you, uh… can I… um… well, I was just thinking…” Shota stumbled over his words, and sounded unusually nervous, which caught your attention. You paused and looked over to see that his cheeks looked hot, and your protective instincts took over. “Hey, man, what is it? You okay?”

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah I’m fine, it’s nothing bad. I just wanted to know… if you would mind… helping me with some makeup?”

Your expression went from momentarily shocked to a devious smile, and you couldn’t help walking over and hugging him. “Of course I wouldn’t mind,” you responded, arms wrapped around him tightly. “Go grab a chair from the dining room.”

That night, you and the guys were going clubbing. Clubbing , of all things. It had been Intak’s idea, an idea that Shota and Keeho were both fond of, but you were surprised that Jiung, Jongseob, and Theo had agreed to go. They were much more reluctant to go out, preferring to stay inside most of the time, away from large crowds. You found your own preferences falling somewhere in between the two groups, but despite your nervousness about going dancing with a bunch of, well, dancers , you were excited to see what the night would bring.

Shota dragged a chair into your cramped bathroom and sat down in it, his hands resting in his lap, looking up at you with the most pitiful puppy eyes imaginable. Your heart melted at the sight. “So,” you began carefully, not wanting to scare him away, “what did you have in mind?”

“I dunno,” he replied, shrugging and looking at himself in the mirror.

“Are we thinking full face, or something more natural, or something more grungy–”

“That one. Grungy. Just maybe some dark stuff around the eyes,” he responded, quicker than you expected. You smiled, pulling out some eyeliner, brushes, and a couple other things you wanted to possibly experiment with.

Not long after, Shota was looking in the mirror at his fully smoked-out eyes and trying in vain to suppress a smile. Your reflection smiled at his as he made eye contact in the mirror with you. “Not to toot my own horn, but you look really good,” you said with a wink. “But there’s one other thing I want to try if you’ll let me.” He sat down eagerly, awaiting the next step. You rummaged through your makeup and found a pinky-nude lip stain and some thick, glittery gloss, and applied them to his lips in that order.

When he looked in the mirror this time, his eyes widened in shock. “What do you think?” you said quickly, “we can remove it if it’s not really the vibe.”

“No no, I love it,” Shota responded, angling his face back and forth in front of the mirror to catch the shimmer from the lip gloss. “It feels weird, but I like the way it looks. Thank you,” he said with a smile that was uncharacteristically shy. “No need to thank me, dude. You’re so damn pretty though, everyone’s gonna want a piece of you.” He laughed, pushing you gently, denying it adamantly. “Whatever… now go get dressed!” you demanded, and he scurried out of your room, a smile still plastered on his face.

You finished your makeup and threw on a pair of mid-rise baggy jeans, the waistband of your briefs peeking out of them, and paired it with a white crop top and oversized leather jacket. Maybe a little heavy for spring but you could take the jacket off if it got too hot. You looked yourself over in the mirror, and, as satisfied as you were going to be, headed out to the living room; it sounded like someone had arrived, anyway.

Everyone had agreed to meet up at the apartment, and the first person who arrived was Intak. He was dressed in black jeans and a black fitted t-shirt tucked in, a silver belt buckle adorning his hips. His hair was styled immaculately, as usual. He looked, in a word, perfect. You greeted him with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. You exchanged compliments and had begun to casually talk about the day when Jongseob came out of Shota’s room, dressed in an outfit that was simultaneously so inherently him , but also seemed like it might have been outside his comfort zone? You wondered about this, fighting the blush that crept into your cheeks.

He was wearing a white fitted t-shirt with red accents, low-rise dark-red baggy pants, and white sneakers. However, the pants were so low-rise and the t-shirt was so small that it exposed the tan skin of his tummy, just above his waistband. You knew he was usually fond of baggy clothes and had never seen him wear a shirt that was so, well, revealing. The sleeves hugged his small arms and the rest of it accentuated his narrow waist in a way that felt so feminine, and contrasted with the masculine confidence with which he walked up to you, hands shoved in his pockets casually. His hair was wavy and disheveled, no doubt an effortless-looking style that, in fact, had to have taken a considerable amount of effort.

“Nice fit, bro!” you said, trying to act normal. He gave you a blank look in response, and just the shadow of a smile. “Thanks bro, you too,” he responded, his voice flat. You tried not to care, but it hurt. Jongseob had been distant since the picnic, which confused you, since it had seemed like you’d grown closer at that time. The image of him making eye contact with you while Intak kissed you flashed into your mind but you shoved it away. The distance could be caused by anything, and for all you knew, he was going through something that had nothing to do with you.

The rest of the crew finally showed up, including Keeho, who absolutely fawned over Shota’s makeup, hyping him up in a way that made you realize why he’d asked for it. Your heart swelled, and you were suddenly aware of how excited you were for the night out with everyone.

The club that Keeho had chosen was loud, colorful, and chic. The decorations were beautiful, you could feel the music in your gut, and the drinks were concerningly strong. You made a mental note to pace yourself, but didn’t hesitate to take a couple warm-up shots with the group before you all headed to the dance floor. You danced with Intak, embarrassed at your lack of any real skills, but encouraged by the warmth of the alcohol that had loosened both your body and inhibitions. He was incredibly easy to follow though, despite how fluidly he moved.

Meanwhile, Jiung and Theo had started a dance battle in the middle of the floor. Jongseob was watching them, drink in hand, fully entertained, and Shota and Keeho were … well, you thought you’d known where they were, but it took you a moment to spot them. They were off to the side of the crowd, and your jaw dropped at the way Shota was grinding into Keeho; you looked away and laughed to yourself. You were glad that they were clearly having a good time.

After a couple more songs, you told Intak you were tired and went to sit at the bar, and he went to join Jiung’s and Theo’s dance battle. Not long after, Jongseob came to sit next to you. “Hey, stranger,” you yelled over the music at him, and he winced, giving you a tight smile. “Hey. Are we good?” you asked, abandoning the hesitation that you might have had a couple drinks ago.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” he responded, shrugging. “Why?”

Your eyebrows knit together, slightly frustrated at his aloofness. “You just seem, I dunno. Like you’re avoiding me, lately. Did I do something to piss you off?”

He sighed, looking at his drink. “No, it’s not that,” he responded, without offering further explanation as he continued staring into his drink.

“Aw, c’mon, you can tell me” you urged, pushing his shoulder gently, but he shied away from your touch. “Hey y/n, knock it off. I’m not some kid that you can just push around,” he snapped back, but immediately looked horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“Is that how you think I view you?” you interrupted, unable to mask the hurt in your voice.

“No!” he replied immediately, then continued, “Well, fuck. I…” he sighed, rubbing his face, clearly exasperated. “I dunno… I guess after the way everyone babied me when they found out I hadn’t been on a picnic, and then the way they responded after you took me on one, it kinda left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Your face fell, and you felt yourself sobering up immediately as you realized exactly what he meant, and why he felt like this. How could you be so stupid and insensitive? You opened your mouth to reply but Jongseob’s face went from sadness to panic as his gaze focused on something past you and he started to stand from the barstool. You looked behind you but didn’t see anything, and snapped back towards him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Shota, I swear I just saw him rushing to the bathroom, I should–”

“Yeah, please go,” you responded as he abandoned his drink and jogged briskly around the corner. You sipped your own drink, feeling your heart sink. Not only was Jongseob mad at you, but now Shota was probably sick and you’d have to take care of him tonight. You groaned, pounding the last of your drink and promptly ordering another.

“Damn, long week?” a familiar voice asked from your other side, as you looked over to see Theo joining you at the bar. He looked gorgeous tonight, which was really just his baseline. He’d worn a pair of fitted black jeans and a beige sweater that showed off his defined collarbones; he’d also been growing his black hair out this past year and it reached his shoulders at this point. He definitely intimidated you the most out of all of Shota’s dance friends, you thought, his dark eyes piercing into you as he awaited your response.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you replied dryly, sipping your drink as you noticed a text notification pop up on your phone, which was sitting on the bar. “Ah shit, sorry Theo, I’m not trying to be rude but I need to check this,” you said as he waved, dismissing you.

js: hey, it sounds like something might have happened with shota and keeho? idk the details yet, he won’t tell me which is p weird. :/ but he’s crying. i’m tryna comfort him but he won’t let me in the stall :(

You pocketed your phone without another thought. “Goddammit, I gotta go see what’s going on with Shota. Would you mind watching my drink?” you asked Theo, to which he wordlessly replied, pulling your drink towards his.

You speedwalked around the corner, stressed beyond belief. Shota was crying ? About Keeho? What the hell happened?

You burst into the men’s bathroom past the urinals to where Jongseob had his face up against a stall door, trying to coax Shota into talking to him. But Shota just continued saying “Please, go.” You heard sniffles coming from behind the stall door and ignored the looks you got from a couple of the men at urinals; you didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything at this moment, other than what had happened to your little brother.

“Shota? It’s me, can you let me in, buddy?” you asked as softly as you could, your voice strained with worry. The sniffles paused for a couple moments, then the door quietly unlatched, opening up to reveal Shota’s tear-streaked face, his makeup an absolute mess. His lip quivered as you stepped into the stall and pulled him into a hug and held him while he sobbed quietly. You looked over at Jongseob who gave you a knowing look, as he shut the door behind the two of you and, you were sure, stood watch.

“Shhh,” you cooed, stroking Shota’s disheveled hair. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He whimpered in response, and after a minute or two of being held by you, his breathing finally steadying, he said, his voice still shaky, “I’m so stupid.”

“Shota, don’t say that, you’re anything but stupid. Annoying, yes, chaotic, even more so, but stupid… not even close,” you retorted, pulling away and wiping his tears away but smudging his makeup even more. “Do you want to tell me why you feel like that? Will you tell me what happened?”

He looked to the side, clearly embarrassed, and his lower lip trembled again. His shoulders slumped, as he explained the way he’d been dancing with Keeho until Jiung and Intak found them and commented on the way they’d been dancing together.

“Yeah, he’s all over me, it’s so cute; he must like me or something,” Keeho had told them, laughing it off casually, likely not realizing that Shota was just barely in earshot. This was all Shota had needed to hear to know that not only did Keeho not return his feelings, but to add insult to injury, Shota had made a complete fool of himself.

“I thought… that I’d read the situation right. Why would he dance with me like that if he didn’t feel the same?” Shota asked, face crumpling again, and you pulled him into another embrace as he cried. Meanwhile, your stomach was in knots, and a hot rage burned in your chest. You squeezed him tightly, eyes starting to wet. “You stay here, I’ll be back,” you said with a scowl that you couldn’t hide, and Shota immediately knew what was happening.

“Wait, y/n, please don’t – I don’t want to –” he pleaded, but that’s all you heard as you stormed out the bathroom door and back into the noisy club. You were disoriented, the stress of your earlier conversation with Jongseob entirely eclipsed by the protective wrath coursing through your body at the knowledge that someone, Shota’s friend , of all people, had made him feel so rotten. Had laughed at him, humiliated him.

As you stormed towards the dance floor, you heard Shota far behind you. He was clearly trying to catch up to you and stop you, and it sounded like Jongseob was following close behind him, but you were too angry to care. Shota had always been such a pacifist. You had to protect him, because he wouldn’t protect himself. You wouldn’t allow him to be treated this way, even if he didn’t have the strength to fight back.

You spotted Keeho casually dancing with the others. “Hey, asshole,” you yelled at him, and he whipped around towards you, face full of confusion, likely not even entirely sure you were talking to him. But before you got within enough range of him to really let him have it, you felt your foot go out from under you as you accidentally stepped into someone’s spilled drink, and everything went black.

Chapter 7: Don't Go (pt. 2)

You woke to the beeping sound matching up to your heartbeat, and immediately noticed a dull ache in your head as you slowly opened your eyes. It took a few moments for the room to come into view but the first thing you noticed was Shota draped over the left side of the bed, seemingly asleep… not your own bed, though. A hospital bed? You looked to the other side of the room and saw another familiar figure sitting in a chair, staring at his phone, blonde curls shading his face as he slumped forward.

