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neopuppy · 2 months

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I’m Here To Save You (M)

pairing. alpha johnny x female omega reader

genre. traditional a/b/o AU, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, pwp, m/f, one shot

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, mating ceremony, pack head Alpha Johnny, size difference, use of Alpha voice, dominant but soft Johnny. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 15k

now playing. pied piper//bts

smut warnings. unprotected rough sex, public sex- with audience, biting, breeding, knotting, etc

a/n. I am aware of Johnny’s actual tattoos, in case it needs to be said. my apologies for the floof🫤😑

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

By now you’d wish to have gotten the hang of climbing up a tree.

Hissing between your teeth as you pick at splinters cutting through your palm, you lean back into a more comfortable position against a large branch just in time to catch a glimpse of the group of Alphas marching out of the village for a hunt. It’d be another week condemned to the stables cleaning horse shit if any of them were to find you this deep in the woods again.

For the most part you’ve managed to sneak around unnoticed, only catching the attention of a few elders who realized you’d been missing most of the day as you passed by and smiled inconspicuously.

Sometimes you just need to be alone, get away from the pack’s rules and hierarchy, all the duties and mundane tasks implemented. Even if your motive to distance yourself these days has less to do with wanting to be alone and more with needing to get away from a certain somebody that can’t seem to leave you alone.

“You know,” a familiar voice cuts through the trees. Long legs and thick brown hair with golden bits emerging before you can see his face in the light. “The day my father finds you out here this far from the pack, I won’t have any way to protect your ass from the punishment you’ll undoubtedly face.”

“He hasn’t caught me.” You respond, sneering down at your friend arching his neck back with a hand over his eyes to shield the sun and squint up at you.

“Yet.” He states, snapping his fingers toward you with his free hand. “Get down from there.”

“No.”

“It’s not safe!” He hisses, peering back over his shoulder to ensure the Alphas have made it past the clearing already. “For someone like you to be up there.”

“Someone like me?” You spit, ripping a small tree branch free to hurl at his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

He sighs, stepping back to dodge your weak attempt to hurt him. “Don’t make me come up there.”

“Go away.”

“No.” Setting his hands on his hips he motions toward the lake with his head. “Let’s go swimming, it’s a nice day and with the Alphas gone it’s pretty empty.”

“Don’t want to.” You sigh, leaning back on the thick part of the tree.

“Please? I already lied to Jaehyun to get out of hanging out with him today.” Reaching for the satchel laid on his hip, he pulls out a bottle antiseptic. “Bet your hands are really beat from scaling this ancient tree too. Come on, don’t make me beg to hang out with my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s your best friend. You want to snap back at him, huffing and frowning as you pick at a small splinter.

“The waters perfect right now..”

“Beg.” You say, peering down with a smile.

He chuckles, head shaking, pressing his hands against the tree. “Yeah? Should I get on my knees and cry? Would that make you come down?”

“Perhaps..”

“I said—“ with gritted teeth he grips onto the trunk of the tree firmly and shakes, adding kicks in-between. “Get down from there!”

“Johnny!” He’s stronger than you’d think from his gangly appearance, at least able to shake your position enough to clutch onto a large branch and curse as more bits of wood cut through your palm. “Stop it!”

“Are you coming down?!”

“Fine! You stupid neanderthal!”

“Nice one.” Catching his breath he moves back enough to grant you space to come down, reaching for your waist once you’re close enough to the ground. “I seriously hate when you sneak off without telling anyone.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You heave out of breath, swatting his hands away. Johnny’s persistent, grabbing a hold of your wrists and spinning you around to face him.

“‘No.” He mutters, tsking under his breath. “It’s a huge deal. Goddess look at your hands.” A frown takes over his features, kneeling down to empty his bag in search of tweezers. “I only carry these around because of you.”

“I’m fine.” You scoff, ignoring the sting shooting through your hands. “I’ll wash them out in the water.”

“And risk infection?” Standing back up, he grabs onto your wrist again, turning your palm to face him. “Have your mother blame me for allowing you to ruin your delicate soft skin?”

“And who’s to say I need your permission to do anything?” You scowl, attempting to free your hand from his grip that only tightens.

“You know she expects me to look out for you.” Ignoring your petulance, he raises your hand up to carefully dissect a splinter from your middle finger, gentle with each movement to not make this hurt more than it has to. “As future head Alpha I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” You snort sarcastically, rolling your eyes to avoid looking at the taller. “Pack Alpha this and that.”

“Right.” Johnny nods, dabbing a cloth drenched with antiseptic after each splinter removal. “This hatred towards Alphas, how exactly will that work and play out after I’ve presented?”

“Won’t matter.” You shrug, foregoing your struggle to allow him to bandage your palm up.

“And why’s that?”

“My mother’s a Beta, my father’s an Alpha.” You say as if that’s enough of an answer.

Johnny’s gaze raises to yours, biting down on his lip. “Mmm.. right.”

Squinting back at him, you shove his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the lake. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Too late, not referring to sundown but to the real reason you’ve journeyed out to the woods more and more these days. It’s around the corner, ready to rear its ugly head and ruin the one friendship you can always count on. Ruin the genuine care and love that’s formed between the two of you over the years.

“Loser has to clean out the pups dirty diaper can this week!” He shouts, running past you toward the lake.

“Johnny!” You whine, losing your breath to chase after him and grab onto the back of his shirt. “That’s not fair!”

“Hey!” He growls playfully, spinning around to grip around your waist as you tug on his collar and stretch the material out. “Let go!”

“You’re a cheater!” You hiss, aiming for his chest to punch lightly. “Be fair!”

“Fine.” He laughs, releasing you to drop his satchel and tug his shirt off. “3 laps.” Pointing from one end of the lake to the other he motions between the two of you, knowing you can kick his ass at swimming anyday. “Me and you.”

“Deal.” Shoving down your hoodie and shorts, you barrel into his side and run past him to cannonball onto the water first. “Loser!”

“Hey!” Johnny jumps out of his shorts, pouncing in after you, arms paddling rapidly to race after you. “What’s fair about this!”

“Me winning!”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish the last lap and bend over belly flat onto the rocks lining the lake. Johnny stops next to you shortly after, resting on his forearms as he mimics your position and swallows down air.

“Hey, I’m getting better at this.” He says breathlessly, stomach sucking in and out.

“Only because you’ve had an insane growth spurt..” you mumble, bracing your arms to shove out of the lake and move to the dry patch of grass nearby.

He takes a few more minutes to bask in the sun, skin glistening with golden rays streaming across his back and shoulders. The hours spent outside during summer really brightened up his complexion, painting his hair with light brassy streaks. It’s the same every year, as if the sun wants to be around him at all times, melting into his skin and soft brown eyes as he lifts his head and stretches.

“Yeah, dad measured me the other day.” He responds after a while, lifting his long torso to push up and out of the water and plop down by your side. “Grew another two inches..”

“Yeah, I can tell..” you mumble, looking away and rubbing at your arms.

“So, why don’t we ever talk about it?” He says quietly, picking at shards of grass by his hip. “He thinks I’ll present soon, like.. really soon.”

Instead of opening the door to what a conversation like this can lead to, you shrug and roll your neck back to crack. “Let’s head back before it starts getting dark.”

Johnny lets out a tired sigh, teeth gritted as he stands up and follows after you, grabbing your elbow. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

He’s silent for a moment, head tilted and analyzing your lack of expression before letting you go. “It could be years until we see eachot—“

“I don’t care, okay? Drop it.”

“How could you not care?!” He asks, eyes wild and bewildered. “Do you not care about me??”

“Of course I care about you!” You shout, tearing your arm away from him. “But this is inevitable, it’s your destiny!”

“And you?” He’s quick to cut you off, stepping closer. “What about you? Are you a part of that destiny? Because right now I really feel like you’re trying to push me away and forget my existence.”

If only it was that easy.

“There’s nothing more to be said Johnny.”

His gaze lowers seemingly disappointed, softly nodding, biting his bottom lip before a tremble can pass through. “Can I say something?”

No. Please don’t. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is.

“Fine.”

“Take care of yourself, for my sake? And please, stay close to the pack. Try to have some guilt in your conscience that your best friend can’t get a proper night of sleep while worrying about you running into a feral rogue or breaking a leg out there without anyone to find you.”

“Can you tell my friend that I’m not helpless and can very well fend for myself?” You retort, turning and stomping away back to the trail leading toward your pack's land.

Johnny huffs, shaking his head and gathering the clothes you both discarded, clutching your hoodie for a minute in thought. There’s barely a scent on it, a hint of your mother and father’s lingering, really nothing more than a light memory of the times he’s walked you back to your cabin. If not for the nice weather today he’d chase after you and tackle you down until you cover up, staggering behind instead to stuff your sweater up to his nose.

He shouldn’t, not even allowed to innocently scent you let alone do anything like this. His father would be so disappointed with him, always lecturing him about befriending a girl like you. Very stubborn and unruly, always disobeying the pack Omegas that only want what’s best for you.

But this could be his last chance to savor something from you for some time, because he’d never ask you to scent.. as if you’d ever let him. The smell left behind is barely enough to taste, most of the scent belonging to your Alpha father, smokey and musk. Relaxing against a tree trunk he sighs, clutching the material to his chest solemnly. As stubborn as you may be, he can’t help to think you’re hurting more than you’re willing to show.

You’d always been resilient toward him, avoiding him even after the first encounter you’d ever had.

The pack Alphas son that everyone admires and adores, all except you.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“Where’s Johnny?” You ask sheepishly, staggering nearby the head Alphas cabin too chicken to actually knock on the door for an answer. Things hadn’t ended on the best note yesterday, and typically by now your friend would have sought you out, probably dragged you to the canteen for a snack since you slept through breakfast again.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun snickers, passing by with bags full of manure on his way to the stables. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” You ask, mildly panicked.

Jaehyun scoffs quietly, glancing around cautiously for head Alphas presence. “He presented.”

“What?!”

“Shh!” He hisses, grabbing your arm to drag you along with him and out of the pack leaders' close proximity. “How could you not know?! Last night, head Omega had to stay with the elders because Johnny’s rut hit.”

“Rut.. meaning—he’s..”

“Oh come on.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes, flicking your chin.” “You always knew, don’t you remember the first time we met?”

Of course you remember.

When you’re five years old, you get dropped off at the learning center for the first time. It’s not much, depending on the amount of Omegas vs Alphas amongst your pack. No more than 30 pups ranging in elementary age running around screaming.

That’s when you meet Jaehyun of the Jung lineage. He’s the first boy to ever make fun of you. Stuck to share a desk with him based on the proximity of your last names. Jaehyun prods your cheek with the end of his pencil. Asking you why they’re so round, adding a jab by showing off the deep indents on his own.

He follows you out to the field when the lead Omega instructor dismisses you for break. Skipping along your side boasting about how he’s already begun learning archery.

“My dads one of the strongest Alphas the pack has!” He gloats. Drawing an arm back to shoot an invisible arrow toward the forest that surrounds your village. “Says I’ll be just like him someday, better even!”

Squinting at him, you nod, lacking the same enthusiasm he has. Opting to search for a toy to occupy your free time, you browse through the crates piled together outside. A yo-yo could be fun, once you untangle the string another pup had evidently left to be discarded.

“Hey!” Jaehyun smacks the toy out of your hold. Pouting like a petulant upset baby. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Why did you do that?” A taller boy interrupts the two of you. Bending down to grab the yo-yo that’s rolled away, hitting the toe of his sneaker. He lifts it up with a bit of inspection, beginning to unravel the string.

“..oh..Johnny..” Jaehyun stammers. His once bratty tone falling into a hushed one lacking confidence. “I was just messing around.”

Johnny, as Jaehyun calls him, concentrates on straightening out the toys string. Winding it up with ease and gesturing for you to take it once he’s finished.

“Should be all good to use now.” He smiles brightly. Having to lean his neck down as he looks over your lost expression. With the corners of his lips dropping to a pronounced frown, he blares Jaehyun with a cold stare. “Don’t do that again okay? No future strong Alpha of our pack would behave in such a manner.”

Flitting you with a rushed look, he turns away. Meeting up with a few other pups who seemed closer to his age. Jaehyun grumbles at your side, crossing his arms over his chest. His small foot lifting to a stomp for added dramatics.

“Great, now he’s going to snitch on me to the Head Alpha. I wasn’t even doing anything bad!” Jaehyun cries out. Sucking on his bottom lip in thought. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nodding quietly, you loop the yo-yo’s thread around your index finger. Having to tighten it from where Johnny had left it.

Jaehyun continues to follow you around, quite talkative for a pup. Too talkative in comparison to you. Directing you to walk in any direction that wouldn’t bring you any closer to the boy that had clearly left him shook up.

“Do you know him?” You wonder. Glancing to where Johnny spikes a volleyball high above a net setup. The opposition weakened by a powerful collision meeting his chest.

“Pft, of course!” Jaehyun gawks, fitting you with widened eyes. “That’s Head Alpha’s firstborn son! You can’t be serious right? He’s most likely to lead our pack some day.”

The yo-yo zips up with speed, caught in your grip tightly, mewling over Jaehyun’s explanation. Cheers to your left pull you to catch sight of the pup who had helped you. Hoisted up off his feet by a group of others who cheered from a victorious outcome of whatever game they had been playing.

Johnny was destined to be an Alpha.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to hear the news that your best friend finally presented. If anything, you’re disappointed. You’d been too mean yesterday.. really for the last few weeks as if you could sense it coming.

“Since he’s presented, I’m sure we’ll be going next.” Jaehyun interrupts your inner turmoil, rubbing his chin. “Can feel my Alpha ready to break free any minute now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, typically it’s somewhat of a domino effect. One Alpha presents and suddenly a slew of Omegas appear.. which triggers our Alphas.” He explains as if you’re clueless.

“Not that. I mean, I’m not going anywhere. Except to help in the kitchens along with the rest of the Betas.” You say surely, waving an arm out. “Maybe I’ll end up in the farms, wherever I get assigned to.”

Jaehyun laughs amused, eyebrows raised high. “Sweetie, you’re about as Omega as they come.”

Instead of letting the same comment you’ve heard most of your life get to you, you shrug it off and glance back toward the head Alphas cabin. “Will I get to see him again?”

Jaehyun hums. “Probably in a few weeks, you know.. when they start to separate us.”

Knowing you’d left things in a somewhat awkward place with your friend really dragged your heart through the mud, making your way back to the lake you’d been at just the day before full of regret that you’d been cutting him off and spending less time together. Perhaps deep down inside you knew the feelings you continued to stomp down into nothing consisted of a culmination of fear and anger. Anger because you don’t want to lose him, fear of what the future holds in store for you once you have inevitably presented. Fear that you will end up stuck with the Omegas until adulthood. Anger that you can’t seek Johnny to comfort your worries anymore.

Jaehyun was right, as everyone has always been about you. The domino effect took its toll on the pack, triggering heats and ruts alike until yours hit in the middle of the night and consumed you with the worst pain you’ve ever felt.

A pain of yearning and insatiable hunger, hunger that had one name written at the back of your tongue, attempting to swallow it down before your Omega could break free and shout his name out. Tears burned down your face as you fisted at your bedding and grinded your hips down, not even the strongest elixir of ancient herbs could quell your lust for the Alpha.

Johnny Johnny Johnny..

His name swirled through your mind, each memory and touch you ever shared, his hold on your waist and shoulders, the difference in size between you just this last year.

“Alpha..”

With 20 pack members presenting the council decided it’s time to move you onto your next step.

You pleaded and cried in your mother’s arms begging for her to do something to stop this, to let you stay with her somehow, someway. Realistically no amount of tears could stop the assimilation you all must face.

“It will be over before you know it my love.” She said sweetly, braiding your hair the night before you’re to move to the Omega quarters.

Won’t be over soon enough, you think, keeping your thoughts to yourself the more your eyes puff up. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight, knowing tomorrow changes everything. The days of being a young careless pup with lack of responsibility change now, cursed by your damn Omegan genetic chemistry. Because whether you accepted it or not, the chances of a Beta mating anything other than a Beta rarely ever led to the same sub-gender offspring. Even your mother always hinted and skirted around the idea of you presenting as an Omega, never an Alpha with your delicate soft nature, no matter how hard headed you may be.

“At least you will get to see your friends once more tomorrow.” She said as she tucked you in and kisses your forehead. “I’m sure they’re eager to congratulate you on presenting.”

Friends.

The only friend she’s ever even seen you with being the pack Alphas son. She knew very well how odd your relationship is, being that you don’t even come from one of the stronger lineages. Perhaps her prayers to the moon goddess to grant her daughter a prosperous future had been answered. Time would tell..

Sunlight entered your room right as your eyes were ready to fall shut after failed attempts of counting sheep to shut your mind off. Nothing could stop your incessant fear from escalating knowing what a new day would bring.

“We don’t want to be late, princess. It’s time.” Your father chirped happily from your bedroom door, gathering the bag you’d be taking with you later today.

No, of course you wouldn’t want to be late to the induction ceremony. Even with a stomach full of nerves as you made your way to the divided trails leading to sectioned off lands for Alphas and Omegas you tried to calm yourself, take deep breaths, fiddle with your hands until you had no choice but to ball them up in tight fists.

“My baby’s grown so much.” Your mother cuts the unbearable loud silence pounding in your head, smoothing loose tendrils away from your face. “You’ll surely make us proud in there, receive many merits and accolades from the elder Omegas.”

“I’ll do my best.” You say solemnly, leaning your cheek into her palm one last time. “I’ll miss you both so much.”

“Soon soon, angel. Everything will go by so fast, you’ll be back in no time.”

The ceremony to send you off lasted no longer than a few minutes after all goodbyes were said, staggering behind before making your way to catch up with the rest of the newly presented Omegas. You slowly turn to look over your shoulder, breath lodged in your throat when you find his gaze already on you.

“Johnny?” You mouth hopefully. He stands straight, stepping to the side of his group until you’re close enough to take in how much more he’s filled out in mere days. The once gangly long limbs now protrude with muscle, shoulders grown in width, and jawline sharpened with definition as baby fat disappears.

“Johnny.” You whisper, reaching a hand out for your best friend, now Alpha, to take a hold of. He visibly swallows, a tormented expression streaking across his face as he looks you over.

“I can’t.” He whispers back, blinking furiously. Tugging the straps of his bag on his shoulders tighter. “I can’t..”

He nods swiftly, turning his face away from you with a stiff twist of his neck to keep himself staring ahead. Pain scorches up your gut, burning the pathway leading to your heart as your hand falls limp by your hip and you sniffle back the onslaught of tears already rushing to the backs of your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He barely whispers before turning down the opposite path, leaving you with the last memory you’d hold onto for the next 5 years to come.

One last look caught yours before disappearing behind the fence meant to keep new Alpha and Omega apart.

Time. Only more time can make any difference now.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t wait until we integrate with the rest of the pack.”

“I can.” You say quietly, keeping your head low to not draw the attention of the lead Omegas walking around observing how well you’ve all begun to take on your roles. “I don’t dream of being mated.”

“Ah, well.” Minnie, the bubbly Omega you’ve come to know in your last year by no choice of your own smiles softly, tilting her head dreamily. “I can’t wait to be with my first pup, and finally know my mate. It’s all I can think about.”

Of course it is, you want to say, lowly humming and continuing to brush out the furs dropped off today. They carried all types of scents from the elders, council members, even faint traces of betas. Alpha furs are only to remain within the village grounds, nowhere near unmated Omegas.

“You really have no desire to mate?” Minnie continues to pester you, smile turning mischievous. “I bet I can change your mind.”

She seems more than up to no good judging by the way her lips tweak to one side before bouncing up onto the balls of her feet, pointing this and that way while hurriedly explaining something to one of the elder Omegas.

“Fine fine Minnie, take that one with you and be back on time to help in the kitchen.” She motions your way, cutting off the younger Omega before she talks her ear off.

She skips on her way back to you, bundling up a few of the furs you’ve been cleaning. “Told her we need to deep clean these to get the smell out.”

“They don’t sme—“

“Shh!” She rushes, grabbing a hold of your arm to hoist you up and drag you away from the group of Omegas working hard to brush out knots and stains. “You have to be quiet about this okay? I’ll get into so much trouble if the word about this gets back to the council.”

“What are you going on about?!” You grit, failing to shake her arms off. Leaving you with no choice but to follow along as she leads you past the riverbank.

“I’m telling you, there’s something special a few of the Omegas showed me a while ago.” She says excitedly, teeth on full display as she peers over her shoulder to ensure no one’s nearby. “Over here, these fences behind the leaders cabin.”

“We’re not supposed to go this far..” you say hesitantly, digging your heels into the dirt path to slow her down.

“It’s not prohibited.. but they haven’t renovated these parts in decades..” she explains, using extra strength to make you turn down the short hill that covers most of the fence. “They really should too.”

“Why? Doesn’t it just lead to the village?”

“Well, no..” he trails off, biting down on her lip deviously. “You have to promise not to say anything, alright?”

Sighing, you shrug and wrap around her pinky, unsure of what could possibly be so secretive about this area. She nods, pressing a finger to her lips as you step up to the area covered by old tree branches. “Don’t be loud.”

Releasing your arm, she reaches to move a few branches aside and motions for you to come closer. There behind the mess of greenery are two holes on the old tall wooden fence. You stop for a moment to glance back at her, nodding with her lips pursed for you to look through.

Nothing could have prepared you for what actually resides on the other side of the fence. More water that you didn’t know existed, the rest of the river that’s been cut off by this man-made fence constructed decades ago when the pack struggled to keep Alphas and Omegas consistently equal in numbers. The council decided it best to separate freshly presented pups into individual camps until they experienced their first heat or rut. Segregating the two sub-genders to manage future matings with annual runs. Their plan had been successful after balancing the scale, allowing for their pack to grow healthy and plentiful.

It’s been years since you’ve last seen an Alpha.. until now.

“Is..” you stutter, blinking rapidly. “Is that..”

“The Alphas.” She whispers near your ear, lightly tapping a fingertip against the fence. “They swim and clean off at this stream after their hunts, seems to be only the ones that are soon on their way out of the camp..”

Alphas, playfully shooting water at each other, laughing and rough housing after a morning hunt. They have baskets full of fish lined up near their weapons on the path, a few of them deeper in the water scrubbing their arms and chest clean with cloths.

“Our future mates could be here right now.” She beams, pushing her cheek against yours to steal a look. “Oh Goddess, it’s him..”

“Who?”

“Head Alphas son..” she murmurs off, eyes going lazy as she rests against your head for you to both get a look

Head Alphas son? But that would be..

How could you have not immediately noticed him, trudging out from the shallow end of the stream glistening under the daylight sun, shaking off the water cascading from his broad frame the closer he reaches toward the end.

It’s him, it has to be him. 10 inches taller than you remember, hair longer and framed around his much sharper and pronounced bone structure. The baby fat on his cheeks long gone, body built up from years of hunting. The pressure of having to be the strongest and most reputable Alpha evident in his intimidating stance alone.

“Johnny.” The name passes from your lips without realizing, widening Minnie’s eyes as she turns to look at you.

“You know him?”

Know him? He was the last member of your pack that you had contact with before joining the rest of the newly presented Omegas. Even sharing goodbyes with your own family before him. You knew he’d be an Alpha eventually, but you’d never considered how painful it would be to lose your best friend to the otherside.

The reality always loomed though. The pack Alphas first born son could never present as a Beta, Goddess forbid as an Omega.

“No.” You reply, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away. “We shouldn’t be here, it’s against pack law to be in contact with Alphas while unmated.”

“We aren’t contacting them, not really..” she smirks coyly, trapping your arm once more. “Just a little longer? They’ll be on their way eat soon.”

You shouldn’t, should stand your ground and put your foot down against this condemnable behavior.

But one more look can’t hurt much.

One more look just to be certain that it’s him, that it’s really your Johnny.

He’s changed so so much, nearly unrecognizable if you weren’t sure of his residency on the other side of this fence.

“He’s incredibly handsome, don’t you think?” Minnie disrupts the one on one conversation happening with yourself, looping an arm around your waist to bring you both closer to the holes. “Can you believe we’ll be in the same mating hunt as our next head Alpha?”

“What??” You practically shriek, covering your mouth and pulling away.

She looks at you half amused, in awe of your clueless nature. “It’s been five years silly, the elders have been discussing lowering our time inside these lands to ensure a strong Winter. The moon goddess predicts we will need many healthy pups due to the severity of climate change that’s recently taken place.”

“How do you know all of this?!”

She sighs, wagging a finger in your face. “You never pay attention during the morning lecture. They say we could be out of here as soon as the next red moon! That’s only a few weeks from now.”

A few WEEKS?!

“Judging by the look of these Alphas..” she hums flirtatiously, turning back to peep through the fence and suck a long breath in. “They’re certainly ready to hunt, and I’m ready to be chased.”

“The mating hunt, is it guaranteed that all who participate will be mated?” You ask full of worry, dragging fingers through your hair.

“Of course, that’s the point of all this!” She says, clicking her tongue. “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were born yesterday.”

Stealing one more look, she sighs and bites her lip excitedly. “I’m so ready to be out of here.” Turning back to you she grabs your arm. “Let's get back before the elders catch on to us missing. Besides, we’ll be with our Alphas in no time.”

In no time. Too soon.

And as if to mock your worry the days tick by faster and faster, now very alert during your usual extra nap time in the morning. You listen to every word, biting at your nails by the third week as the elders rejoice that the forecast had been correct and the blood red moon will indeed rise in the next few days.

“Soon you will birth strong and powerful members to contribute to the pack.” They preached and flounced about full of excite. “Tomorrow we will introduce you back to the pack to prepare for the hunt. Not a hair or patch of dry skin shall appear on you! You must impress your potential Alpha suitors to desire and want to chase you.”

More thrilled than you could ever be about this, they began to distribute scent blockers around the hall. Instructing you all begin using them tonight to ensure no Alpha can trail you off scent. It has to be instinct and intuition to find your true mate.

Once you have presented, every pack Omega is expected to participate in the annual mating ceremony. Ensuring the packs healthy growth to avoid a desolate village.

Your biggest dread of presenting as an Omega subsided as you met your predator's gaze. Stalking around you with snapping teeth and no escape.

There was no way to predict the Alpha determined to mate you would end up being your best friend.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, sneaking a watery look at your mother. The reunion with your parents had been too fast, not enough time to plead your case and beg for them to find you another option. She smiles stiffly at you, securing the braids she put your hair in with ribbons.

“Sweety..” she says between clenched teeth, blinking furiously. “Do not embarrass us. It’s an honor that you’ve been summoned to participate in the mating hunt.”

An honor? Giving up your freedom and shred of independence you can barely cling onto for an Alpha? An Alpha that will breed and claim you like nothing more than a whore?

“What’s honorable about this, mother?”

She sighs, painting your cheeks with thin stripes of oil to illuminate your skin and make you more desirable for your possible mate. “I only wish I’d been given the chance you have to strengthen the pack. Omegas are the backbone of our livelihood, without you we’d go extinct faster than animals.��

Popping her mouth for you to mimic she applies a smudge of red tint to your lips, standing proudly after to take in your full appearance. “Without a scent to trail, the Alphas will really have to focus on using their other senses.. and you look ethereal. Always knew you’d grow up to be one of the prettiest in our pack, even if I worried about all those scars you’d come home with all the time.”

“What if I refuse?” You ask wearily, glancing around at the other Omegas being prepped for the hunt.

“You’ll be exiled.” Your mom says sternly, tight lipped as she grips your shoulders to look at her. “Think about your father and I, please. We barely got you back.”

A mixture of guilt and rancid vomit combines in your stomach the longer you stand around and wait for the Alphas to show up. The elders have been greeting each other, smugly smiling as if they’ve accomplished something by forcing young Omegas to hand over their lives and become breeding machines. They gather around and announce the next generation of Alphas to lead the pack. You can’t see their entrance from where you stay hidden with the rest of the Omegas participating, not allowed to see any of your potential mates. Only able to swallow down the throw up that rises up your throat as cheers and roars pound through the earth beneath your feet. Alphas praised for merely existing, for being the breadwinners of the pack that ensure longevity and protection.

Omegas are the real backbone, as your mother said, whether she meant it or simply wanted to shut you up and finish dolling you for essentially a stranger to ship off with.

“This is so thrilling.” Minnie pops up next to you, her lips a deep cherry, cheeks stung with the residue to make her skin glow. She looks radiant, lovely as ever, so ready to show off a bite on her beautiful long neck. “I want to be caught already.”

Nothing could compel you to agree, silently nodding to resist the incessant urge to gag. Judging by the giggles and squeals surrounding you, no one seems to share your sentiment. Why would they after years of being brainwashed to want this.

She takes your hand, squeezing and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “May the moon goddess bring you the best Alpha.”

“You too, Min..”

A whistle blows signaling you to line up and ready yourselves to run, everyone scrambles around excitedly, leaving you at the forefront as the elders explain the ‘rules’ again.

“You are not to ever remove your scent blockers, you are to hide once the Alphas begin their hunt. You are forbidden to leave the pack lands, and if you are not claimed you shall immediately report back to the Omega sector until the next red moon. Claimed Omegas are to come back with their Alpha mated. Only once paired off may you re-enter the pack.”

It’s due or die, whether or not you avoid an Alphas claim you’ll never be free from this restrictive life..

The second the horn sets off you run, feet pounding to the earth without a second thought. Heavy breathing and laughter fades away behind you, distancing yourself further and further away from where most of the Omegas will choose to hide, you imagine. The same trees you used to wander through catch your attention out ahead, furiously quickening your pace at the sound of another horn signaling that the Alphas are on the move.

The same forest you spent days hiding inside of is just right outside of your lands, against the rules, but you need to wait it out long enough. Once enough time has passed and the Alphas make their claims you can move back to your packs territory. No one has to know.

Not even the splinters clawing through the skin of your palms can slow you down, hoisting yourself up the largest tree you can find until you manage to get up high and let out a sigh of relief. The pounding in your heart refuses to settle even so, hissing as you wipe your hands off on your tunic and try to adjust your weight onto a thick branch. Even at this proximity you can hear howls and cries, sounds of pleasure ripping through the tears as Omegas go down, claimed and gnawed at by rabid Alphas.

Time goes by slowly as you sit still and listen, sucking at your wounded hands to ease the sting left behind. It’s nothing compared to the mix of pain swarming between moans. Deep guttural Alpha wails break through the dusk, shifting and breaking bones as they take their conquests and solidify their claim with a knot.

Only a few more hours until it dies down, you hope.. peering up at the clouds that dance around the red moon. Orange light sprays across the ground, illuminating clear paths for predator eyes to seek their prey. They’d never be able to find you up here, unless..

A loud huff snaps your neck toward the entrance of the forest, cracking tree branches and kicking rocks as the sound grows near.

Large, terrifyingly large, medium brown soft with light hints of gold, and eyes you’d recognize even if you suffered from amnesia. Those sharp sleek eyes that you’d never be able to forget no matter how much you try. Why would he come out here? Why did he have to come out here.

There’s only one reason. Snarling and puffing large breaths of air as he slowly paws through and approaches the largest tree, listening attentively for any movement. Sitting back on his hind legs, his gaze lands on you without sparing a second, squinting past the leaves you’ve shrouded yourself with. He barks, baring his teeth as trickles of saliva drip down his jowls.