You sighed, groaning quietly as you slightly adjusted your position on the bed and his head snapped up to look at you, eyes looking exhausted. In less than a moment though, he was on his feet, hovering over you but clearly unsure of what to do.

“Y/n, hey, how are you feeling?” Jongseob said, his eyes wide, full of fear. “Do you need anything? Water? Are you in pain?”

You smiled at his concern. “Nah, my head hurts but I think I’m okay. What the hell happened?”

“You slipped,” he replied, mouth downturned. “Your head hit the floor. Hard. Be careful of the left side of your forehead, they had to give you some stitches.” You instinctively reached your hand up and gently touched the bandage covering the wound, wincing at the sensitivity. “H-hey, I said be careful,” he said, snatching your hand gently away from your head.

In that moment, the door opened quietly and Intak peeked in. You looked back at him and smiled, releasing Jongseob’s hand, and Jongseob stepped away from the bed, allowing space for Intak to come closer and see you.

“Oh my god, hi baby,” he said, his face marred with worry as he brushed your hair back gently and kissed the side of your head opposite the bandage. “How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts but otherwise I feel alright,” you replied, noting out of the corner of your eye that Jongseob jolted like he remembered something, and rushed out of the room. “What happened?” you asked, trying to remember what had led up to your head hitting the dance floor.

“Well, it looked like you were on your way to kick Keeho’s ass,” Intak began, and at the mention of his name, it all came flooding back to you and you stopped hearing the rest of his words. Jongseob being upset with you, then Shota crying in the bathroom. What Keeho had said about him to the others. The blind rage you’d felt as you marched out to confront him.

“Where is that fucker?!” you demanded, sitting up a little, but moving gently enough not to wake Shota. Intak grabbed your shoulders and rubbed them in an attempt to calm you, looking worried that you were going to leap up out of bed. You glanced at the IV in your arm and considered removing it. “Don’t,” Intak interrupted your thoughts, giving you a pitying but understanding smile. “Everything’s fine, we got it worked out. Keeho’s been, uh, spoken to,” he said, giving you a nervous smile.

“What? How? No, it needs to be me, I need to—“

“Jongseob did it,” he cut in. You blinked once. Twice. “I know,” he said with a smile. “I was shocked too, but damn. I didn’t know he could yell that loud.” Jongseob had yelled at Keeho? You asked Intak to explain from the beginning, and he told you that while Shota had ridden in the ambulance with you, Jiung had driven everyone else to the hospital.

The moment Keeho, sitting in the front seat, had made a comment about you being clumsy, it was like something had cracked in Jongseob. He had immediately started laying into Keeho, telling him that this situation was his fault, that if he hadn’t been flirting with Shota and then talking shit about him behind his back, you wouldn’t have come rushing out like that to confront him.

Your heart swelled as you listened to Intak’s story. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever heard Jongseob shout in anger. The fact that he’d done it for Shota’s sake didn’t surprise you, but for your sake? You felt the edges of your psyche softening and your muscles relaxing.

Intak continued, recounting that after they arrived, Jongseob ordered Keeho to make it up to Shota, which had apparently happened. Once it had been confirmed that you were safe and stable, Keeho admitted to Shota in front of everyone in the empty hospital waiting room that he’d had a crush on Shota and that he was just trying to look cool in front of them, and he asked Shota’s forgiveness.

“I’ve never seen Keeho do something like that and honestly never thought I’d see the day, but I think he legitimately thought the little guy was going to kill him,” he said, laughing, and inwardly you winced. Little guy. Baby’s first picnic. You reminded yourself to have a conversation with Jongseob later and apologize, realizing much too late that he probably hated people talking about him, and to him, like that.

“Yeah, well that ‘little guy’ has bigger balls than the rest of that group if he’s the only one who stood up to Keeho like that,” you replied, your tone sharper than you’d intended. Intak looked taken aback and a little embarrassed, despite the fact that he wasn’t even involved. “Yeah, of course, I agree,” he said, flushing slightly. “What Keeho did… that was really messed up.”

“Is Shota okay? How did he respond?” you asked, looking down at his sleeping form affectionately. Intak replied, “He seemed really embarrassed at first and the whole thing was painfully awkward, but they went off to talk privately and came back hand in hand, so I think he’s okay.” He winked. You smiled and sighed, feeling conflicted but relieved.

The next moment, there was a knock on the door and a doctor walked in with a nurse and started asking you questions, so Intak backed out of their way. You noticed Jongseob had come in behind them. Did he leave to tell them that you’d woken up?

Intak squeezed your hand before stepping out of the room, wanting to give the medical team space to work. Your doctor began a neuro exam, explaining that it seemed you’d sustained a mild concussion but that your scans had otherwise been normal. After completing the exam, the doctor left the room, but before the nurse left, she gestured towards Jongseob, and said, “You should be grateful to have people like this in your life. This young man stayed by your side constantly, making notes about any activity he noticed while you were asleep. Any time your vitals seemed the slightest bit off, he came running out to us and asked us to check on you. Plus, he knew all your allergies and even some of your meds. He’s a keeper,” she said with a wink, exiting the room.

Jongseob looked at the wall, face clearly burning up at the mistaken suggestion that he, rather than Intak, was your boyfriend. “Seob…You did all that? For me?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. He fixed his gaze on you, face full of a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t place. Sadness? Relief? Affection?

“Of course I did,” he said, offering no further explanation, eyes still boring into yours.

You cleared your throat nervously. “I also heard what you did for Shota. What you said to Keeho.”

“Yeah. It needed to be said,” Jongseob replied, a hint of anger in his voice that didn’t reach his eyes.

You reached a hand towards him and he raised an eyebrow inquisitively, but placed his hand in yours, and in the next moment, you were sitting forward and pulling him towards you into a tight embrace. His arms hovered for a moment before wrapping around your back gently. You buried your face in his chest, eyes squeezed shut, and held him there.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a long pause. He didn’t respond for several moments and you started to worry, but finally he replied, his voice low and soft, “It was nothing.”

As you released him, Shota began to stir. He looked up at you with sleep still in his eyes, face looking ghastly, makeup smeared even more than before. “Y/n, you’re awake,” he said with a sleepy smile. “How are you feeling? Are you doing okay?”

The questions were getting repetitive but you couldn’t say you minded. You’d felt very loved since the moment you awoke. “Yeah, I’m doing fine. Just a mild concussion, but otherwise all my tests apparently came back normal,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Good, you scared the shit out of me,” he said, leaning over to hug you. “Is everyone still out there?” he asked, looking at Jongseob. “Yeah, I think so. I know Intak’s out there and last I checked, the rest of them were as well.”

“Wait, what? Tell them to go home and get some sleep!” you insisted, not realizing that Jiung, Theo, and Keeho were all outside the room as well. Jongseob laughed. “They’ve all been too worried to leave; plus, they feel horrible about the entire situation… especially Keeho.” You narrowed your eyes at this last comment and looked at Shota, who blushed and looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, you’d better bet he’s on thin ice, Shota,” you scolded, to which he nodded, understanding. “But if what Intak said was true, I’ll withhold my judgment. For now! If he hurts you again, it’s game over.”

Shota nodded again but couldn’t control the shy smile that had overtaken his face. “Okay, enough, go see him,” you said, giving him a little push from the bed, and he blushed, walking out of the room. You turned towards Jongseob, who suddenly looked like he felt incredibly out of place, and he turned to leave. “I’ll, uh, go see if Intak wants to–”

“Don’t go. Please,” you argued, grabbing his hand and stopping him in his tracks. He stared at you for a moment, before pulling his chair up to the side of the bed and sitting. “Okay,” he replied quietly. You cleared your throat. “About what you said to me earlier at the bar–”

“Just forget it,” he interrupted you, firmly but not rudely. “I feel like such an asshole for moping so long the way I did. It’s just stupid. It doesn’t matter. You just need to work on feeling better, so please don’t worry about me.”

You could tell he’d been ruminating about this, the way it all came spilling out. “Okay, I hear you, but I’m still gonna say this,” you replied, grabbing his hand and forcing him to look at you. “You are one of the coolest, most intelligent, and most thoughtful and talented people I know,” you began. His cheeks turned pink and his eyes darted to the side, but you continued, “It is never okay for you to feel like anyone around you is belittling you. If you ever feel like that again, I am begging you to please tell me.”

His eyes searched the room, looking anywhere but yours, before finally making eye contact. “Okay, fine, whatever you say,” he responded reluctantly, and you gave his hand a firm squeeze before letting it go. You laid your head back and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling drowsy. You looked at the clock and it read 4:18am. “Dude, you should get outta here, go get some sleep. I’ll just get a taxi when they release me” you insisted, feeling the heaviness of his fatigue from where you laid. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head adamantly, then propped his arms on the side of the bed and rested his head there. It wasn’t long before sleep took him, the room soon filled with nothing but the sound of the hospital monitor beeping and the sound of his light snoring.

Before you knew it, you were being woken up by the nurse with your discharge paperwork; you were finally getting to go home. He went over the instructions with you and made sure you understood that you needed to take it easy, get lots and lots of rest, and come back to the hospital if you developed any concerning symptoms. Jongseob was awake at this point as well, no doubt listening intently to the nurse’s advice.

You sat up and sat on the edge of the bed carefully, hospital gown bunching uncomfortably around your lap, and you looked around the room as Jongseob grabbed the plastic bag with your belongings that he’d stowed underneath his chair and handed it to you. You thanked him and went to stand, but felt a little dizzy when your feet touched the ground and needed to brace yourself on the bed. He held his hands out for you to steady yourself and you laughed, embarrassed. “They said this would be normal at first but damn, how annoying.”

“Yeah,” Jongseob responded, face concerned. “Wait here, don’t move,” he said as he left the room in a rush. You held onto the edge of the bed for support. A few moments later, Intak came in, eyes wide as he approached you. “Jongseob said you… needed some help?” he said, blushing slightly, and that’s when you realized: he’d asked Intak to come in and help you get dressed. You laughed, face turning red, and nodded. “Yeah, sorry… I got up to get dressed but it looks like I’m still a bit wobbly on my feet.”

He nodded agreeably and helped keep you steady while you got dressed, taking special care not to stare; truly, such a gentleman. As he walked you out, his arm hooked in yours, you took in the sight of the waiting room: Jiung was sleeping in a chair, head leaned back and arms crossed; Jongseob was showing Theo something on his phone; and Keeho and Shota were sleeping in each other’s arms, Shota straddling his lap like a baby. Entirely inappropriate for a medical setting, but it was the middle of the night and nobody’d come to make them stop. You figured they routinely saw much worse than this.

Jongseob and Theo awoke the others once they saw you walking out and they all started fretting over you, Keeho standing back nervously. Once you made eye contact with him though, he bowed his head deeply. “I’m really sorry, y/n.” Keeho was usually so goofy and unserious that it made you uncomfortable seeing him so serious, but you let him continue. “I feel like this was partially my fault, so I really wanna make it up to you. Whatever I can do, whatever you need, I’m–”

“You’re fine, just be good to my brother, or else you’ll find out what I was gonna do if I’d made it across the dance floor,” you said with a wry smile. He gulped, nodding and bowing his head again. “Yeah yeah, I hear you. Understood,” he responded as Shota subtly grabbed one of Keeho’s hands in both of his own, and snuggled up against him. Your smile softened. You were just relieved that they’d finally figured out their bullshit.

Back home, Intak tried convincing you to let him stay the night but you insisted you were fine; Shota would be there and Jongseob already planned on spending the night as well. Intak seemed disappointed but didn’t push the issue. “Text me in the morning, okay? I just need to know you’re okay,” he pleaded, and you agreed, kissing him sweetly.

You thanked Jiung for driving everyone home in his exhausted state, and thanked him, Theo, and Keeho for staying at the hospital to make sure you were okay. You’d never felt so cared for in your whole life and although you felt incredibly guilty, you couldn’t deny some buried part of yourself relished the attention.

Shota and Jongseob helped you up the stairs, Shota to your side and Jongseob behind both of you. Once inside, they followed you around to the point that it was almost becoming too much to bear. You were starting to feel more steady on your feet and less nauseous, but they insisted on seeing that you made it to bed safely. Once you were in your pajamas and under the covers, Shota and Jongseob came in and made sure your phone was plugged in and charging, painkillers with water on your nightstand, and told you to make sure you left your door cracked so they could check on you.

You rolled your eyes at how pushy they were, but it was truly so sweet, so you just went along with it. As they headed out, you asked Jongseob to hang back for a second. Shota gave him a questioning look but left your bedroom as Jongseob came over to your bed and you patted it, inviting him to sit down. You sat up, sleep shirt draped over you much more comfortably than the hospital gown had been, and pulled him into another tight hug. “Thank you again, for everything,” you spoke into his chest.

A few seconds passed and you waited for him to let go, but he didn’t. More seconds passed, and as your heart sped up, you could feel his racing as well. He rested his chin on your head and stroked your hair a couple times, making you feel like your bones were made of rubber. Uh oh , you thought, as your body screamed at you to let go, to end contact, to push him away.

He let go before you were able to, his face flushed a pretty pink. He looked down and then up at you. “I told you. It was nothing,” he said softly, then promptly sat up and before shutting your door, said “Sleep well, y/n.”

The door latched and your body was throbbing; your head from the concussion, and your heart from…whatever that was. You decided it would be a question for your tomorrow self as you drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Chapter 8: I'm Gonna Go

The rest of the weekend went by without much drama: you’d texted Intak in the morning, as requested, to let him know you were alive, Keeho took Shota on their first date (complete with showing up to the door with a dozen roses – he was keenly intent on making it up to him), and Jongseob had taken to cooking for you and doing mostly everything around the house since Shota was a little distracted by his new relationship.

When the week began, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to go to work, but you managed just fine. Jongseob was back at his dorm, Keeho was over nearly every night, and before the following weekend came, Intak asked to come over. This was unusual for him, since you usually only saw him on the weekends, but you certainly didn’t mind.

The two of you decided to use the living room to watch a movie while Shota and Keeho hung out in Shota’s bedroom. “No Jongseob today?” Intak asked as you scrolled through the streaming app looking for something to watch. “Nah,” you responded, “he doesn’t actually live here, believe it or not,” you said with a laugh. “Definitely here every weekend though. Our place is way better for studying than his dorm, since he’s got noisy roommates.”

“Ah,” Intak responded thoughtfully. “So… he just comes here to do homework?”

“I mean, yeah. And to hang out with Shota, a mix of both. They’ve been best friends for years so this is kind of a second home for him. He’s a good guest and a sweet guy, so I don’t mind.”

“Makes sense,” he said, and as you turned towards him, his neutral face shifted quickly into a sweet smile, his brown eyes shining. You smiled back at him and the both of you descended into a comfortable silence as the movie started. It was an intense romance, full of drama, passion, and steamy sex scenes.

However, about halfway through the movie, you felt your phone vibrate. You glanced at it out of habit and would normally ignore it, but you saw that it was Jongseob, asking how you were doing. It probably could have waited, but you worried that he’d get concerned if you didn’t respond quickly enough, so you pulled up the text to respond to him, your stomach doing something weird. You pushed away the feeling, pushed away the memory of the long hug the prior weekend, shoved it all deep, deep down without a second thought.

js: hey y/n, how are u feeling? have u needed to take any painkillers lately?

y/n: nah, i’ve actually been okay. thank u for checking on me! you’re the best.

js: whatever dude, just stay away from slippery floors :P

y/n: u don’t gotta tell me twice… lol

You slipped your phone back in your pocket, looked back up at the movie and felt Intak’s eyes on you. You looked over, and he looked… sad. Sadder than you’d ever seen him, his mouth unsmiling, eyes larger than usual. “Hey,” you said, turning towards him. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” he replied, turning away as he sniffled loudly. Fuck. What could be going on? you wondered. You put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it reassuringly. “Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked, horrified at seeing Intak upset like this for the first time. He was usually all smiles, his demeanor relaxed, without a care in the world.

Intak swiped a stray tear and looked down at his lap, then over at you, lip trembling, then got himself under control. He took a deep breath and smiled bitterly. “Sorry,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I don’t really know how to say this, but I’m just gonna go for it.

“Y/n, I don't think this is going to work out. You and me, I mean,” he blurted out, and you felt like you’d been slapped. “I can tell that you’re not as into me as I’m into you, and that was fine at first, but I don’t think I can handle being second best in your world.” Second best? you thought. What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry for just ending it like this but I need to protect myself before I fall too hard for you. I like you more and more each day and I can tell it’s not the same for you. I’m not mad, just disappointed. It’s not your fault, it’s just how shit goes sometimes,” he said, another stray tear slipping out.

You felt frozen, a lump in your throat, and although you wanted to say something, needed to say something, anything…no words came. The worst part was that you knew he was right: you had known early on that this relationship would need to stay casual at most, but you were still disappointed that you’d hurt Intak in the process. You didn’t anticipate it ending this way, but you weren’t sure what you expected in the first place. You supposed that you just selfishly wanted the attention, and the companionship.

You finally snapped out of your self-pitying trance and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Intak, I’m really sorry. I think… you’re not wrong,” you began, and he nodded, face sullen but understanding. “I really like you, but it’s true. I do think something’s missing, and it’s not your fault in any way, so please don’t beat yourself up.” Your head throbbed and tears wetted your eyes. Why was this so hard?

You pulled him over to you and he laid his head in your lap, sniffling quietly. You ran your fingers through his dark hair gently, trying to soothe his pain. “For what it’s worth, you’ve been an absolutely perfect boyfriend,” you said, grasping at any attempt to make him feel better. He laughed wryly, responding, “I appreciate it, but that doesn’t really help.” He sat up, and continued, “I’ll be fine in a little while, and I hope we can still be friends if you want. But right now, I think I’m gonna go.”

You nodded, understanding, and he grabbed his jacket quietly and left. You remained on the couch, and stared at the wall blankly, the movie still playing quietly on the TV screen. You weren’t sure how you felt. Numb? Sad? Relieved?

In that moment, Shota and Keeho came out of Shota’s bedroom, laughing, and asked nonchalantly, “What’s up? Where’d Intak go?”

You wiped your eyes roughly and gave them a weak smile, and said, “I think I just got dumped.”

Chapter 9: Don't Go Pt. 3 (Please Stay)

You woke up Saturday morning with that familiar ache in your lower belly. Recovering from a concussion, got dumped two days ago, and now my period comes? Great, real fucking great. A lazy ray of light came through the bedroom window, illuminating the walls, the piles of clothing on the floor, the clutter that had built up over the past two days while you wallowed in self pity. You ran your hand across your stomach gently. It wasn’t clear whether the weekend coming was a good thing, or a bad thing. On one hand, work had sucked ass. But on the other hand, it had at least kept you distracted.

You still couldn’t quite tell how you felt about your relationship with Intak ending. Your brain still felt fuzzy about it, and you couldn’t tell if it was the concussion, your emotions, or both. You laid and stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and blowing it out, long and slow. It hurt, but this was probably good.

The situation with Intak was supposed to be casual from the start, but it had sounded like it had become more complicated for him. You felt relieved, but sad. You’d enjoyed the date nights out (and in), the long conversations, the way he always checked on you and was interested in what you had to say about, well, everything. You hadn’t deserved him, and he deserved more; someone who would love him. Maybe he’d started falling in love with you…

And with that agonizing thought, a wave of pain and nausea rode through your middle, forcing you out of the comfort of your bed. You pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and an old t-shirt and hobbled out into the kitchen. You pulled out your mug and started prepping the raspberry leaf tea, leaning against the counter and sighing. You fought the urge to just go back to bed but worried that it would just make you feel worse. You figured you should at least get something in your stomach, get some painkillers going, get the heating pad, all your routine comforts.

You looked around and noticed the dishes had been done and the house had been decluttered. The work of Jongseob again, no doubt. Ever since your hospital visit, something between you and him had shifted. He’d come over Friday night as he usually did, but like the previous weekend after your accident, he’d come over with groceries and forced Shota to help him cook dinner for you. Most of the time, Shota was pretty awful about chores, so you found that you had to take care of most of it or kick his ass trying to get him to help. However, Jongseob had basically begun to take over completely – funny, because he didn’t even live there, but it was nice nonetheless.

He didn’t know about you and Intak yet, and you weren’t really sure how to tell him. Maybe Shota already did? you wondered idly as you flipped the heating pad and added another minute to the microwave. As you pulled out the teabag and threw it in the trash, the door to Shota’s bathroom opened up, and out walked Jongseob, freshly showered. His hair, bleached and straw-like, stuck out in most directions, and he wore a black tank top with his usual gray oversized sweatpants. He didn’t wear tank tops often, and it struck you, like it usually did every time he wore anything form-fitting, how tiny he was – the bare skin of his arms soft-looking and tan, and his collar bones prominent above the hem of his shirt.

“Oh hey, good morning y/n,” he said, seeming slightly startled at your presence in the kitchen and beginning to fix his hair self-consciously –but to no avail; it just ended up getting more and more tangled and he gave up, smiling awkwardly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, cutting in front of you to grab the heating pad out of the microwave as soon as it went off. Okay bro, calm down , you couldn’t help thinking.

“Uh, thanks,” you said as he handed it to you. “Been better, but at least it’s the weekend. Sometimes when it rains it just pours.”

“What do you mean? Are you having any headaches? Is your vision okay? Have you tried calling the doctor, or do you need to go back to–”

“I’m fine, I just don’t feel great is all,” you butted in, suddenly feeling surprisingly impatient with the conversation. “I do have the headaches from time to time but they said it was normal. I just didn’t need mother nature to arrive at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

He looked at the tea and the heating pad and a look of realization dawned on his face. “Ah, shit, sorry. Yeah, I guess I should have realized.”

“No worries,” you said with a smile as you sipped your tea. “Not your job to keep track of my cycle, dude.”

Heat crept up his neck into his face as an awkward silence hung between the two of you, the refrigerator making a low humming noise.

“Um, is.. Shota here?” you asked, attempting whatever you could to break the silence.

“No, he spent the night at Keeho’s last night,” Jongseob answered. “Is… that okay?”

You didn’t follow. “What do you mean? Is what okay?”

He swallowed. “Like, that I stayed here last night. You were already sleeping when he decided he was going over there, so we didn’t have a chance to ask if that was okay. You know, like, me staying over here overnight without him,” he said, hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet, then to the side, anywhere but your face.

“Jongseob,” you began, catching his attention and finally getting him to look you in the eye. “You’re my friend too – not just Shota’s. I don’t give a shit if you stay overnight, with or without him. In fact, I’d just as well switch the two of you out, given the way you’ve been helping out around here lately. Hell, tell him to stay at Keeho’s forever and you can have his room,” you retorted with a mischievous smile, rolling your eyes, and he burst out laughing, the thick tension dissipating from the room.

“It’s more than just that,” he said, swiping a tear from his eye after finishing his laughing fit, “I don’t know how to say this without making it sound strange, but I didn’t want to… make things weird for Intak. Like, I dunno if he’d have a problem with something like that.”

You had just taken a sip of your tea and started coughing at this statement, your cramps acting up in response to the abdominal contractions, and you felt like you’d die for just a moment. Jongseob waved his hands apologetically, saying, “Sorry, I dunno what I just did, but I’m sorry!”

You laughed bitterly and waved your hand dismissively, sipping some tea to quell the burning in your throat. “No, it’s just that uh… there’s no need to worry about that. Intak and I are done.”

The finality of the statement burned in your throat and you took another sip of your tea, studying Jongseob’s face as you divulged the information, curious to see if it would look like he already knew, if Shota had gossiped about it to him already. But the shocked look on Jongseob’s face indicated that he had not; that this was news to him.