Get down from there.

“Go away!” You hiss, grabbing onto a tree branch firmly as he nears and clambers up, scratching his claws along the trunk.

It’s been years and you still insist on giving me the biggest headache.

“I said go away Johnny!”

Get down. Immediately. Don’t make me climb up there.

“I’m not coming down! Now get away before another Alpha follows your trail and figures out that I’m hiding out here.” You grunt, fearfully looking out as another large wolf approaches.

You need to come down. Right now.

“You’re leading him right to me.” You whine, moving up another branch to hide yourself from the Alpha passing between the trees.

Johnny’s teeth snap, biting at the air as an Alpha with dark fur growls at him, leaping up on his hind legs he stands tall above him, shouting at the new presence to get lost.

This one's mine.

The dark furred Alpha hesitates for a bit, egging the lighter to get his nose in his face, snout digging into the others until he whimpers and backs away, slowly making his exit from the woods.

An enormous sense of relief lightens the tension weighing down your shoulders, leaning back on the tree until a sudden huge ruckus shoots you to sit up urgently.

The Alpha down below backs up and rams into the trunk repeatedly, growling and smashing his dome forward until you’re shouting.

“Johnny! Stop! Stop!”

GET DOWN. RIGHT NOW!

His Alpha sounds vicious, ripping through your mind, causing your Omega to cower and frightfully shiver. Biting down on your lip to contain a whimper, you nod and gingerly set your foot down to make your way down the tree.

“Please, don’t tell head Alpha about this.. he’ll have me condemned..” you plead, keeping your gaze to the floor to not have to look your old friend in the eye. Shame, embarrassment and fear runs rampant throughout your system, lighting goosebumps up your flesh.

No one is touching my mate.

“What?!” You nearly lunge back, falling down onto your ass as you crawl away without taking your eyes off of him. “Johnny! It’s me! You’re mistaken—“

Quiet. Omega.

Slowly trudging closer to you, he stops to sit. Stance big and strong towering above you.

Present.

“Johnny, I can’t do tha—“

The growl he lets out cracks a whimper from your throat, rustling the leaves throughout each surrounding tree, echoing loud enough for even birds to flock away out of fear.

“You don’t want this, not with me, remember me?” It seems futile to attempt conversation with an Alpha in wolf form, feeling defenseless and defeated as your back knocks against a rock and the Alpha leaves you with nowhere to run.

Present for your Alpha. I won’t ask again.

“I-I can’t, don’t ask that of me.” Bile rises up your chest, digging your fingers through clumps of dirt as the large wolf nuzzles your face and takes a deep inhale. “This is a mistake, has to be a mistake..”

Lights blind your vision, collapsing on the ground when his scent slams into you. A husk leather oud infiltrates your senses, strong and rich, immediately swirling between each crevice until your chest caves. The Alphas scent is the strongest you’ve ever felt, dominant, enrapturing, near drug-inducing. The scent of a powerful Alpha, more powerful than you’ve ever experienced. Too much for your secluded body and mind to handle atop of the raging fear beating from your chest.

The Alpha nudges your limp figure a few times, softly huffing and licking up your cheek. There’s no point in waiting it out, already gone for hours since the hunt began, he shifts back and hoists your lifeless body onto his arms, carrying you out of the woods with ease. The walk back to your lands can take about another hour, knowing his father will undoubtedly be waiting for his return with a proud smile as his son triumphantly strides back through with his future head Omega intact.

Exactly as he imagined it, his father stands tall and full of pride, the smile on his lips slowly sinking as he sees no sign of a mating mark. Confusion flows between the two Alphas as he comes to a stop and adjusts your limp weight in his arms.

“What is this son? Have you not mated?” He asks sternly, leaning in closer to inspect your naked throat.

“The Omega, she fainted before I could consummate..”

“Ah, I see. Drop her off at the infirmary and continue on your way back out. Many Alphas have already returned with their claimed mates. You need to be swift and hurry now.”

“This is my mate, father.” Johnny states loud and clear, cradling you closer to his chest. “She is the one my wolf has chosen.”

Clarity evades the head alphas features, scowling as he steps forward to whisper. “You dare to bring disgrace upon my name with this unmated weak Omega? What have I taught you?”

“No father, I do not wish to bring shame upon our lineage.”

The head Alpha snaps his fingers, ushering his main henchmen to cover up their surroundings. “Get the Omega back to your cabin. Do not bring her back without your markings.” He orders, rushing two of the elders to cut around the village to his son’s cabin. “I will not have you humiliate my name with your choice.”

Johnny nods without protest, following along with the elders that obscure your bodies behind veiled cloaks. At least in his cabin he can help you get proper rest and keep an eye on you.

“Get her inside.” One of the elders says in a hushed voice, covering the entrance to his cabin. “Listen to me my boy, if that Omega exits your sights without a mark, I don’t want to jump to conclusions of what your father may pull, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He nods assuredly, thanking the older Alpha for helping him before leading you to his furs to lay upon. At least this way you can become accustomed to his scent, enough to keep you stable even if it overwhelms you. He should have anticipated that you’d be difficult to deal with even now after all of this time apart. You’ve grown a lot, as has he, but clearly your disdain towards Alphas hasn’t changed much.

He wonders for a moment if he should have just walked away when Jaehyun showed up with intent to mate you. The thought alone makes his Alpha scream at the top of its lungs, clenching his fist and shaking his head to calm the rage building inside of him.

Anyone else mating you has never been an option, because Johnny always knew it had to be him. He always knew that it had to be you.

‘That sweaters a bit tight for you, don’t you think?’ His friend jeered, poking at the faded cotton material stretched over his much larger body.

Johnny ignored him, waving Jaehyun off before heading to the river to wash off, making a stop by the bathrooms nearby first. He’s kept your oversized sweater stuffed at the very bottom of his bag as he marched into the newly presented Alpha sector of your packs lands, heart beating from his chest as he stole one last look back and found your gaze peering over your shoulder practically begging to be saved.

He’d dreamt about it for years, what your scent would smell of, how you’d grow to be the most beautiful Omega, strong and regal by his side. Perfect to lead a pack by him in time.

In time you will see, even if you don’t have much left to spare.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

Air thick as molasses glides down your tongue, struggling to swallow as you sit up and break out into a fit of coughs. Everything’s too warm, incinerating you from inside out with each breath you take in. Grasping around yourself you find a wall behind you, choking on your next breath right as the Alpha enters and rushes over to you.

“Here, drink this.” He sits down fast, raising a cup of cooled tea to your lips, tipping it for you to drink from. The sensation of calming herbs flows through your chest, filling your senses from nose to taste, opening up your air passages to breath with ease. “Drink all of it.”

“What is that??” You cough, wiping at your lips and pushing the mug away.

“You fainted, healer Ryu said it can happen when Omegas aren’t accustomed to the scent of Alpha..” tilting his head to the side, he taps at a scent blocker stuck to his neck. “This should help, you’re in my cabin thought, my scent is pretty much everywhere..”

“What am I doing here?” You try to say clearly, choking on the spit lining your throat that's thickened up. “W-why did you bring me here?”

Johnny’s gaze darkens, dragging down your even toned neck, the expanse of your smooth delicate shoulders and your bare arms. “Because.” He stiffens, glaring at your throat. “I want you to be awake when I mate you.”

“Mate me?!?” Shooting up straight, you clutch the furs on top of your body tightly, half questioning if he undressed you to get you under here in the first place..

Sitting up, he nods and reaches to move your hair back causing you to flinch as his knuckles drag down your cheek. “Do you not remember me?”

He seems hesitant to ask, lips tugged down at the sides, grazing past your scent gland still masked by blockers.

“Of course I remember you!” Glowering, you grab his wrist and dig your fingernails in. “Now answer me! What am I doing here?!”

The sensation of your stubby nails clawing at his flesh has no effect, shrugging you away as he comes to stand and paces in front of the bed you sit on. “Did you hit your pretty little head falling down from one of those trees while trying to hide?” He asks in a snarky manner, placing hands on his hips to widen his size. “How many times are you expecting me to repeat myself?”

“You know I never fall.”

Johnny rights himself, standing tall above you. “And I know where you’d go to hide from a gang of Alphas seeking their prey.”

“You cheated.”

“I found you fairly, just in time too. Jaehyun was trailing my ass knowing I’d be looking for you. You’re lucky he knows better than to go up against me.”

Jaehyun. The other Alpha that Johnny had scared away.

“It’s not fair.. you left our territory—“

“And you should be grateful that I did.” He lunges toward you, slamming his fists down on the bed. “If anyone else had found you breaking the rules like that I’d never be able to save your ass.”

“I don’t need to be saved, especially not thanks to an Alpha.” You spit, cowering back against a wall.

“Watch your tongue little one. We aren’t pups anymore.”

Hard knocks shake through the cabin, pursuing your lips together to stop an insult from dicing its way through the Alphas flesh. Moving away, he peers back over his shoulder, motioning your way. “Don’t move, Omega.”

He disappears behind the door shutting, springing to your feet to scamper your way over when you hear deep voices murmur through.

“Have you done it?” You can recognize head Alphas domineering tone, judging from the way Johnny replies alone. He sounds immature, young and still innocent but still respectful.

“Not yet father.” He’s quiet, probably keeping his head down, too much shame to look his dad in the eye.

“I never expected this from you son.” Head Alpha sounds disappointed, drawing out a long sigh. “All of this over some Omega.”

“She’s more than that.”

“I do not care.” Shutting down his son quickly, head Alpha takes heavy steps, most likely pushing his chest out to instill intimidation.

“If you do not mate her by the end of today, I have no choice son. I will not allow your obsession with this inadequate Omega to tarnish the reputation I have helped you build. No one wants to follow orders from an Alpha that cannot even control his Omega. You will do what I see fit or I shall summon the council to order a public mating.” Head Alpha spits each word out like shards of glass, gashing through even your flesh from where you listen through the door. The thought of Johnny on the other side trying to keep up a strong facade pings through your chest, willing it away with your arms tightening around yourself.

He must be stoic, emotionless to his father’s rage, because he doesn’t reply, nothing but the sound of footsteps follow for the next few minutes.

Stepping back inside abruptly, he catches you off guard, leaping away from the door and rushing to hide your tear-filled eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay in place.”

“You know me.” You mutter sarcastically, lips tugging down at the sides. “Public mating?”

Johnny sighs, starting to pace and run his hands through his long locks. “I assume you heard everything.”

“What was head Alpha talking about? Is he going to have me exiled?”

He scoffs, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. “As if I’d ever allow that.”

“You’d have to, you can’t go against your father.”

“I can’t?” Lifting a defined eyebrow at you, he steps forward to get in your face, neck craning lower. “What do you not understand? You are my mate. I would go against anyone for you, even my own damn blood.”

“I don’t understand, okay?!” You shout, frustrated, taking a step back nervously.

“I’ve always known.” Johnny cuts you off, following you with long strides until your back meets a wall. “You have too.”

“No.. Johnny..”

“Alpha.”

“No!” Lifting your hands, you press flat against his chest to put distance between your bodies. Useless as he doesn’t so much as budge, reaching for your waist as he bends in closer until his lips hover an inch away from yours.

“This stubborn act was endearing when we were kids, you know.” He laments, laughing under his breath. “It was cute and I may do whatever it takes to make you mine, but you will respect me as your mate.”

His tone lowers, near a rumble that has your Omega howling in pain, every signal warning for you to behave. “You’re not my mate.”

He snaps fast, growling deep in his chest, palms slamming down on the wall behind your head. “Do not disobey me.”

The Alphas voice cuts deep, rolling tremors down your limbs until your knees give and buckle, dropping your face between his chest as a pathetic whimper springs from your lips. You crumble at the fury, the Omega inside of you curling up into a ball in shame. How could you anger our mate enough to make him use his Alpha voice? It’s your fault, unleashing an onslaught of pain throughout your body the more you cower against him.

An exhausted sigh blows across the side of your face, standing up straight with arms wrapped around your waist he holds you close, nose dropping to your hair to take in a long inhale. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what overcame me just now..”

“I hate you.” You cry between chattering teeth, weakly hitting his chest. “How could you do that to me?”

“No you don’t.” Johnny’s eyes fall shut, dragging his nose against your crown. “I need you to listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and stressed over what my father said..”

Sniffling, you ease against him, looping an arm around his waist to regain your balance, and maybe comfort the emotionally wounded Omega whimpering inside of you to fix this. “Public mating?”

“Yes..” he hesitates for a minute, rubbing a soothing large hand up and down your back before pulling away to cup your face.”If the council agrees, I will be summoned to claim you before the pack Alphas..”

“What??”

Pursing his lips, he looks away, forehead wrinkling. “As their next head Alpha, I cannot risk dishonoring tradition..”

“What’s traditional about this?!” You speak up, pushing away again only to be kept in place by strong built arms.

“It’s not up to me anymore.”

“Then let me leave!” Hissing, you strike a balled up fist against his chest, lip trembling to contain your tears. “Johnny, please!”

“I can’t.” He says firmly, taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you still against the wall. “Tomorrow I will mate you, and if you try to run, I will never stop chasing after you.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he keeps you stuck in place with a look full of hunger. Eyes dancing between desire and passion. It’s enough to bite your tongue and hold back the whiplash of words your mind fights against your heart to shout at him.

“There’s no other way?” You ask brokenly, throat exhausted as if your Omega used your vocal chords to scream her murderous tears.

Shaking his head slowly, he leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There is no other way.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

There is no other way.

Because this is the only way to prove to the pack that you belong to Johnny. That the Alpha has truly thoroughly fucked and claimed you, that no one will ever question his position to lead this pack.

The council wastes no time on discourse, immediately proclaiming that a mating ritual shall take place today, and that the Omega set to be the next head by pack Alphas side will have a mark on her neck by the end of this day.

“Here I thought the hunt would be the highest honor, you’re lucky the council has been lenient enough to allow this.” Your mother’s fixing up your face once again, unable to remove the giant dumb smile from her face as she moves to brush your hair. “Ah, the moon goddess truly heard my wishes. Head Alphas son of all Alphas! What a blessing.”

Every single member of the pack seemed to question how and why you were chosen. Walking through the village to your parents cabin drew more attention to you than you’d ever experienced. Whispers floated through the air, backing the rumors that you couldn’t even handle the next head Alpha, that you’d passed out before he’d even had the chance to mate you.

‘Doesn’t make any sense why he’d even bother with her after that.’

‘Heard one of the Alphas over breakfast mention that they were close as pups. Head Alphas son probably imprinted on her years ago, none of us ever stood a chance against that type of bond.’

‘Seems unfair if you ask me, she’s not even grateful.’

They spoke so foul of you without knowing anything about you. To even dare question the innocent relationship you once had with Johnny. The friendship that you cherished and would sell your soul to have back. Everything’s different now, he’s different.

“I’m already dreaming of the pups you’ll have.” Your mother sighs happily, fluffing your hair to frame your face. “Johnny’s so handsome and strong, with his genes you will birth only strong pups.”

Pups.

Birth.

With Johnny.

Fear heightens in your stomach similar to a ticking time bomb, sensing your imminent doom as the elders come to escort you to the Alphas sector where the ritual will take place. They wear pleased smiles, cheerful as they drag you along and bring you to what can only come straight out of nightmares.

Alphas stagger around, eyeing you curiously as you’re brought to stand in the middle where a large lifted platform covered with cushions and furs has been set up. It’s worse than the hunt, multiple predatory eyes burn into your skin, gathering closer to get a good look at the flimsy garment doing a poor job of hiding your ample curves. Growls and grunts fly around you, trapping you with nowhere to go as they circle around and barricade you, shortening your breath the more imprisoned you begin to feel.

“J-Johnny?” You ask hesitantly, gaze stuck to your feet, too anxious at the thought of meeting eyes with any of the unknown Alphas around.

“I’m here.” A soft tone ripples up your spine, standing straight and pulling your shoulders back as he takes a hold of your elbow and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

Slowly lifting your head up you see him, warm eyes and a soft smile intended to comfort you. He stands before you, moving in closer to wrap around your waist. “You’re nervous.”

Sniffling, you nod, embarrassed that every Alpha in the pack you’re meant to lead side by side with the one currently holding you tight will see you defiled for the very first time in mere minutes. “It’s just you and me right now, got that? Don’t even think about anything else. No one else exists, only us.”

As much as you wish to believe that to be true, your ears can’t tune out the whistles and jeers coming from every side, biting on your lip and shaking your head, you reach for the Alphas shoulders to hide your face in his chest. “Can’t.. they’re everywhere.”

“I said look at me Omega.” He speaks more sternly, not moving to force you, but waiting for your head to raise and return to his still lovingly warm gaze. “You will not take your eyes off of me, do you hear me? You’re mine, you are only to look at me.”

Without using his Alpha voice he still manages to make your chest tighten, stomach churning anxiously as you nod slowly and he bends closer until your foreheads are pressed together. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

A part of you wants to scream, consider running only to be tackled down by a militia of powerful Alphas, but the other part of you swoons, reminded of the days you craved nothing more than to be by Johnny’s side and ripped your own heart to pieces once you realized the inevitable fate you’d been dealt.

“…for how long, Alpha?” You ask, barely above a whisper, fluttering his eyes in surprise.

“Forever.” He whispers, nose brushing against yours. “I’d wait an eternity for you.”

“You’ll take care of me Alpha?” You question cautiously, lips barely grazing his plump pout. “Make me yours to protect?”

“Always have.” Johnny states, licking your upper lip with closed eyes. He blinks slowly, reaching to cup your cheeks and dip his mouth to yours. “And I always will.”

It may not be ideal nor how you ever allowed yourself to imagine, but as the Alphas lips meld to yours, the tension weighing on your back dissipates. Easing into his dominant touch, you fall into the kiss easily. Every worry and silent wishful hope lets out a sigh of relief throughout your body, dragging your arms up higher to cling around his neck and deepen the kiss.

This time your lips planted together unlocks what you never knew you needed. The Omega inside of you quells instantaneously, rolling around with what can only he a giant smile now that your Alpha finally seems satisfied. The two of you rejoice, drawing him in deeper to grant your tongue access inside the delicious cavern of his mouth. If only a kiss can ignite this much in you, you can only shake as you imagine what more your conjoined bodies can release.

“I’ve got you baby.” Johnny says softly against your lips, for your ears only. “No one else exists.” He repeats, calming the tremble rolling up and down your spine with tender pets. “Your first time?”

You nod, skin flushed with goosebumps as your nerves skyrocket and missile launch to the sky erupting each and every worry you’ve ever had. The Alphas never had to be concerned with any inexperience. Always taken care of with various concubines in preparation for the day they’d have to race for a mate. Johnny knew exactly what to do with you, how to use your body and pleasure himself, only heightening your anxiety.

“You trust me don’t you?” He continues to whisper, brushing against your now swollen lips. “Trust that your Alpha will make you feel good, you’ll always reach your pleasure first with me.”

“Can I trust you Alpha?” You ask for further affirmation, sliding your hands beneath the leather furs draped over his shoulders.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Without answering, you push the furs off, eyes going wide at the sight of ink carved onto his skin. Immediately you reach to run the tips of your fingers across the raised flesh, poked through with sterilized needles and squid ink, half scarred from the forced injury to create the permanent markings. “Is that?”

“You.”

It’s as if you’ve woken up in Johnny’s cabin once more, short of breath as you trace over the lithe wolf prowling along a tree branch between leaves. Large golden flecks stare back at you, running your touch over the leaves as the Omega tattooed on his skin almost watches your movements. “Me?”

“My Omega.”

Grasping your wrist he drags your hand higher to the path of flowers blooming open on his shoulder. “My Omega made of honeysuckle and snow coated grass. As sweet as Autumn and fierce as Winter.”

“Johnny..”

Nights of clenching your eyes shut, pretending to ignore the Alphas eyes appearing in your dreams, shove aside the warmth you sought out from the memory of his touch. Every night and day kept apart had taken more of a toll on both of you than either could have realized, desperate to be close as you sink into his chest and wrap around him with a tight hug. “Alpha.”

“I know.” The gentle tone he keeps with you could erase any fear, comforted by the scent that had been suffocating you. Taking deep long inhales you finally let him in, head hazy as the Alphas scent combines with yours. “Never take your eyes off of me Omega.”

He means it, tempted to use his Alpha voice to manipulate you to follow his orders. It’s hard enough to tune out the whispers and groans that surround you from the crowd gathered around as he begins to strip your flimsy tunic away and slowly takes in every inch of your exposed skin, quietly cursing under his breath. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.”

Every touch is soft, voice hushed for only your ears to pick up on, gaze lit up full of love that you can feel each time your eyes meet. Nerves prickle under the drag of his finger, softly gliding down your stomach to the tops of your thighs to part you open, swallowing down a loud deep breath. Embarrassment twitches your knees, wanting to slam them shut as the Alphas lowers to get a close up look and curls his biceps around your thighs. “The most perfect Omega, aren’t you pretty?”

Slick gushes between your folds, shaking from the tips of your fingers to your toes as your peer down between your thighs. Johnny’s eyes shoot up, lowering his thick lips to your center. The invitation of your warm glistening cunt is enough to have him groaning, unintentionally teasing the hood of flesh hiding your clit. Pouty pressed together lips flatten and kiss the bundle of nerves, lighting triggers up your calves and thighs for more slick to drip out onto the Alphas chin grazing across your awaiting entrance.

Given any other circumstance, including the one you could have ended up in, he would have had you present on all fours and fucked you like a proper Omega slut. Alpha urges roar for him to hurry it up, enough to worship your cunt. Ignoring his wolf's demands, he moves lower to kiss at your entrance, slurping up the sweet sticky syrupy slick for the direct source. Burying his nose in to snort your aroused scent this up close. He mouths sloppily at your hole, not even to get you off yet, but to finally have a taste of his dreams. A taste of what he could only imagine for years.

Nothing would ever be able to compare or come close to the heavenly taste of you.

“My Omega, so sweet. Taste so fucking sweet, pretty pretty girl.” His chins doused with your gleaming arousal when he decides to finally come up from air at the sound of your moans turning into impatient whines. Jerking against his mouth desperately, needing something inside. He can feel it, the frustration coming from both of your wolves, attacking you from inside out to mate mate mate.

The Alphas breath fans across your now sweaty neck, body heat rising at accelerated speed the more he teasingly tortured you. Licking up your scent gland, he drags a way to your ear, biting on the lobe softly. “My innocent Omega wants Alphas cock so badly? Rutting against me like some horny pup.”

And it’s true, without thought your thighs wrap around one of his long muscular legs, jamming your bare core up and down the flexed limb. Hair grazes your slick cunt, making a mess of wet down the Alphas thighs as your hips speed up chasing after a relief only he can fulfill.

“Alpha, I need to.. be closer.” Every and each bone in your body rattles, craving and needing to feel him inside of you. Johnny tenses, eyebrows wrinkling together as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to stop.

“You’re gonna give me a hard time with that pretty ass and pussy, aren’t you?” He says through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll fuck you, fuck you full of my pups. Keep you satisfied until all you know is how to take your Alphas cock. Is that what you want?”

Thick palms slide beneath your back, gliding lower to cup and squeeze your ass, encouraging your hips to push down on his thigh again and plead for more. Vigorous grinds of your hips force him to lodge his knees down, shifting the furs laid out beneath you. He grunts, rasping out breaths shakily. “Fuck baby, get it nice and wet for me. Keep doing it just like that.”

As if to warn you, he grips your ass roughly, jamming his hardened clothed length against your hip for you to really feel what you’re about to take. A heavy hot thick rod ruts from your lower belly to your hip, a thin garment separating your lower halves, bowing your spine up pathetically. “Alpha—that, please, please, g-give me!”

A round of groans sound around you, quickly reminding you of where you are, but not long enough before Johnny sits up between your thighs, bringing your hands to his hips.

“This what you want?” He asks damn near mockingly. Licking at his lips akin to a thirsty rabid wolf.

“Alpha—want, want it!”

Hisses, growls, harsh ragged breaths turn louder the more you whine, resisting your Omegas curious urge to glance around. Johnny cups your chin to keep you focused, sleek eyes melting your gaze. “What do you want? Say it clear for your Alpha.”

The size of him above you makes you feel so small, curling into yourself as he positions close between your thighs to jam his clothed size against your drenched cunt. Johnny trembles at the contact, having to sneak a look down as you soak through his light fabric cover up and the shape of his cockhead fully pokes through, pressing the tip to your swollen clit. “Want this?” He mutters, curling the fabric around his cock to slap down heavily between your thighs.

Jerking up in response you let out a howling scream, arms shooting out to grab his biceps. “Please please!”

“Say it!” He growls ferociously, slapping the heavy meat down with audible loud wet claps of skin hitting skin. The contact rushes blood down, chubbing your pussy up in preparation to squeeze the life out of your Alphas dick.

“Want your cock Alpha! Wan-want you to breed me, pup me!”

If only you had anything else on your mind other than the Alpha burying inside of you, you’d hear the uproar of feral cries set off around you. Each Alpha willing to sell their soul to be in Johnny’s position right now. They watch on drooling, snarling, rubbing themselves over their garments as your Alpha sits up proudly and strips his lower half free of the fabric. His thick cock bounces up, slapping loudly against the flat planes of his ripped stomach. The visual of Johnny’s chest rising and falling rapidly has slick pouring out of you obscenely, toes curling as you take in the full mass of him. Clenching up as small as you can as you envision what can only be compared to your forearm in size penetrating you.

“Alpha, s’too big..” you say wantonly, still wanting to feel him split you open. Still needy for your Alphas cock to break through your cervix and fatten your belly full of cum.

“I know, baby.” Laying down on you without resting his weight, his cock pressed against your stomach. The tip slotted a few inches above your navel as a preview of how deep he’ll be inside of you soon. Maneuvering his fingers between your thighs, he nips at your jaw, murmuring praises about how wet you are.

“It’s so loud, so warm.” Johnny sighs, sucking on your earlobe. “So slippery between my fingers.”

Tapping at your entrance, he nudges your thighs open further, gliding two fingers in past the ring of muscle that feels as if you’re trying to bite them right off of his hand. Cursing again, he sucks in a ragged breath, licking swirls along your ear. Thumb making way to your clit to loosen up the clamp your cunt has around his fingers. A few meticulous rubs and flicks combined with his hot mouth have you relaxing, shoulders laying flat as he begins to scissors inside of you.

“Feel that Omega? Your pretty tiny fucking pussy.” He grits, fingers beginning to jam in and out of you at heightened speed. “Feel so tight and warm around me, gripping me so good baby.”

Johnny’s nasty words make your mind spin, head thrown back watching the sky above you turn upside down. The sound of your gushing slick louder than anything, muting all but the guttural groans coming from your Alpha. Pleasure scorches throughout your body, reaching for his wrist with a trembling saliva covered bottom lip and watery eyes. “Please, enough. Alpha, I need it, need you.”

He hears you loud and clear, tongue toying with his lip for a moment before drawing free from your cunt. As much as he wants to make this easy for you, there’s no way. Both of you too insatiable and driven by your hunger to be one. To feel conjoined, even if you know it will hurt.

Slowly stroking his cock, he watches your pussy in a trance-like state. Stomach muscle twitching, taking sharp breaths as he rubs a smear of pre-cum around the tip. Dipping his fingers between your sensitive pussy lips again because he can’t help himself, too enthralled by the gush of slick that bubbles out messy and loud. It’s all for him, slowly collecting the wad of slick to coat his cock with like some type of silent apology for what he’s about to do to you.

The twitch your tiny little hole gives in response only makes him groan, setting the head right against your slit to admire the difference in size for a minute.

“Perfect.” Johnny whispers, rubbing his thumb down your clit to the outer rim of your cunt pulsing against his length. He can’t stop his hips from jerking, slowly thrusting to watch your muscle stretch, fighting back the much too large intrusion trying to invade and make a home for himself. The fat tip of his size throbs, pushing it in until he feels your hole snap around him, hissing and biting his lip. “Babies first time, just for me..”

It’s dizzying for him, almost too dizzying to hear your rushed intakes of air, to see your eyes clenched shut, fists balled up on your chest, and your teeth grinding to not scream. Johnny reaches for your forearms, pushing them down for leverage. Slowly he plunges in more, managing to get a few more inches in before pausing to take deep breaths. “You okay baby?”

Nodding furiously, you curse at him to continue. Distracting yourself from the pain by focusing on your breathing. You have to be good, prove yourself worthy, not only for your Alpha, but for the pack of onlookers. Determined to take him, you let out a moan and force your hips up into a swivel, further sliding his length inside.

A slew of curses spring from his lips in shock, reveling in the pressure and tightness enveloping half of his length. “Want it so badly, don’t you.” He says more to himself, moving to grab your hips and hold them down. “But you’ll do as I say.”

He pulls out, a lewd loud pop resounding as Johnny lifts his hips back enough to rub his length up and down. The fat tip of his size purposely nudging and bumping your swollen clit. Each drag against your sensitive pussy further ruining you, sobbing out loud without a care. The hold on your hips keeps you from moving, letting out a desperate shout as Johnny lays his palm flat on your stomach, taking his cock in hand to slap down on against your clit.

“Alpha! N-no!”

“Take it.” He groans, struck by the thick we s of slick that cling to his length with each heavy smack. Emitting pornographic squelching sounds for everyone of the Alphas he will lead someday to hear, to memorize, to know that they will never have a taste of you, let alone ever experience this again.

With a pleased smirk, the engorged tip of his length meets your entrance again. Pussy throbbing like a wounded animal as the Alpha finally presses in again, slowly breaching your hole to make you feel every overwhelming sensation all over again. The pain subsides as pleasure and desperation takes over, incessantly starving to feel him stuff you full. You sob, reaching out for something as he leans in to bracket your head with thick biceps. Finding solace in his shoulders, you claw at his smooth skin, arching up to bite down a scream into his muscle.

It’s heat inducing, arching against the Alpha to get him deeper inside of you. Long thick cock stretching you with each new inch added, too good once fully sheathed inside. You can’t stop whining, licking at Johnny’s smooth pronounced collarbone. Split open by the only one you’ve ever wanted, something about it swells your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to feel even closer.

“Alpha, please—“ you start to wail, drooling on his neck, planting haphazard messy kisses.

“What are you begging for, huh?” He chokes out, moving to wrap around your shoulders in the same manner, knowing that your Omega needs to be close. That your heart needs to feel his beating against it. “You’re so tight for me baby. Gonna ruin that perfect pussy you have, make it mine.”

“Ugh!” Dropping your neck back, hot tears fill your eyes, raining down your cheeks as he begins to thrust in and out.

“All mine, my pretty gorgeous Omega.” He moans, fully pulling out only to ram back in and sending your back arching up with a shout. Johnny can’t slow down, chasing after your release to get to his. Falling into a rough rhythm, he thrusts hard enough to have you both sliding up with each ramming force of his hips. The clenches you give around his cock accompanied by drool coated moans only encouraging him to push in harder, make you taste his cock in the back of your throat from here.

“Alpha..”