“Shit, um, I didn’t know. Sorry,” he said, crossing his arms and looking down at his feet.

“It’s all good, just still a little fresh,” you responded, and he nodded sympathetically, then looked back up at you. “Are you… okay? Do you like, want to talk or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks though. Think I probably need to just lay down for the time being.”

“Okay, well you know I’m out here just working on homework, so whatever you need, just let me know.”

“Thanks Seob, I will,” you responded, nodding appreciatively.

You headed back to the bedroom and felt a swirl of emotions as you crawled back under your comforter and placed the heating pad across your lower belly, sighing at the relief brought by the warmth. One moment you felt elated, the next you felt guilty, and the next, you felt like you wanted to sleep for 72 hours and wake up a whole new person with a new life. None of it made any sense.

You opened up your laptop and started watching a random movie, but the first hint of anything sad in the movie pushed you to tears, and you pressed pause. You wiped at your eyes and took a few steadying breaths. What the hell was wrong with you?

You scrolled on your phone for a little bit, trying to distract you, but the feeling gnawed at you.

Loneliness.

This was the first time you’d really spent any alone time in many weeks; since the accident, since the breakup, since before you even started dating Intak… and it felt absolutely terrible. When did you become so needy?

Knock knock knock!

“Come in,” you said, feeling defeated, as Jongseob poked his head in. “Hey, just checking in. Does your heating pad need re-heated?”

You smiled. The guy would make someone a very happy girlfriend someday, you considered, but immediately, your stomach felt funny at the thought. You tried to ignore the sensation as you stared blankly at him, noting the way his almost-dry hair hung across his forehead, the curve of his mouth. Had his lips always been that full?

“Hey… you good?” he asked, concern marring his features as you realized you’d just been staring at him like an idiot. You blushed fiercely. You’d just been looking at him, really looking at him. Were you so lonely that you were at risk of crushing on your baby brother’s best friend?

“Nah, but I’ll be fine,” you forced out, trying your best to choke out your disturbing thoughts, horrified at the state of your own mind. “But yeah, if you’re offering, this thing has definitely run out of heat. Thank you,” you responded, pulling the heating pad from out of the covers and offering it to him. “Sorry about the mess,” you said as he walked in, trying to avoid stepping on the scattered piles of clothes, shoes, trash, and everything in between.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s your space,” he responded matter-of-factly. “Do you need help cleaning, though? If you want, I can–”

“Dude, you’re not about to clean my room for me,” you responded with a shocked laugh, appreciative but embarrassed.

“I’m just saying, if you needed me to, I would. You’re hurt,” he said, equally matter-of-factly, and walked out of the room with the heating pad in hand.

You’re hurt.

You rolled the statement around in your mind, chewing on the inside of your lip absentmindedly. You supposed he was right, in more ways than one. Maybe you should just stop bitching internally and accept the pity, you wondered. Tears pricked behind your eyes. Stop, stop, stop , you demanded of yourself, hearing his footsteps approaching down the hall and rubbing at your eyes fiercely.

He walked in cautiously and crossed your room to hand you the heating pad, and before he left, you swallowed the lump in your throat and managed to say, “Hey.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning towards you, eyes inquisitive. “Yeah?”

This was so embarrassing . Were you really going to do this? You needed to grow up, needed to stop relying on others so much for comfort, needed to give yourself space to be alone, to be single, you needed to–

“Please stay,” you said, in the form of a statement, rather than a question.

“Oh I’m not leaving, I’ll just be out here, okay?”

You covered your eyes with a hand, embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. “No, what I mean is… will you stay in here? With me? I really don’t wanna be alone right now.” You peaked through your fingers at him.

His eyes widened as he looked around the room, no doubt looking for somewhere to sit and do his homework, when you scooted over to the wall, leaving a space on the bed for him.

He blinked a couple times, seemingly frozen for a second. “Um… yeah, sure. I can do that,” he responded, and backed out of your room, presumably to grab his stuff. You began to regret your request as the moments passed but once he came back in, your nerves settled down, and you reflected on the way Jongseob had become a surprisingly comforting person for you.

He sat on the edge of the bed and it squeaked quietly as he bent over to sort through his books. Setting his coffee mug on your nightstand, he scooted back against the wall and crossed his legs, getting comfortable against your too-many pillows. I should really get a headboard, you thought.

“Thanks, and sorry,” you muttered, feeling bad but inwardly pleased that he’d agreed to join you. “Oh, it’sno problem at all,” he replied, giving you a warm smile. You proceeded to open your laptop and popped your earbuds in to resume the movie that you were too much of a baby to finish beforehand.

But for some reason, it didn’t make you as sad, now. You watched in silence as Jongseob read through one of his many textbooks, his body shifting frequently to stay comfortable. However, his position eventually devolved into laying down, and as you took out your earbuds, the movie finished, you looked over to find him near the edge of the bed, turned towards you, fast asleep.

You reflected on the fact that he seemed to have a habit of sleeping near you, and your heart warmed. You wondered if that meant that he was as comfortable around you as you were around him. With that thought, you pushed your laptop forward on the bed, past your feet, and laid down on your side to face him.

He held his arms against his chest, his head propped up on one of your pillows. You scanned his face, listening to the calming, steady sounds of his breathing. His hair had finally dried and flopped across his forehead, unstyled and messy. His dark brows were relaxed, and his eyes occasionally darted under his lids, his lashes long, dark, and pretty. You studied the texture of his cheeks, noting the way his mild acne scarring had faded over the years. His nose, however, was still small and cute like it always had been. And his mouth…

Your heart quickened as your eyes followed the plump lines of his mouth, his lips a soft shade of pink; it hung open slightly but he was breathing through his nose, so he wasn’t snoring. Not this time , you thought to yourself with a smile. You watched the way his bare shoulder rose slightly with each relaxed inhale, blinking away sleep from your eyes.

You just needed a few more moments of this, you thought, but in that moment, Jongseob’s sleepy eyes blinked open lazily, momentarily startled to see your face so close to his. His brows knit together, but he smiled. “Y/n, you’re being so creepy.”

You giggled quietly and poked his stomach, causing him to jerk into a protective position and yell harshly. He held up his hands in defense, laughing. “Hey, hey, if you’re gonna force me to do my homework in bed and then let me fall asleep, you can not tickle me. That’s where I draw the line. Especially because I can’t fight back! You’re too fragile right now!”

You smiled evilly, not sure what had taken you over, and reached toward his ribs, but he was too fast – he grabbed your wrists tightly and despite your every attempt to break free, he maintained the firm grip and laughed as you struggled. He was much stronger than he looked, and your stomach did a little flip. Jesus, you said to yourself, get ahold of yourself, you pathetic loser.

As you had these thoughts, the energy in the room shifted, and soon, the only sound that filled it was the sound of heavy breathing, both yours and his, as he loosened his grip on your wrists and you surrendered, putting your hands up. His breathing slowed to normal, and as you both lay there facing each other, he broke the uncomfortable silence.

“So. What happened with you and Intak?”

You blinked a couple times, looking past him to organize your thoughts, not expecting him to ask so bluntly. “He, uh, didn’t think things were going to work out,” you said, your smile turning to a frown as you remembered the tears in Intak’s eyes as he broke things off with you. Guilt flooded your conscience.

“Why not?” Jongseob asked, his eyes fixed on you. You were surprised at how nosey he was being, since he usually didn’t pry. But you relished in the closeness that you seemed to have regained with him. You hadn’t really been able to talk to anyone about it, at least not in detail.

You sighed. “I guess, put as simply as possible, we just weren’t right for each other.”

Jongseob scrunched his nose up at this explanation, clearly unconvinced. You sighed again. “If I’m honest, he was really great, but, you know that feeling you get when you know someone is just the person for you? Like you know it, deep in your gut?” you looked at him for signs of understanding and his face was unreadable for a moment so you quickly added, “well, maybe you haven’t experienced that before. You’re still young,” you added with a teasing smile and he frowned slightly, blushing furiously.

“No, I know what you’re talking about,” he said, his usually high-ish pitched voice taking on a softer, more husky tone. Your mind raced for a split second, but you didn’t give it the opportunity to get away.

“Okay, yeah,” you continued, pushing a lock of hair out of your face. “So that feeling, I never really had it with him from the beginning, and we even agreed to keep things casual. I think,” you chewed on your lip for a moment, contemplating, “I think I kinda knew. Like, I knew there was an expiration date for us.”

Jongseob blinked at you, looking mildly surprised. “Oh. Did he know that?”

The question felt like a sucker punch, even though you knew he didn’t mean it like that. He was just straightforward, and it was a reasonable question to ask. “Well no, but I also think I wanted to just wait and see where things would go, you know? Shit, I feel like this is making me sound like a complete asshole, and maybe I am—“

“That’s not what I’m thinking right now, don’t worry,” he cut in, and you appreciated it, nodding in understanding.

“So, the other night, Intak just kinda dropped the bomb out of nowhere, and said he felt we needed to split up. Said that he felt that he liked me more than I liked him, and… something about not wanting to be second best to me? I can’t remember exactly how he worded it, but I’m still unclear on what he meant.”

Jongseob eyed you thoughtfully, then said, “Did you ask him to elaborate?”

“I didn’t get the chance. He left pretty quickly after that… it seemed like his mind was made up.”

Jongseob hummed in response, looking at the wall for several seconds before propping himself up on his elbow and looking back at you with a serious expression. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re a cold, evil heartbreaker.”

Your mouth dropped open as you prepared to defend yourself, the words stinging momentarily, before he couldn’t stop holding back his smile and started laughing at you teasingly. You pushed him abruptly and he almost fell off the bed, flailing his arms to keep his balance and laughing even harder.

“Hey,” you scolded, “it’s not funny!” But you started laughing in tandem and the bitterness, sadness, loneliness, and pain began to leave your body as you doubled over in laughter. Or so you thought, as tears started spilling down your cheeks uncontrollably, much to your surprise. Jongseob’s smile turned to horror as he automatically put a hand reassuringly on your shoulder.

“Hey dude, knock it off,” he pleaded, shaking you lightly, which made you cry even harder, unable to control the sobs that wracked your body, your hands covering your face. And before you knew it, he was pulling you towards himself awkwardly.

Unable to get his arms around you while the both of you were laying down, he dragged you up into a sitting position as you wept, holding you to his chest and shushing you softly. Your hands remained in front of your face as the tears continued, more slowly now, your breathing starting to regulate. Meanwhile, you felt one of his hands flat against your back, while the other petted your head soothingly.

“Sshh,” he whispered, and as he released you and you wiped your face with your t-shirt, you laughed shakily. “Jesus christ, sorry. Dunno where that came from… guess I just needed to release some pent-up emotion or something.”

“Probably karma for tickling me,” he responded with a sly grin, and you pinched his arm, eliciting a yelp as he slapped your hand away and sat across from you, legs hanging off the bed.

“And I’d do it again!” you yelled, laughing weakly.

His face sobered slightly. “You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s weird, I guess nobody really did anything wrong, but I still feel like an asshole because he’s the one who got hurt.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Intak’s solid though, I’m sure he’ll be okay. Hell, I heard that before he started dating you, he was a little bit of a whore, so hopefully he’ll be back in the game in no time.”

It dawned on you that you hadn’t really known that side of Intak. Not that you cared, but it had just never really come up. You smiled, hoping Jongseob was right. “I hope so, I just want minimal weirdness, you know?”

He nodded, and turned his head towards the door as you both heard the front door unlock and open and the apartment flooded with noise from Shota and Keeho. “I’m gonna go say hi. You need anything from out there?”

You shook your head and got under the covers as he grabbed his stuff and exited.

Oddly enough, you felt that one weight lifted from your chest, while another settled there in its place. You sighed and laid there, mustering the energy you’d need to venture out and join them.

Chapter 10: I'll Never Leave Your Side

“What the hell is up with you?” your boss scolded, leading you into his office. You sat down in the chair across from his desk and ran a hand through your hair and sighed, frustrated and not looking forward to this conversation. “I’m sorry Jeremy, I think I’m just still moving a little slowly after my accident a couple weeks ago.”

“Well I can’t afford for you to be moving slowly. Figure it out, y/n. This isn’t acceptable and you know it,” he snapped back immediately, staring you down. You hated the way he cared more about money than the human beings doing the work.

“Or get a doctor's note. I don’t care, just don’t show up like nothing’s wrong, expecting everyone else to pick up your slack,” he said as he stood up, motioning towards the door. Tears threatened to spill but you kept your composure, refusing to let him see you cry.

“Sorry, okay. I understand. I’ll do better,” you responded dryly with a curt nod, and left his office, hands shaking. You had about half an hour left in your shift and could barely get anything done, your brain more a mess than it usually was.

You loved almost everything about your job: your clients, the flexible scheduling, your co-workers – you’d spent most of your adult life thus far dreaming of a career like this. You even enjoyed having to dress in business casual: your normal wardrobe tended to be much more on the casual side of things, so you enjoyed experimenting and seeing how much of your own personality you could inject into the drab dress code.

However, the one thing that you hated about your job – and it wasn’t a small thing – was your boss Jeremy.

Jeremy was the kind of person who loved having authority. In some ways, he was great for the job – always taking the lead and being able to make difficult, split-second decisions. But in every other way, he was a thorn in your side, always nitpicking, never giving his team the benefit of the doubt. He seemed to be exceedingly comfortable correcting and scolding others, in a way that made your skin crawl.

You wished that he didn’t have so much power over your emotions, but the way he treated you like some expendable machine, especially when you were getting over a head injury, hurt. Badly.

After clocking out and holding everything in, you cried the entire drive home. In the parking lot for your apartment, you sat for a while and dried your tears, trying to get your eyes not to look so puffy before grabbing your bag, slamming your car door shut, and heading up the stairs.

“Hi, y/n!” Jongseob greeted you the moment you walked through the door, catching you off guard. Normally it wouldn’t have been so jarring but your shitty day had made everything overwhelming. “Hey,” you replied, throwing your stuff down and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

“Tough day?” he asked, and as you looked over at him for the first time today, you softened just a tiny bit. His hair hung in limp waves and he wore a purple long-sleeved t-shirt with black pajama shorts, and was sitting on the couch, perfectly cozy, his eyes wide in concern as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah, you could fuckin’ say that,” you replied, a little more curtly than you meant, and took a long sip of the beer. “My boss is getting on my ass for how much my performance has dipped since my concussion, and I’m so sick of it. I don’t understand how I’m expected to work at exactly the same level while I’m dealing with all these headaches and random episodes of dizziness and fatigue. Sometimes my vision even gets all wonky and I have to take a break from looking at my computer screen. But of course, he doesn’t give a shit about that, he just cares about money.”

Jongseob stood up. “Wait, you’re still dealing with all of that?”

“Yeah but that’s not the–”

“Y/n, when’s the last time you talked to a doctor? You should probably have someone check you out just to be safe,” he interrupted, a concerned look on his face that you ignored.

“I’m fine, I’m sure it’s normal, I just wish people would be patient with–”

“But how do you know it’s normal if you don’t get checked out just in case? I dunno, it just seems like–”

“ Enough!” you yelled with enough volume it made him visibly cringe, and you immediately regretted it, but your frustration was overwhelming and you didn’t know how to stop. “I’ve had a shitty enough day with one man breathing down my neck, I don’t need another.”

Jongseob’s eyes widened in shock and he looked taken aback for a moment, then hurt. Shit, shit, shit , you scolded yourself. “Jongseob, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“No, I get it. I’m sorry. Heard,” he replied quietly and picked up his stuff, heading to Shota’s room and closing the door quietly. You realized that, like last weekend, Shota was likely at Keeho’s again, so his room would be empty. You took a long drink of your beer, sat at the kitchen table, and sighed into both of your hands.

He was the last person who’d deserved that, and you needed to apologize, but you would also have understood if he was mad and didn’t want you around at the moment. You sipped your beer, disappointment and regret souring your stomach and forcing you to stop drinking it.

You took a couple long, deep breaths. You’d been frustrated by Jeremy’s blatant disregard for your health, and then came home to get frustrated by Jongseob’s obvious concern for it. It was completely backwards, and you knew it.

You supposed you just wanted to be listened to, and that was fair, but it didn’t excuse the way you’d yelled at him. The expression on his face as you’d shouted flashed into your mind, and your chest tightened. You’d felt like you’d been in some sort of trance, blinded by your frustration and exhaustion; and now that you’d had a moment of quiet, you were nothing short of horrified at your behavior. It had been so unlike you.

The apartment became eerily quiet, filled with nothing but the ambient sounds of the traffic outside and the low hum of the refrigerator. You stood up, walked over to the kitchen sink and dumped the rest of your beer. Setting the empty bottle on the counter, you ran your fingers through your hair and groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. He probably needed space, he probably wanted to be left alone, he probably didn’t want to see you right now: all thoughts that ran through your head as you walked down the hall and lightly tapped on Shota’s door.

“Seob? Is it okay if I come in?” you asked, softening your voice as much as possible to be less threatening. God, how could you have been such an asshole to him of all people?

He didn’t answer, so you cracked the door just barely. “I’m coming in, okay?” you said, and as you opened the door wider, your heart shattered in your chest.

He was sitting on the edge of Shota’s bed, face in his hands, bent over slightly. Fuck, what have I done? you thought as you rushed over and knelt on the floor in front of him. “Oh my god Jongseob, I’m so sorry for yelling, I was such a complete and total asshole,” you insisted, rubbing one of his arms, unsure of what to do. You’d never seen him like this before, and you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. You didn’t deserve him. He hadn’t deserved this.

But he shook his head adamantly and took his hands away from his face, wiping the tears from his eyes with a couple efficient swipes. “It’s not that, I just… fuck –” he began, but tears started to spill again and he wiped them away as well as he was able. He took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled, closing his eyes, then opened them and looked at you, his face looking determined, all the while his lower lip still trembling.

“You have no idea how fucking scary it was to see your head hit the floor like that, y/n. To see the ambulance take you away and not know if you were going to be okay, if you’d wake up, if you’d–”

He paused, voice cracking and tears brimming at his eyes again, and your hands found themselves on his thighs, rubbing reassuringly. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It all turned out okay, right? I’m fine, okay?” you kept repeating, but he was inconsolable at this point.

You stood up onto your knees and pulled him forward into an embrace, his thin body clutching onto you desperately, chin resting on your shoulder. You rubbed circles into his back with one hand and began stroking his hair with the other. He continued shakily, “I was so relieved when you woke up at the hospital, I– I never realized until then how much you mean to me. I dunno what I’d do if anything happened to you, I just don’t know how I would cope.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped, and it suddenly became clear to you – the reason he’d resorted to taking care of you the moment you left the hospital, the way he kept obnoxiously doing trivial tasks for you, all the overbearing comments and questions about your symptoms. He’d been traumatized, seeing you get hurt. He was doing all this because he cared for you, not because he thought you were weak, not because he wanted to make you feel bad about yourself, but because he was worried about you. Truly, sincerely worried.

Soft sobs escaped his body as you held him firmly. “Seob, listen to me,” you said softly into his ear. “I’m so sorry for not listening to you before, but you have to trust me. No matter what happens, I will be fine. I’ll go to the doctor, I’ll get some more scans or something just to be safe. I promise, I’ll never leave your side. Do you understand me?”

He nodded gently, hugging you even tighter.

As you pulled away slightly, not knowing how he would react to this gesture but feeling you had no other choice– you pressed your lips to his cheek, letting them linger there for a moment, trying to instill in him at least a fraction of the calmness you were trying to give him. Without a word, he kissed your own cheek in response, and pulled you ever closer to him, arms wrapped around you again tightly. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, feeling like it would burst. Before now, you’d never experienced affection this intense, this protective, this overwhelming before.

And then it hit you. That feeling… it was love .

You’d fallen in love with Jongseob, and you would do absolutely anything to keep him from feeling pain like this, even if it meant swallowing your pride and letting him fuss over you. Tears stung your eyes as you pulled away from him slightly and swiped your thumbs underneath his eyes to wipe the tears away, your mouth trembling. And then, it happened. One moment, he was looking deep into your eyes, and the next, his lips were against yours. His mouth didn’t move – he just stayed there, mouth barely pressed to yours, his hands making their way to either side of your face, holding you gently. So, he must have felt it, too , you thought, as you closed your eyes, a tear slipping out of one of them.

Chapter 11: Please

Your hands gripped the loose fabric of Jongseob’s shirt at his sides. He pulled back from the kiss slightly, the taste of his tears wet on your lips, his hands still cupping your face gently. You opened your eyes to look at him and his eyes were shining, filled with a mixture of apprehension and desire. He sniffled quietly. “Can I… try that again?”

You nodded. With one shaky hand, he pushed a lock of hair behind your ear and with the other, he guided your face up again to his, knees parting to allow your body to come between them, closer to him. Your grip on his shirt loosened and you flattened your hands against the sides of his waist, putting less distance between your body and his, your stomach doing somersaults as he kissed you a second time. You wanted more, wanted to throw all caution to the wind, but you held it together, not wanting to overwhelm him.

This kiss was less anxious, his lips parting to press against yours more firmly this time, his breath quickening as you kissed him back, mouth moving in tandem with his, noting the way his lips were even softer than they looked. Your head felt light. Your hands slid around to his back and as you pulled away from the kiss, you pulled him into a tight hug.

Shota’s room was silent other than the sounds of both of you breathing. Your heart was still racing and your mind had gone completely blank, so you just held onto him for dear life, scared to ruin the moment, scared for what it all meant, scared for what came next…

The moment was cut short, however, as the sound of the front door opening shocked the two of you apart and you looked at him, horrified. What is he doing back home already? you mouthed to Jongseob. I don’t know, he whispered, equally disturbed.

You sat back on your heels on the floor and Jongseob put his feet up on the bed, both of you trying your hardest to look like nothing weird was going on, like you hadn’t just been hanging out in your little brother’s bedroom, locking lips with his best friend.

Footsteps approached the cracked bedroom door and Shota took one step inside and froze, staring at Jongseob, then at you. He raised an eyebrow. “What are y’all doing in here?” he asked, not angrily, just confused.

You stepped in to save the day, laughing nervously. “Sorry Shota, Jongseob was just hanging out in here and I came in to ask him about a book I’m reading. Are you home for the night already? Thought you were going to Keeho’s for the night.”

You cringed inwardly, hating the way that last part sounded, like you’d been hoping to have the house to yourselves. He eyed you thoughtfully, then said, “Yeah, I just forgot to bring a change of clothes,” he responded, walking over to his dresser and digging out some joggers, a t-shirt, some underwear, and socks.

“What, you mean you’re not gonna just borrow his clothes?” you asked, sticking your tongue out. He grimaced at you, responding, “Not a chance, you know how much I hate sharing clothes.” You did know, fully, but had decided to joke about it anyway to keep the focus on him. Since you weren’t the best liar, you didn’t want him to ask any more detailed questions about what you’d been doing.

After Shota left, you forced yourself to look up at Jongseob and he looked worried, gaze fixed in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers restlessly. You stood up on your knees and climbed onto the bed to sit across from him, legs crossed, and grabbed his hands, thumbs swiping over them soothingly.

He kept his eyes cast downwards, and said in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” and your heart sank. The sting of rejection started to spread through your body as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“Why not?” was all you could muster in response, your throat tight. He glanced up at you, looking surprised, and his eyes softened but you could see pain, real pain, in them. His voice firmed, as he said a bit louder, “You just got out of a relationship.”

“So?” you responded, keeping your eyes on him. He needed to understand.

“You probably think I’m too young for you,” he said a little more quietly.

“If that was true, do you think I would have let you do that?” you asked, voice serious.