“Yeah, what did I say baby? Keep those pretty eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” Clutching your neck, he presses your foreheads together. Cock drilling deep past your tight hole. It’s not completely without pain, snapping around the intrusion of his thick long girth. Johnny works hard to keep his own eyes open, consumed by the way your pouty lips fall apart with a moan, how your eyes roll up and back to him over and over again. “Opening up so so good for Alpha. Feel good baby?”

Gliding a hand between your bodies, he lowers closer to your chest, pushing his arm lower to rest the back of your head along the dip of his elbow. Fingers find their way to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with another thrust, easing more inches past your convulsing heat.

“Ahh—!” Incoherently you begin to nod, head spinning, thighs aching around his hips. The pinch to your clit shoots up your spine, lifting your butt up only to be slammed back down into place with another powerful thrust. Johnny curses, sucking at spit around his tongue as he lifts enough to watch you take the last inch of his cock again.

“Oh shit baby.” He croons, biting down on his lip at the sight of his cock completely disappearing inside of you like nothing. The way you take it only as an Omega can. It’s indescribable to feel your heat suck around him, the way your walls clamp on his size like wet firm kisses. Pangs of pleasure throb up his length, cockhead pressed to your cervix at this angle. “Can’t believe—“ the Alpha drags his slick coated fingers to your lips, pushing them down on your tongue, teeth gritting. “Can’t believe I’m inside of you.”

That awakens your lost mind, licking between his digits as he circles down into you and lets you truly feel how big he is. Each twist of his hips feels like a delicious new stretch, opening your cunt up to always be ready for your Alpha to fill you up. He sighs, smiling and pressing in to capture your lips. Cock thrumming inside of you letting you get used to the sheer size of him. Distracting you with wet and messy glides of his tongue, he continues to slur between sucks, drawing your tongue out with his suctioning lips.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy baby, best cunt ever.” Johnny sounds lost himself, lapping at the combination of your spit smearing between your chins. “Tight, so tight for your Alpha.”

All you can do is whine and agree between his overpowering kisses, failing to grab his tongue with yours. Johnny controls everything, the way you kiss, the way you fuck, the way your body reacts to him. Infiltrating your brain, lungs, heart, cunt, filling every empty hole inside of you with himself, staking claim to his Omega the way only a real Alpha can.

“Pl-please, Alpha, please,” you start to beg, throwing your limbless arms around his shoulders to weakly throw your hips into a circle. Turning desperate to really feel him, to really get fucked by your Alpha.

He fully lets go, tearing past his own resistance to fuck you full, hard and fast. Wet sounds clap around you, jostled by each punching thrust, swearing you can feel him as deep as your lungs from the way you gag on spit and choke on your breath. Weakly tapping at his shoulders you lose it, clamping on the Alphas size hard enough to make him stop for a moment. Johnny growl’s animalistically, pounding through the splash of slick threatening to push his size out from the force of your powerful orgasm. He keeps fucking you through it, looming large over your body going lifeless beneath him.

“Knot, g-gonna knot baby.” The veins lining his long throat pop out under sweat glistening flesh, dropping his nose to yours as his stomach convulses and he thrusts in all the way deep surely leaving your cervix bruised. “Fucking—-fu—ahh shit!”

It’s the most shattered he’s sounded, raspy and whiny, coming to a stop as the base of his length begins to expand. Swiping his lips against yours between panted breaths.

“S’too.. can’t.” You beg, lightly tapping his chest. It’s useless, both of you too strung out by the peak of your pleasure. The only option left is to wait it out and grit your teeth through the burn stretching against your hole.

Right as you feel every last inch of your body go limp, Johnny securely cups behind your neck, licking across the top row of his teeth practically salivating at the sight of your extended throat arched up so invitingly. The knot thrums against your walls, painful stretch burning as he adjusts to lower his chest to yours and whisper against your lips. “My Omega.”

The bite hurts initially, gnawing deep through the flesh covering your scent gland. Long canines dig through your veins, sucking at the blood that gushes past his bite. Memories of the first time you met the Alpha flash behind your eyes, weakly sinking your nails into his shoulders as tears rush from your eyes and everything he’s ever wanted to say to you flies around your mind. The days you spent together, the times he always let you win just to see you smile, and the frantic need to protect you. Pain washes away along with the tears rolling down your face, whimpering and clutching onto him as hard as you’re able to.

“Johnny..”

The pitiful sounds that come from his throat remind you of a distressed pup, lapping up your bite aggressively as guilt claws at his chest seeing you grow weaker beneath him.

“S’okay Alpha..” you mumble, sliding your hands up his neck to hold his cheeks. The difference in size seems more daunting now, stuck on his knot that hasn’t deflated one bit, the visual of your small hands thumbing his wet cheeks feels right. Feels as if you’ll never have to fend for yourself as each emotion and reassuring sense of devotion fills your head.

Johnny’s your Alpha, destined to lead, destined to be yours.

“Hurt you..” he barely whispers, thumb caressing the mark on your neck solemnly. Fighting between his pride and lust to prioritize what you could be going through. “Sorry..”

“No no,” tucking your chin, you capture his thumb to suckle on, head shaking softly. “Love you.”

The look that illuminates his features can only be described as one of love. Adoration and admiration, relief, lightly tipping the corners of his lips upward and releasing the tension pinching at his ears. “Love you, my mate.” He says proudly, knot gone down enough to fix your positions and lift you onto his lap. “Let's go home.”

Without allowing you time to look around, he holds onto your bottom, keeping you impaled in place with his knot as his thighs burn to stand, free hand petting the back of your head and easing your nose to rest against his scent gland, successfully masking your eyes from the Alphas that stand around drooling, hard cocks pulsing, desperate to have a piece of you for themselves. With a last look of warning at the group, he turns and takes the back trail back to his cabin, shushing your whines.

“Almost there baby.”

“We’re going home?” You ask drowsily, clinging onto his shoulders as if you fear the idea of falling, knowing the Alpha would never allow for such a thing.

“Our home.” He states, rounding a corner to the back entrance of his cabin to avoid allowing anyone else that may be roaming around to see you in this position. “You did such a good job for me back there pretty.”

“I did?” Warmth fills your stomach, brows knitting as your hips roll against him on their own to feel the Alphas half deflated knot push past your aching entrance. He hisses, cupping your ass firmly on the way to the bed you rested in yesterday, already soaked with your scent, weakening his knees as he lays you down and hovers above you, fist planted by your sides.

“So good for me, my perfect Omega.”

Reaching up for his shoulder, you trace the wolf gazing down at you once again, head tilted curiously. “Has it always been me? Really?”

Johnny’s eyebrows gather together furiously, nodding rapidly, clicking his tongue annoyed. “You know that it has.”

“It’s nice to hear.” You smile, biting on your lip.

“Yeah?” Lowering down, he thrusts the rest of his size in to fill you with every inch, knot gone down enough to shove his length in deep once again. “And me? I want to hear you say it.”

Damp strands of hair hang around your face, framing the Alphas sharp cheekbones, long eyes that stare down at you obsessively.

“It’s always been you.” You admit, arching up for a kiss.

Already knowing that is one thing, but hearing you say it strikes a nerve, growling from deep in his chest as he reaches to draw your hands above your head and teases your lips with barely there kisses.

“You’re mine.” Small pecks litter your top and bottom lip, lowering to your chin and jaw, trailing a pathway up to your ear and back as he continues to repeat mineminemine.

“Mine to have.” Another kiss.

“Mine to keep.” Another kiss.

“Mine to save.” Another kiss.

“And mine to ruin.” The last kiss steals your breath, bred full again by the next thrust, only held in place by his solid grip on your forearms.

The Alpha made good on his promise to take care of you, fucked and bred night after night to birth the strongest members of your pack.

Occasionally you’d find your way back to the forest, now with Johnny by your side helping you climb trees that you insisted on being able to do on your own.

“It’s nice up here.” He hums, laying back on the large part of the base with you on his chest, stroking up and down your spine soothingly.

“It’s nicer with you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrow lifts, tapping your chin to look at him. “No more running away from me then?”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” You tease, pretending to bite his finger.

“That’s my girl.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

#johnny suh smut #johnny smut #johnny nct smut #nct johnny #nct 127 smut #kpop smut #neopuppy fics #nct smut #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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liliansun · 1 year

Text

FREE TRIAL WEDDING STYLE | L. DONGHYUCK

synopsis: when a random, cute, guy comes up to you and practically asks for you to follow along, you do so without much thought. that is until you get home and see he’s your new neighbor who just might need your help a little more than you expected.

pairing: fake-bf/new neighbor!haechan x oc

wc: 10.6k

genre: fluff, comedy, fake dating au, slice of life (?), wedding au

warnings: warnings, kissing, all that fun jazz (lmk if I miss any)

mentions of: 127, dream and wayv members, mention of aespa members

<3: special thanks to ash and briar for literally just beta reading anything I ask them to and for just being the best friends I ever could’ve asked for, they’re the real og besties and I love you guys sm 🫶

PART TWO: FIRST ANNIVERSARY

Looking up at the boy in front of you who seemed desperate for you to follow along, you clear your throat as you shift your eyes to his friends. “Um, I thought I told you I was coming here on break.” Awkwardly trying to come up with the right words, the boy watches as you look panicked and takes the seat in front of you. “It must’ve not gone through, babe.” He said, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. You glared at him, making him immediately retract his hand and laugh it off as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’re out Haechan, text us when you’re gonna meet up.” One of the guys from what you can only assume was his friend group said as he got up and gathered his belongings. “What- wait I still wanna come.” The boy, who you just learned is Haechan, whined as he immediately stood up from his seat when his friends made way for the door. “Dude you’re here with your girl, catch up later.” The boy with blue hair gave him a knowing look which caused the boy, Haechan, to pout. “Actually, I was about to go back to work anyway because- yeah, so um it’s nice seeing you, honey?”

Haechan can see how uncomfortable you are and simply nodded as you grabbed your belongings. He walked beside you, making your way to the door before you two part ways. To his surprise, you go off in the opposite direction than him and his friends, not saying another word about the shit show you had to endure.

After the awkward encounter back at the cafe, you went back to work and tried to pretend it never happened. Rubbing your eye with the palm of your hand, you don’t get a good look at whoever joined in the elevator when it stopped midway to your designated floor. Too caught up in the oddly comforting feeling of rubbing the stress and sleepiness from your eye, you lean back with both eyes closed. “Didn’t get enough sleep?” You recognize the voice, humming as you let out a yawn.

“Why didn’t you take a nap on break?” You roll your head toward the voice, opening your eyes to see Jaehyun giving you a knowing look. “I had lunch away from the office and I’m honestly starting to regret it.” The ding of the elevator signals you to get off on your floor. Jaehyun follows behind, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What happened, did you try some weird new restaurant again because if you spend the next 30 minutes away from the desk again I’m gonna shred your computer.”

You furrow your brows, whipping around on your heels to point a finger into his chest. “It’s not my fault, okay, last time I tried that cheap fusion food truck and it gave me food poisoning.” Shuttering, you try to block out the memory of the last time you went away from the office for lunch which cost you a bill from the hospital and toiletries to keep you at bay. “Plus this wasn’t anything that happened with the food, this guy..I don’t know it was weird and I just wanna forget about it.”

“Suit yourself, but don’t be calling for me when your stomach starts to churn.” He says, walking away from you to enter the main office area. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as you slip between the crowded area till you get to your own desk. Plopping down in your seat, your eyes immediately look at the brightly colored sticky note left by your senior editor. Snatching it from the base of your computer, you groan while crumbling it in your hand. “Someone’s sour today I see.”

“Maybe if Kim Jungwoo didn’t leave cryptic messages at my desk when I’m not there instead of telling me when I’m actually in the office then I wouldn’t want to bash his pretty face in.” Karina smiles at you, leaning against your desk as she watches you throw away the note into a bin. “Do I even want to know what that was all about?” You roll your head towards her, shaking your head before refocusing on the emails you missed. “Gotcha, speaking of pretty faces, Jae told me you met a boy at lunch.”

“How did he tell you that when we literally just got in?”

“He has a big mouth for such a quiet man.” Nodding along, you start to click through emails, sorting through which ones are important and which ones can be pushed back till you get home. “So.”

“So?” Karina smiled at you, leaning towards you as she wiggled her finger. “Don’t play dumb y/n, tell me about the boy!” Rolling your eyes, you shrug her off and go back to what you were doing before. “Uh uh, don’t do that, tell me pretty please? I mean when’s the last time you had a boy to talk about since your douchebag of an ex.” Fighting back a frown, Karina notices how stiff you get and gently rubs your arm. “I’m sorry, I know it’s still fresh.”

With a heavy sigh, you turn your chair towards her. “That’s the thing, it’s been two years and I still can’t seem to get over him or even mention him.” She continues rubbing your arm, knowing all too well how messy your breakup with your ex was. “I really can’t say much about him though, the guy I mean.” She nods, letting you know she’s listening. “He’s cute, I’ll give him that, kinda baby faced in a mature way if that makes sense and he seems almost childlike with the guys he was with but in the moment he was more desperate than anything.”

She smiles, playing with the ends of your hair. “Sounds like you like him.” You give her a twisted look, shaking your head at the thoughts you could only imagine that were starting to play out in her head. “No, uh uh no ma’am, don’t give me that look I literally just met him.” She props herself up on your desk, swinging her legs as her smile widens at your sudden defensiveness on the subject. “Karina, I promise you, he literally came up to me and pretended like we were dating! What kind of guy does that?”

Raising her eyebrows, she leans back on her palms. “Only the desperate boys who wanna slip your skirt d-“ The sound of a loud clearing of the throat caught both of your attentions. Looking at who was standing in the entryway to your small desk space, you see a very unimpressed Taeyong. “I’m not gonna ask what you two are giggling about,” he throws his hands up, wiggling his fingers with one while the other shakes around a manila envelope in the other, “But this is for you sent directly from Doyoung.” With a fake smile, you take the envelope that he ever so kindly handed over, snickering as he left off back to whatever he had found before.

“I hate to see what you did in your past life, karma is a bitch to you.” When your face deadpans, Karina throws her head back in a fit of laughter. You slap at her legs with the envelope, whining as she finds humor in your torture. “I don’t get why Doyoung always sends me the most complicated stuff, like I’m not the only person on the floor.” Putting emphasis on his name, you make a mental note to not get such a nice gift like you do each year for Christmas exchange. And if you’re wondering, yes you do get him a separate gift every year because you simply can. I mean, who wouldn’t, it’s Doyoung.

“Maybe because you’re one of the best editors on the floor.” Smiling, you lean back in your chair while tossing the envelope beside your keyboard. “You always know what to say to me.” Hopping off your desk, Karina flattens out the front of her pants before placing both hands on her hips. “Yeah yeah, work your magic and I’ll see you later.” You wave her off, facing your laptop with no intent on working on the pile of stuff in front of you.

After many excruciating hours sitting in your chair, you read the time and quickly gather your things to head home. You catch a cab to your tiny apartment, dragging yourself up the stairs in hopes you’ll actually make it to your bed before the mental exhaustion takes its toll. Reaching the top of the stairs, you see the door across from yours wide open. “I guess they found someone to fill the room.” You mutter to yourself, slinging your purse over your arm that doesn’t seem to stop sliding down.

As you’re putting your keys into your door, you hear scuffling behind you. “Oh hey neighbor.” Turning around, you meet eyes with the person you literally thought you’d never see again. “Oh, it’s you.” Haechan seemed taken aback, offended to his core when he gasped as he held his chest. “Nice to see you again, too.” If this was your final straw, your 13th reason, you’d probably let the world swallow you hole right on your doorstep and not bat an eye, but knowing Jungwoo he’d still find a way to drag you back to work in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m just too tired and honestly don’t even want to have this conversation.”

“What conversation are we not having?” You can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused and doesn’t recognize you, which only hurts a little, or if he’s just that pretty and that dumb. Maybe a combination of both to soothe your ego a little. “Y’know what- never mind, goodnight, neighbor.” You finally turn the key, unlocking your door and slipping into your lonely apartment. Dropping the bag by the door, you toss your shoes off and convince yourself a hot shower would wash this day away.

And it does, for the most part. Maybe it’s because you shampooed your hair and you feel ten times more clean or maybe it’s because hot water seems to cure every bad mood you had before you got into the shower. Now, you’re hungry and all you want is something warm and to snuggle with your cat till your dreadful alarm takes you away from your sleep. You’re in the kitchen, drying your hair with a towel when you hear a knock at your door. And another and another.

Your only guess as to who it could be was Karina, maybe she and her boyfriend got into a fight again and she wanted to blow off some steam at your place. You go to open the door, being met with a very sheepish looking Haechan who can tell your mood dropped a little at his presence. “What.”

“Okay, firstly ouch, is that any way how you treat a neighbor? I mean I just moved in tod-“

“I’m giving you five more seconds to tell me what you want or I’m shutting the dam-“

“Okay okay fine, uh, can I maybe, possibly just sorta hang out?” Maybe Karina was right, maybe this was your punishment for whatever fucked up thing you did in your past life and now you have to endlessly suffer as if you’re made of steal. Well news flash universe, you’re not, now lay off. “You’re kidding, right?” When his eyes drop down to his hands that he was anxiously rubbing together, you let out a sigh before stepping aside.

He looked up, his eyes almost bright as he looks into yours. “Come in before I change my mind.” Once he stepped inside, you expected him to sit quietly on your couch and do whatever he thought he was gonna do when he got in, but you were far from that reality. The quiet, almost shy, boy who you just so happened to meet twice in one day completely came out of his shell and is now sitting across from you on your floor while sharing a separate bowl of soup.

“So why did you name your cat peanut?” The pet in question, or conversation, came from the hallway and walked around rubbing his body against various things in your living room. “Because my brother is allergic to peanuts and peanut hated him so it seemed fitting.” He smiles, content with your answer as she moves his spoon around in the bowl. “You’re a bad host, you know?” With a mouth full of soup, you chew the contents with furrowed brows. He came to your door, invaded your space, is eating your soup and dares to call you a bad host?

“Excuse me, but you’re the one who came up to me at the cafe and practically forced me into going along with your story!” He scoffs, setting his bowl down in his lap while pointing his spoon at you. “You’re the one who went along with it, look where that got you.” You narrow your eyes, trying to weigh your options on what’s the best way to commit homicide. “Wait-what—why are you even in here again?”

“Well, see now that’s a good question.” His sudden change in demeanor was weird. He suddenly seemed nervous, shifting in his spot as he avoided your gaze. “I actually, uh, have something to propose. Well, more like ask a question if you will, it’s really interchangeable honestly.”

He mirrors you, watching you with hopeful eyes as you start shaking your head. “Oh no, uh uh, don’t even say it.” He hurries behind you, pouting as he watches you set your near empty bowl in the sink. “I didn’t even say anything yet.” You turn around, holding your arms out to prevent him getting any closer. “No, but I know what you’re gonna ask and I’m not—no!” Haechan tries to speak, being interrupted when you shh him. You walk past him when he puts his bowl besides yours, speed walking down your hallway to your room.

“Y/n, don’t leave me in here alone.” God he sounded so whiny, it’s kinda cute if you’re honest, but that’s more of a random thought than a compliment for now. “Wait- how did you know my name?” Turning on your heel, the two of you stop midway in your hallway. “The landlord told me, he said if I ever needed anything to ask my neighbor and I currently am in need!” You turn back, trying to block him out as you enter your room and desperately climb into your bed.

Haechan stands at the entrance of your room, pouting when you reach for your laptop beside your bed. “Do you know how insane this is, I mean we just met today and then you just so happened to move in across from me and now you’re in my apartment, practically in my room,” you take in a deep breath, laughing it out as you open the device in your lap, “and I already feel like I know what you’re gonna ask me and it’s so fucking insane.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything, looking at you with an awkward smile. If you knew him, you’d think he was enjoying this, but that’s the thing is that you didn’t know him. “I know this is crazy and you might try to call the cops, but just hear me out.” You scrunch your nose, staring at him from across the room with crossed arms. “Remember the guys I was with earlier right, they’ve kinda been on me about being in a relationship and in a panic, I saw you and yeah the rest you pretty much know.”

“Do you know how pathetic that sounds, to use a random stranger as a decoy for your love, or lack of, life.” He looks taken aback, almost hurt at your brutal honesty and it leaves a slightly bad taste in your mouth. “Look, I’m sorry for that and almost as sorry as the situation your friends put you in.” He shrugs, running his hands through his hair as he opts to sit against your doorframe. There’s an uncomfortable silence that settles between the two of you, both not entirely sure what to say next and not sure on what to even begin to say to make it better.

You stare at the unopened files on your screen, mentally weighing your options and trying to decide whether to kick him out and potentially file a restraining order or to give him a chance, both seem like they’ll end up in flames honestly. “Look, I’ve seen way too many drama shows and I have a feeling on how this is supposed to go—it may be because I’m sleep deprived or how sad you’re looking right now, but I’ll think about it.”

His face lit up, hope filling his eyes with a certain kind of sparkle that made you feel worse if you’re being honest. “I knew it was a good decision to move here, I just knew it.” He mumbled to himself, smiling as he got up from your floor and brushed himself off. “I’ve got work to do, but we’ll talk tomorrow..I guess?” Nodding, Haechan gave you a salute which made you laugh before turning on his heels and disappearing into the darkness of your hallway. You let out a breath, a breath you didn’t know you were holding and lean against your pillows trying to figure out what you just signed up for.

Just as you start clicking on files, Haechan comes running back to your door. “You should probably lock the door.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” Pushing your laptop aside, you get up from your bed and follow behind him.

The days following your very awkward and yet unclear agreement, you would only see Haechan in the hallway when one of you was leaving as the other was just getting in. That talk you were supposed to have, yeah that never actually happened due to your sudden pileup of work that occupied your time. Just have you been all week, you were currently sitting on your couch with your laptop occupying the space on your lap as you wait for your takeout order. You’re about three-fourths of the way done with what you’re working on when you hear a knock at your door.

Setting the device aside, you get up and go to answer it with your wallet in hand. When you open the door, much to your surprise, you see a very awkward Haechan holding your bags of takeout. “You sure do order a lot of food for one person.” Raising one brow, you reflect the smile he was giving you. “And who said I didn’t have company over?” You step aside, letting him come in and he does just so. After making his way towards your couch, he sets the bags down on the table in the center. You stop to think as you close the door how comfortable he seems when he barely knows you and has only been in your apartment one other time.

“If you did, I probably would’ve heard because, you know, the whole being neighbors thing.”

“Oh so you’re stalking me now?” He rolls his eyes at your comment, plopping down at the end of your couch. “You wish you got that much attention, don’t you.” You grab the nearest thing, good thing for him that it was a pillow, and throw it across the couch—directly hitting him in the head.

“Now that’s enough for a restraining order!”

“Please, if you didn’t wanna be near me then why’d you come to my door?” Haechan got silent, looking down at his hands while you sat back in your spot and started unpacking the food. “That got real deep real fast.” The sound of his chuckle made you smile, making sure to lay out the food across the table for the both of you. Silently, he leaned forward and started to fill up his bowl with toppings of his choice. Both of you started munching down, occasionally setting your food aside to continue your work. “What are you working on?” He asked, leaning into your side to peak over your shoulder.

“Our contract for this unrequited love.”

“Haha, very funny.” Haechan’s sarcastic tone and expression to match made you snicker as you finished up on your report and sent it off to Jungwoo for review. “Just some final notes for an article.” He nods, seeming content with your answer. “That’s not a bad idea though.” When you turn towards him, confusion evident on your face, Haechan then elaborates. “I mean the contract or at least some rules to this,” he motioned his hand between the two of you, “because I can’t tell if you can tell, but I’m desperate as hell.”

“Brownie points for rhyming.”

If you could see whatever went through his head when you said that, you probably would’ve enjoyed it just as much as seeing him throw his head into his hands. “Okay, in all seriousness how are we supposed to do this—I mean we don’t know one another and I’m not very sure I can trust a guy who still plays Michael Jackson till three am.”

Throwing his hands up, Haechan looked both offended and taken aback by your sudden forwardness. ”Firstly, don’t talk about the king like that, he’s a classic and everyone should be blasting his music the way I do, secondly I get where you’re coming from.”

Over the next two hours, the two of you talked about yourselves to help one another get more of an insight of your personalities, laugh at poorly made jokes and eat your way through cheap takeout food. After all that, you two moved on to why he approached you and the reason behind his need for a girlfriend. “So you’re telling me that the tall one,”

“Johnny.”

“Right, Johnny, is getting married and he kept pressuring you get a date for the wedding and instead of telling him you didn’t have one you made up a girl who doesn’t exist and when the one with blue hair,”

“Mark.”

“Yes, Mark, pointed me out as your imaginary girlfriend, you had no other choice, but to approach me and hope I’d play along?”

Haechan took a deep breath, cringing at the way you broke down his story which honestly made it sound worse. “Yeah, pretty much and did I mention they went to meet you before the wedding?” Squinting your eyes, you stare at him with your mouth agape. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“If I was, would I seriously be sitting on your couch right now?”

He had a point, he could honestly be doing anything in the world, probably playing some video game, but like anything other than staring at you like you’re his only hope. “You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops on you or something like a, I dunno, normal person would have.” Haechan falls forward dramatically, grabbing both of your hands and squeezes them as he muffles what you assume is happy screams into your couch cushion.

The sudden move shouldn’t have made your heart jump a little, but it did and you’re not entirely sure why. For now, you’re blaming it on the fact that he’s insanely cute and the greasy food as you feeling a little beside yourself. “Your godsend, truly from heaven itself.” You pull your hands from his grasp, trying to hide the fact that your face feels like it’s on fire. “Yeah yeah, let me go before I reconsider this whole thing.”

“Let me at least take you on the first date before you try to back out—which by the way, will be next weekend at the actual wedding.”

You know that spit-take scene in movies where a person literally spits their drink everywhere because of the shocking news they just received, well that was you when he said that. Only this time it wasn’t in slow motion and wasn’t nearly as awesome, instead you choked halfway through spitting it out and it came back up and out your nose as you tried to save yourself from choking.

Haechan, disgusted you just spit all over him and also worried to see you nearly come to your end, gets up from the couch and searches your apartment for a towel to clean you and him up. When he comes back, you had slipped away to the bathroom to not only hide your embarrassment, but to clean yourself up and change your shirt. After what seemed like enough time to hope he had left, you went back into your living room to see Haechan sitting on the floor and using your couch as a back rest.

“Are you okay because that was—well that was tragic to put it kindly.”

“Can we not mention that, like ever for the rest of our lives would be good.” Sitting across from him, you fold your arms on top of the table, trying to avoid his gaze as you look anywhere but directly at him. He nods, understanding how overwhelmed you just be with all that he’s asking. You can tell by his stance how grateful he is for you and you use that to settle your nerves a bit. After all, maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe all of Karina’s talk about the universe and good karma might actually pull through.

“I’m sorry for roping you into all of this.” When you finally meet his eyes, you could see the sadness that lingered in them as he hung his head. “I don’t want you to think I do this for fun or I’m creepy or anything—I feel really bad for bringing you into something you didn’t ask for.”

Your chest felt heavy as you watched him slump against your couch. The last few interactions with Haechan made you feel like you’ve known him your entire life and seeing him so down had you feeling hurt.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me please because I just- I don’t want you to go along with this because you feel bad for me.”

“I do feel bad for you, but that’s not why I’m doing this.” When he lifted his head, you could see the smile spread across his lips. “I see this as a an opportunity.”

“To what exactly?” When he leaned in, you did the same. He looked so familiar in this moment, so relaxed and almost kissable. But that’s the last thing you need to be thinking about when his face is damn near touching yours. “Two words: free food.” Watching Haechan gasp, you laugh as he raises his eyebrows at you. “Who said I’m going to pay for your food?”

Shrugging, you look down at your wrist and start to tap it with your finger. “Oh look at that, seems like you’ll have to find another girl who will help you, guess you might as well go ho-“

Haechan jumped up from his seat, moving around the table to grab your wrist. “No no, that’s okay—free food you said, that includes travel rights too?” You almost hate to say it, but this boy was making moves that damn near took your breath away. It sounds almost sad to be so swooned over a boy you hardly know, but there was something about him that just made you feel so at home. Maybe it was the way he laughs at every bad joke you tell or maybe it’s the way he’s way too touchy for your liking and yet you don’t seem to mind it.

Maybe it’s the way his lips are so plump and every time he pouts, you just wanna grab his face and kiss him till you’re out of breath. Maybe it’s the way his hand always feels warm to the touch and you could only imagine how you’d feel with his arms around you.

“Earth to y/n?” The snapping of Haechan’s fingers pulled you from your thoughts, blinking at him as if he was just apart of your imagination this whole time. “What’s going on up there that’s got you so spaced out?”

“Nothing, just thinking about what I’m gonna wear to the wedding.” Haechan looked at you a little longer, his eyes scanning your face to which you assume he’s trying to find something in your eyes. He seems to have bought it, backing away from you to create more personal space for you while he goes back to sit across from you. “Good point, we might just have to go shopping around this weekend to find a dress—oh and don’t forget one for the wedding so that makes two.”

“With what money, exactly? I mean I’m not broke, but I’m not paid enough to buy two dresses I’ll probably only wear once.”

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling his phone from his pocket when it starts vibrating. He doesn’t answer, instead he swipes right on the caller id and brings the device to his ear. From what you can hear from the person on the other side of the phone, you felt like he probably had something important to do. You start to get up, picking up the towels that he used to clean up the couch with. When you left to drop them off in the dirty basket, you return to find your door cracked and Haechan to be missing. Assuming he had went back to his apartment, you start to go and close the door before it swings. Haechan comes in, being followed behind by a guy you don’t recognize.

“Donghyuck, that’s breaking bro-code and you know it.” You’re a little confused as to why Haechan was called by another name, but you stay silent and watched the blonde haired boy cross his arms at Haechan. “I told you Yangyang, I’m not going to give you the girl at my jobs number—she already told me she filed a restraining order.”

Yangyang, the blonde haired guy you assume, pouts as he gets down on his knees with hands intertwined. “Pretty please, it doesn’t even have to be her, it can be someone else, I just need someone man—I’m lonely!”

You watch the dramatic scene unfold in your living room, getting a weird sense of deja vu. After clearing your throat to try and prevent yourself from coughing, both boys look at you with confusion in their eyes. “Are you the fake girlfriend?”

“I guess?” The question threw you off when Haechan’s friend said it so bluntly. “Stop asking questions and go to my apartment.” Haechan picked his friend up from the ground, shooing him out of yours and to the one across the hall. When Yangyang was now in his apartment, Haechan turned to you with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for what you had to witness.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had weirder experiences than that if I’m being honest.”

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks around the floor. “So, I uh, I gotta get back to him or else he’ll probably destroy my apartment.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Your offer had his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink as you followed him from your door to his. Right before he went inside, he turned around and, to your surprise, gave you a hug. You took him in, wrapping your arms around his as you two held each other for what felt like forever. “Goodnight, Haechan.” You whispered as he pulled away, smiling at him. “Donghyuck.”

When you looked at him confused, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “My name is donghyuck, but my friends typically call me Haechan.”

“So we’re not friends?” He shook his head, smiling so fondly at you that you weren’t sure what was real or fake at this point. “Only my special friends can call me Donghyuck.”

That night, his words echoed in your head as you laid in bed staring at your ceiling. You seem quite delusional for falling for someone who you barely know, but boy oh boy does he have you on the edge and you’re ready to give it all just to fall into him. You grab your phone from off your bed, scrolling through your messages till you find Karina’s name.

y/n: baby boo u awake?

naevis baevis: no ew go to sleep

y/n: I think I like him

naevis baevis: GIRL WHATT THE HELL DID I MISS??

y/n: i don’t know I’m IDK he’s got me feelin wheezy

naevis baevis: so he’s got you having diarrhea??

y/n: NO BITCH WHAT??

naevis baevis: tell me tomorrow at work I’m too tired for you and your pneumonia

As Karina swiveled her chair around, you sat on top of her desk while picking at the chipped polish on your nails. “So what’s his friend look like?” You look over at her with a deadpan expression as she wiggles her phone in her hand for you to see. “That’s the least important part of the story and instead of being a good friend you wanna ask about the random guy who practically begged for bitches on my living room floor?” She nods, continuing to wiggle her phone at you until you snatch it from her hand and type in his name.

“That’s all I get?” She frowns, scrolling through the pulled up suggested accounts with the same name. “Look, I only know his name was Yangyang and you better hope I spelt that right.” She looks focused as she continues to scroll through, clicking on an account and holding it up for you to approve—to which you did. “He’s kinda cute.” She coos, looking through his instagram feed while leaning back in her chair. “Karina.” You whine, nudging her leg with your foot as she giggles at her phone. She looks up from her phone, mirroring your pout as she sets the device down and folds her hands together. “Look, I don’t see anything wrong with it, he’s offering to pay for your dresses and he’s incredibly hot from what I saw on his friends page so I say it’s a win-win.”

“How do you know he’s incredibly hot based off his friends page?”

“Duh, you’ve described this man to me so many times I’ve practically seen him through your eyes at this point.” She had a point, ever since Haechan walked into your life, all you seem to do is talk about him and how he makes your stomach is filled with butterflies. “So when’s the wedding again?” You snap out from your thoughts, staring at her with shock. “Huh?”

“His friends wedding, when is it?” For some reason when she first asked the question, you thought she was talking about you and Haechan and that alone had your face turning a slight shade of pink. “Girl please don’t tell me you thought I was talking about your man.” You rolled your eyes, sliding yourself off her desk and pulled down the rolled up pieces of fabric of your pants. “He’s not my man.” She gives you a look that tells you she doesn’t buy your bullshit and swivels her chair back around to her computer. “Tell that to lover boy next time you see him.”

You ignore her last comment and head back to your desk, confused to see a note left by your keyboard. When you pick it up, you read that Xiaojun had eaten your lunch by accident and apologized via sticky note. Crumbling it in your hand, you plop down into your chair in defeat. You throw the sticky note in the trash and start to open up files on your computer when you hear the phone on your desktop ring. Answering, you continue to click open files with the phone to your ear. “Y/n’s office.”

“Hey y/n, it’s winter down at the front desk, this guy is asking for you if you’re not busy.” You check the time on your computer, shrugging as you pin a couple important things before closing off the rest. “Sure, I’ll come down.” After you hang up the phone, you let Jaehyun know you’re going to lunch in which he replies he hopes you get a stomach bug. One of these days you’re gonna poison his food you think—playfully of course.

After a quick elevator ride down, you enter the main lobby of your building and wave at Winter who was standing behind the front desk. She returns the wave with a smile and points over at Haechan who was sitting on a bench by the front doors. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers and his phone. “Um, are you stalking me because if you are then this won’t work, I draw the line at being creepy.” Your voice caught Haechan’s attention, closing off his phone and tucking it into his jacket pocket as he gets up and heads towards you. “No I’m not stalking you, I asked the landlord for your number and where you worked and surprisingly he told me in a heartbeat.”

You make the mental note to stop sharing personal information with your landlord before focusing in on the flowers in his hand. Haechan’s eyes follow yours, looking down at the flowers before handing them over to you. “I thought since I’m your fake boyfriend, I might as well be a good one for compensation on having to deal with the shit show you got sucked into.” You smile at the flowers, looking up to meet his eyes. “Thank you, for the flowers I mean.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to hide his smile. “So, you’re not busy are you, because I totally showed up unannounced, but I figured it was better to do that then text you and you block my number”.

“No, I’m on lunch right now and you chose the best option on that.” He nods, linking his arm with yours and immediately starts walking towards the exit. “Excuse me, but where exactly are we going and why the hell did you feel the need to skip with your steps?” He smiled and if you’re honest, his smile brightened up the entire atmosphere around you. “We’re going dress shopping, duh, oh and to get lunch because I’m a good boyfriend like that.”

You didn’t have time to protest before the two of you were off into the city. He gave you the choice for lunch, picking a taco stand near some shops because you felt guilty for him paying for everything. He would not let you bring out your wallet and even threatened to throw it out the window if you tried to spend your money. The gesture was sweet, but his seriousness made you tuck it safety away in your pocket.

Once you found a dress shop you were comfortable entering, you both entered and looked around before one of the staff took you away while the other walked Haechan around and helped him pick out dresses for you to try on. Once he found a couple different options, you tried them on and the both of you settled on your favorite pick for the first dress that you’d wear to the ceremony. Since the reception was going to be later in the night, Haechan opted for a different dress that was more covering so that you wouldn’t be so cold. When you came out in the second dress that he himself specifically picked, you almost felt too nervous to meet his gaze.

When he turned around from talking to a staff member, he visibly froze when his eyes met with yours. Panic starts to rush through your veins as you pull and fluff the dress in hopes that you don’t look like a total fool. “So, how does it look?” Haechan didn’t say anything for almost two minutes, staring at you with his mouth open. You snap your fingers at him, face turning read as the staff members smile lovingly at you both. “Sorry, I uh, wow.” You look at him dumbfounded, turning around to go back and change out of the dress. Just before you close the curtain, you could feel the warmth from his fingers wrap around your wrist and turn you around. “Breathtaking, to answer your question, you look absolutely breathtaking.”

“I meant the dress.” You mumble as you try to avoid his gaze. “The dress is just a piece of fabric, it’s the person wearing it that gives it such glow.” You couldn’t think straight, your mind going to mush with the lack of space between you and Haechan, the sudden smell of his cologne taking over your senses and his blown-out pupils making you feel almost dizzy. You nod, swallowing thickly as you pull yourself from his grasp and rush into the changing area. Embarrassing is what you’d call that, way too embarrassing to talk about and way too embarrassing to not forget. You opt to pretend it didn’t happen and get dressed. When you hang the dresses on the outer rack, you realize the dress Haechan picked didn’t have any coverage on the shoulders and by time you had gotten dressed, you saw him at the register.

“Where’s the dresses?” You ask, meeting him by his side when he gets his receipt from the cashier. “They’re bagging them up now, why?”

“The second one didn’t have sleeves, you wanted sleeves so I don’t get cold, no?” To see the smile on his face made you confused, there wasn’t anything particular that was funny nor did you say anything for him to be smiling like he just found a million dollars. “I only want you by my side in that dress, the rest doesn’t matter.” You snicker, shoving him as one of the staff members calls his name. He walks over, getting both dresses in their boxes and some simple instructions on how to take care of them in washing. “You two are a beautiful couple.” The cashier’s voice caught you off guard, waving your hands as you shake your head.

“No, you’re mistaken, we’re not together.” Her eyes flicker between you and Haechan, smiling as she looks away embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought because of the way you two look at one another.” You were just about to ask her what she meant by that when Haechan came back. “Ready to go?” You nodded, following him out the store and back to his car where you two drove in silence back to your job.

He bid you a goodbye and told you he’d keep the dresses till you came by to get them. You promised him you’d be by after work and went back into the building with the biggest smile on your face. With the flowers in one hand, you scanned your ID badge when you entered the building and saw a bunch of weird states from your coworkers. You wouldn’t necessarily call the weird, but they were all smiling at you so sickly that you felt as if you were about to get pranked.

The ride up the elevator was also weird, a bunch of people kept giggling and smiling at you when asking about your flowers and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. As you got off on your floor, you walk down to get to your desk when someone grabs you and drags you into a janitor’s closet. You nearly scream when being jerked to the side until you see Karina with a shit-eating grin on her face. Now that you know you weren’t about to be chopped up into little pieces, you steady yourself and take deep breaths to catch your breath. “You’re fucking insane.”

Staring at her in shock, you slap her thigh to which she winces. “Me, insane? You just drug me into a closet like a psycho maniac and for what?” She giggles into her hand, leaning forward as she sniffs your flowers. “So he brought you fucking flowers girl? We were just talking about him and he shows up with a bouquet and a ring?”

You roll your eyes at her emphasis on a ring. “What ring, we literally—wait firstly who told you he brought me flowers?” She then proceeds to explain how Winter saw you and Haechan and then told Ningning who then told Wendy who then told Taeyong who then told Jaehyun who then told literally everyone. You make another mental note to hunt Jaehyun down and ruin his chance at having kids. “So spill the tea, c’mon, don’t be shy and tell me about your date.”

“It wasn’t a date, he took me to lunch which he wouldn’t let me pay for I might add, he brought me dresses for the wedding he coerced me to be his date for and then drove me back.” She holds her hand over her mouth as she stares at you with a smile. “So he took you on a date.” You then slap her thigh again as she giggles and an unfamiliar smell catches your attention. “What’s that smell?” She looks at you, considering what smell you could be talking about. You lean in, getting a good look at her to realize her hair had been messed with, her lips slightly swollen and her shirt was buttoned wrongly.

You give her a grin as she sees you connect the dots and immediately opens the door. “Oh no, come back and do spill the tea miss Karina!” She covers her ears, trying to block you out as you follow behind her and start pointing out the differences of her appearance from before you last saw her.

Later that night, you kept your promise to go over to Haechan’s, but only after you had taken a very much needed shower did you do so. When you knocked on his door, you could hear the music that was being played stop and a bit of shuffling before the door opened. You expected to see Haechan, but to your surprise you saw someone you weren’t exactly familiar with. The guy who was giving you a weird look was his honestly kind of cute in an intimidating way, but you stopped yourself from thinking that any further than you already did. “Are you gonna say something or are you just gonna stare at me?”

Embarrassed, you avert your eyes from his and try to think of something to say. You don’t know why you feel so under pressure, maybe it was the lack of expression in his face or the fact that he was practically your height, but made you feel small. “Renjun, was that the pizza guy?” You could hear Haechan from inside the apartment, his voice bringing a smile to your lips. Just as you’re about to go back into your apartment and give up on getting your dresses, Haechan comes beside to the boy you assume is Renjun and sees your visible uncomfortableness. “Y/n, hi- oh shit I forgot to give you your dresses, didn’t I?”

“No, no actually I was supposed to come get them, but that’s okay I’m just gonna uhm I’m gonna go home.” Backing away from the door, you signal to your apartment entrance behind you as you see Haechan pout. “Wait, why don’t you come inside and hang out with us?” Haechan, who slipped through the space between Renjun and the wall, made his way to you in hopes to stop you from leaving. Your eyes flicker between Renjun and Haechan, feeling almost guilty for wanting to remove yourself from this awkward situation. “Hyuck, I’m just across the hall, go have time with your friend.”

Haechan’s face softened at the nickname, nodding when his hand brushed against yours. He clears his throat as he steps back towards his apartment, waving at you goodnight as you go back in to snuggle up to your cat. Haechan re-entered his apartment, ignoring the look on Renjun’s face as he plops down on his couch. “What was that and why was that so weird?” Haechan shot a look over at Renjun when his friend started to mirror the look.

“What, I mean from what I just saw from you two, y’all have some weird tension that needs to be solved.”

“Nah, you just scared her away by being that ugly.”

Renjun sarcastically laughs at Haechan’s poorly made joke, flipping up his middle finger at his friend. “I have you know that women find me dangerously attractive.” Haechan snickers, trying to prevent himself from laughing too hard. “Is that what your mom tells you at night?” The last part is what lead Haechan to run for his life around his apartment as Renjun brought various objects for use of a weapon against his friend. Finally after the two made a truce, Haechan decides to text you after remembering how he never did give you his number.

You were a little surprised to get a text when you weren’t expecting one, especially at the hour that it came in. You had been on the phone with Karina while she filled you in on the reason for her shirt being undone and messed up earlier that day. “I literally don’t know what came over me, but I messaged the guy and he ended up being around and we just pounced.”

You laugh, clicking on the message app. “I can’t believe you nearly gave it all to Yangyang.” She laughs, wiping the tears that were in the corners of her eyes from all the giggling you two have been doing. “Me either! I mean I know he’s cute, but damn his lips are magic.” You hesitate to open the unknown message, afraid it could bad someone trying to scam you out of whatever you got and to be honest it wasn’t much, but you knew you wouldn’t let them have your cat peanut.

unknown: hey

y/n: uhm hello?

unknown: I miss u

y/n: I will literally block you

unknown: ITS ME ITS HAECHAN

y/n: ohh hi hyuck

You decide change his contact name and save his number.

boy next door aka hyuck: wyd :p

y/n: blocking you bc that was cringe

boy next door aka hyuck: you want me so bad oo 😵‍💫

y/n: don’t you wish I did 😏

boy next door aka hyuck: yes

y/n: I’m telling my fbi agent

boy next door aka hyuck: tell them I said i just wanted to text you so you’ll have my number

boy next door aka hyuck: and to apologize for Renjun earlier but goodnight for now

y/n: goodnight hyuck

boy next door aka hyuck: goodnight y/n

The rest of the week and a half that played out before the wedding only added more fuel to the fire in your heart that burned for Haechan. He would send you songs throughout the day at random times to which you started adding to a playlist anytime you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He would leave things at your doorstep or drop stuff off at your job for you to get on your lunch break. He occasionally would come over or you’d be invited over and the two of you would spend the night laughing at poorly made moves, singing old Michael Jackson songs at the top of your lungs, which is how you realized that he was literally gifted the voice of an angel, and play board games after the two of you had one too many drinks.

Each time you two were alone and it was late, it always seemed that you were avoiding the inevitable. You could always stop yourself from leaning in and stealing a kiss from his plump and precious lips, but that never stopped your mind from thinking about it. The tension that Renjun mentioned before seemed to only get thicker the more you spent time with him, making it harder to see the line between this all being fake and what was genuinely real.

The morning of the wedding to be specific was when you could clearly tell that the dynamic of your relationship had shifted and there wasn’t much room to turn back now. That alone terrified you because you weren’t sure if you had been the only one feeling the way you felt. You had changed into your dress and made sure to apply minimal makeup to keep yourself from looking like a burnt out clown by the end of the night. Thankfully for you, the dress was comfortable and the venue where the ceremony was being held wasn’t too far.

“Are you nervous?” Your question came unexpected to Haechan, turning his head to give you a quick glance over as he continued his drive to the ceremony venue. “Why should I be, I’m not the one getting married.” He smiled thinking about his friend and the future he was creating from this day forward. Haechan was genuinely excited to see Johnny become a dad and do all the things he knew he was fit for. It wasn’t like Haechan was scared for that part of his future, he did look forward to being married and settling down with his partner, but he never thought he’d actually get that far in life to do so.

“Dunno, just thought I’d ask.” You lean against the window, propped up on your elbow as you watch the buildings pass by. Haechan reached over, grabbing your free hand and intertwined his fingers within yours. A lot of the time he would do this and each time it felt so comforting that silence would take over and all that could be heard was the music that was being washed out by the beating of your heart for him.

You must’ve zoned out because by the time you tuned back in, Haechan was parking the car at the front of the building and waiting for you to realize you had arrived. You got out the car, instantly smelling the salty ocean air beige meeting him around the front of the car and bring your hands up to straighten his bow tie. He smiles down at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as you brush off his tuxedo and fiddle with his hair. You give him a puzzled look, watching as he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines about ‘that was cute’.

The two of you entered the building, you turn to glance back at the beach that looked so relaxing before linking your arm with his. A few people come up to Haechan and you, introducing themselves and complementing the two of you as a couple. You stayed quiet for most of the time, not exactly knowing what to say and Haechan didn’t seem that interested in the people as well. You spot someone familiar, well he’s not exactly familiar, but you had seen him before. The boy with blue hair makes his way over, you choose to step aside and watch as he hugs Haechan as the two smile and pat one another on the back.

“Dude it’s been so long, what’s going on?” After hugging Haechan, the boy you try to remember that is Mark, straightens out his tux, but never falters his smile. “I‘be been busy with work and oh- I want you to meet someone.” To be honest, you weren’t really paying attention when Haechan started walking over to you. His warm hand lifted yours and the sweet look in his eyes made your cheeks feel warm. “This is my girlfriend y/n, y/n this is my best friend Mark.”

You go in to shake his hand, surprised when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you, y/n, lover boy over here has literally been talking nonstop about you.” You smile, watching as Haechan mouths to you that he’s going to find your seats. After mark pulls back, the two of you chat a little by the same area, occasionally looking around for Haechan to find him talking to who you assume is his friends. “You know, you’re really good for him.” Marks words had you almost taken aback, turning your head to see him smiling. “At first, I was pretty hesitant because when he told me he had a girlfriend I didn’t believe him, but I’ve seen how happy he’s been and I can’t wait for us to meet again like this, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

“Meet like this again?” Mark look slightly embarrassed that you didn’t catch on, but he was being called by his date for the evening so he started to make his way off.

After the ceremony was over, everyone started to move towards the venue for the rest of the evening to conclude. A lot of people were left in tears, yourself included, by the vows exchanged between Johnny and his now wife.

When the two of you enter the venue, an overwhelming feeling washes over you and makes you grip his hand a little tighter. Haechan seems to notice, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he guides you through the crowd of people who grouped around the entrance. Once he finds quieter space to pull you two, you were too spaced out to realize how close he had gotten. Both of his hands were on your shoulders, rubbing softly on the exposed skin to calm you.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, I’m right here y/n.” His voice brings you in from your thoughts, focusing on in the look in his eyes and how soft his features are in this moment. With a little nod, you let him know you’re with him and he smiles as you pull one of his hands from your shoulder and intertwine your fingers. He takes this opportunity to lead you towards your table where some of his friends you met earlier were seated. You immediately spot Karina and Yangyang at the mini bar just further down from the table and gave Yangyang a wave as he spots you and Haechan.

Haechan’s hand finds its way into the small of your back, immediately getting your attention as you turn your head towards him. “I’m gonna go get us something to drink.” He says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. You nod, standing behind your chair as you look over to the stage. Johnny walks up with the widest smile you’ve seen him sport since he kissed his bride and taps on the microphone a couple times. “Can I have everyone’s attention? Hello, everyone look up here.” Everyone goes quiet and the musics volume is lowered as Johnny looks over at the crowd. “I want to thank everyone coming out to celebrate me and my lovely wife coming together, this first dance will go out to all the new and older couples that are here, please join us in this dance to celebrate love that’s everlasting.”

Just as Johnny raises his glass, Haechan comes back and hands you your drink. You smiled as you took the glass from him and took a sip as the crowd raised theirs with Johnny. Just as Johnny gets off the stage, couples all start to make their way to the dance floor as Johnny gets to his wife and meets her in the middle. “We should go dance.” Surprised, you set your glass down and give Haechan a puzzled look. “Dance? But I don’t know how to dance and this is a couples dance.” He doesn’t take no for an answer, grabbing your hand and pulling you to follow him. “We are a couple.” You can’t exactly tell if he’s still going along with the fake dating charade for his friends or if the light in his eyes was genuine.

It doesn’t take much for you to give in, especially when the most romantic song Dandelions starts to play. Once he found a moveable spot on the floor, his hands circle around to your back and pull you in close. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you try not to make too much eye contact with him inches away from your face. “You’re so beautiful, y/n.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, trying to hide your face from him as you clear your throat. “Likewise, hyuck.”

“Just likewise?” When you turned your head to face his, he seemed a lot closer than you remembered and for some reason that terrified you and relaxed you at the same time. “I mean you are beautiful, very handsome and whatnot.” He laughs and the sound goes straight to your heart. You knew before you gotten to this point that falling for him would be so easy and so hard, but never did you expect for it to be this gentle. “I’m glad you think so, that alone gives me enough confidence to do what I’ve been dying to do.” You tilt your head at his sudden confession, watching as he leaned in and rested his head against yours.

You didn’t know what to do or even what to say, instead you opted to stay quiet and continue to hold him as the two of you danced. Somewhere between the end of Dandelions and the beginning of Golden Hour, your head was now resting against his chest and the two of you were lost in your own world. Haechan brought his hand up to your chin, gently lifting your head up. You blink at him, caught up in the music and the moment, not realizing what was about to happen nor did you want it to stop.

Haechan leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him further in. Your brain turned into mush and your body felt like it was on fire as the two of you were caught up in a slow and almost loving kiss on the dance floor. Haechan was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against yours as he catches his breath. You continued to sway with him, moving back and forth as you build up the courage to ask the question you’ve been dying for an answer to. “Will you be my girlfriend, like a real one this time?” Pulling back, you smile at Haechan who looks almost panicked.

“Because if not that’s okay too- like you don’t have to we can totally forg—“ You cut him off by pulling him back in for a kiss. He smiles against your lips, giving your hip a playful squeeze. Once the two of you pull back from one another’s lips, Haechan smiles which turns into a soft string of laughs. “What’s so funny, it’s not exactly polite to laugh after kissing a girl you know.” He tries to explain, failing to when he continues laughing. “Aren’t you glad you got a free trial?” You give him a puzzled look, watching as he steps back from you and spins around on his heel. “Free trial wedding style.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the way he poorly described your fake relationship from the beginning, but he had a point. You look back and now thank the universe for bringing him into your life and can’t wait to see what it’ll be like from here on out. Who knows, maybe the next wedding you’ll be at will be yours.

©︎𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐍., 2022

2K notes · View notes

lebrookestore · 4 months

Text

sixteen | l.dh [part ii]

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, highschool! au, coming of age, lovers to exes, exes to lovers to ??, producer! donghyuck (very lightly explored), roommates! au but with a twist, second chance romance, slowburn, angst, fluff, romance, PG 15. (moodboards: i | ii)

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, kissing, food, underage alcohol consumption and alcohol consumption in general, drug use, smoking (vaping, cigarettes and weed consumptions), crude humour, teenagers doing dumb shit as teenagers do, cheating, betrayal.

Word count: 21.6k

Summary: Youth is always accompanied with a fragile glimmer of hope, with you and Donghyuck viewing the world through the rosiest of glasses. But as the ephemeral days of teenage foolishness bleed into the harshness of adulthood, the rosy hue begins to diminish, and you learn that for some people, it just isn’t meant to be.

Playlist: here

Notes from brooke: here it is!! the second and final part of this fic that has taken me a whole year to write and i'm as proud of it as I am nervous to put out the rest of it here for all of you. as always, feedback would be much appreciated<3

➳ read part i here!!

vii] now.

The aroma of coffee beans being ground wafted through the air, somehow managing to brighten your foul mood. You had never been much of a morning person and could barely start your day without some form of caffeine in your system. On most days, you made your coffee at home before setting out to work, but today you wanted to treat yourself a little bit, and what better way than to put your money towards something practical?

(This was a hundred percent your attempt at trying to convince yourself the overpriced eight dollar coffee you had just ordered was worth it.)

“Iced Latte for Y/n?”

You got up from the stool you had occupied, making your way over to the counter and barista who had called for you. In another life, you would be one of those cool working ladies who managed to down americanos without flinching, but in this one you were quite content with the milky sweet goodness of a latte. You handed over the money you owed and lifted the straw to your lips, sighing in happiness as soon as the drink hit your tastebuds.

“Hey, I had placed my order…” A man's voice startled you, but it wasn’t the abruptness that caught you off guard- that was pretty typical for a busy Tuesday morning in New York- but rather the familiarity of it as it trailed off. You spun on your heel quickly, coming face to face with a rather dumbfounded looking Donghyuck.

You stared at him, lips parting in surprise at his presence there. The barista behind cleared her throat expectantly, waiting for Donghyuck to reiterate his drink order.

He snapped out of the initial shock of seeing you at that. “Right, sorry. I had asked for a caramel frappe about ten minutes ago?” Of course he still had the same order from when you were teenagers, one that was much sweeter than yours.

“Oh yes, it's ready. Sorry for the delay sir!” Her cheery voice rang out as she held out the drink.

You were still rooted to the spot in front of him.

He pressed his lips together, cocking his head to the side to silently motion towards the counter, signalling that you were currently in his way. “Uh.”

“Oh.” You stepped out of the line, feeling embarrassment quickly creep up upon you for your slowness right then. He grabbed his drink, and moved out of the way for the next person as well, stopping before you for a second, eyes lingering on your face as if trying to read your expression, gauging whether he should say something or not.

Terribly self conscious, you took another sip of the latte you held, though it did nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. He sighed softly, seemingly deciding that doing nothing was for the best, and walked away.

What were the odds of you running into him like this? You had banked on only having to see him when Yeonmi had him over, but now you realised that was incredibly naive of you, since run ins were bound to happen from time to time. It seemed that your naivety from your youth hadn’t quite run out yet.

Often, you thought about how you had been so quick to shut down his pleas to talk about things with you that one movie night, how defensive you had been from the get go. He had done his best to be cautious while approaching the topic, as if he had seen the mental caution tape you had wrapped around your heart when it came to him, but you had been so afraid.

Afraid that whatever explanation he provided you with wouldn’t be sufficient to heal the would he had inflicted. Afraid that if you even began to let him in, you’d forgive him immediately and feel pathetic about dismissing the part of you that was so angry at being left behind without so much as a goodbye.

But as you watched him walk away and to the door of the cafe, you couldn’t help but wonder why you didn’t let him speak.

Wasn’t closure something everyone wanted and deserved? You more than anyone knew this and maybe that's what you would have gotten if you hadn’t been so stubborn that night.

Your legs moved on their own, carrying you towards his departing figure. “Wait!”

He stilled, turning around slowly to make sure it was him you were talking to, which was a surprise in itself to him. You bit down on your lower lip, scrambling to find the words you needed to communicate with him.

“Do you have a few minutes?”

His gaze softened the way it used to when it came to you and he nodded. “I can make time.”

You glanced down at your watch, grateful for actually having one sitting on your wrist. In truth, you had only bought it after noting how almost everyone in your workplace wore one. It didn’t seem professional to constantly be checking your phone for the time, but you did it anyway, leaving the watch to be just another accessory you donned.

Right now, its utility made itself known. 8:00 am. “I have to be in office in an hour,” you informed him. “So I can’t stay long but….we can talk?” You mentally winced at how you ended what you had hoped to be a confident statement as a question.

“I’d like that.”

The two of you made your way to a small table in the back, sitting opposite each other. You were grateful for the window on your left, which served as a good distraction from the man in front of you. Cars whizzed by on the busy NYC streets, painting the scene in a blur of reds and yellows against the grey concrete background.

He tapped his fingers against the table periodically, the rhythm finally giving you the courage you needed to begin.

“You were right,” you said finally, desperately searching for the words to appropriately approach the topic at hand. “We do need to talk. I should have listened.”

“It’s okay, I should have approached it differently considering,” he paused, mulling over what he was about to say, not wanting to be insensitive but also not wanting to underplay the severity of what you felt. “Well, everything.”

“It’s fine.”

Clearly, this was going nowhere and was getting increasingly more uncomfortable with every passing minute. You should have just let him leave instead of heeding to your intrusive thoughts and going after him, you should have watched him walk away and bit down your tongue in regret later on in the privacy of your room.

It was as if he had sensed your trepidation and decided to put you out of your misery. “How are you?”

Small talk. Right. You could do that.

“Good, good,” you had no idea why you said it twice. “Mostly just busy with work and you know, adulting. You?”

“Pretty much the same, work.” He smiled softly at you, and you wondered how he somehow still made that feel like a reward for you, how something as simple as that could have a deceitful warmth bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “I have to get to the studio in a bit.”

“Studio?”

“I’m a music producer,” he clarified, and the conversation was almost too reminiscent of his date with Yeonmi, except a little more meaningful this time. A certain sense of shyness washed over him at telling you what he did for work, because although he was extremely proud of his job, your opinion of it mattered to him more than anyone else's ever could.

“That's amazing! Do you like, get to meet famous people?” Your reaction was genuine, just as you had always been with him. You had once been the only person he thought believed in him. He could see the fraction of joy that sparked in your expression, truly happy on hearing this news.

He chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I do. There are a couple of them I regularly work with.” It wasn’t in his nature to brag, but the starstruck look that appeared in your eyes made it worth it for once.

“Wow,” you mumbled, fiddling with the straw in your drink. “I just work in HR.” Your life felt awfully boring in comparison to him, but then again, that was a feeling you had made your peace with a long time ago. He had always been the more interesting, more magnetic person from the two of you- or perhaps from everyone in general. A stranger could take a look at him and know that he was made to walk a path different and more vibrant than most.

An awkward silence settled after that, only succeeding in increasing your anxiety levels. Pleasantries were over, so where the hell were you supposed to go from there?

“I didn’t know Yeonmi was your roommate,” he said quietly, not looking at you. “I’m sorry for the position I’ve put you in, I promise you it wasn’t intentional.”

“I never thought it was,” you assured him. “I didn’t think it was you she was talking about either. This is just some sort of freak coincidence, I guess.” You hesitated for a moment, before deciding to not overthink anything having to do with the situation. There were so many questions left unanswered that you had no qualms with getting right to the point now that you could. “I don’t even care actually, I just want to know one thing.”

The flippancy in your voice almost made him wince. “Anything.”

“Why did you do it?”

And suddenly, Donghyuck felt as if he was back as his teenage self, staring at you through his younger self's perspective. He had been so unforgivingly impulsive at that age, and selfishly so, unable to put himself in anyone else's shoes. Of course, he had felt guilty for what he had done, to the point where he felt sick in the days that followed, but he had done it to protect himself from having to deal with your reaction to the news. News that had, back then, ruptured the little world of bliss he had cultivated with you by his side.

How could he have explained anything back then anyway? He had always hidden that part of his life from you, the constant instability and fleeting nature that it possessed. Putting it together made it sound like a bad excuse, and you definitely did not deserve that.

But he wasn’t an avoidant teenager anymore, and neither were you. What you deserved was the whole truth and nothing but that, and so he steeled himself, glancing at the clock on the wall behind you. 8:15 am. He didn’t really have much time, but he was going to do his best.

“I spent most of my childhood moving around from place to place. I think the longest I stayed in a town was two years at most, and for the longest time, I resented my mother for that.”

This was something you had waited for all your life, or at least, that was how you felt, and now you were finally going to get the explanation you had spent years trying to put together for a fickle sense of closure. Here you were, finally getting what you had spent birthday wishes and pennies down fountains for since you were sixteen, hoping and praying that it would happen for your sake. Here you were, getting it from your first love.

It was three in the morning and though the caffeine from your coffee had long since worn off, you found yourself lying in your bed wide awake. It had been a few hours of tossing and turning underneath your sheets, trying to find a position comfortable enough to succumb to sleep but evidently, seeing that you were now staring at your ceiling in frustration, had been wholly unsuccessful.