He looked to the side thoughtfully, a frown still marring his features. “I dunno. Maybe. You’ve been lonely and I–”

You silenced him by leaning forward immediately, kissing his mouth softly, just once, and sitting back down. He froze, his cheeks colored scarlet, and looked at you with questions in his eyes.

“Jongseob. This is kind of unfamiliar territory for me, and I don’t really know how to navigate it any better than you do.” You paused, shocked at the way this was just starting to spill out. This buried part of you that you’d denied, pushed down, never explored.

“I care about you. More than as a friend. And I think you feel the same way,” you blurted.

A shy smile appeared on Jongseob’s face, breaking through the anxiety and doubt. “Well that second part is pretty obvious,” he replied, blushing again. You couldn’t help smiling back, relief spreading through your body. His hands were still in yours and you held them up, kissing them one at a time, then setting them back down in his lap.

“This could get complicated, though. I don’t really know how anyone would react to… us. If you know what I mean. You being Shota’s best friend, the age gap, all that stuff.”

Jongseob’s face sobered. “Wait, back up. Us? As in… like, you wanna date me?”

“You dummy, what else would that mean?” you teased, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you heard his laugh, bright and adorable, the tension visibly leaving his body as he covered his mouth with both hands.

“Unless of course, you don’t want to,” you said with mock seriousness. “I would understand. I mean, there’s plenty of girls your own age at college, it would be easy enough to–”

“No no, I want to,” Jongseob cut in, putting his hands up argumentatively. “I mean. If you do, too. I don’t care about the complications, it doesn’t matter. Let me be your boyfriend, y/n. Please.”

Please.

You were glad to still be sitting on Shota’s bed, because if you’d been standing up, your knees probably would have buckled.

You realized after probably too many seconds had passed that he was staring at you, waiting for your response, fear clouding his eyes with each passing moment. Your face was already burning up so it wouldn’t be convincing, but you decided to look up and pretend to think about your response.

“Hmm,” you hummed in a sing-song voice, then looked back down at him. “Okay, deal,” you replied, holding your hand out to him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, not shaking it.

“You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know that?” he said unconvincingly, a lovesick smile plastered on his face. You smiled back, heart feeling like it could burst. “I know, but I can be very sweet, too,” you replied, and pulled him in for another kiss.

Chapter 12: It Was So Simple in the Moonlight

“Where did you say the green onions were?” Jongseob asked, crouched in front of the fridge, searching behind plastic containers and all your various sauce bottles. “Produce drawer. Might be under some stuff, though,” you replied as you massaged marinade into diced pieces of chicken.

After you’d talked a little more, Jongseob had agreed to cook dinner with you. It felt so suddenly domestic. He’d helped you cook plenty of times before, but this time was different. The shy smiles, the way he’d linger closer to you than usual.

As you rinsed the rice in the sink, his arms made their way around your waist from behind and he rested his head on your shoulder. You let out a small surprised gasp and stiffened at the touch, then tried to relax, still getting used to it. He giggled, kissed your cheek, and went back to the counter to chop the veggies. You continued, unable to hide the smile glued to your face, but in all honesty, you didn’t want to hide it. Not anymore.

Once the meal was finished, you both had decided to eat in the living room and watch a movie. Jongseob’s pick was Notting Hill , which surprised you. “Didn’t know you were into rom-coms,” you said, inquisitively. He shrugged, responding, “Usually they’re not my thing but this one’s different. It’s sort of a comfort movie of mine, I’m not sure why. We don’t have to watch it if you’re not into it, I just–”

“We’re watching it,” you said with a smile, and he smiled back sheepishly, and you both ate at the coffee table, sitting on the floor before finishing your meal and moving up to the couch.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, Jongseob turned towards you and stared at you for a moment. “Y/n? Can I hold your hand?” You replied by immediately slotting your fingers between his, your hand enveloped in his and resting on his thigh. Your positions devolved from him fidgeting with your fingers in his lap, to you leaning on his shoulder, until eventually you were sat up straight with him laying on his side, his head nestled in your lap while you played with his shaggy blonde hair.

You couldn’t remember your heart ever feeling this full, in your entire life.

As the movie ended, Jongseob stretched his arms overhead in your lap and yawned, twisting to lay with his face up to look at you. You pushed his bangs out of his face. “Nice forehead, bro,” you said, and bent over to kiss it. He smiled, canines showing. Cute.

“Are you gonna keep calling me bro even when we’re dating?” he asked, eyebrow raised accusingly, still smiling. You considered for a moment, then responded, “Yeah, probably. Was there something else you wanted me to call you, though?”

At this question, his face blanched and he shook his head adamantly. “Nah, I was just messing around.” But you were like a shark with blood in the water. “No, you bring up a good point. I should probably call you something else sometimes, at least to mix it up. Sweetheart? Darling? Angel?” You looked at his face to monitor his reactions, but he maintained a stubborn pout, arms crossed.

“Hmmm, okay. Baby ?”

Jongseob’s eyes widened and his face reddened but he tried to maintain his expression, and you knew you had him. “Mmm, okay, noted,” you responded with a conniving smile, and he rolled his body towards you and pressed his face against your belly, groaning. You ran your fingers through his hair playfully, beaming at your success.

As you laid there, his body relaxed and you leaned your head back on the couch, fingers still in his hair, thoughts and emotions swirling erratically. You were glad that just for tonight, Shota was gone, and the two of you could exist like this in peace. Before reality set in, before you had to have the conversations, or lack thereof – you weren’t sure yet how things would happen. You laid there in silence, various thoughts, ideas, and worries running through your head, and eventually you realized how late it had gotten. How long had you been sitting here like this?

“Baby,” you whispered, waking Jongseob from half-sleep. He inhaled deeply, then turned his head up towards you, opened his eyes and smiled lazily. Your heart swelled. “Let’s go to bed,” you said, and his sleepy smile turned to an anxious expression. “Y/n, I dunno if I’m ready to–”

“Sleep,” you cut him off, laughing quietly but understanding his concern. “Just to sleep. Is that okay?”

His gaze softened, his relief obvious, and he nodded his head and smiled.

Jongseob headed to Shota’s room to change, and you headed to yours and threw on some loose black boxer shorts and a baggy gray t-shirt. You finished washing your face and brushing your teeth and when you came back into your room, Jongseob was sitting on the edge of the bed, similarly dressed in plaid boxers and an oversized ratty t-shirt. You felt your body heat up, suddenly wondering if this had been a good idea.

Although you were dressed basically the same, you felt surprisingly self-conscious, wondering if you should have worn a tank top instead, or some cute pajama shorts, but as you were having these thoughts, Jongseob looked up at you and smiled. You felt your defenses go up and immediately resorted to sarcasm. “What are you lookin’ at, buddy?” you asked, fists up playfully.

“You,” he replied without skipping a beat, and your stomach did a flip. “You’re so beautiful,” he continued, “and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

Your jaw dropped and your brain floundered, searching for something, anything to say in response, but you just covered your eyes and mumbled, “Thanks,” then joined him on the bed.

You got under the covers with him and you faced each other, smiling dumbly. “So are you,” you finally said to him quietly, feeling incredibly lame. You wanted to tell him how perfect, how stunning he was, all the time, every moment of the day, but you just didn’t have the words right now.

“So,” you began, knowing this conversation would have to come sooner or later. “So?” he responded.

You sighed. “Obviously, Shota is the first person I’d want to tell about this, and I assume it’s the same for you.” He nodded in agreement, and you continued, “But I’m not sure I want to tell him just yet.”

“Why not?” he asked, not argumentatively, just curiously.

“I just,” you began, trying to find the words. “I guess I just don’t love the way it might look. Shota’s like, the least judgmental person I know, but I still worry. Like you said, I just got out of a relationship, and I dunno, it might look like… you’re taking advantage of me? Or vice versa? Ugh, I don’t know if this is making sense or if I’m making too big of a deal out of it.”

“Nah,” Jongseob responded. “If it’s important to you, it’s not trivial. I don’t really care either way, but if you wanna wait, I’ve got no problem with that.” You smiled. It didn’t surprise you at all how patient and sweet he was being, but it still made you incredibly happy.

You spent the next hour talking about anything and everything: shared memories, childhood nostalgia, your shitty boss, his current classes. At some point, however, his eyes started getting heavier and heavier, and you could tell he was forcing himself to stay awake.

“Okay sleepyhead, which spoon do you wanna be?” you asked.

“Which spoon do you wanna be?” he replied.

“I asked first.”

“This is your bed, you should choose.”

You scoffed. “This is my bed so I should be able to make you choose.”

“Y/n, if I confess to you how badly I want to be little spoon, you can not make fun of me or I will become a fork.”

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stifling laughter – not at his confession, but at how dramatic he was being. “Oh my god, turn over,” you ordered, and he flipped over away from you with a huff.

You shifted towards him and rested your face behind his head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo as you wrapped an arm around his waist and rested your hand on his chest. He put his hand over top of yours and gripped it tightly as you pushed your body flush against him, your bare legs intertwining with his.

Well, this isn’t very relaxing, you thought as you laid awake, heart pounding, body burning up. You wanted to be closer to him, wanted to flip him around and kiss him deeply, wanted to–

At that thought, you began hearing soft snores coming from him, and you could have melted. You smiled into his hair, kissing the back of his head, the side of his neck, the part of his bare shoulder that was exposed by the loose collar of his t-shirt. Eventually, you drifted off as well, face pressed up against him, happier than you’d ever been.

Chapter 13: Brother's Blessing

Over the next couple weeks, you and Jongseob narrowly escaped being discovered by Shota and Keeho as you try to keep your new relationship undercover.

Shota and Keeho had started alternating weekends spent with each other, so the following weekend, Keeho stayed over, which made the apartment fairly crowded with Jongseob staying there, too. Jongseob had discussed the arrangement with Shota and said that he didn’t mind staying at his dorm, but Shota insisted that he stay like he always did, since Keeho would be sleeping in his room anyway.

Both Friday and Saturday nights, you’d wanted so badly to have Jongseob stay in your bed, but it had been your own idea to keep the relationship a secret for the time being. You knew it was a good idea, but as nighttime descended, you were kicking yourself.

The best you could do was wait until Shota and Keeho had gone to bed, then go out to the living room to hang out with Jongseob on the couch. It was nerve-wracking since Shota’s bathroom was next door to his room and both of them had to enter the hallway anytime they needed to use it; they could come out and catch you at any moment.

Although you yearned for the time that you’d be able to stop hiding, part of you loved the thrill of it – cuddling, talking, and making out on the couch with the constant threat of discovery looming. You couldn’t deny that it was at least a little bit fun.

On the second night of that weekend, you stayed up with Jongseob on the couch until nearly two in the morning, both of you getting carried away with whispered conversations, heated touches, increasingly needy kisses. It was such a relief to be able to spend time with him like this after pretending all day, even if your eyes stung from staying awake.

You were laying your head on his shoulder as you both watched a movie quietly, talking all throughout it, when Shota’s door opened, causing you both to jump and separate in one dramatic movement. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, as he walked out to the kitchen and froze, noticing you two on the couch through sleepy eyes. “Y/n? Whatchu doin out here?” he asked, speech slurred and sleepy.

“Uh, couldn’t sleep,” you lied through your teeth, and Jongseob snickered quietly. Shota scowled, eyes barely open as he filled a glass with water from the tap and gulped it all down at once, then belched. “Jongseob couldn’t either, huh? Okay, weirdos…” he mumbled as he shuffled back to his room and shut the door.

You looked at Jongseob and made a face somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Oops,” you whispered, and he giggled quietly, his face lit up by the soft ambient lighting from the TV. You loved seeing him laugh. “You have the absolute best smile,” you told him.

“Ah, you like these bad boys?” he replied, hooking a finger into his mouth and baring one of his sharp, crooked canine teeth. You laughed at how funny he looked. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

He took his finger out of his mouth and gave you a shy smile. “Ah… Well, thank you.” Affection for him flooded your body and you tackled him, slapping a hand over his mouth when he started laughing too loudly at being tickled. Eventually, neither of you could stay awake and when he began to drift off on the couch, you kissed his forehead and returned to your bedroom.