You were going to need an extra large cup of coffee to curb your inevitable grumpiness the next morning. A sigh left your lips as you threw your covers off, sitting up in your bed and taking in your room in the darkness, hoping you would feel the heaviness set in on your eyelids. When that didn’t happen, you swung your legs over the side and landed on the wooden floors, slipping your feet into your house slippers and opening your door as quietly as possible.

A glass of water should put everything right and curb your restlessness. Your optimism was admirable, if not downright stupid. The cause of your current state was fairly obvious.

So there you were, now holding an empty glass. You had finished your water, and didn’t feel any better, not wanting to go back to bed in the slightest.

Donghyuck rippled through your mind, and you shut your eyes, trying to block him out. The sight of those sad eyes of his as he explained what really happened all those years ago had been imprinted in your mind, and it had left you with nothing but contempt.

You despised the childish reasoning that consumed the entire explanation, the way it felt like everything that had happened and what you felt had been so trivial and completely avoidable if he had just spoken to you. Eight years, that was how long you had waited just for it to feel as if he had just rubbed salt in your wounds, and you hated every second of it.

What you hated most though, was the way you completely understood why he did it.

The more you thought about what he told you, you couldn’t help but empathise with him. Sure, you wouldn’t have done what he did if you were in his position, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had never been in his position, and it was clear that his younger years had been scattered all over the place.

How could he have known any better when he too was learning how to navigate his emotions at that age? He was a child and you couldn’t hold anything against a child now that you were an adult.

I’m sorry.

Suddenly, why those had been the last thing he ever said to you made sense. He knew what he was doing and did it anyway. The burn that you felt every time you thought about it hadn’t subsided.

Your younger self was angry at how things had turned out, pissed at being left in the dark even if you understood why. You wanted so badly to hate him for what he had done to you, but no matter how hard you tried to push yourself to do so, you just couldn’t. Instead, another emotion lied in the place you tried so hard to fill with hate, and it scared you even more.

He had hurt you to such a colossal extent, and yet that little flame inside of you refused to be put out, or even have the mercy to dim itself for your sake. It flickered back to life the moment you set eyes on him again and you knew this to be true by the effect he still had on you.

You never stopped loving Donghyuck. You only started hurting, and let the pessimistic degree of that feeling drown out everything else.

“I should have handled it better,” his frustration with himself was clear by the way he exhaled agitatedly. “I know I was a dick to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. If I could go back and do it all again, I’d do it very differently, but I can’t.” He sounded pained, his sorrow cutting deep into your freshly reopened wounds and making you realise that he had hurt himself in the process of doing what he did.

While you had been painstakingly stitching yourself back together after him, he had been doing the same, reaping what he had sown in your garden. He was as old as you had been, and emotions are often magnified in the melodrama of youth.

It didn’t feel like that magnification had dulled out though, the regret potent in his voice, matching your emotional state.

“But if there's anything I can do now….I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

You were drowning, sinking rapidly below the surface as the waves thrashed around you, unrelenting and ruthless. You gripped the cup in your hands, a warm pressure building behind your eyes, making you feel even more miserable than you already were. The realisation of your present feelings overwhelmed you, and you crumbled against the counter, letting yourself lean against the cupboards as you settled on the floor.

He’d do anything for you. He said it himself.

So then…would he…?

A choked sound escaped your throat- something that sounded like a cross between a bitter laugh and a sob. You were deplorable, truly, for even letting the thought cross your mind, but god.

Would he end things with Yeonmi for your sake?

The topic of your roommate hadn’t been brought up during your chat, the two of you skirting around the topic for all you were worth. It felt like taboo, and although it was probably something worth mentioning, you were glad you hadn’t needed to deal with it just yet. You held so much love for Yeonmi, but right then she seemed like more of an obstacle than anything else.

But if she knew the truth and Donghyuck and you, wouldn’t she think the same? She had done nothing wrong, so you were the problem here. You were the obstacle you had never signed up to be.

The question sat heavy upon your tongue, and you so desperately wanted to ask it.

You couldn’t do that to your friend, you would never. She hadn’t been this happy with someone since her sorry excuse of an ex broke her spirit, and you couldn’t bear to be the one to take that away from her. You couldn’t, even if it meant that it broke you, because goddamnit you were still irrevocably in love with Lee Donghyuck.

And all you wanted to do was hate him.

viii] then.

Donghyuck’s room was much planer than yours, with just a clock hanging on one of its walls. A keyboard in one corner of the room and a guitar leaning against the side of his closet, you supposed that he hadn’t had much time to put too much thought into decorating just yet.

“You can put up posters of all those bands you keep talking about,” you suggested, running your fingers through his hair. You were sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard with him lying in between your legs, looking up at you fondly

Your boyfriend frowned lightly, “Too much effort.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re just lazy. I can help you, you know. We could go print the posters after school.” Your enthusiasm was endearing, but he didn’t really see a point. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the heart to shoot your ideas down and nodded noncommittally, enjoying the feeling of you absent-mindedly massaging his scalp.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl,” he said lazily. A silence settled, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, he began humming a melody.

You had heard him sing several times now, usually while he accompanied himself on guitar and his voice was just like the rest of him- captivating. It was gentle but still strong, his tone conveying the message and feel of any song he picked perfectly. He had once confessed that he would love to work in the music industry one day, no matter what the role was, but then brushed off the wish, saying that it was a shot in the dark.

To counter this, you told him that if anyone could make it, it would be him. By no means did your words shake off his doubts or uncertainty, but you could tell that the faith you had in him helped him feel better.

“What song is that?” You tilted your head, looking down at him. He shrugged.

“It isn’t one, just a tune that came to me,” it was such a simple thing, and it still somehow earned him an impressed look from you, making him laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re the coolest person I know.”

“You’re the dorkiest.”

“Hey! Dork-? Is this the shit I get for being nice to you?” You pouted, the offence heavily lacing your voice making him laugh, and to soothe your ruffled feathers, he dropped a chaste kiss to your lips.

“A cute dork.”

His mother was out, leaving the house empty save for the two of you. The privacy was nice, much better than your house for sure, where your mother was always hovering for some reason, even though you hadn’t told your parents about your new relationship just yet. She was overprotective, and while you were definitely going to tell them, you didn’t particularly want to deal with any outbursts just yet, wanting to savour the beginning of it all and keep that joy just for yourself.

As far as you knew, Donghyuck didn’t have a father, but he had never gotten into the details. He made sure to tell you that it wasn’t because it was hard to talk about, but because there wasn’t much to say about the man anyway, since he had never known him or even met him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to fake annoyance to the best of your abilities, but you weren’t and never had been immune to the butterflies he managed to set free in your stomach with that kiss, a smile slowly forming on your face. Your hands moved to his face, cupping it gently as you leaned closer.

“Sweet talk won’t get you anywhere.”

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, “What will then?”

“A proper kiss maybe,” you mused, matching his playfulness. He immediately took you up on your proposal, smiling into the kiss.

You were glad his mom wasn’t around.

Neither of you had ever kissed anyone before, but somehow he was still very good at it, a single touch of his igniting a pleasant buzz on the surface of your skin. Everything you knew about kissing came from books and movies, but you could only hope you had the same effect he had on you.

If you only knew. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had started dating, and he had memorised everything he could about you he possibly could- the shape of your mouth and the slope of your nose, the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed and the sound of it, he knew it all like the back of his hand. It wasn’t hard to be with you, it came to him like second nature, and part of him was convinced that everytime his mother had moved them from place to place, it was to bring him here to this moment.

To be lying in your embrace, tangled in your arms and the gentle, loving kisses you pressed to his mouth and forehead- this was the definition of bliss, and everything about it was so utterly ignorant.

“You taste like sour patch candies,” you muttered softly, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. You had quickly grown addicted to Donghyuck, deciding right then and there that you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the entire world.

“Mhm, I was eating them before you came over.”

You chuckled. “You, sir, have a problem.”

“Drama queen, you’re exaggerating a little too much. I only had a few.”

“You had an entire packet, didn’t you? No wonder it's so noticeable.” The light wash of crimson that appeared on his cheeks at being caught gave him away.

“It can’t possibly be that noticeable.”

“It wouldn’t be if you didn’t consume copious amounts of that candy.”

He simply kissed you again in retaliation, a consequence you could definitely live with and had no complaints about whatsoever. “Shut up, you know you secretly like it.”

You never had the chance to argue with that one, once again silenced by his lips against yours. He was undoubtedly right about that accusation, for you liked it almost too much. You liked everything about him too much, and for the first time you understood the typical giddiness that was portrayed in every teen movie you watched growing up.

Every school day was something to look forward to now, making it possible to spend almost every day with him. You sat on desks next to each other, sometimes listening to music together and trying not to get caught talking to each other. The teachers had definitely picked up on the fact that there was something between the two of you, considering the amount of disproving looks you had gotten sent your way for laughing a little too loud at the jokes he would crack under his breath.

Holidays were spent with you trying to finish all your homework as quickly as possible so you could hang out with him or Sakura and Chenle, making it so that every single day was bright and exciting from the moment you awoke.

“You have no proof of that,” you pointed out, sitting up straighter to be able to kiss him better, savouring the way his arm immediately slid around your waistline. He smirked, his hand slipped just under your t-shirt but staying at your waist, fingers tracing abstract shapes upon the expanse of your skin.

“You’re still kissing me, aren’t you?”

The local playground was pretty deserted after eight on Sunday evenings, mothers having taken all their babies and toddlers back home for their nightly routine. Other highschool juniors or seniors didn’t really hang out there, opting to spend their time at the small skate park on the other end of town, which made it a perfect hangout spot for you and your friends.

Chenle slipped a cigarette pack out of the pocket of his designer hoodie, along with a bright red lighter. “Does anyone want one?”

Your reaction mirrored Sakura’s, who currently wore a frown. “Since when are you a smoker?”

“Johnny hyung taught me yesterday when he invited me to hang out with the seniors,” he filled you in, and you groaned, leaning into Donghyuck’s touch. He had an arm around your shoulders as the two of you occupied the bench swing, while Chenle and Sakura were sitting on the ends of the metal slides.

“Please don’t follow in his footsteps.”

He lit one of the cigarettes, rolling his eyes. “Can you chill?”

“You do not have to smoke Chenle, you’re sixteen, not a wildly miserable forty year old divorcee. You’re doing it just because you think it's cool and because Johnny does it.” Sakura shared your view of the senior, and as hospitable and lovely as he was, you didn’t particularly support his life choices.

“That is not true,” Chenle contested, and your other friend huffed. “Johnny is a great friend.”

You shook your head in disapproval. “He’s a bad influence.”

“He’s not! He’s really cool Y/n, I swear,” He waved his cigarette around, gesturing towards your boyfriend. “Right, Donghyuck?”

His admiration for the senior boy had only grown since the day of the party. To put it plainly, he thought the absolute world of the older boy, making an effort to spark a friendship. To say that he was overjoyed when Johnny started inviting him places was an understatement, if the excited call you got from him said anything.

Donghyuck looked all too amused and nodded. “He is pretty cool.”

He got two scathing looks as a result, one from Sakura and an unimpressed stare from you, causing him to clear his throat, quickly following up. “But! That doesn’t mean you should follow his every move. You definitely shouldn’t smoke, smoking is bad.”

Now that he was back in your good graces, you kissed his cheek and looked at Chenle pointedly. “Please don’t end up like him.”

“I would love to end up like him.”

Jesus Christ. There was no saving him.

“With all the shit he pulls, he’s going to end up dead by twenty-five. Do you want to die?” He put the pack and lighter back in his pockets, brushing off Sakura’s grim statement.

“One cigarette won’t kill me.”

“Yes, but if you make smoking a habit and get addicted, it will eventually. Lung cancer is a thing, you know.” Your reminder was not taken kindly, and he groaned, taking a puff before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with his heel, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to smoke it in peace with you guys around anyway.

“You are all so boring.” He whined, glaring at Donghyuck. “And you’re a hypocrite. Didn’t Johnny teach you how to smoke too?”

Having stayed a silent observer for most of this conversation, Donghyuck seemed to momentarily scramble for his words. “Only at the party, I haven’t smoked anything since then and I don’t intend to do it casually. It was a one time thing, and it was almost two months ago.”

“Remind me to only ever smoke at Yuta hyung’s place, because you guys are too annoying.”

Sakura perked up where she was sitting, blinking rapidly. “Nakamoto Yuta?”

He nodded, smiling almost evilly at her. “Yeah, I hang out with your crush more than you do. Maybe if you didn’t have such a stick up your ass, he’d invite you too.”

“Ugh, I hope you do die.”

She had gained quite the infatuation with Yuta, having flirted with him at the party and hung out with him for quite a bit of the night. All her confidence to do so had come from the alcohol though, because she ran in the opposite direction of him at school, too nervous to go up to him and strike conversation so casually.

You snuggled closer to Donghyuck, the evening air taking a turn for chilly. You loved having him around and was overjoyed at how well he fit into your little group, getting along with them as if they were his best friends as well. Being with him was effortless, just how it should be.

“You should at least try talking to him,” you suggested, “If you don’t try, how do you know he’s just going to reject you? Didn’t he spend almost the entire party with you?”

“Easy for you to say,” she scowled, but you knew she meant no ill will and was simply joking. “You got the guy from like, the moment you met him.” Her words had you bite back a bashful smile.

“That's true,” Donghyuck quipped almost proudly, rubbing your shoulder and dropping a kiss to your temple. He noticed the way you had tucked your hands under your legs. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you, taking it off and draping it over your shoulders, and resuming his previous position of having his arm around them. Sakura and Chenle simultaneously pretended to gag.

“The two of you are disgustingly adorable.” She complained, and Chenle agreed.

“Yeah, you make me feel so single I want to smoke.”

The sound of Sakura hitting his arm at that comment resounded through the empty park, making you laugh. You hadn’t realised how bland your life had been before this year because now it was like the colours were brighter and much more vibrant than before, so much more interesting. This was how highschool was supposed to be, you thought to yourself as you slid your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, simple and rosy tinted, without a single worry in the world.

ix] now.

This was the tenth time Donghyuck was listening to the track.

He paused it and dragged it back to the start, playing the song once again. Something about it was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it just yet, subjecting himself to analyse it over and over as a result.

He shut his eyes, trying to absorb the song and search for what was not clicking for him, letting himself be consumed by the music. The melody washed over him, the powerful vocals and enticing beat soaking into his system. In his expert opinion, it was one step away from being a hit on the charts. He just had to figure out what step he had to take in order to achieve that.

Usually, he would stay and work on it until he managed to come to a solution, but for some reason all he wanted to do was go home today. He wasn’t focused on his work, as much as he loved music and what he did, for some reason today he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe the thing that was off with the song was his demeanour at that moment. For all he knew, when he felt better and more motivated to work on it, it might sound ready to put out into the world without him having to change a single thing.

Donghyuck needed to clear his head. He pushed himself away from his desk and stretched his legs, walking to one of the windows of the studio and peering outside.

He loved the studio, he practically lived there half of the time, sleeping on the sofa when he stayed too late or was too tired to drive home amidst a project. Every instrument inside was precious to him, every piece of equipment important. It was filled with happy memories for him, with artists waltzing in and out of his space and entrusting him with their life’s work. Their vision collided with his artistic view, and even though his name wasn’t bedazzled in the lights and he wasn’t directly in the limelight, he had somewhat managed to make a name for himself in the industry he had always loved.

The studio was more his home than his apartment, so then why did he so want to go back to the latter at the moment?

Looking out into the streets of New York, it hit him.

It wasn’t his apartment he was yearning for, per se, but more so the idea of home. It was something he had struggled with coming to terms with for the longest time, having never stayed anywhere long enough to consider home throughout his formative years. As a default, home had never taken the form of a place or a house on a particularly named street, but instead had always been a person.

During his childhood, it had been his mother, for she was the only truly constant thing in his life back then. As his teenage years rolled around, even she started to feel alien to him. He began perceiving her as less of a home and more of the reason he didn’t have one.

And then there was another person who became his home, and she came in the form of you. You were his age and much more relatable, it was much easier to place all his hope and trust in you, especially when just being around you made him forget about all his problems. When he was with you, his life seemed to lose that intense sense of instability that always kept him on edge.

You somehow stabilised him, but he lost that stability in less than a year. In an attempt to reconcile with his guilt, he began punishing himself by changing his number and cutting you off completely, telling himself that it would help you as well. Once again, he was without a home, and his relationship with his mother was further strained.

At eighteen, he moved out to New York.

New York was his home now, the place he had stayed for the longest time. It was a place finally, somewhere he could point out with his finger and proudly say he lived in. He finished up his education, going to college and teaching himself music production on the side. He worked two part time jobs and enrolled himself in production classes.

It was hard being all alone in a city as big as New York, in an unfamiliar and cold place. The loneliness hit him hard, and that led him to calling his mother. After a year in the city, working and studying hard, he finally understood why she had done what she did while he was growing up and appreciated her for it.

He had his big break at twenty-two while working under a small record label. The song he had worked on as a producer went number one on the billboard charts, rocketing the singer from an unknown person to a household name and right under theirs, was his.

He was being praised by critics for his experimental style and the little things in the production that made the song what it was. Suddenly, he was in demand and made real, good money- amounts that he had never seen in his life. He sent half of it to his mother and could now visit her as many times in the year as he so pleased.

Every sacrifice was worth it. It had gotten to where he was standing and made him who he was.

But you being in his home now?

That made him question it. You displaced him.

New York had only started to properly feel like home when he had made it big, the big scary city not seeming so scary anymore. He finally felt like he belonged somewhere after years of lacking that.

The only time he had ever belonged to someone was when he had been with you.

When he left your town, he had left a piece of his heart behind with you, just as he had taken a piece of yours with him. He had never gotten it back, searching for it- something, someone perhaps- in the faces of strangers.

He had put all his faith in finding that in Yeonmi, a woman who reminded him of you, only to find out that she was simply influenced. He was stuck, frozen in place by a choice that seemed impossible to make. Whatever course of action he took, any option he picked, it always seemed to make him the bad guy. He couldn’t just drop her for you because things were too complicated for that, and it would in turn make you the bad guy as well, but he couldn’t keep on feeling this way while being with someone else.

Home. Donghyuck knew right then that he wasn’t yearning for his apartment, or the city itself. He was yearning for you.

Donghyuck wanted you there in his studio, in his apartment- just with him maybe would be enough. Not just wandering and brushing shoulders in the vast city that you called home as well, but by his side constantly, to once again be the home that grounded him.

The realisation washed over him, but it didn’t come as a total surprise. Part of him had always known that you were it for him, especially when he saw you for the first time again that night he dropped a drunk Yeonmi home to you. The reason he couldn’t focus was you, how badly he wanted to run back to you and ignore all the complications that came with it, right back into the arms that were his true home.

Occasionally, you would think about Sakura and Chenle.

You had long since lost contact with your highschool best friends, inevitably drifting apart from them with the course of time. Once university began, even managing to text each other turned into a chore, and the only times you saw each other or hung out was during the summer when you went back home. Once you moved to New York and started going home less, those few moments turned into nothing at all.

Nevertheless, you hadn’t forgotten about them. They had been your constants for so long, people you trusted with all your heart and soul, always running out of your house to meet them. You fondly recalled all the late night calls and sneaking out and sleepovers, complaining about examinations and school together, and spending your summers with iced teas and hanging out at the local diner. From drinking sprite to sneaking alcohol, a lot of your firsts have happened with them.

They held you together when Donghyuck left. They picked up the shattered pieces, sticking them back together the best they could with the resources they had. They were the ones that got you to smile again and eventually forget about him long enough to forget that you were trying to.

Even though you haven’t spoken to them in years, you still thought about them. You would never stop being grateful.

You also wondered how they would react if they knew what your life had come to.

The coffee you had ordered this time was hot, and you cupped the mug, letting the warmth of the drink seep through the ceramic and to your fingers. You were in what had become your regular booth in the cafe, and across from you sat none other than Donghyuck himself.

Ever since that day, an unspoken sort of agreement to at least be friends had passed between the two of you- a truce of sorts. It was only logical, considering he was technically with Yeonmi, and it meant that you would have to learn how to put everything aside for that. Oddly enough though, you never talked about your roommate, and he didn’t make an effort to bring her up either.

Sakura would have glared at you in disbelief. Chenle would be laughing his ass off in some corner.

Meeting at the cafe had turned into a ritual of sorts. You would meet him there every Tuesday before work and both of you would chat and have your drinks before parting ways. Admittedly, you had started looking forward to these little rendezvous with him, they somehow managed to make your entire week.

Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised at this. Donghyuck had always had that effect on you and clearly nothing had changed. He still made you laugh more than anyone else and left you with that warm, fuzzy feeling that made you think that anything was possible.

Yeonmi did not know about these meetings.

You had never mentioned them to her even once, and you were willing to bet that Donghyuck hadn’t either. He seemed to avoid talking about her entirely, and it seemed that he hadn’t been talking to her very much either, since your roommate had worriedly mentioned his lack of communication this past few weeks.

“He still talks to me,” she explained, eyes knit together in worry. “But not as much, you know? I can’t help but wonder if something is wrong.”

“I’m sure everything is fine.” You assured her when you were not, in fact, sure. You didn’t have the courage to ask about it anyway, and selfishly enough you didn’t particularly want to spend any of the little time you got with him talking about her.

You abhorred the way you had subconsciously turned against your friend, but it was fine because you had it under control. You could never do anything to hurt her, this was completely innocent. The two of you were just talking.

“You’ve met Lee Jieun?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide in awe. He held back a laugh at the starstruck look on your face, nodding as he stirred the sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, she’s very sweet and extremely talented. Worked on a few tracks on her last album.”

“I bought that album,” you said, putting your mug down and clasping your hands together. “I’ve been saving up for tickets to her concert.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “I can get you some if you’d like.”

Mouth falling open, you stared at him in shock, no words leaving your lips for ten seconds straight. “If I’d like?? I would love that, my god. I’ve been a fan for four years now and she’s always my top artist on spotify every year during spotify wrapped. My most listened to song is also always hers and she’s just so-”

You faltered when you glanced at him and noticed the doting expression he wore while looking at you- the sides of his lips were just slightly upturned, eyes following your movements keenly and hanging onto every word. It had heat rise up to your face and made you self-conscious because goddamnit, that was the exact way he would look at you when you were together.

Fuck.

Your throat felt dry, and you swallowed hard, averting your eyes as you felt your cheeks burn. “I’m rambling,” you mumbled, fiddling with the teaspoon on the little place your cup sat in. “Sorry, I talk too much. I’ll shut up.”

“Don’t,” he immediately said, “I like hearing you talk.”

You blinked.

God. He really hadn’t changed at all, had he?

“R-right, uh, I just really, really love her music.” Everything about the moment threw you off. The way he was able to so skillfully grab you and plunge you back into the past you had tried so hard to run away from was jarring. It wasn’t even something that slowly crept up on you, instead clutching you by the collar and throwing you straight into it, right back into your sixteen-year-old self’s shoes.

“I can tell. I’ll do my best with those tickets.” His promise almost flew over your head entirely and you forced a smile, staring down at your coffee awkwardly. He still liked hearing you talk and your loquacious nature. Some things stayed the same no matter the course of time.

You let yourself wonder if he felt the same way about you as well, but just for a second.

There was no way you could let yourself get away with thinking about it anymore because it would strip you of any dignity you had left. Your feelings for him had only grown dormant over the years and were now being awoken from their hibernation with every minute more you spent in his invigorating presence. It was unrealistic and childish to think that he felt the same way anymore.

The lack of any mention of Yeonmi, the way he seemed to be talking to you more lately and going so far as to meet with you on a weekly basis, well, the signs were definitely there, weren’t they? You were well aware of how much of an asshole move this was from both your ends towards your oblivious roommate, but as much as you tried to, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was terrible, but there was nothing happening. You were allowed to enjoy these fleeting moments that when boiled down to it, meant nothing at all.

But as he smiled at your excited demeanour, looking at you like you were everything he could ever want, you couldn’t help but wish that it did.

Yeonmi stood in front of the ice cream display, scanning all the different flavours at her disposal. You stood by her side, already digging into your own ice cream and waiting patiently for her to be done.

“You’ve already chosen what you want,” you pointed out. “Do you want a second cup or something?”

She shook her head. “Not for me, for Donghyuck. I’m going to meet him later on and since he likes sweet stuff I thought I’d get him a tub.”

You paused your movements. Their meetings had grown sparse from what you had heard from her, with her having to plan most of them and him simply agreeing. It killed you a little on the inside, filling you with guilt at the suspicion that you had something to do with it.

The earnest lilt in her voice, her eagerness to please him- it reminded you so much of yourself. You disliked the way he was treating her, but you also found a sense of relief in it, and when you acknowledged that, you officially accepted that you were probably the worst friend in the universe.

“Have you chosen what you would like yet?” The teenager behind the counter asked impatiently. She looked like she would have rather been anywhere else in the world, but she was probably a highschooler who wanted some extra cash and this was the best she had gotten.

“No, sorry,” your roommate said dejectedly. “I’m not sure what he’d like.”

Deciding to put her out of her misery, you spoke up. “Can we get a tub of cookies and cream?” The girl nodded, boredly taking one of the tubs out of the freezer and sliding it across the counter, calling out its price. Yeonmi flashed you a confused look and fumbled with her purse for a few seconds, taking out a few dollar bills and handing it over.

The two of you walked out of the ice cream store, and she doubtfully looked at the tub. “What if he doesn’t like this?”

“He likes cookies and cream ice cream.”

“How would you know?”

You stopped walking and glanced at her, quickly realising you had slipped up. You tried not to take offence at the defensive nature of her tone, knowing that she had every right to be that way. She was technically his girlfriend, she should have been the one to know what flavour he would want.

So you bit down hard on your tongue when the urge to tell her that you knew him better than she ever could sprung to its tip. You were bitter at having to let that go, your ego bruising from the fact that you weren’t entitled to the position of being the one who knew him so well, even though you had everything for it.

“He told me.” You said weakly, dropping your now empty cup into one of the bins on the sidewalk.

“When?”

Eight years ago. That was the truth, but you knew very well that you couldn’t possibly tell her that after pretending you had never met him before. The edge that her voice possessed right then put you off, but you brushed it to the side, knowing deep down that she had the right. “That one movie night we had.”

She frowned. “I don’t remember talking about ice cream at all.”

“You fell asleep, remember? We spoke about it after that, just before he left.” The lie tasted sour, but not the pleasant kind of sour that is followed by a sweetness like a sour patch candy. This type of sour was persisting, the type that tainted your mouth from just its feel, spreading to your lips and the back of your neck.

“Oh.” She sounded hollow, letting the arm that held the bag containing the tub of ice cream fall limply to her side. “Okay.”

“You can tell him you picked it out.”

You knew he wouldn't believe it anyway. “Okay,” She repeated, but you could tell how miserably she truly was. Resentment filled you, but just as quickly so did pity, replacing the former in the blink of an eye.

She had finally moved on from her sorry excuse of an ex and found happiness in another man, only for him to suddenly pull away right when she was ready to give it her all. You understood that more than anyone ever could, but in a completely different sense. To her, Donghyuck was emotionally absent now. For you, he had been wholly absent, snatched away and out of your reach for so long.

Yeonmi still had the chance to hold him, if he let her. You never had that.

And then your pity for her was replaced by anger.

Donghyuck had no right to run her around in circles like he was doing. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to make a decision on whether he wanted her or not.

You didn’t want to know the answer though, because the chances of it breaking your heart were high, and you didn’t think you’d be able to handle another heartbreak at his hands. It could also remove him from your life once again, and you’d continue to be haunted, just by new memories this time around.

And just like that, you understood why he couldn’t make a decision so easily, because you couldn’t either. You wanted nothing more than for him to choose you, but it was the very last thing you would ask for, reluctant and afraid to hurt someone else in the process of healing your very own innate brokennes.

So you walked with Yeonmi back to your shared apartment and talked about insignificant things to take her mind off it all, trying to do the same for yourself.

x] then.

When a storm is coming, you can almost always tell.

It may not look like it, but intuition works in mysterious ways. That sinking feeling that stirs deep within your gut, discomfort flooding your system slowly and warning you of something bad to come. You try your best to ignore it, to pretend as if you’re overthinking and going crazy and that everything is fine. You revel in ignorant bliss and sunny days, growing all too comfortable with the stability of the everyday life you have grown accustomed to. You let yourself believe that the calm before a storm is permanent.

Donghyuck knew something was wrong the moment he walked into his house that fateful November evening, four whole months since he had first stepped foot inside it when they first moved in. He had learned the pattern of the switches, he knew the layout of the house by heart.

His mother sat on the dining table, her face buried in her hands. Usually, he would walk upstairs to his room and not bother, but this time something made him stop.

“Mom?”

She looked up at him, and he noticed just how exhausted she looked. His mother was a beautiful woman, but time had worn her down just like it did to everyone, and all the stress she was under had caused some of her black hair to turn grey. Wrinkles showed on her palms, her laugh lines had grown deeper.

“Donghyuck,” she said his name with a heavy sigh. “Come. Sit.”

On most days he had an excuse to avoid this, saying that he had homework or a project to work on, but today he complied, taking a seat next to his mother.

“How was school today?”

“Good,” he answered. She gave him an encouraging smile that was clearly forced for his sake, and clasped her hands together.

“Good, good.”

“Is….is that it?” He asked gently, suddenly not wanting to be there. It was like his body was trying to get him out of the situation, knowing something was off before his brain did. Unfortunately, some things were unavoidable and inevitable, and just like that the clouds began to darken.

She shook her head, “No, there’s something I need to talk to you about” She reached out and grabbed his hand that was on the table, squeezing it hard. “It’s important, okay?”

He nodded slowly, now trapped within the conversation with no escape. His mother exhaled and shut her eyes, dropping her head in what seemed like defeat. “I’ve been offered a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes- with a much better salary. Of course, I’m beyond blessed with the amount I get now but we’d be more comfortable, it’s a better opportunity.” She rubbed the hand of his that she held soothingly, as if trying to soften the blow she was about to give.

The waves gradually grew more turbulent, slow but definite. It was clear that she was trying to approach whatever she was trying to say with as much tact as possible, but was only succeeding in frustrating the boy with her vagueness.

“Just spit it out, Mom. What's happening?”

“We’re moving, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck sat there, stunned into a silence at what his mother had just said. Finally, she was done beating around the bushes like he had wanted, but now he wished he had let her take her time. It almost didn’t even feel real to hear, the true weightage of her words not quite registering just yet.

“What?”

His voice was devoid of any emotion, falling flat and harshly against the gentle, apologetic facade that his mother upheld. “In a few months, I know that it’s hard to hear and I’m sorry I have to uproot your life once again but I promise it’ll all be worth it I just-” She shakily exhaled, as if trying to expel all the fatigue she had accumulated over the years of switching out jobs and moving around in an attempt to create a better life for her only son. “I promise I’ll try and make this bearable and it’ll be the last time.”

If she had the choice, she would never have chosen such a turbulent lifestyle. After all, who would ever want to thrust their child into such an unstable environment- it being unstable due to its ever changing nature? But being a single mother was difficult and she had to do whatever she had to in order to survive.

The ship that Donghyuck stood upon began to rock as the storm intensified.

“It’s been less than a year,” He said icily. “Five months.”

“We’re not moving immediately. I have to finish up some work here and get everything together before we leave. Three months.” She rushed to assure him of this as if it fixed anything.

“So eight months. That’s still less than a year, Mom.”

“I know sweetheart, I’m so sorry.

Sympathy filled her expression and she squeezed his hand, trying to convey that she understood his frustration. That notion was perfectly ridiculous sounding to Donghyuck, how could she even begin to think that she understood how he would be feeling? If she did, then why was she once again ruining his life?

If she was really so sorry, she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. He clenched his jaw, looking away from his mother and around the living room he had finally grown familiar with. Every other time this had happened he had always grinned and bore with it because there never seemed like a reason to fight back. He had grown complacent and used to the cycle, expecting it almost.

But this time he had prayed it wouldn’t be the same. This time, he had grown attached to the dusty streets of the town and the long school days. He had a favourite store, more friends than he had ever had in his life and more importantly, a favourite person. This time, it wouldn’t just be him leaving behind a bunch of acquaintances, it would mean him having to leave you behind as well.

He couldn’t bear the thought of that, his fury welling up and coming to the surface. For once in his life he had someone he wanted to stay for.

“If you’re so sorry,” he said, voice low and enraged all the same, “You won’t do this again.”

Her eyes softened, “I have to. I won’t ask you to understand, but-”

“I hate you.”

The moment he said it, he could see his mothers countenance crumble, but the sympathy in it only increased. No parent ever wanted to hear their child say those words to them and he knew that in his heart, he didn’t truly mean them, but he was just so indescribably angry with her and the world for constantly doing this to him.

It was cruel for him to say it without any hesitation, that much was certain the moment he saw tears well up in her eyes. She was a strong woman, refusing to let them escape and fall down her weary face for his sake, and he couldn’t take the sight of it any longer. Aggressively, he pushed his chair back and stormed off, bounding up the stairs of the house that would no longer be his with his heart hammering in his chest.

It was only in the comfort of his room that he let himself let out the sob that had been choking him up as he crumpled near the foot of his bed, a heavy sense of loss already passing through him. His eyes drifted to one of the walls of his room.

He had never put much thought into decorating, but there on it were three posters you had managed to convince him to put up with you, insisting that they livened the place up a little. He would have to tear them down now, just like everything else in his erratic, volatile life. Every other time was easier because there had been no bonds to sever in the process. He had let himself foolishly trust that his continued resilience was all for the happiness he had ultimately found now.

Perhaps this was why he had been so reluctant to let you help him decorate his room. Subconsciously, he had known that it would all be for naught when the nature of his life caught back up to him. Somehow he had already known that this was never meant to be anything more than temporary.

The waves capsized his ship and down Donghyuck went, sinking beneath the surface of the storm and below the storming sea, drowning in his sorrow.

You sat in the driver's seat of your father’s car, legs propped up on the seat with your cardboard container of fries balancing on your knees. Donghyuck occupied the passenger's seat, biting into his burger.

The both of you were parked in the local diners parking lot in the late evening after school. Donghyuck had said something about not feeling like going straight home, and since you had driven to school that day, you suggested taking a detour and hanging out for a little.

“I was thinking,” you started, picking out a fry and biting into it, glancing sideways at the boy who owned all of your teenage affections.

“Hmm?”

“I wanna tell my parents,” you declared finally, finishing the fry. He blinked, lowering his burger and looking at you pointedly. “About us.”

“All of a sudden? Why?” His mystification was justified since ever since the two of you had begun dating, you had been adamant on trying to hide it from them. It hadn’t been the intent initially, you simply were procrastinating their reaction- not that it would be a bad one- and as time went on, it got easier to put off. That being said, it also got harder to hide.

You shrugged, shifting in the car seat and reaching out to adjust the volume of the radio. “I just think it’s time, you know? I’ve been putting it off long enough and I want them to know about you. The smile that crept up on your face when you said that was enough to have a pit form at the bottom of his stomach.

Guilt is an ugly emotion. It manifests slowly, digging into your insides as it grows in its magnitude until it's up to your throat, depriving you of air and choking you.

Needless to say, you weren’t the only one putting off telling someone the truth.

Avoidance wasn’t something that was inherently built into his nature, but it came into play almost naturally now. He had managed to evade being around his mother as much as possible over the past week or so, ever since she had dropped the news that completely displaced his entire world. Similarly, he had been avoiding bringing up what was happening to you, telling himself that he still had some time

But the truth was, saying out loud and admitting it all to you was just too much for him. It made it feel real and not like some terrible nightmare he had been living for the past few days. He didn’t want the reality of it all to hit him just yet.

“Do you have to?”

“Kind of?” You raised an eyebrow at him in question. “We’ve been dating for almost three months now Hyuck, do you expect me to just keep it from them forever?”

He winced internally, beating himself up about how you were talking about your relationship with him. It felt wrong to let you naively talk about a supposed forever when he knew that simply wasn’t going to be the case.

Your forever was going to be quickly cut short.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, sighing softly. “I don’t know. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

You frowned slightly, turning the volume down and putting your fries on the dashboard, giving him all your attention. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong. He wanted to laugh, mostly because the only other option he had was to cry and he couldn’t do that without having to expose it all. Instead though, he shook his head as nonchalantly as he possibly could, refusing to meet your eyes and instead staring at his burger. “Nope.”

You scoffed. “Oh yeah, that was definitely believable. Come on, tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You said you didn’t feel like going home today. Is it something to do with that?”

You were too smart for your own good. He rolled his eyes, attempting to remain lighthearted, “What if that just meant I wanted to spend more time with you?”

“Weird fucking way of putting it, then. You could have just said you wanted to hang out.”

He put his burger on the dashboard as well and turned to you, holding your gaze firmly in the hopes that it would thwart your suspicions by appearing to be sincere. “Y/n,” he said your name steadily, a slight smile playing upon his lips that from the outside looked effortless, when in reality it was the most forced he had ever been. “Nothing is wrong. Drop it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realising that whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. You could respect that. “Alright, I’ll back off.” You raised your hands to the sides of your face to mimic surrendering and earning an amused look from his end in the process.

It scared him a little bit, how you seemed to be able to look right through him without even knowing the full extent of what he was going through. He had known you for so little time- too little almost- and yet you knew him better than anyone else.

Leaving you behind was going to be the thing that hurt the most.

He leaned over and kissed you gently. “Thank you. And you’re right, you should tell your parents.” Your trusting countenance clawed at him, only worsening the sickening feeling of culpability that swirled in his gut. Maybe he’d tell you tomorrow, or the week after. Maybe he’d wait for another month so that he could gather his wits first.

If you doubted his confident facade, you didn’t let it show.

“Hey Donghyuck?”

“Hm?”

“I think I love you.”

Five little words should be entirely inconsequential, but even as young as he was, Donghyuck knew their true weightage. He knew you meant it by the credulousness in your gaze and the gentle squeeze of your hand on his.

The two of you were sitting on the roof outside your room's window, you clad in sweats and his jacket- the very same one he had given you weeks ago at the playground. You had never given it back to him. He was in casual clothing as well, having sneaked onto your room during the early hours of the morning to hang out with you.

Time with you seemed to be fleeting now, and so he clung onto every minute he got. You had your head resting on his shoulder as the sun began peeking over the town and spilling its golden rays all over the little houses and buildings, lighting them up and bringing vibrancy to the town.

Love was a complex emotion, a haphazard mishmash of several others in proportions that were unique to every occurrence it manifested itself in. Trust, admiration, infatuation and many more- they made up the feeling that everyone on the planet supposedly sought after so desperately. If it was truly so unpredictable, how did anyone know what it felt to be in love?

He sucked in a breath as seconds passed. Then, he squeezed your hand back.

“I love you too.”

xi] now.

Yeonmi was a great friend, ever ready to show her endless support for you in all your endeavours.

“Smile! And for god's sake, get a drink and lighten up. It’s all your friends here.” She slid her index finger under the strap of your dress, lifting up to its correct position on your shoulder.

You sighed and complied, flashing a smile for her sake, promising to make your way to the kitchen and do as she asked. She inspected your eye makeup one last time, pleased with how her handiwork had turned out and left your room, reminding you to hurry up and get out there.

You had gotten a promotion at work a week ago, and when you had revealed the news to her she insisted that you celebrate properly for the occasion, taking it upon herself to organise a small party at your apartment. She invited some of your friends from work and a few mutual friends of yours- not too many people in all, but since your apartment wasn’t the biggest, it was already starting to feel a little cramped.

Pulling yourself together, you left the confines of your room, finding yourself humming along to the music that she was playing. The dress you had donned was definitely not as short as the ones you had insisted on wearing during your highschool years, having opted to go for a more respectful length now that you were older, but it made you feel pretty and put-together.

Among the familiar smiles and toned down congratulations that you received, you found your eyes wandering until they met another pair that was already trained on you.

Donghyuck was there, of course he was. Yeonmi had already told you that she had asked him to attend and you had been expecting his presence.

So why then did you feel your heartbeat pick up a little, as if it had come as a surprise?

You looked away

A slow hour passed.

In your teenage years, parties had been something you had always enjoyed partaking in, but right then you felt a tad uncomfortable. You quickly deduced that this was because all those times, you had just been another partygoer, lost among the rest of the drunken crowd. Here, you were the subject of the party, the centre of attention.

People came up to congratulate you and make small talk. It struck you then, just how different your life was now from what it was back then. You were older in a different city, surrounded by people who had nothing to do with what felt like your previous life. Your old best friends, people you had thought would stick by you to the very end were not there, you were far away from your parents and were no longer a child that depended on them for everything. You had an apartment you called your own that you shared with your roommate.

The only thing- person- that had somehow belonged to both your youth and adulthood was Donghyuck.

Flushed with the alcohol that you had consumed, you excused yourself from the umpteenth conversation you'd been dragged into with some of your colleagues and made your way to the kitchen, wine glass in hand. Shutting the doors behind you, you revelled in the momentary silence.

You noticed the bottle of wine sitting on the counter and looked at your empty glass. Being the focal point of everyone's attention had never been something you particularly enjoyed and so to ease the bubbling anxiety inside of you, you walked over and poured yourself another, swirling it around and taking a good, long sip.

The sweet wine trickled down your throat, kissing it soothingly with its tart berry flavours. You were no doubt tipsy at this point, having subconsciously fallen back upon the alcohol to support you through all the socialising. You truly wished Yeonmi hadn’t been so insistent on this stupid thing, you would have been more than happy to celebrate by going out to dinner, just the two of you.

“Oh! You’re here too.”

You spun around, clutching the stem of your wine glass a little tighter and automatically leaning your back against the counter when you felt your balance slip away from you a little. Donghyuck shut the door, hesitating.

“Am…Am I intruding?”

He totally was intruding on your solitude, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when it came to him, thus shaking your head ‘no’. “Not at all, I just needed a moment.”

“I can leave if you’d like.”

“Don’t.” And you meant it. You didn’t want him to leave and he was the only one you would willingly tolerate at that moment. He flicked the lock of the door, sealing it shut to the rest of your guests and walked over to you with his own glass. You handed him the bottle of wine.

He nodded in silent thanks. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you took a small sip of your wine, looking at him and allowing yourself to study his matured features. There was not a thing about him that didn’t explicitly shine, a being so enigmatic and beautiful that it had you in awe of him even eight years later. “Not that it’s anything exciting like your job. I just sit in a nicer office now.”

He chuckled softly. “It’s still pretty cool, you’re still pretty young for your own office, aren’t you?”

You nodded bashfully. Even though you tried to remain as modest as possible when it came to the good news, you were quite proud of yourself. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get so far so quickly out of college.”

Donghyuck shuffled a little closer until he was right next to you. The urge to lean into him sprung up out of nowhere, the little voice in your head telling you to do so abruptly growing stronger. You drank the rest of your wine in an attempt to drown it out, only succeeding in doing the complete opposite.

God, he smelled amazing. You could get hints of the cologne he had on, a musky scent that had hints of something citrusy in the mix- thoroughly dizzying to you. You despised how much control he had over you without even knowing it.

“I had to repeat my senior year of highschool.”

His words snapped you out of your self-induced reverie, and you cocked your head to the side in question, prompting him to continue. As of late, your little coffee dates (your mind had defaulted to calling them that, even though you knew you shouldn’t), he had begun sharing bits and pieces of his life, and you had started doing the same. However, this was quite out of the blue, piquing your curiosity.

“After we moved,” he clarified, uncertainty creeping into his voice as if he was afraid of how you would react. “I almost flunked the eleventh grade finals in my new school and barely made it to the twelfth, and then that began, I barely attended, bunking almost all my classes to hang out with this group I had somehow managed to fall into.”

He sounded regretful as he spoke and you didn’t dare interrupt. You had often speculated what he was doing after he left, while you mourned the loss of your love, you had spent countless sleepless nights tossing and turning, wondering if he was thinking about you as well.

“They were terrible influences, but at the time I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was never in class, always at one of their garages with some sort of alcohol. A lot of that year was a blur, with me being drunk almost every day. I’d leave the house in the morning and say I was going to school and take a detour. My grades fell but I never paid attention to it because of how unhappy I was.”

Your eyes stung with emotion for him, because although you had resented him so much, he was still only a kid back then. Pairing this new information with what he had told you about his flighty childhood, you couldn’t even imagine the sheer level of frustration he must have experienced with having to adapt to yet another place.

“By the end of the year, my attendance was so terrible that they couldn’t let me write the finals, nor could they let me graduate, leaving me with the option to drop out. My mother was in tears and we fought a lot when I told her about it. At first I was fine with just dropping out and giving up, but she said something that made me rethink that.”

“What did she say?” You whispered, your heart feeling as if it was in your throat. You hadn’t even realised you had moved in position, now even closer and directly in front of him.

He sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t want me to end up like her. She wanted me to live without having to uproot every year or so, and the only way I could do that is if I didn’t give up. And that got me thinking about everything.”

His glass was empty now. “I realised I didn’t like my so-called friends, I hated what I had become and I didn’t want to continue living the way I had for so long. I thought long and hard about what my mother said and then…then I thought about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you held his gaze, searching his face for answers before he presented them to you.

“Me?”

He reached out, his fingers oh-so-carefully brushing against the skin of your cheek, dragging back slowly and tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, lingering there.

“Yes, you.” A wistful smile made a show on his face. “I thought about how my mother said she wanted me to graduate and push forward so I wouldn’t live the same life she created for us, and how if she had done the same thing she was begging of me, maybe-” His voice cracked, causing a jolt down your spine and your sight to blur slightly with the emergence of tears, but they didn’t fall just yet.

“-Maybe I wouldn’t have had to leave you.”

Fuck.

A single tear trickled down the apples of your cheeks, and the moment it did, his thumb wiped it away gently.

“So I agreed to the second option, which was having to repeat my senior year. I attended every class that I could, I studied and worked hard for every test. I graduated late, but I managed to do it, and then I moved to New York just before I turned nineteen.”

“Donghyuck…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. It was clear to you now that he had to grow up a lot earlier than you had, even if it hadn’t seemed that way at first. You had a good family life and a stable, comfortable childhood. You were allowed to figure it out slowly, never being exposed to any sort of extreme turbulence that shook your world so deeply other than his leaving- and you had support through that as well in the form of your friends. Donghyuck had none of that, left all alone.

“All I wanted to say was that without you, I wouldn’t be where I am.”

“Don’t do that,” you said almost sorrowfully, “You did it yourself. I just happened to be a part of it for a little while.”

“You should have been a part of it for longer.”

He wiped the stray tears that escaped your eyes at that, knowing how much weight that statement alone held. You shut your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to try and pull yourself together, but to no avail. Quietly, you responded. “I know.”

“Don’t cry,” He whispered, tilting your face up by your chin, a fond expression gracing those gorgeous features of his, and your eyelids fluttering open to look at him, committing every single detail about them to your memory. “You look beautiful tonight, Y/n.”

The compliment stung, like needles digging into the surface of your skin roughly. You knew you were completely undeserving of it, that it should have been directed to your friend who was somewhere outside the privacy of the kitchen and yet there you were, basking in his attention like you always did in the few stolen moments you got with him.

You were quite aware that you weren’t sober and you were willing to bet that he wasn’t either. Here the two of you were once again, eight long years later at a party, alone yet together. The irony of it all was not lost on you, and you somehow knew exactly what was going to happen in the next few seconds and still you made no motion to stop it.

His lips found yours instinctively, kissing you hard. You let him, the familiarity of it all rushing back to you so quickly that it nearly knocked you off your feet. Your hands rested upon his arms as his mouth moved against yours, rendering you breathless and at his disposal. You were his, you had always been his just as he had always been yours, no matter how much time had passed or how much the two of you had changed.

If the wine had gotten you tipsy, his kiss had you downright intoxicated. You were drunk on the sensation, leaning into him to get as close as possible to take it all in. You memorised the way his thumb traced your jaw so tenderly as if you were made of glass and he was afraid to break you.

Life had somehow brought you right back to him full-circle, ending right when it had started the two of you off. Perhaps it was a cruel joke, to give you everything you had ever wanted in such a limited capacity and to simultaneously make it completely off-limits.

Eight years you had waited for this, and nothing had ever felt as liberating as it was wrong.

“We need to talk.”

It was the second time you were hearing these very words from Donghyuck’s mouth, and you were just as reluctant to comply as the first.

“No.”

He looked at you, frustration decorating the expression he had directed towards you. “We can’t keep avoiding it.”

Yeonmi had invited him over again for a movie night, but realised you had run out of coke and had volunteered to run down the store and get some more, blithely unaware of the clear tension between him and you. Then again, she had never noticed anything when it came to that, but it made your life much harder.

“I think you’re just fine at that.” God, you couldn’t even begin to explain the magnitude of your anger. He was sitting there on the other end of your couch after a week of saying nothing to you- which was mostly your fault, considering you hadn’t shown up for your little coffee date that week and had stoutly ignored any calls or texts he sent your way- but that wasn’t the point.

The point in question? The fact that despite having kissed you, he evidently hadn’t broken things off with Yeonmi.

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

Now, it wasn’t as if you wanted him to break up with her for you or anything, but rather because it was the right thing to do. Of course, this wasn’t to say that you didn’t secretly hope the former would be the reason for it, but deep down, you knew that you couldn't even indulge in that. The incident had been eating away at you ever since it happened–

– Well, what exactly had happened?

You recalled the way you broke out of his touch the moment he whispered your name against your lips and brought you back to reality. You remembered how the crash felt, the way you had been on top of the world for a few seconds before it all crumbled right at your feet, the long-growing anticipation dying out into unadulterated guilt.

You remembered thinking of Yeonmi, your sweet, supportive friend who hadn’t done a single thing to deserve what you had just done to her.

When that happened, you wordlessly left the confines of the kitchen, avoiding him for the rest of the evening. Your cheeks felt hot and you felt light headed, but you had to keep up your image until everyone had gone home. He disappeared some time after that, the reason unknown to Yeonmi, who informed you of his sudden departure.

“I mean, you’ve done a great job at completely avoiding talking about Yeonmi before, so you should have no problem avoiding talking about whatever happened between us.”

He clenched his jaw. “That's not fair and you know it.”

You did. You were too proud to admit it to his face though, refusing to let him pummel through your already shattered dignity. “Whatever.” You were still seated, staring up at him in defiance as your fingernails dug into the cushioning of the couch.

“Don’t do that, don’t shut me out again. Talk to me.”

“I shut you out because you left me, Donghyuck. I’m sorry for not letting you back in with open arms, if that's what you wanted from me.” You were terrified of this, manic at possibly having to face the music. You were so much better at running away from it all, away from him.

He sighed in retirement. “We kissed.”

Your throat felt dry. “Yeah.”

“Y/n-”

“Don’t,” you warned, feeling emotion bubble to the surface and crack into your speech against your will.

“I want to talk about it. I need you to talk about it with me.”

Stupid, perfect Donghyuck. You loathed the way that even after everything, after all this time, trouble and everything in between, he was somehow still everything you had ever wanted.

You kept your voice airy and as light as possible although your tongue felt heavier than it had ever been. “If you’d like, we can pretend like it never happened in the first place, just like we pretended we weren’t a thing.”

A thing. What a gross, unjustified oversimplification of what you had with him when you were younger, and cruel too, but you had no choice. You had spent every waking hour going over the possibilities, every outcome of the situation you had stumbled into and had come to a singular conclusion: you were going to get hurt.

Donghyuck stared at you in disbelief, getting to his feet and pacing around the room as if he was trying to create space between him and you to get away, but coming back moments later. “Don’t pin that on me. That was all you.”

A bitter laugh left you as you stood up, now face to face with him. The tension was arid, almost choking you, but his gaze had an even more adverse effect, cutting right through you like you were nothing at all and holding you accountable. He was so close to you, close enough to reach out and touch and kiss once again if you so wished.

But wishing for the unattainable was futile.

His eyes dropped to your lips. Futility be damned, you wanted another taste of what it felt like to be kissed by Lee Donghyuck already, having been stripped of that luxury without having any say in it all those years ago. Just like that, you were breathless and your thoughts scattered, the air between him and you turning electric.

God, you were so tempted to just give in and press your lips to his, but you knew you couldn’t, no matter how the way he was looking at you made you consider risking it all.

“Oh and what did you expect me to say? That it was wonderful she was dating my ex-boyfriend?”

And that's when you heard glass shatter.

You startled, taking a step away from Donghyuck immediately and your head snapping to the direction of the sound, only to find Yeonmi standing by the door.

Two broken glass bottles of coke lay near her feet, their contents spilled and pooled around her shoes. The look on her face told you everything you needed to know- the disbelief in her eyes and agape mouth, those features laced with striking betrayal. In the heat of your argument with Donghyuck, you hadn’t heard the door open, neither had you heard your roommate enter, and you were certain that she had heard that last bit.

Worse, she had seen the two of you like that. It didn’t matter how quickly you had retreated away from him.

The scene was horrific in her eyes, and you could only imagine it from her perspective. The man she was dating and her roommate, someone she trusted and considered close, looked as if they were about to kiss each other right in front of her as if she didn’t exist in the first place.

“Yeonmi– I can explain–” You scrambled to try and piece together something that sounded plausible.

“Explain what, exactly?” She asked quietly, staring at you like she had seen a ghost. You had never heard her speak with such hollowness and it scared you. “That you, the both of you, lied to me?”

You had nothing to say to that because it was completely true. Everything about this was your fault and you could relate to the betrayal that she felt right then, you understood the hurt that she undoubtedly was experiencing right then.

“It makes sense now,” she said, tears springing to her eyes as she looked from you to him. “How you knew she knew so much about you, why you suddenly distanced yourself from me when I thought things were going well.” Donghyuck exhaled, looking at the ceiling and shutting his eyes. “You never really wanted me.”

“I’m sorry, Yeonmi.”

You watched as tears made their way down your friend's face. You felt like a fraud for still referring to her as a friend when you had been anything but one to her. She opened her mouth to say something, but it seemed like her grief took over, only a choked sob leaving her.

“I never want to see you again.”

And she turned around and walked out, storming into the hallway outside your apartment. You followed her out as quickly as possible in desperation, leaving Donghyuck behind. The yellow hallway felt intimidating all of a sudden, as if it was staring you down for the sins you had committed against your roommate. “Yeonmi, wait–”

She stopped outside the elevator and turned around to face you. “Why?” Her question felt like a sharpened rod prodding at your heart, or perhaps a knife driving through you and leaving you there to bleed out. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” Your helplessness finally escaped you in a rush, your own tears gathering in your eyes. “I didn’t want to, I swear I never wanted to hurt you.”

This was all wrong. You had never wanted to hurt someone else, you had never wanted to spread the pain you had carried with you all these years to her and had done everything in your power to avoid doing so. You had done everything you thought was right and yet here you were, having made a mess of it all anyway.

“I never…” You trailed off, your voice failing you as your tears trickled down, stinging your skin with their heat. “I never meant for it to be like this. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s your ex.”

You nodded miserably, burying your face in your hands and pressing your palms over your eyes hard. You let your hands slide into your hair, tugging in frustration before you gathered the courage to finally look at her again.

“A long time ago. We were kids.”

“And you’re still in love with him.”

You didn’t bother answering that one because you knew it wasn’t a question, looking at your feet until your vision got blurry from all the tears, some of them dribbling down your chin and onto the thick carpet beneath your slippers, staining it a darker colour than it was. Of course you were in love with Donghyuck, but it had come in between her own falling for him and she, despite having done nothing wrong, had to suffer the consequences.

“Fuck,” she muttered, leaning against the wall. “You should have told me. I would have stopped seeing him immediately if I knew.”

This wasn’t groundbreaking news, you had inherently known this from the start. “I know.”

“If you knew, then for fucks sake, why didn’t you tell me?” Her anger was warranted in every sense and ever scenario having to do with this, the force and outrage in her tone making you visibly flinch.

“Because,” you hesitated, before deciding that hiding anything more from her wouldn’t do you any good. “Because you were happy.”

She softened slightly at that. “But you weren’t, Y/n.”

“I hadn’t seen you that happy since…” You didn’t need to finish or mention her ex, you knew she understood. “I couldn’t bring myself to take that from you.”

She took a few steps towards you, failing to portray any malice now. “You ruined it anyways, and I think this is much worse.” Pity exuded off of her while she spoke to you, but just as quickly as you felt it, it was gone, replaced by the sheer magnitude of deception she felt. “You let me experience a false sense of happiness and consequently ruined it, and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

You certainly didn’t expect her to. You didn’t even dare ask her for forgiveness, knowing that you didn’t deserve it at all.

“But I can’t blame you for loving him. And I can’t blame him for being in love with you either because I can see it. It finally makes sense now.” She sighed in defeat, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t be happy for you either, so I’m going to leave. I’ll stay over at Chaewons.”

You shook your head. “No, I should be the one who goes, you should stay at the apartment.”

“Yes, but I’m the one who deserves to have a friend to talk to, so I’m going to go.” You could tell how hard she was trying to remain calm, removing herself from the situation before she did anything stupid. She walked away from you and towards the elevator, calling it to your floor. You nodded, letting a defeated sigh escape your lungs.

“Okay. Drive safe. I’m sorry.”

“I will.” Yeonmi stepped into the elevator and faced you one last time, pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry too Y/n, because I never want to see you again either.”

xii] then.

You occupied one of the swings, humming an idle tune you had heard on the radio earlier that day while you looked through your phone. Currently, it was 7:15 p.m, fifteen minutes after Donghyuck had promised to meet you at the park. You didn’t think much of it though, since he was usually on time and would show up soon enough.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil.

You looked up from your scrolling to see him standing there a little away from you and smiled. He seemed out of breath as if he had run all the way here and his hair was tousled from the wind that blew, biting into your exposed skin. You realised you had left his jacket at home.

“Hey you,” you hardly ever recognised the tone your cadence took on when it was directed towards him, and you couldn’t pinpoint when it switched to such transparent affection either, but you weren’t one to question such things. Your love for him was as sure as the cycle of the earth around the sun, an inevitable happenstance of fate.

“I can’t stay for long,” he informed you regretfully, walking over and occupying the swing beside yours. “I have to be home earlier today.”

“That’s okay,” you checked the time. 7:17. “How early?”

He winced, “Eight technically, but I’m sure I can stretch it till eight-thirty.”

You waved this suggestion off, shaking your head. “Nah it’s fine, I don’t want you to get in trouble. We can talk while we walk home.”

“Okay.” He followed you out of the park and onto the streets. Still being winter, the days were short and the sky was already dark, the streetlights provided the pair of you with illumination, second to the moon peeking out from behind the clouds as if it was afraid to call the sky its own before its usual time.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you fell in step with him, enjoying the warmth he provided. “We can just hang out tomorrow.” The next day was a Sunday, which meant you had the entire day to yourselves if you so pleased.

His smile faltered slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

You completely missed the uncertainty coating the word and the anxiety he felt right then, pulling him along with you as you walked. Teenage foolishness was truly a fool's paradise, your blissful unawareness blessing you with a bounce in your step and a worry free mind. Donghyuck meanwhile was struggling to keep up, his guilt making it feel as if his feet were heavier than ever, the knowledge he possessed and had effectively kept from you being the cause of his misery.

So you talked about your day, the difficult question on your test that day and about Sakura’s progress with Yuta (which had been minimal at best, but you were proud of her nonetheless because at least now she could wave ‘hello’ to the boy). He listened to you chatter endlessly, the sound of your excited rambling distracting him from his troubles. There was never a moment he was bored when around you and he truly did love to listen to you talk.

He’d miss that more than anything. He’d miss you more than anything he had ever had the chance to miss.

“Oh we’re here,” you stopped outside your house and turned to him, walking right into his arms for a quick goodbye hug, planting a chaste kiss upon his lips before you pulled away. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, watching as you began walking to your door. He already missed the feeling of your skin against his, wishing he had held you for a little bit longer. Was he already forgetting the taste of your kiss, even though you were only a few feet away from him?

“Y/n?”

You stopped and looked back at him, your smile visible in your eyes. “Yeah?”

He was leaving tonight. That was why he had to be home early, because it would be the last time he ever set foot in that house. Tonight he would be gone, and you still didn’t know a damn thing. It was too late to explain. That was his own doing and now he’d simply have to live with the guilt plaguing him for what would probably be the rest of his life. Every time he thought about you, it would attack him once more and push him underwater, holding him there until he ran out of breath.

So he would have to settle for something small and manageable to quell his culpability, at least by a little.

“I’m sorry.”

He knew that it wasn’t nearly enough to make up for everything. Two meagre words couldn’t do much at all and it wasn’t capable of fixing anything either, but it was the best he could do. His heart felt heavy, and he could feel his eyes sting with tears at the sight of your confused face at this, finally letting the unhappiness he felt crack through. “I’m so sorry.”

Concern bled into your features. “For what? Hyuck, are you okay?”

Donghyuck shook his head and blinked rapidly to stop himself from crying in front of you, stuffing his hands into his pockets and taking a step back. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just– see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you to eye his figure as it sauntered down the street and disappeared around the corner. He was confusing sometimes, switching from being happy to something entirely else within seconds.

You opened the door and walked into your house as night fell.

The next day, he was late again.

Usually he would pick you up on holidays before you went anywhere, but today he was nowhere to be seen. It was noon now, and you glanced outside your window, anticipating his car to pull into your lane any moment now.

You momentarily entertained the idea of him possibly forgetting. It did seem like he had a lot on his mind as of late, so you wouldn’t blame him if he had. The only issue was that he wasn’t texting you back, nor was he answering your calls and so you decided to stop waiting around for him to show up, opting to go over to his house instead.

The sky was cloudy that day, a chill in the air that had you remembering to pull on a jacket before you set out this time, the gravel beneath your feet crunching loudly in the silence of the afternoon. Most of the town took their midday nap on a Sunday such as this one, making it seem a lot quieter than it was.