Just one more week, you told yourself. I can make it at least one more week.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next week, you took some time off work to go to the doctor for a follow-up appointment to make sure your ongoing symptoms weren’t anything to worry about. Jongseob insisted on going with you, and you weren’t sure which one of you was more embarrassed when the medical assistant asked if he was your little brother.

Fortunately, you were able to get some repeat scans within the same week and everything checked out normal. You’d texted Jongseob the moment they came in.

y/n: guess whose noggin is normal and brain bleed-free?

js: oh my god that’s so good to hear

y/n: [sunglasses smiling emoji] [finger gun emoji]

js: y/n i swear to god

y/n: yeah i guess it is good news huh

js: i’m literally in class about to cry happy tears

y/n: :( wait stop, are you for real??

js: yes!! sorry that i care about your fucking wellbeing and that you’re incredibly important to me!

You sat in the break room, smiling so wide at your phone that your face started to hurt.

y/n: you are the absolute sweetest. i’m sorry for worrying you

js: whatever dude. thanks for getting it checked out. i know you probably did it to shut me up but i just feel a lot better

y/n: [sunglasses smiling emoji] [finger gun emoji]

js: sigh

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As the next weekend approached, you knew Shota probably had plans to stay at Keeho’s, so you tried to catch him on Thursday night. You texted him to make sure he was free, and told him you wanted to hang out and have dinner. He agreed, no questions asked, and as soon as you sent the text finalizing the plans, your stomach started to hurt. You figured it would probably go fine, but it didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

You came home from work and walked in to find him already working on dinner. “Hey, thanks, Shota, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, secretly pleased that he’d already gotten started since you were starving. He looked over at you from where he was chopping vegetables. “Y/n, you really baby me a lot, you know that?” he said, an accusing smile on his face.

You smiled back in shock. “You’re goddamn right I do. You know what, you can finish this on your own, right? There’s actually this video game I really wanted to play–”

“No no, you can still help!” he replied immediately, laughing nervously. “That’s what I thought, punk,” you said with a sly smile as you washed your hands and joined him.

Once you’d both gotten settled at the table, your heart started to pick up pace. You cleared your throat as Shota took his first bite. “So… this thing with Keeho. How’s it going?” you began. Although it wasn’t the primary reason for your request to sit down and talk, you had still been meaning to check in with him about his new relationship as well.

“It’s good,” he replied, mouth full of food. You smiled fondly at him, glad he’d been able to find a boyfriend despite his ass-backwards manners and many, many peculiarities. He chewed and swallowed. “Yeah, he uh, he’s really great. I’m glad I gave it a chance.”

You nodded, happy with what you were hearing. “Good, that’s good. So he’s a good boyfriend? No regrets, right? You know I have a low threshold for kicking that guy’s ass,” you said, clenching your fists dramatically. He laughed and covered his mouth cutely. “Yes, he’s a really good boyfriend,” he replied, looking down and smiling thoughtfully. “I feel like ever since the incident at the club, he’s been spending our entire relationship trying to make it up to me.”

“Good! He should!”

He giggled at your honesty. “Yeah, if I’m being completely honest, it makes me feel a little bad but I do kind of enjoy it. Is that fucked up?”

“Not at all,” you replied immediately. “He should be treating you like royalty every single day. If he doesn’t, you’d better let me know.”

Shota smiled and nodded shyly. He was usually so sassy, and it was adorable seeing him be this vulnerable, talking about his boyfriend. You still had your doubts about Keeho, but as long as Shota was happy, you couldn’t really complain.

And now, for the elephant in the room, your brain announced intrusively, and you picked at your food, suddenly nervous.

“So, Shota. There’s something that I wanna tell you, and, I’m open to whatever you have to say about it.”

He looked up at you from his food, eyebrows raised curiously, waiting for you to continue. You cleared your throat. “I’m, um. I’m seeing someone.”

He nodded. “Okay? That was fast.” His bluntness stung, but you expected it, and you knew he wasn’t saying it to be rude; he was just speaking his mind. “Do I know them?”

“Him. Yeah, you do.”

Shota stared at you, growing impatient by the moment. “O…kay? So?”

Your hands began to sweat and you rubbed them on your work pants, avoiding eye contact with him. “What, are you back together with Intak or something?”

“No…”

“Y/n just tell m–”

“It’s Jongseob.”

He blinked once. Twice. Silence hung thick in the air and the room felt stuffy. You looked down at your plate, waiting, waiting, dreading Shota’s response, his scolding, his objections.

But the sound of his laughter split through the air and you looked up, confused, as Shota started cracking up. “No way,” he wheezed. “You and Jongseob? For real ?”

You sighed. “Yes,” you replied blandly, feeling a blush creep up your neck as you fought an embarrassed smile. He fell into another fit of laughter and you wanted to roll your eyes but didn’t; you were simply relieved that he didn’t seem mad.

“Damn, I knew you were a cradle robber but I didn’t know you were that much of one,” he blurted out, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. You must not have been able to control the look that you made at that comment, because his face immediately sobered. “Shit, that came out a lot ruder than I meant it. I was just teasing, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Nah, it’s all good, I kinda deserve it. Well. I mean, I dunno. I definitely didn’t develop feelings for him on purpose. Feels like something that just happened to me,” you said, and hid your face into your hands, letting out a muffled scream. “God, why is this so embarrassing?”

Shota giggled. “Because you’re dating your little bro’s best friend, you pervert.”

Your jaw dropped, horrified, but he was laughing again. Okay, this could have been a lot worse, you thought. You could handle the jokes, and they were at least expected.

As Shota’s laughing subsided, however, he took on a more serious tone. “You don’t think this is a rebound situation, right? Like, after your thing with Intak?”

“No,” you replied immediately, and he seemed relieved at the quickness of your answer. “No, not at all. I think I’ve been in denial about this for a minute, but I haven’t really explored it that much. One thing I know for certain, though, is that this has nothing to do with the situation with Intak. I promise.”

Shota nodded. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. Because… shit, I actually don’t know if I should tell you this.” He thought about it for just a moment longer, and then continued, “Ah, fuck it. He’d probably end up telling you anyway. When we were all kids, he had a pretty huge crush on you. I thought it was just a childhood thing, but now I’m wondering if, maybe… it never went away?”

Your throat went dry at this information, and you just nodded, thinking.

After a few moments of silence, Shota sighed and cleared his voice. “Okay, serious talk time. I’m only gonna say this once, because you know how much I hate being confrontational.” You nodded, encouraging him to continue, his intense eye contact burning into you.

“Just know that …you need to be really careful. Jongseob looks up to you, and you’re in a position where you could probably hurt him pretty badly.” You winced at this comment, but you knew he was right. “With Intak, I honestly couldn’t care less, and I’m sorry if this is blunt but I figured that wouldn’t really last long since the two of you don’t have that much in common, but with Jongseob? I dunno that he can really do casual, when it comes to dating. Especially not with you.”

You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes as you felt the pressure of the situation, but there was one thing you were certain of.

“Shota… I… love him,” you said, tears slipping out of your eyes. His face dropped at your change in demeanor, eyes round and shining as he nodded, listening to you intently. “Okay, okay. Good. I mean, shit. I’m sorry, did I say something to hurt your feelings? You don’t think I’m mad at you, right?”

You shook your head adamantly and wiped the tears away. “No no no, don’t worry, it’s not you. You’re being the best friend possible right now, and the best brother. It’s just… hearing you say all that, it just made me realize how much I really do love him. And, I haven’t told him this yet, so please don’t say anything, but…” you rubbed your eyes again, taking a deep shuddering breath. “It’s just overwhelming, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so protective of someone before, other than you of course. I can’t imagine messing around with him, you have to understand I could never, ever even imagine doing something like that to him. You have to understand,” you said and began to cry again, and he reached across the table and grabbed your hands.

“Okay yeah, I hear you, I understand. I’m glad, y/n. It’s okay. Please stop crying,” he said with a nervous laugh. You and Shota didn’t cry in front of each other often at all, so he didn’t seem to know what to do other than pat your hands awkwardly.

After talking a bit more, Shota brought up something that you knew would come up.

“So, I know I said I didn’t really care about the situation with Intak, but… I still think you need to tell him. Before you tell the other guys.” You nodded, agreeing with him.

You wiped the remnants of tears at the corners of your eyes and pulled out your phone immediately to text Intak. “Wait, don’t tell him over text! That’s so uncool, y/n,” Shota scolded, and you showed him the text that you had just sent him, asking him if you could meet at a coffee shop to talk some things over.

You rolled your eyes at him. “C’mon Shota, you know me better than that,” you said, and he shrugged. “Sorry, just had to make sure.”

The next moment, Jongseob came through the door, having just gotten out of a late weekday class. This wasn’t one of the normal days he would have come over, but since it was the day you had wanted to talk to Shota, he’d made it work.

“Hey guys,” he said with a strained smile. “Hey,” Shota responded. “Hi,” you said, elated to see him but feeling the tension in the room suck out all the air. You cleared your throat. “I’m gonna…”

“Sure, okay,” Shota responded knowingly as you made eye contact with Jongseob, gave him a reassuring smile, and headed to your room to give them some privacy to talk. About half an hour later, you heard a knock on your door, and you answered it to find Shota on the other side. “C’mon,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the common area. You complied and walked out to find Jongseob on the couch, staring at his phone while the TV played some video that Shota was forcing him (and soon to be both of you) to watch.

You looked at Shota, and he gestured towards the couch. “Oh my god y/n just sit down and chill.” You looked at him, confused. “Wait, so that’s it?”

He plopped down on the couch and grabbed a handful of Doritos, shoving most of them into his mouth. “Unless y’all have any more secrets, yeah, we’re good. Just don’t be weird. Hold hands, do whatever you need to do, I’ll get used to it.”

You sat down on the couch next to Jongseob and he gave you a sweet smile, melting any remaining anxiety that you had. He pecked your cheek lightly and took your hand in his, as Shota proceeded to show both of you his latest YouTube fixation.

As the evening continued, you couldn’t help thinking about what Shota had said, and taking his words to heart. Every time you looked at Jongseob, you felt a renewed sense of protectiveness towards him, the love nearly pouring out of you. It took so much self-control not to say it. You knew you couldn’t tell him now, so soon. Your confession would have to wait.

But it didn’t make it any less real.

Chapter 14: Clearing the Air

Later that night as you cuddled in bed next to Jongseob (who had decided to stay the night, even though it was a weeknight), your phone lit up on the nightstand, and you reached over him to grab it.

tak: hey, y/n, thanks for reaching out, i hope you’ve been doing good. i’m down to meet up and talk, just let me know when and where

y/n: great, i really appreciate it, and likewise. how about this Saturday at 10am? that coffee shop we used to go to?

y/n: or wait, is that weird :/

y/n: shit, nevermind, you choose

tak: lol it’s all good, that coffee shop is fine. see you then

y/n: ok!!

You sighed and put your phone back on the nightstand. “Everything okay?” Jongseob asked in the dark, rubbing your side.

“Yeah, just made plans to meet up with Intak Saturday morning and talk.”

“Mmm,” he responded and kissed your shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

“Nah, I think it’ll go fine. Just something that I need to get over with, I guess.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

A long silence ensued, and something flickered across your mind.

“You don’t feel weird about this, right?” you asked.

“About what?”

“Oh, you know what. About me going to get coffee with Intak and tell him about us. That doesn’t make you uncomfortable, right?”

“No!” he said a little too loudly and you smiled. “Just… don’t go falling for him again, or whatever,” he muttered, and you burst out laughing.

“When I have you to come back home to? Not a chance,” you replied, kissing his cheek over and over again.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, y/n,” Intak said in a friendly tone as he approached your table. “Hi Intak,” you said with a nervous smile as you stood up and hugged him. He looked good, like he always did, but you were relieved that he seemed happy, nearly glowing. What a relief , you thought.

Once you'd both ordered and sat back down again, you took a deep breath and began.