So when you walked up to his door and noticed all the lights in the house seemed to be off, you didn’t think much of it, preparing to apologise for disturbing if his mother happened to answer as you rang the bell.

No response.

You frowned, waiting a minute or so before ringing the bell again twice in succession. When nothing happened, you slipped your phone out of your pocket and clicked on his contact, holding it up to your ears. It didn’t ring at all, immediately playing a recorded message instead.

‘This contact is temporarily out of service.’

Your intuition kicked in, telling you that something was inherently very wrong. Swallowing thickly, you tried ringing the bell one last time, louder than before.

“Y/n? What are you doing here sweetheart?”

You looked over to your right to see a lady in her fifties- a friend of your mothers- standing outside the neighbouring house, wrapped up in a robe. Embarrassment at causing a disturbance flared up inside of you as you rushed to explain yourself.

“I’m sorry Aunty, I just wanted to visit my friend Donghyuck.” You gestured toward the door to aid in your explanation, earning a perplexed look from her end.

“He’s not here anymore.”

There it was again, your intuition kicking you from the inside and clawing up, dread beginning to fill you. “I–I’m not sure I understand Aunty.”

“They moved out sometime late last night, his mother had told me about it a month or so ago when she needed help fixing a hole in the wall to get her deposit back from their landlord. I had my husband help her– but that’s beside the point. They’re gone.”

The implication of the new information hadn’t quite registered yet, leaving you to stare at the lady, dumbfounded. “Gone,” you repeated under your breath. “Oh.”

“I thought you knew since you were such good friends with her son.” Friends. The word sounded bitter right then, because you had been so much more than that, but as you stood there and listened to your mothers friend talk, you wondered if you even qualified for that. Didn’t friends tell each other things?

“Is everything okay, darling?” Why didn’t he tell you?

“It must have slipped my mind. I’m sorry for disturbing you Aunty.”

She waved it off, forgiving you easily and retreating back into her house. You stared at the door.

He couldn’t have been gone- it made no sense whatsoever. Just yesterday he had been by your side and had made plans to meet with you today. Why would he have done that if he was going to leave?

I’m sorry.

His cryptic words from the day before rushed back to you and you gasped to yourself when their magnitude finally hit you, causing you to stumble back and off of the landing of the house. He did know, he knew and had blatantly lied to your face without a second thought. Your mind went into overdrive as you tried to piece what had just happened together to form a coherent set of thoughts, failing miserably at doing so.

Two things were clear: Donghyuck was gone and you had no idea where or why.

You tried calling him again, punching in his number into the dial pad almost furiously, willing him to pick up. When the same monotone message repeated itself, you cursed, accidentally dropping your phone onto the path you stood on in your frenzy.

“No, no, no, no” There was a certain manic quiver to your voice as you picked up the device, staring at his profile picture. It seemed to mock you now, the bright smile he sported in it that portrayed joy directly challenging the torrential downpour of agony that you were inflicted with, thus rendered utterly despaired.

Your boyfriend was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to tell you about it.

The boy you loved, heck, the person you adored and meant the most to you in the entire world had left you without so much as a proper goodbye, leaving you behind to wonder why. You hadn’t the faintest idea where he could have been at that moment, just knowing that he wasn’t where he had promised he’d be and where you needed him most.

Hot tears spilled out of your eyes, catching onto your eyelashes and making it hard for you to see. You didn’t bother to stand back up, the asphalt beneath your knees digging into it harshly, no doubt going to leave a few minor cuts. The amount of questions you had were innumerable, each one crashing into the other until your head was full of incomprehensible nonsense that made it spin.

It felt too normal for him to have been gone. The rest of the town functioned as normal and yet it felt as if your entire world had just been flipped upside down.

When Sakura and Chenle sat you down and asked you about what had happened when they found you sitting all alone in the park after skipping school a few days later, you left out the parts describing how you desperately tried ringing the bell a few more times afterwards. You didn’t tell them about how you had so hoped that it was an elaborate prank, nor did you go into detail about how many times you had called him, hoping and praying for him to pick up.

The days melted into weeks without Donghyuck.

You hated how it felt as if he was everywhere, having tainted all your favourite places and being the majority of your most beloved memories. You half expected him to walk out from around a corner and surprise you, taking you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

But hope is a foolish sentiment, especially hope fueled by naive teenage fallacies. The rose tinted glasses that had been worn by you for the months you had been with Donghyuck seemed to fade in their vitality, sucking out all the colour from your life until it felt as if you were left with a dull combination of greys and blue hues to paint the rest of your life with. You were missing the components that gave it warmth.

For you, Donghyuck was the sun, enigmatic, alluring and all too elusive. He was everything you could ever ask to have and yet just outside your reach, your fingertips barely brushing against it before it disappeared again. You quickly learned that you were the moon, waiting amidst the stars and hoping for those moments when both the sun and moon were painted across the same canvas of sky.

That very sky had fractured into a kaleidoscope of colours when he left, leaving you to pick up the shards of your broken heart.

xiii] now.

You stood in the doorway of what used to be Yeonmi’s room, comparing it to how you remembered it looking before. The only thing left was the bedframe and an old cupboard, the rest of the room was bare.

She had moved out a couple days after the incident, leaving you alone in the apartment. You would have to look for another roommate or simply cover her part of the rent yourself considering you could afford to now with your promotion. Still, the silence was overwhelming, reminding you constantly of how easily you had ruined a friendship.

It seemed to be one of the core themes of your life- to experience debilitating loss over and over without having any time to prepare for the same.

The doorbell rang.

Ungluing yourself from her former doorframe, you dragged yourself to the door and opened it, your eyes widening in question when it fell upon the person who stood there.

“Y/n."

Donghyuck stared back at you with those captivating eyes of his, pulling you into a trance of sorts instantaneously. You forced yourself to snap out of it.

“What are you doing here?”

He combed his fingers through his hair, evidently agitated. “I didn’t know what else to do. You won’t answer my calls and I need to talk to you, even if you don’t want to.”

You were so tired, the events that had transpired over the past few weeks crushing you beneath the weight of it all. Looking at him now, all you could do was weakly shake your head, a frantic sort of fear consuming you whole.

“No,” you said, taking a step back. “I don’t not want to talk to you, I can’t.”

“Why?”

The question made you freeze in place, your feet rooted to the flooring of your apartment. Why? After everything that had transpired, it was for some reason much too hard for you to answer although the answer was at the forefront of your thoughts and on the tip of your tongue. Truthfully, you were afraid to sound it out, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to convey it correctly.

When he left you eight years ago, you didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him. He had taken away that possibility for you without ever considering if you’d want it, and gradually you grew used to silently harbouring ache that bloomed in your ribcage.

It occurred to you then that the same was the reason he wanted to talk. Donghyuck had forced himself to cut you off in every way after he moved, following his own teenage justifications that told him it was for the best. Now, older and wiser, he knew not to repeat the misdeeds of his youth, but the very opposite notion had been instilled in you.

“Donghyuck,” you whispered his name, giving him a knowing look, one that was filled with so much sadness and despair that he could barely recognise you. Where was the ever-cheery girl he had fallen for?

Was he the cause for her disappearance?

If so, he promised himself he’d be the one to bring her back too. “Be with me.”

You gasped softly at his proposition, shaking your head furiously, “Are you insane?”

He simply nodded, taking a step closer towards you. “Yes. About you, I’ve always been insane about you.” Conviction hung onto every word, and perhaps if you were younger you would have swooned and run straight back into his arms.

You missed your naivety, for life would have been so much easier with it. It was a boon, but now you were wary for the sake of your fragile heart. You could feel your teenage wistfulness rise to the surface as if it was trying to break out of the cage you had locked it in, doing its best to claw its way out and hand the rest of the pieces of your heart over to the man who had the missing bit you had been searching for all these years without him.

But you knew better.

Instead, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make him go away. “No, no, no.” It seemed to be the only word your tongue could form right then and so you repeated it over and over, clinging onto what it meant as if you were trying to convince yourself that you truly meant it. “I can’t be with you.”

“Yes, you can. You know you can.” His own desperation began to shine through, exposing his own years of heartache. He had waited so long for a moment like this. Every goddamn day since the day he had left you, he had regretted it, heartache permanently etched into his bones.

You snapped your eyes open, disbelief overtaking. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Be with me.”

“We just hurt Yeonmi,” you said, your words getting caught in your throat. Then, once again, your chagrin towards him glared up as you glared. “And that was because she happened to walk in on us talking. What if she had seen us kiss? Tell me, would we even be having this conversation if she hadn’t found us?”

“I…” He frowned and you scoffed.

“Would you have ever broken it off with her?” Or would I have had to deal with our intertwined web of lies all by myself? The bitter thought lingered.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. “If you wanted that, I would have done it.”

“Of course I wanted it!” You blurted out, your fingers curling into the palm of your hand into a fist. “But I couldn’t want it, because she was my friend, Donghyuck. Even if you had broken it off, I still couldn’t do a damn thing.”

He swallowed thickly, “I know, its fucked up, but I–”

“Yeah, fucked up. Too fucked up for me to even think about being with you.”

“But you have, haven’t you?” The question threw you off, and as if he had magically read your mind, he clarified, “You have thought about it.”

You froze, and your silence betrayed you immensely. There wasn’t a single lie you could have uttered in response that would have been convincing enough, not even to yourself.

“I can do it this time,” he said so earnestly that it broke your heart all over again, his coffee-coloured eyes pleading with you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you again Y/n, I’m not a kid anymore. I can be here for you.” Promises fell from his mouth, sweet pledges and assurances that felt like balm to your wounded soul.

But how were you supposed to trust the very person that had given you trust issues?

How were you supposed to put those trust issues to the side and take him back with open arms without bruising your dignity any further? How were you to do it without falling apart?

Melancholy was a funny thing to have taken over you right then, self pity flooding your system, as well as pity for him. For so long, you had blamed him, but now that you took a step back and viewed your situation, you realised that you would have to do the very same thing he did so long ago.

The cyclical nature of life was pitilessly cruel, ravaging everything in its path no matter the case. It had brought you back to all you had ever known and wanted, all the while forcing you to let go, pulling the rug from under your feet without giving you the chance to find your footing. It had made him leave you and come back, only to have you walk away because of how wrong things were.

Love found in dark, twisted places was never love that was meant to be nurtured. Love emerging from lies and deceit, situations that were impossible- it was love that would forever have to be left behind, no matter how pure it might have once been.

“I can’t love you.”

“Y/n please-”

“I’ve already hurt her, and if I love you again I’m going to hurt myself as well because I–I’m always the one that's left to sit and think about you. And it fucking hurts Donghyuck, it hurts.” You couldn’t believe him when he said he’d stay, because he had told you the very same thing all those years ago. You couldn’t be with him without guilt haunting your every move when you had so severely hurt Yeonmi due to your own agony.

You didn’t even realise you had started crying, tears cascading down your face. It was all so unfair, how something that had always been advertised as being simple had been anything but for you. Love had never once ended well for you, constantly picking you up and throwing you back down subsequently without giving you a moment to breathe.

Love was supposed to be the most beautiful thing in the entire world, so why was it so goddamn ugly?

It crushed him to see you like this, so openly broken and yet guarded at the same time, your wall built up so high that he wasn’t sure he could ever break it back down again. He hated how it was him who always brought you to this point, and he tried to reach out to you to wipe away your tears, but you only flinched away from his touch.

How the hell had you ended up like this?

“Then tell me you don’t feel it.” He had to know. He needed to hear it from you.

Your lower lip quivered. “Feel what?”

God, you felt so much. Just looking at him was enough to stir up a surfeit of emotions that you hadn't the faintest clue how to handle, but one in particular overpowered the others, an ache emanating from your rib cage that was so potent, it exhausted you.

“Feel what you did when we were sixteen. Say it.”

Sixteen. You had felt so loved by another that barely understood the concept of it himself at the time, its meaning so completely untainted by the passage of time and complications that came. That innocence wasn’t to be found within you, but the remnants of it had grown and interwoven itself with what only he could bring out of you.

“I–”

“I’ll say it then, because goddamnit Y/n I love you.” The look on Donghyuck’s face ripped right through you. “I’ve always loved you, from the moment I saw you when we were teenagers. You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with and I know you love me too.”

It fucking hurt. You couldn’t understand how the only person in the world who understood you so completely and saw right through everything you were was the one person you couldn’t let yourself be with. It was Donghyuck who used to notice even a slight switch in your mood when you were upset and it was him who would cheer you up the best he could. It was him who used to let you ramble on into the late of night and text you into the wee hours of the morning and him who now naturally gravitated towards you, just as you did to him. It was his jacket that you still had buried somewhere in your closet from all those years ago, with you unable to let go of it no matter how hard you tried.

Even now when you had only reunited for a bitterly short period of time, he was still the one who intrinsically knew every part of you. He knew you loved him still.

You inhaled sharply, noticing the red tint to the white of his eyes, realising that he too was struggling to keep himself together right then. Shaking your head slowly, you moved closer towards his figure, touching his face gently and cupping it between your palms, searching his eyes intently.

“I love you.”

He shut his eyes the moment you said it, tears slipping down and catching on your fingertips as you brushed them away.

“But even you know we can’t be together.”

The world had ripped the two of you away from each other once, and you had to trust that there was a reason for it. You knew you couldn’t let yourself go back because it was simply not meant to be with the circumstances and cards life had dealt you.

You loved Donghyuck- fuck, you loved him more than you thought was possible, and it still wasn’t enough. Neither of you could communicate through anything and shit was a hell of a lot more complicated than it was when you were just teenagers. He was right, he wasn’t a kid anymore and neither were you, but too much had happened. The timing was never right for him and you, there was always one thing or the other standing in the way, and the repercussions of everything was too much for you to simply put in the past, making the two of you something that would never work.

“I know.”

The syllables left his lips so brokenly that you instinctively had the urge to somehow fix him- whatever part of him that was fractured. The front he had been parading around, the false sense of confidence that he had pretended to have about you had finally collapsed, leaving him with a truth he hadn’t come to terms with just yet. The resignation he possessed broke you further, and you pressed your lips to his firmly, trying to mend your fragmented souls.

But it was fruitless. This was a brokenness that you would have to learn to live with until time bandaged your matching wounds, dulling it down into what would one day just be the thought of how terribly it burned.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against his mouth. “I love you.”

Disentangling himself from you, he stepped outside of your apartment and looked at you, imagining you once again the way he had first met you.

“I love you too.”

It was ironic, how words could mean something entirely different to what they were, how seemingly unrelated sentences were connected, a confession of affection serving the same purpose as a final farewell. Goodbyes of such permanence were merciless things and so when presented with one so absolutely brutal, he couldn’t help but think about the beginning, from the very first hello that passed between him and you.

I love you. The very last time you’d ever hear it from him.

Those fragile, lovely rose tinted glasses you wore in your youth had snapped a long time ago, and you could see everything for what it was.

And now, he could too.

Time was said to heal all wounds, but only if it was a wound that was ready to be healed.

Everything about Donghyuck and you was unfinished back then, the millions of questions you had haunting your every move ever since it had so abruptly ended. For eight years that wound had been left wide open and time had only assisted in letting it fester, burying its memory deep within your psyche.

But time also brought wisdom in its stride.

You picked up the mail your new roommate had left on your coffee table, shifting through the pile until you found the envelopes with your name on them. Leaving the rest behind, you made your way to your room, sighing in relief at finally being back in your comfort space.

Sitting atop your bed, you began opening each envelope. A letter from your grandmother who refused to learn how to send you a text, a card from an aunt and a few bills- the usual collection, but one stood out from the rest. The sender's address was entirely unfamiliar to you, and you frowned lightly, carefully tearing open the top and tipping out its contents.

A soft gasp escaped your lips.

Right there on your lap lay two tickets to Lee Jieun’s upcoming concert.

As if you were afraid that they would disintegrate, you gently picked them up and inspected them, in utter disbelief at the fact that you were holding them. You had failed to get tickets of your own when you had tried and yet here you were with not one, but two of them in your grasp- and they were the expensive kind, the ones where you had access to go backstage and meet the artists as well.

For a moment you entertained the possibility of this being a mistake, but then you stopped your train of thought when it slammed head first into the only explanation as to how they had gotten here.

A small, wistful smile crept up upon you as you glanced back at the envelope, noticing a small piece of paper still inside. Taking it out, a breathless chuckle was all you managed after reading what it said.

‘Thought I’d at least keep this promise. – L.D’

Suddenly, you were taken back to that cafe where you had the conversation with Donghyuck. You hadn’t stepped foot in there since the last time you saw him- over two months ago when you knew it was over.

Sometimes, a story doesn’t have to have an ending to be finished.

You knew that a part of you would always love Donghyuck due to the ephemeral, innocent nature of the young love you had for him that had been ingrained within you. You had made your peace knowing that the two of you were something written into the world to die out eventually, something that you had to let go of even if it made no sense to you.

It was apparent that this was a love that could never truly be yours, as magnificent as it seemed it had never been yours to begin with in the first place. It was a mishmash of bad timing and rash teenage decisions mixed in with that sort of hopelessness you only found in the blissful oblivion of adolescence. You could wish and want a million things, but at the end of the day, now and then, some things were simply not meant to be.

The love between the two of you was something you were never supposed to claim, time and time again slipping through your fingers, and yet you still grieved for its loss.

But grief could be overcome. You shut your eyes, imagining his cheeky smile and fond eyes, the way he’d look at you while you were talking and all the pretty, empty promises he had made. All the talks of the future that had always been fractured for the two of you and moments of tenderness.

For once, you didn’t just picture him apologising to you over and over again, that ache having finally dulled out.

And when you opened your eyes, you didn’t feel sixteen anymore, instead you felt as if time had passed almost too quickly and reality was finally catching up. You felt older, properly this time, and much more experienced.

Donghyuck had been your first love at the tender age of sixteen, the cause of your flushed cheeks and racing heart; affectionate, shy smiles and chaste kisses underneath streetlights. He had been the torrential downpour of rain upon a stormy sea, as violent as it was beautiful. All you felt about him had only ever been intense in nature, your youthfulness unable to process them in any other way. Now, looking back, perhaps there were several things you would have done differently, and maybe some you wouldn’t have done at all.

You would remember it all, every single detail of course, but when you thought about Donghyuck, you’d think about all the good. You’d remember laughing out over him singing along to your favourite songs on the radio while aimlessly driving around town, the late night conversations you’d sneak out together to have and the ice cream you’d share on hotter summer days. You’d think about his infectious laugh and the way he always managed to make you happy, the way he’d take care of you when you were sick and kiss your forehead goodbye each and every time. How your hand would perfectly fit in his, fingers intertwined and clasped together tight, how he’d whisper the three words that you so cherished back then at the most unexpected of times. You’d remember the love that was very real and very much lost and its seemingly magical, wild nature that you doubted you’d ever find again.

You’d remember sixteen.

fin.

213 notes · View notes

vad-hander · 2 years

Text

NOW, ARE YOU HAPPY?

pairing: idol!Jaehyun x reader

others: idol!Taeyong

genre: one-shot, romance, light smut, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

warnings: swearing, break up, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, open ending

words: 22,3 k

You missed Jaehyun’s presence in your life but you couldn’t blame it on him. You were the one who told him that you didn’t love him anymore, you were the one that ended it even though he died to work everything out with you.

You put on your big girl pants when he came over to pick his stuff a couple of months ago and acted like you didn’t hurt one bit. You chose the path and you tried your best to walk it with your head held up high, not without sudden break downs, though, you hated to admit.

[19:34] from Jung Jaehyun: regardless of what terms we’re on right now, you should still come to the concert.

[19:34] from Jung Jaehyun: hi, by the way

You chewed onto your lower lip, staring at the messages that came through right when you were waiting for the green light to turn on. Your thoughts drifted to Jaehyun and you felt sick in your stomach, holding on to it when the cars behind you signalled and you pushed gas pedal quickly, placing your hands back on the steering wheel, focusing your attention on the road.

[20:40] from TY: Even my older sister is coming, no chance you’re getting yourself out of it.

[20:40] from TY: I’mgoing to get a car for you tomorrow.

[20:41] to TY: I’m not feeling well so I’m not sure if I should come ㅠㅠ

[20:44] from TY: remember you’re the one who told Jaehyun to leave? You can’t run away from him forever, he’ll have to know.

[20:44] to TY: it’s not about this you idiot.

[20:44] to TY: and no, he doesn’t need to know.

[20:47] to Jung Jaehyun: hi! thanks, I was planning to come anyway, it’s not like I’m going to miss out on my best friends show ^^

You almost hit send but pressed delete instead, propping the phone next to you, closing your eyes in tiredness. Nausea you felt made all of your energy go away and you found it only logical to go to bed at such an early hour, but the message you almost sent to Jaehyun replayed in your head not letting your heart beat in normal pace. The message probably would look weird to his eyes, the wording seemed too distracted and you debated for over two hours if you should text him something at all. Leaving him on read is probably as rude as sending that message, you though.

You asked him to not be dramatic over the break up, be grown up about your decision and act like normal people would act if the both of you had to cross paths. And you knew for sure, having to be childhood best friends with his close friend, you’ll get to see each other more than you’d like to.

[22:42] to Jung Jaehyun: I’m not going to miss out on something you worked so hard on, so see you tomorrow ^^

You couldn’t look at your screen any longer, seeing letters flow over the screen in circles. Your eyes were giving up on you and you finally sent the message and tucked yourself into the duvet.

“Hey, I’m next to the dome, how do I get in?” you fished your chapstick out of your purse, undoing the lid with one hand and putting minty essence on your lips.

“Oh, already? Wait a second.” you could hear him prop his phone on the table, hearing distant voices of people that surrounded Taeyong. You guessed boys were probably getting their make up and hair done with the distinct chatter of women over the phone. “I’m getting my make up done, Jaehyun will pick you up at the employee entrance at the back of the dome.”

“Not him.” you protested immediately. “Come yourself.”

“Dude, I have one eye done, he’s coming already.”

“Stop him, tell him not to. Ask Doyoung, or Haechan, whoever?” you felt your hand shake while you tried to shove your chapstick back down to it’s designated place, dropping it onto the ground by accident. “I didn’t prepare myself mentally.”

“Love, you‘ve spent four years with him, how come you’re terrified of the idea…” he paused and for a second you felt like the two of you got disconnected. “Wait a sec.”

“Hi, Y/n.” you heard his voice over the phone all of a sudden, squatted with your chapstick in your hand, forgetting to get up. “Tell me what you’re wearing.” his voice was as calm as he could ever make it. You exhaled and collected yourself. Jaehyun was just being normal, you should be too, no matter what, you told yourself.

“Uhm, you know, the pink dress I have.” you kind of sounded unsure, lowering your eyes to look at your own clothes. “Why?”

“Oh, that. Okay, I just need to tell the security guard what you look like so he’ll let you in.”

“I’ll get to the other side of the dome then.”

“See you in a bit.” he said warmly into the phone and hung up.

You hurried around the dome, feeling astonished by the number of people that stood at the back of it. It was still early before the concert and the most of early birds probably tried to fish out the boys from the back. You rushed to the door when you saw the guard walk out of it, scanning the area around. Shortening the distance to the entrance you felt more eyes focusing on you, sensing that familiar feeling of fear all over your body. That familiar feeling of being scared to get exposed. Your best advice you always gave yourself was to just lower your head and not look into anyones eyes and you chose to follow it by heart right this very moment. Regretting wearing something more than just casual clothes, you felt your appearance catch more concerned glimpses than it should’ve.

“Hi, I guess you’re waiting for me.” you came up to the guard who was too tall for you to not raise your head up above. You tried to talk quietly because the area got seemingly quieter since the two of you began your interaction.

“Your birthday?” he asked emotionless.

“Hm…” you gulped and took a glance around quickly. “Can you bend a little?” you wondered if he found your request amusing but he did as you wished, allowing for you to call the date quietly.

“Okay, come with me.” he bobbed his head and walked in direction of the entrance. Just as you got in, a slight turn to the right allowed your eyes to meet with Jaehyun that stood there quietly.

“Hi.” you mumbled slapping yourself internally for sounding so lame.

“Hello.” Jaehyun smiled sincerely, taking a step towards you to give you a quick hug, confusing you endlessly. “I thought Taeyong is going to send to you our driver.”

“He wanted to, but forgot, and you know, normal taxis don’t just get to drive inside of domes.” you forced a smile and expected for him to walk towards the dressing room but he stood there looking at you.

“You should’ve told me, i would’ve reminded him.”

“It’s fine.” you smiled, coming up with something else you could tell him “so many people outside already.” your eyes ran over the corridor to not stare at him. “I guess they’re excited to finally see you again.”

“Yeah…” his hands touched his thighs while his back leaned against the wall. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s no big deal, I have legs.” you chuckled trying to act like you didn’t understand his question.

“No, I meant in general. Are you okay?” he caught your gaze with his and forced you to stay still.

“Yeah, what can be not okay?” you blinked and took a little step back trying to see his face better. Did Taeyong tell him something? You were ready to choke that skinny demon with your bare hands if he did. “Are you… okay?” you asked him back trying to make it seem as if it was a simple gesture of politeness, actually dying to see in his eyes the answer.

“Could’ve been better, but work got me busy so maybe just a little better than bad?” he chuckled through pain and you could feel how he tried to break down the wall you built and come closer. “I..” he stuttered making you nervous and you hated hearing him being this way. You were scared shitless at what he could possibly want to say that made him so anxious.

“Can you take me to Taeyong…?” you asked to cut him off. Standing one on one with him was making your head go dizzy even if there is dead silence between you two.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course, let’s go.” he moved quickly, making it hard for you to match the pace of his long legs.

“You made it!” Taeyong’s voice caught your attention and helped you find him in the room full of men right as you entered it behind Jaehyun. Your eyes met with the hairdresser and you waved at Taeyong shyly deciding on not giving him a hug, hairdresser’s eyes kind of telling you to stay away and not ruin her work.

“I’ll wait for you here.” you pointed with your finger and sat at the stool in the corner of the room. Taeyong simply nodded focusing his eyes back on his phone, playing a game, you assumed.

Jaehyun moved his eyes from you the second you caught him staring, forcing his attention onto laughing Mark. Your eyes set on him while he was distracted, checking out the outfit he wore: his casual sweatpants and a hoodie your mom gave him for his birthday. You bit onto your lip unconsciously, forcing your inner self to move your eyes away before tears began to pour. You couldn’t help but wonder if he wore it regularly or he chose to wear it today to pull onto your strings.

Blinking multiple times to enlighten your vision you finally noticed you sat right next to a rail full of their stage clothes. Your eyes ran from white costumes hanging closest to you to the ones with lots of rhinestones all over them.

“Yuta, you’re next.” a girl with long hair and thick bangs said loudly, appearing next to you. Your eyes silently followed Yuta up until the moment he suddenly pulled his shirt off his body right in front of your face and you made a loud awkward gulp. Unexpected situations like that made you more startled than you wanted them to and the fact you had a mask on actually made you relieved, hiding the rosiness of your cheeks behind it. You wanted to move your gaze away but suddenly got caught up in the tattoos he had on his lower abdomen. When did he get them? Or did he always have them? You couldn’t work it out and couldn’t force yourself to look away either until the moment that white shirt that hung next to you covered his body.

“Oh, Y/n?” you gave him a slight nod “hi!”

“Hi.” you bowed shyly, finally moving your eyes away to the group of people sitting on the couch. Mark still laughed at whatever Haechan was saying, while Doyoung and Johnny discussed something that seemed to bother them terribly from the screen of one of the guys’ phone screen. Jaehyun’s eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but guess if he watched you stare at Yuta, he probably did. You looked over to the other corner of the room where Taeil and Taeyong were having their make up done in hopes of sending a SOS signal to your best friend but his gaze was focused on the phone completely making you distressed, watching his fingers move in distance from the reflection in the mirror.

“Can you hold this?” Jaehyun’s voice forced your head to turn back around. “Actually, it’s cold out there you’ll probably need the hoody at the concert.” you stared blindly at him holding out a hoody with a sly smile on his face. “Or am I crossing something?” his face expression changed quickly into a concerned one when you didn’t react.

“Oh, thank you.” you reacted too vividly belatedly, forcing half of the room look at you both. You could sense them knowing already the two of you broke up since the stares were literally burning a whole in you. “I’ll take it, thank you.” you stretched your lips in a thin line, taking it with both hands. You almost bowed at him reflexively but stopped yourself mid action trying to seem as if you’re just standing up to put it on, visibly reducing the distance between you two.

“Jaehyun, put this on quickly.” you heard the same girl call out for him, constraining his attention to go on her. He moved quickly, still standing closer to you than you’d want him to, pulling the hem of his shirt up in the swiftest motion. Your entire system malfunctioned and him leaning behind you to lay the shirt on the rack didn’t help one bit. He probably implied on you moving to the side but how could you when your heart went in overdrive and your brain decided to go through all the times he took off his clothes in front of you, the freshets memory being not older than three months. Deep breathing was promised to help in stressful situations but the very moment you needed it to work you were getting no result.

“Hey?” he asked concerned and leaned in more to you the moment he heard you take deep breaths in. “What’s up?” you couldn’t reply feeling yourself on the verge of tears. Your hormones suddenly felt like it’s time to regret every decision you made in the past months. Instantly every thought in your head went to taking your words back right there in the dressing room, asking him to forget you made him leave. You felt like breaking down in front of everyone, and while all these thoughts ran through your brain, your lungs began hyperventilating probably making it look like you were dying behind that stupid mask. Jaehyun moved his hands from the buttons of his shirt behind your ear, taking off the mask and helping you breathe. “What’s wrong?” he panicked visibly, forcing for you to sit back down. “Wait.” he flashed before your eyes to the table with food, grabbing a water bottle and shoving it into your arms the next second. “Drink it, did you ever feel anything like that before?” he kneeled before you, watching your throat bob every time you gulped on water.

“No, I didn’t, I’m fine.” you forced a smile and pushed the bottle towards him.

“Don’t act like we’re strangers. Literally three months ago you told me there’s no one else closer for you than me and now you’re almost chocking on air and the next minute I ask you what’s up - you’re fine.” his eyes searched for an answer you didn’t have for him.

“You did that on purpose.” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Did what?” his eyes made you believe he didn’t know what you meant. You got a strong will to slap him for being too innocent, but more than that you just wanted to caress his rosey cheek. “You mean changing into stage clothes?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What?” he leaned in closer.

“So you’re changing clothes right in front of me to get whatever reaction you want to get? Or what? If you’re thinking I’ll see your abs and fall in love with you once again, you’re stupid. This only happened because of my health condition.” you tried to talk slower to not seem mad.

“What happened? Are you two fighting again?” Taeyong appeared next to the both of you and squatted next to Jaehyun right before he opened his mouth.

“No. She’s just sick because of her health condition.” Jaehyun tried to make fun of you, it seemed. “Did you tell him? That you’re…” Taeyong looked at the two of you confused, drawing circles directed at his stomach with his pointing finger in the air and you almost raised your hand to punch him.

“That she’s what?” Jaehyun turned around confused.

“Oh, wait, you didn’t?” Taeyong jumped up and looked away. “Shit, I’m sorry. She got food poisoning, thats why she’s kinda Ill.” you closed your eyes and sighed. Did he really think Jaehyun’s going to buy what he said? If you had a food poisoning Taeyong would’ve made fun of you since the second you showed up, involving every single person he’d be able to.