“Okay, first of all, I wanted to apologize for…” you looked down and chewed the inside of your lip, thinking of how best to phrase what you wanted to say. “For, I guess, just not being very emotionally honest when we were together. I think I knew, deep down, that things between us wouldn’t last – nothing to do with you, just a gut feeling – and, I guess I didn’t really know what I was doing with you, or why.”

He raised his eyebrows, brown puppy-dog eyes widening in understanding, as he nodded, encouraging you to continue. “Nothing about it was your fault, though. You have to know that. You’re attractive and sweet and attentive and you absolutely deserve someone who will fully appreciate you. But anyway, I’m sorry for how things ended up, the last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt.”

Intak smiled sweetly and nodded again, his eyes full of compassion and empathy. “Hey, it’s really okay. I’m doing fine. Nothing to apologize for.”

You let out a huge sigh of relief and smiled back, bowing your head slightly and taking a sip of your drink. “There was… another thing I wanted to talk to you about today,” you began tentatively.

He sipped his drink casually. “Okay? Sure, what’s up?” he responded, looking curious.

“I’m, uh… I’m dating Jongseob.”

His expression didn’t change. Shit, he’s mad, you thought immediately. He looked to the left, then the right, then back at you. “Yeah. Okay? And?”

You blinked at him a couple times. “Um. Okay wait, what do you mean?”

He stared back at you, confused. “I mean, I guess I just don’t understand what you wanted to talk about. Are you guys doing okay? Is something wrong? Like, do you need anything?”

This got more confusing by the second, and you took a deep breath. “I wanted to let you know because of how recently we broke up. And, you know, he’s someone that you know. I just wanted to be open and honest with you about it, and let you know before the others found out. Because… I know how it looks, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

He furrowed his brows together and smiled. “Y/n… I honestly assumed you would get together with him the moment I dumped you. Felt like I was doing you a service, actually, by breaking things off… so you could finally be with him. I figured you didn’t have the guts, or something, to tell me.”

Your face went hot and that last comment offended you, but he quickly added, “I know, I wasn’t really giving you the benefit of the doubt. It’s just, I saw the way you looked at him, and the way he always stared at you, and it was just… so obvious? To me, at least. And to Theo. Especially after the hospital. If I’m honest, I felt like boyfriend number two in that situation. Not that you shouldn’t have people who care about you and want to take care of you, but damn, he kinda made me look bad. Not that I can fault him, but still.”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair a little. Your stomach churned at the thought of him and Theo talking about you like that but you knew you couldn’t fault them. It’s not like they’d technically been wrong, but it still made you feel so stupid.

“I also want to make it clear that I didn’t necessarily think you were cheating or anything, but I could just tell your heart wasn’t really with me, and it got too difficult to deal with,” he added, face taking on a more serious expression.

Your chest panged with guilt. “Yeah, that makes sense. That’s totally fair. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s all good. Obviously I was disappointed but I’m not going to try to force something that isn’t meant to be. You’re a really cool person and I’m glad you’ve uh, finally figured out who your person is,” he added with a chuckle. “I have a tendency to get a little involved when I start dating someone so, even though we had agreed that things needed to stay casual, I think I just got too invested and that’s on me. Not your fault, it’s just the way things happened.” You nodded, a smile of relief tugging at your lips.

After talking about something other things and catching up in general, the conversation becoming much lighter and more comfortable, a thought occurred to you, and you blurted:

“Wait, so you’re telling me that I was one of the only people who didn’t know that I liked Jongseob?”

“Seems to be that way,” he replied with a kindhearted laugh, sipping his drink. “Wait,” he added, “I even told you that I didn’t want to be second best in your world. What the hell did you think that meant, y/n?”

Your face burned up. “Honestly, I didn’t know and I was too afraid and in shock to ask, so I just let it go without a second thought. This just gets more embarrassing, huh.”

He laughed heartily as you put your elbows on the table, covered your face with your hands, and groaned. As you smiled, and finished your drink, he cleared his throat.

“So…on this topic, I should mention. I’ve actually got a date with someone tonight. So I really mean it when I say, don’t worry about me. I’m cool if you are.”

You smiled and your mouth dropped open in momentary shock, eyes wide, then you fist bumped him and he burst out laughing as he returned it.

“That’s great. I’m happy for you,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone.

“For us ,” he added, and you nodded, standing up from the table and giving him another hug before you parted ways amicably.

Chapter 15: Going Places

You walked through the front door of your apartment with Shota, arms aching from all the heavy plastic bags cutting into them.

“Y/n, we are a one trip household , he’d screamed at you outside the car as he piled more bags onto your wrists, his own arms flexing under the weight of the ones he was already holding. Once inside, you lowered them to the ground as carefully as possible, but you were unable to avoid the loud clank of the glass bottles as you set them down.

It had been Shota’s idea to host a party for the end of the school year, with your usual group (which you hadn’t seen since you and Jongseob had started dating). Your household was supplying the drinks, Jiung and Theo volunteered to bring snacks, Keeho was bringing chicken, and Intak was bringing his new girlfriend.

After you’d both set the bags down and Shota had gone to his room to change, you looked around and noticed the house looked immaculate. You turned the corner into the kitchen to find Jongseob finishing up the dishes and hugged him from behind, smiling into his back and hooking your hands around his waist. “Thanks for cleaning,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt.

“No prob. Do we need anything else before tonight?” he asked, turning off the water as he put the last dish on the drying rack.

“Nope,” you replied, releasing him so he could dry his hands, then pulling him in for a hug, rubbing his back briskly. “I’m gonna go get ready, come on.”

He held your hand as he followed you to your room and you both got ready; you changed into baggy blue jeans and a white short-sleeved button-up, while he put on a pair of black baggy cargo pants and a fitted baby tee with pink text. As soon as you saw him, your mind went blank and your hands made their way, completely outside your control, to his tiny waist.

“ Damn, ” you whispered as he giggled and pushed your hands away; you went to the bathroom to start on your makeup, fully in a daze. He joined you about halfway through to do his hair, putting it up in little half pigtails (using some of your tiny clear hairbands), and you truly could have disintegrated at how cute he was.

After fighting weakly and losing rapidly, he let you dab some pearly eyeshadow on his inner corners and headed out to the living room as people started to arrive.

Taeyang and Jiung arrived first, arms fully loaded with bags of snacks that they set on the counter. As you pulled out large bowls to put them in, Taeyang leaned his ass against the kitchen counter next to you, arms crossed, and looked down at you with a piercing gaze. He was so beautiful, hair even longer than last time you saw him; he looked positively vampiric, with his dark hair, pale skin, and dark pink lips. Was he wearing makeup? You wondered, but then realized he’d just asked you a question.

“Hello, Earth to y/n?” he yelled over the music, and you smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry, what?”

“So? You and blondie?”

Your smile dropped. “How did you–”

“Intak told me because he’s such a little gossip, but I just wanted to verify it with you because I’m nosy.”

You laughed, dropping your guard a bit. “Ah, I see. Well, the rumor’s true,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders.

“Cool,” he responded, leaving to go join the others. That was it? You sighed in relief. You weren’t sure why you were expecting Taeyang to be mad, but you were just relieved he wasn’t. Or else, as far as you knew, he wasn’t.

Keeho arrived next with the chicken, which everyone started to dive into without waiting for Intak, and shortly after, Intak walked in with his girlfriend and introduced her to everyone, beginning with you. Her name was Lily, and she had dark round eyes, full lips, and beautiful dark hair; she was drop dead gorgeous, and you weren’t surprised. The two of them were a match made in heaven, a bisexual dream.

An hour or two later, everyone was at least a few drinks in, and getting rowdier by the minute. Shota wouldn’t get out of Keeho’s lap, Jiung and Taeyang wouldn’t stop screaming at each other over Mario Kart, and you and Lily had basically become best friends.

At the end of one of the Mario Kart matches, Shota jumped off of Keeho and started dancing, which made Jiung get up and started dance battling him, which resulted in your downstairs neighbors calling the cops because there was so much screaming that they couldn’t tell if you were hosting a party or if a mass murder was taking place.

After the cops left, Shota took off his shirt and started showing everyone the wall run that he’d perfected, adding to the footprints that already marred your white walls. You pulled out your phone and added magic erasers to your shopping list before going outside your front door with Jongseob to smoke.

Neither of you were smokers but you sometimes couldn’t help yourself when you’d been drinking, so you always kept a pack on hand, just in case the feeling struck (like it did, now). You lit a cigarette, sucked in the acrid smoke, then leaned towards Jongseob’s face to allow him to light his from the tip of yours. Your head felt light and pleasant, and he looked so impossibly sexy, cheeks flushed from alcohol, pigtails a mess, the skin of his lower belly showing.

After his next exhalation, you leaned in and kissed him, sloppy, needy, and slow. He leaned against the railing outside your door while you pressed into him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders passively, body feeling heavy. He giggled into the kiss, and you felt his smile against your lips, as he pulled away slightly and murmured something.

“What?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, and he flushed more deeply, kissing you again. You pulled back again. “Baby, what did you say?” you asked again, becoming worried.

He giggled again, looking down. “I love you?” he said quietly, his tone raising at the end of the statement, almost making it sound like a question. But his face fell immediately as you stared at him blankly. “Sorry, I’m drunk, I shouldn’t–”

“I love you too,” you blurted out, eyes brimming with moisture as you kissed him again, more softly this time. You felt like your body was melting into his as he held you there, lips pressed to yours, hands dangerously low on your hips. You kissed him again, again, and again, then pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest as he kissed your head.

You jumped as the door flung wide open and Taeyang screamed, “Oh my god, ” and made a gagging noise as he came out to join you. You separated slightly, giggling uncontrollably. He scowled at you both. “Y’all look like a coupla high schoolers. Give me one of those,” he said, holding his hand out, and you handed him a cigarette and a lighter.

Taeyang was somehow both friendlier and sassier with the alcohol in his system, and proceeded to very casually talk with both of you in a way that he hadn’t done before. He asked you about how you’d been feeling since your injury and you were happy to report that you were finally feeling mostly like your old self again; you then used that opportunity to bitch about your shitty boss. He and Jongseob talked about finals and everything school-related.

The conversation flowed from smalltalk to deeper topics, and soon the three of you were multiple cigarettes in, drunkenly rambling about ethical, political, and social issues. As Taeyang was on a particularly fiery rant, the door opened and out walked Intak and Lily, who jolted slightly at Theo’s volume.

“Hey guys, we’re taking off,” Intak said, bowing his head slightly and smiling at the three of you. He and Lily hugged you one by one and headed down the stairs. You glanced at your phone and realized that it was late .

The three of you went back inside and Jiung was laying on the living room floor, eyes closed. Taeyang pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Goddammit Jiung, don’t make me carry you out of here.”

“Keeho and Shota went to go have sex or something. Everyone else abandoned me,” Jiung said, eyes still closed, his voice completely deadpan. The three of you felt bad but couldn’t help laughing as Taeyang helped him up and headed out the door to catch their ride.

You shut the front door behind them and hopped on the couch next to Jongseob. The house was a disaster, but that would be a problem for tomorrow. You leaned on his shoulder; it had been a while since your last drink but you were still pleasantly buzzed, your throat mildly sore from the cigarettes.

Jongseob took your hand in both of his and cleared his throat. “Hey, y/n, I’m sorry about earlier, if what I said was… if it was too much. I was drunk, and not really thinking.”

Your heart sank, and you turned to face him, face crestfallen. “Wait. Did you mean it, though?”

He glanced away and nodded, looking ashamed. “Of course I did. No doubt about it. But, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to say it back,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with you.

You guided his face towards you gently, forcing him to look into your eyes, his own eyes looking vulnerable and nervous.

“I love you, Seob, so much. And I would never say that if I didn’t mean it. Do you understand?”

He smiled wide and nodded, leaning into your hand on his cheek as you brushed your thumb against his face affectionately.

“Okay,” he said quietly, and you pulled him in for a gentle kiss, feeling more excited for your future than you’d ever been before.

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