“Is that it?” Jaehyun’s fingers laid atop of your knee and you looked at him.

“Your hand…”

“I’m sorry.” he shook his head disapprovingly of his own action.

“Take this too actually, I’m going to be fine.” you pushed the hoodie back into his arms. “I’ll drink something warm if it’ll be cold.” you smiled politely and stood up, getting into Taeyong’s embrace the next second. He murmured sweetly into your ear calming you down and your heart finally felt fine. He kept you occupied right up to the minute they had to go on stage. You stood quietly in the corner of the corridor, watching all 9 of them say their chants and get in the mood for the show. You waved them good luck as they left to their spots, catching Jaehyun’s body move towards you until he realised he shouldn’t. You wanted him to walk towards you too, you could not stand there and not reminisce on those rare times you kissed him quickly before he went to the stage, dying for the end of their performance to be able to hug him when your touch won’t mess up his stage appearance.

Jaehyun stretched his arm towards you anyway when he walked past you and you shook it quickly with both of yours in support. The contact, the way his fingers hooked around yours and the way he held onto them for the longest time possible just made you realise how hungry you felt for him. How much affection from him meant to you and how badly you were in need of it.

“The show’s insane.” you smiled widely at Taeyong when he appeared right next to you.

“Wait, I’ll change, don’t go anywhere, okay?” his reply was quick and you guessed he was still busy.

Time wasn’t flying while you waited, more likely it crawled like a dying snail, minutes barely changing in what felt like forever. You finally heard men walk in distance and your guess was right - someone was leaving the dome. Couple of minutes later, when it felt like everyone probably left by now, you heard quick steps and someone trying to match the walk.

“Jaehyun, seriously, calm down.” you heard Taeyong’s voice the moment you were able to see them two run down the corridor towards you. “You’re not going to do any good for the both of you like that.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Jaehyun shouted when he was not more than two meters away from you. “Why the hell did you hide it from me?” he stood in front of you quicker than you wished, lowering his body above the chair you sat on, keeping his palms on the armrests for support.

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Why did you hide from me that you’re pregnant?” he shouted out of breath and you felt pain. You knew the day he’d find out somehow would come but this wasn’t meant to be the so called day.

“I-I…” his stare was expectant and furious. “Don’t look at me like that and don’t shout!”

“Why did you not tell me we’re having a baby?” he ignored your words but his presence most definitely got lighter. He lowered the tone of his voice a little, still being as furious as ever.

“There’s no we, Jaehyun. And there’s no baby either.”

“Huh?” Taeyong chimed in from behind. “What you mean?”

“Did you lie to me?” Jaehyun turned to face his friend.

“She…Wait, Y/n, did YOU lie to me?” Taeyong took a step closer to you confused.

“I didn’t, I was… pregnant…” the two men stared at you bewildered.

“Huh? You had a miscarriage or something?” Taeyong took another step to you visibly nervous. “Why you didn’t tell me?”

“No, not that. I went through a termination.”

“You mean like abo…”

“Yes, this.” you didn’t let Jaehyun finish his sentence.

“But why? When?” you knew Taeyong was confused like hell, three days ago the two of you were having a conversation about the month the baby was going to be born in and now you drop the news at him.

“Today. That’s why I felt sick earlier. It’s really no big deal, you two shouldn’t be worried like that.”

“No big deal? No big deal? Are you kidding me?” Jaehyun pushed himself from you, walking in quick circles over the corridor. “What is wrong with you?” he stormed towards you with nothing but insanity in his eyes.

“Hey, dude, calm down.” Taeyong caught him half way. “She’s probably feeling much worse than you do.”

“She hid from me the fact that she’s pregnant, broke up with me and now when I get to know she’s pregnant, she says she got rid of my child? Without even telling me? Even a single message saying ‘hey, I was pregnant with your baby, but I’m getting rid of it tonight’ would’ve been better than finding out this way. And you think she feels worse? Seriously?” he breathed heavily and you couldn’t raise your eyes up from your knees in shame, watching warm droplets leave wet stains on your clothes. It hurt you terribly to hurt Jaehyun but there was no way back now. “Taeyong, let go of me, I’m fine, seriously, I swear.” Taeyong looked up Jaehyun, setting him free in a second. “I… do you not want to tell me anything? Look me in the eyes maybe? Not a single thing? Hm?” his body towered above you and you actually did raise your head to look at him but the contact didn’t last for more than five seconds because of Jaehyun. “You know, actually I don’t want to look at you. I can’t believe you did all of this. I thought you loved me the way I loved you. I… I can’t believe and I don’t want to believe. You’re making me sick.” he turned away on his heels quickly, running away.

“I know Doyoung’s your best friend, but he isn’t mine. I’m not going to come, I’m sorry.”

“Pretty please?” Taeyong whined over the phone.

“You know everything is crooked, I’m not going to come to your place when Jaehyun’s totally going to be there.” you sighed, moving your eyes to another book on the shelf.

“He actually wanted to talk to you, maybe you should come. You know, he’s been all upset these two months and told me he doesn’t feel good bout your last conversation, you should totally come.” you could hear the sound of his favourite PC game in the background. “Oh, sh…” he exclaimed randomly and went quiet.

“Are you setting me up with him?”

“I’m not, you’re not a stranger to neither of us and Doyoung would like to see you, plus you do really need to get clean with Jaehyun. I’m not pushing but I know it’s something that could make you feel better…”

“I don…”

“No matter what the outcome is, y’all need to talk.” Taeyong cut you off.

“Okay.”

“You’re coming?”

“No, I’m just agreeing it’ll make me feel much better.”

“Come then, I can come pick you up.”

“Nah, just play your games.”

“I have to go buy cake anyway, you’ll gladly help me, I know it.” you could feel him smile through the phone. “This month is always insane.”

“Yeah.” you sighed into the phone.

“Did you think about Jaehyun’s birthday?”

“What you mean?”

“Don’t know, maybe you were planning on a gift or something…”

“I wasn’t.” you said roughly.

“Okay, okay. I was just thinking what I should get him.” the clicking of his mouse was all that you could hear for a while. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Paris Baguette or something.”

“Did you tell Jaehyun I’ll come?”

“I did.” Taeyong nodded, resting his arm over your shoulders.

“At least we know why he left, right?” you chuckled not knowing if you were glad or upset about it.

“Maybe he has schedules or something? I can text him.” Taeyong moved his free hand to grab his phone.

“No don’t, I don’t care.” you looked him deep in the eyes and Taeyong bobbed his head in agreement.

“Okay, you don’t.” his eyes ran over the room and you did the same.

“I thought you meant there’s going to be a party or something.” you looked over the take out on the table.

“It is low-key a party, isn’t it?” he chuckled making you question him. Doyoung himself wasn’t even home yet. Mark and Haechan sat on the other side of the room playing something on their phones. Yuta ran over the room once and the rest of the people that lived here were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Doyoung?”

“I didn’t ask him, it’ll be too sus to ask.”

“And what if they’re having a party somewhere else?”

“Doyoung will come, I know he knows I’ll buy him cake.”

“And the rest? Do they know?”

“We’ll they might show up, I don’t know. I just asked you to come because I didn’t want you to be alone, not because there was a big ass party planned.”

“Okay…” you sighed at him, picking up your chopsticks to munch on food.

“Hey, Jaehyun texted me he’s with Doyoung.” Mark announced loudly and at the mention of your lovers name you felt like you had digestive problems. “They’re actually in front of the house.”

“Jaehyun’s going to ruin it if he’ll come with him to our floor, text him.” Haechan exclaimed quickly.

“He said he’s coming with him to pick up a hoodie from Taeyong.”

“Me? What hoodie.”

“A fake one, obviously, Taeyong, use your brain.” you shook your head and put the chopsticks away, hearing Haechan’s distant giggles.

“Okay, let’s hide.” he quickly dragged you behind the counter and ran over to the corner, lighting up the candles. The house was pitch black and a moment later you could hear the code being punched in. Doyoung’s giggle filled the room before he probably noticed it being dark.

“Oh, no one’s here?”

“Maybe in their rooms.” Jaehyuns voice made you shiver.

“Yeah.” Doyoung agreed before turning the lights on, forcing the 5 of you to jump out of your hide outs. You sang the happy birthday song together, quietly watching the boys hug for way too long, finally giving Doyoung a quick awkward hug and stepping back. They sat down and the unending blabbering party began.

You blinked often and smiled with all of your strength as if you were engaged in the heated conversation they had to not focus your vision on Jaehyun that weirdly enough sat right across you, munching on the piece of cake for the past 30 minutes. He didn’t speak much but you could vividly hear him every time he laughed loudly at the jokes that were told. Your eyes fixated on his hand that held the fork, not believing the fact he was still torturing the chocolate goodness on the plate. You wondered how long would it take him to finally finish it off, when his head suddenly raised and caught you stare. He smiled at you fondly and you didn’t find anything better than to roll your eyes at him in reply. You felt stupidity of your action but you leaned back onto the couch, turning your head towards Taeyong more.

“Guys, I’ll go.” Jaehyun sighed in what felt like not later than five minutes, placing the fork next to the still unfinished cake and stood up. “Doyoung, happy birthday once again.”

“Why so early, Jaehyunah?” Johnny asked in his whiny tone.

“Suddenly felt like going to bed early tonight.” he smoothed out the jeans on his legs, grabbing the phone from the table to go.

“Yeah, sure.” you chuckled annoyed, but more importantly disappointed. First and foremost disappointed in yourself for acting the way you did. The grown ups agenda seemed to not work out on your side the most and you couldn’t believe you were doing things the way you shouldn’t.

“Are you two somehow learned to fight through telepathy?”

“We never fought, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not going to fight with you over this either.” Taeyong shook his head and turned away.

“Hey, you’re bored?” Taeyong touched your shoulder when your hands reached for another piece of cake. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure.” you nodded and turned to face your friend properly.

“Take the left overs to the other floor.”

“Why me? Yuta’s going to go back there anyway.”

“By the time he’ll go there will be nothing to take.” Taeyong’s eyes pointed at your plate.

“You’re doing this on purpose?”

“I’m not!” he whined suddenly “Just go and come back quickly. I still have to take you home.”

“Fine.” you sighed and stood up.

“Yo, I’m sorry. Could you get my hoodie? It should be on the couch.” Mark raised a hand at you as if he was talking to a waiter “If it’s not, then it’s totally fine. Someone probably took it to my room, don’t worry.”

“Ugh, yeah, okay.” you said awkwardly and felt Taeyong shove the cake box into your hands.

“Go.” he pointed at the door.

“It’s green, by the way.” Mark shouted suddenly when you were at the door and you smiled at him awkwardly once again.

Knocking on the door just in case, before entering the living room, you found it empty, sighing relieved. Maybe Jaehyun did plan on calling it a night early. This, only seemed like a good thing to you.

Your feet quickly took you to the fridge that was right around the corner from the entrance of the apartment, placing the cake on one of the shelfs. Your plan was quick and simple: put the cake in the fridge and run away as if you never were there. You were half way to succeeding when the killing desire to eat the piece Taeyong took you away from won over and you brought the cake back out from the fridge, placing it on the table. Your fingers quickly got rid of the box, taking the piece and finally savouring the flavour when you heard a familiar melody. Your jaw moved slower and slower, until you stopped chewing completely, perching your ears up to hear the melody better.

Instantly realising what the melody was, you stood up, not even bothering to clean up after yourself. Your feet took you to the source of that sound, knowing the path way too well. You stopped at the door, hoping to not disturb Jaehyun. The door was locked not letting you peek at the boy that was playing his keyboard behind the door.

“Why are you playing this.” you whispered through greeted teeth, leaning against the wall next to the door. You breathed heavily, unconsciously placing your palm over your stomach. Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself down, get back to cake and leave to the party. Your brain glitched and you could put your life on it you could hear him sing even though you were damn sure he wasn’t in reality. The lyrics flowed through your head making last cells of sanity leave your brain. You fought with the urgent will to break in and smash the keyboard against the floor for him to stop playing the song. For him to stop messing with your mind like that. Messing with every decision you thought was right.

You met Jaehyun years ago through Taeyong, obviously. He wanted you to meet the guy that he was head over heals for to be friends with, the kindest and funniest guy he ever met as he used to tell you all the time. You were thrilled but worried, for the most part.

You wouldn’t name yourself a possessive person, or more accurately - you weren’t mature enough to recognise it within your system. You felt a sting in your heart ever since Taeyong got into that entertainment company. You knew being afraid he’d give you up unintentionally for someone else wasn’t healthy to start with, but you dismissed it as lack of human interactions on your side. You weren’t thinking low of Taeyong, you knew he wouldn’t dump you because you weren’t enough of a supportive and understanding friend or weren’t that good enough in general, but because being best friends with someone else that was able to be around you at most times was easier. You knew that and you knew it was only human nature, but previous encounters with your long forgotten friends made cold sweats run down your back and the talk of meeting the Jaehyun guy brought the stinging feeling back to your chest alongside fear.

You wanted to let him know you knew Taeyong better, you wanted him to know you were better friend to him, than that guy could ever be. You tried your best to even erase his name from your brain, act like you never remembered what Taeyong said, maybe play pretend you didn’t expect a third wheel at your coffee break. Anything, to show that person that this territory is taken by a scary bitch he shouldn’t cross paths with. You planned on your way to meeting them how you’re going to be unaffected and pretentious. The traffic on your way gave even more spare time to spit your inner venom secretly on Taeyong’s new friend, making a very toxic brain cell of yours fixating on the fact he was younger, giving you a feeling you could tap on it.

Everything you planned out began falling apart the moment you entered the cafe. The guy next to Taeyong looked fine and just that made you go in doubt with your own self. Taeyong waved at you enthusiastically right after his eyes fixated on you, motioning with his other hand in your direction for Jaehyun to see. The brown haired guy waved at you slightly too, smiling, making the dimples on his cheeks more visible as you stepped closer. You gasped and moved your eyes from him. He was nice and probably as sweet as Taeyong had described him. Maybe, even more sweet than Taeyong could ever describe him, your eyes ran over his figure, that was hiding behind the table once again.

You watched Jaehyun’s long fingers wrap over the glass of iced coffee, catching the straw with his tongue and looked away disappointed once again. There wasn’t a single visible reason to hate him for, and the more time you spent at that cafe, the more it helped you to get even more convinced than before that he was flawless.

Jaehyun slowly became a part of your life, much like Taeyong has been for the past eternity. He felt like a child that you and Taeyong had to raise, like a step-son you took partial interest in raising. You weren’t much older but the relationship built the maternal way subconsciously on your side and Jaehyun never fought it. The two of you didn’t turn into the bestest of friends, Jaehyun didn’t become your third best friend expanding your circle. You just accepted his existence and played along whenever you had to interact, and that was that. You kind of went with the ‘keep your enemies close’ tactic and it seemed to work, keeping the biggest threat of your friendship with Taeyong under a microscope.

And if it seemed to some around that your obsession with Taeyong was hidden under a crush, the two of you knew it was completely not that way. The first year you got in college you got in a relationship with a guy the name of which you liked to not say out loud anymore. It still felt like you did him dirty, like you betrayed him and quietly left, watched the love you had fall apart in pieces and then silently agree to break up.

Keeping an eye on Jaehyun took so much time you found yourself falling out of love and out of relationship. Your boyfriend felt the switch turn and with that you just parted. Not painfully, you longed for him and felt his absence, but it didn’t last long. Later on you realised that he was one of the things you were used to and when he left you finally understood you were insanely scared to let go of things you were used to. Whether it was a plushy from your childhood, a plate you were given on your 10th birthday all cracked on its sides by now or a boyfriend you found yourself not even loving anymore, just being with him cause you were used to it.

You were scared of Taeyong having other friends because you were used to being his only real friend. Jaehyun scared you because he was a threat that could push you from your warmed metaphorical seat. A constant in Taeyong’s life, you were scared to lose the title but the title didn’t matter at the end of the day. You were yet to understand that, but the road was paved the day you broke up with that guy.

Taeyong’s life was changing drastically and the more time you spent apart, you went through constant fear, but every time he came back as attached to you as ever, you realised the fear was unreasonable. He loved you dearly, Taeyong wasn’t about to give you up just because you didn’t see each other for a week, he wouldn’t give your friendship up even if you didn’t see each other for months. He proved it insane amount of times and this too, helped your heart feel at ease.

Accepting Jaehyun as no threat seemed to change your acceptance of his existence too. Jaehyun’s presence finally didn’t bother you in the way it used to and that alone helped you to understand him better, feel around him freer and maybe, for real this time, treat him like a friend.

It wasn’t until you got your first job after graduating university, when the relationship between you and Jaehyun took a turn.

While all your friends kept on sharing their stories of understanding and helpful bosses at their jobs, lovely first months of adaptation and support at work, you had absolutely nothing to add up to that.

Your boss if not hated the guts of you, was really good at pretending he did so. A month later you snapped, you told him very blatantly that the way he interacted with you wasn’t pleasant in any way you’d look at it, and his constant nagging and pressuring you, even when the papers were utterly flawless, oppresses your mental health drastically. At the end of the day you were a newbie and that’s what’s been told on your resume, that’s what you spoke about at the interview. You were told you’ll be learned everything you might not know of the business, anything you could be struggling with. And, for a fair point, you weren’t even struggling with anything, except for relationship with your boss.

He listened to you carefully, with no visible emotion on his still young face. For a split second you even thought he’ll consider your words for real, but the thought died quickly, when you saw his welcoming hand to follow him into his office. You stood there like a fool, afraid of speaking up. He took off his jacket and placed it on the backrest of his seat, sitting down and finally raising his eyes up to a standing you.

“If I knew you’d do your job right, I wouldn’t have to stay until late to check up on everything you did during the day. You’re no special, if you’re thinking I’m giving you some sort of special treatment, your completely wrong. If you want to grow, earn experience, you should stop crying to your boyfriend every time I point out at the mistakes and flaws of your papers and presentations.”

“Mr. Kang, I don’t have a boyf…”

“I don’t care, I heard just enough of your crying over the phone for the past weeks. If you can’t take the job, you should’ve never come here. If you can’t do what you’re asked to do, then I’ll find you another job, good? If you’re weak brain isn’t used to things like that, it’s fine. There’s a job for everyone, you could switch to a coffee lady here.”

“Mr. Kang, I did nothing wrong.”

“But you seem to struggle, aren’t you?”

“I’m not. I’m doing with my job just fine.”

“Yeah, just fine and you’re supposed to be doing amazing. Maybe you should focus more on you job?”

“I am, focused.” your breath hitched and he probably noticed by now that you were catching tears with your fingers.

“That’s why women like you are so useless.” he sighed disappointed and looked away. You felt like someone threw a bucket of trash over your head, but still feared to move a foot to exit. “You’re free for today. Come back tomorrow either with a resignation paper or will to work. You get me?” you tried to catch your silent cries to finally be able to look at him and talk, but you couldn’t just yet “Jesus, just leave already, I’m not here to watch your ugly crying.”

You turned around on your heels, running. You ran from his office to your table, taking your bag and leaving the office quicker than you thought was possible. Out of all mean things he said about you, the one resonated the most while you were escaping the building was the one about your ugly crying. You tried to hide your face with your palm even though you knew it wasn’t probably doing anything, all the surprised office workers stared while you ran. Taeyong wasn’t picking his phone up no matter how many times you called, making you pissed off. He probably was consumed in his PC once again, not even finding a second to look at the screen of his phone. You hissed through greeted teeth unpleasant words towards Taeyong after another missed call on his side, catching a taxi with your free hand. With a loud click of your tongue you made up your mind to go to the dorms. He couldn’t be anywhere else.

When you were set free for the day, it already was half past four, and by the time you got to the dorms the sun was already setting. First aftershocks and a strong feeling of humiliation had passed and by the time you knocked on the door of the apartment, you were so tired you just wanted to fall asleep on Taeyong’s bed to the sound of clicks of his computer mouse.

“Oh, hi?” a guy you never saw before opened the door. His eyes ran over your body and landed back on your face. “How did you get here?”

“Excuse me?” you asked confused “I’m Taeyong’s friend, Y/n.”

“Y/n?” the guy seemed to remember your name from somewhere.

“Yes. Taeyong doesn’t answer my calls, I came here because I need to see him. Can I come in?”

“Ugh, he’s not home. Are you… are you for real Y/n? Just making sure, because girls come up here sometimes trying to come in under different pretexts.”

“Do they come up here crying and saying they’re Taeyong’s friends?”

“No, I’m sorry. I do believe you but he still isn’t home.” They guy looked apologetic and you had no other option than to believe him.

“The only time I needed him he suddenly fleets from his room.” you mumbled under your breath, turning to run down the stairs without even saying goodbye.

“I think he’ll be back soon, you could wait for him.” the boy shouted but you already were down one flight of stairs to turn back and come in.

Instead, you sat down on the bench a couple of meters away from the entrance. Maybe the guy was right, and Taeyong will be home soon, you could just wait here. Or, at least, if he’s not coming back until you’re freezing on this bench to death, you could at least regain a bit of your energy, to be able to take your drained body home. The weird silence of the street and insanely paced train of thoughts in your brain made your heart feel uneasy. You could feel your palms sweat just at the thought of coming back to work tomorrow. You called Taeyong once again, meeting with silence and even higher panic levels. You could almost feel your phone slip out of your clammy hands, dropping it onto the bench to wipe your palms against the pants you wore.

Being left alone totally, most definitely wasn’t the nicest of things after you were named things you never thought you will be named, after being stomped like that cause of nothing by your boss. You tucked your feet closer to your body, wrapping your arms around, to not let them fall back to the ground. Propping your head on the backrest you looked up to the sky in weak attempts to pass the time. Watch the sky and finally hear Taeyong’s steps getting to the entrance. But he wasn’t anywhere near, and his steps didn’t bother your hearing. It was pretty quiet and the only sound was made by your sobs that suddenly began to increase. You couldn’t sense the moment tears began flooding your ears again, just the feeling of warm trails turn into cold ones as the autumn breeze hit your skin brought you back to your feelings. You just couldn’t understand why people had to be so cruel. You did nothing wrong and injustice of the world only made the tears come out harder.

“Hey, Y/n, is that you?” you shoot your head to look forward, wiping the stains of tears as quickly as possible, as if it was the only trail of your crying.

“Ugh, Jaehyun, hi.” you chuckled awkwardly and sat even more back down onto the bench.

“Are… are you okay?” he asked and his voice kinda broke, still standing far away from you.

“Yeah, I was just waiting for Taeyong, it’s fine.” you gestured with your hand that you were fine and only then Jaehyun took a step closer to you.

“Is he not home?”

“Nuh-uh, went somewhere. It’s fine though, I’ll wait for him here, you can go.” you mastered a smile to reassure him but it seemed to not work. Jaehyun placed his body next to yours, resting his back on the backrest of the bench. You held your breath expectant of what he’ll say to you, what he’ll want to know or what he’ll do, but he just sat quietly. You didn’t dare to turn your head and look at him because you most definitely would feel awkward to look at him with your puffy, red from crying face.

“I know we’re not close, but if you need a shoulder to cry on right now, I won’t hesitate to give you one. You don’t even have to explain to me what’s up. If you don’t want to, we can just quietly wait for Taeyong here.” you took a loud hitched breath as if you were about to speak, but no words came out of your mouth.

“My boss is a bastard.” you could feel Jaehyun’s eyes fix on your back after you spoke, expecting for him to reply back anything, but he was probably allowing for you to say what you found important to share. “He said I should be a coffee lady instead, because I’m useless and not focusing on work enough.” you found yourself crying once again, making all those words come through your body. Jaehyun’s warm palm landed on your back, caressing it in soothing motion. This probably was the first physical contact you have ever had with him, you never even gave hugs to each other when you met, you just waved and it seemed like enough. But this encounter just made you want more of the contact, and not specifically with Jaehyun, but with anyone who would be able to give you a hug and caress your hair until you cry out all the tears that were there.

“Men like that are probably dissatisfied with their own lifes and are trying to build younger people they have power over the same way.” your head snapped to watch Jaehyun’s face expression. It was emotionless, he looked like he didn’t care and this, weirdly enough, made you calmer.

“Did you mean it? That you won’t hesitate to give me your shoulder to cry on?” you scanned his face and he nodded, tapping lightly with his fingers on his shoulder next to yours, as if inviting you to it.

“But why would he say any of that? Out of the blue?” Jaehyun asked carefully, caressing your head, while it rested against his shoulder. Practically your entire body rested against his, with your folded knees falling over his thighs, when you changed your sitting arrangement to get his body under yours. Jaehyun’s other hand held your shoulders, and if someone passed you two by, you looked like two lovers glued to each other.

“He’s always been like that, but today he was extra picky with everything, when I asked him a single question he snapped and shouted, I told him it distresses me and then he began his rant.”

“Did you cry in front of him?” Jaehyun’s hand stopped moving and you raised your head to look him in the eyes and nodded. “Don’t cry, if he says something next time, he shouldn’t see you weak. He probably feeds off of your crying.”

“I wasn’t planning on breaking down in front of him anyway, especially now after he called me an ugly cryer as well.” you moved your head down suddenly feeling self conscious of looking at Jaehyun this close. You wiped your falling tear with your fingers, wrapping your hands around your body.

“Hey…” Jaehyun sighed to catch your attention and raise your head back to look at him, but you ignored his little hail. Jaehyun’s fingers moved from your head onto your cheek, they moved slowly, ever so lightly, your skin almost not being able to feel them, but how could you not, when his motions suddenly became too intimate for your sanity. Jaehyun’s fingers laid atop of your jaw, while his thumb drew tiny circles over your cheek. You couldn’t catch if he was being, actually, affectionate, or if your tired brain took a friendly gesture elsewhere. “Will you not look at me?” he chuckled when you, trying to work out what was going on, took too long. “I will kiss you without your consent if you won’t raise your eyes at me.” your eyes quickly found Jaehyun’s to see if he was joking, and he seemed to be not. “I should’ve said that I like you before I said this thing about the kiss, right?” he chuckled and moved his head as if disapproving of his own self.

“Are you saying this just because I told you my boss called me ugly?”

“No… but kinda yes, I mean…” He rumbled and you found it cute. He seemed nervous and this at least hinted that he was honest. “I kind of wanted to protest and say that you’re insanely beautiful, but this probably would sound weird and I thought I should tell you first that…” Jaehyun’s fingers stopped moving, his brain being too preoccupied with turning words into sentences.

“Maybe you should’ve kissed me without explaining it much.” you interrupted him, trying to hide a smile that shone over your lips with a smirk.

“But can I?” his eyes got wider as if he didn’t expect this kind of reply from you. You raised one of your hands that’s been laying over your stomach for too long now, quietly hooking it over Jaehyun’s neck as a call to action.

“You can.” you whispered in reply, when Jaehyun’s head moved towards yours. You closed your eyes when you could feel Jaehyun press his lips against yours, and you kissed him back - deeply and slowly. Your other hand was gripping onto Jaehyun’s cheek to pull his mouth closer to yours, pin his body against yours more. His tongue found yours and suddenly you found yourself craving for way much more than what he asked for. Asking him to sleep with you would probably scare him away, if you were him, you’d think that you wanted to put the stress and frustration away with sex, and you didn’t want him to think that. You didn’t want him to do anything that would make him dislike you, suddenly the fleeting feeling of finding him attractive ran through your stomach. You pulled back first and wiped the lipstick stains off his lips. Jaehyun watched you silently, catching your fingers with his, when you wanted to drop your hand back onto your lap, and hooked it over his neck once again.

“And can I kiss you once more?” his whisper landed on your lips, not asking for any answer, as his lips covered yours.

This, was a terribly bad idea. When the guy at the dorm said Taeyong wasn’t home, you should’ve caught a taxi and get back home. This, didn’t seem like a good thing, more, like a start of something wrong, you thought to yourself, when you sat at the office next week, still in doubt if you should tell Taeyong what happened or not.

“My dear miss Y/n.” you heard a familiar voice from above of your cubicle, raising your head to see Mr. Kang. “Not enough tasks to keep you occupied for the whole day? I’d rather you check up on those papers you give to your seniors, than stare blankly into the screen of your computer. You know, it’s not that much I’m asking of your little brain.”

“Mr. Kang, of course, I’ll check my papers carefully before giving them to you.” you bowed in your seat and put on a smile, wishing for him to go. As if he read your thoughts, your boss turned around noiselessly and began walking away.

“You better are, bitch.” you swore to god you heard him mumble, gasping and standing up in your seat. The loud noise of the wheels moving probably made it sound as if you fell off your stool and he turned around. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” he looked at you expressionless for a split second making you believe you were hallucinating.

“Did you…” you wanted to ask directly if he called you a bitch, but this probably would attract even more attention of your co-workers. “Did you say, anything, sir? I think I might’ve not heard you correctly.”

“Oh, miss Y/n, I didn’t, you might be starting hearing things. I guess, the stress is really getting the best of you.” he pursed his lips, and turned on heels, raising eyebrows and left.

Your eyes were running between windows on the building you stood in front of. You doubted and shifted from one foot to other, looking at the screen of your phone and then hiding it back in your pocket.

You were distressed. Distressed because you were sure your boss called you a bitch but you had nothing on you to prove it. Distressed, because there wasn’t a single evening since the day Jaehyun kissed you, that you haven’t thought of him. You haven’t talked to him, either, but this, wasn’t that much of a surprise to you. You’d feel more pressured if he suddenly began texting you non-stop, pressing and invading your inner peace. You two probably needed to talk everything out somehow, but the nature of your relationship didn’t really give you a chance to do so.

You said ‘fuck it’ and brought your phone back out. Your fingers quickly found Jaehyun’s name in the phone book, running your eyes through the dead chat for the 100th time for the past 10 minutes. The last message there was from two months ago. You asked Jaehyun, if Taeyong was at home, and his simple ‘idk’ was the very end of your conversation.

to:Jaehyun

“are you home?”

You hit send and regretted it immediately. He probably won’t see the message now and will text you hours later when you’ll be already home. It’ll only make things more awkward in the future, when you’ll have to tell him something, anything. You should’ve called and asked him over the call, but now calling and texting would make you look desperate for his attention, and you hated to seem desperate. You swore under your breath and turned to walk away, when your phone vibrated.

from:Jaehyun

“yeah”

to: Jaehyun

“d’you think you could come outside?”

from: Jaehyun

“give me a minute”

You read the notification, locking your phone and focusing your vision on the entrance. You felt your heart beat in your ears and you hoped it’ll stop before Jaehyun shows up in front of you or you might pass out. Soon enough, a figure was visible through a glass door, not even guessing, you knew it was Jaehyun. When his eyes were able to spot you and his hand reached out for the door, you walked in his direction. More likely you stormed in his direction, stopping on your tracks, when he was a couple of steps away.

“Did something happen?” he looked at you confused.

“Yeah.” you nodded and raised your arms to wrap over his shoulders, forcing Jaehyun to bend his back to get his face closer to you. “And only you can make me feel better.” his eyes watched your lips move and when you stopped talking, he let you move his face even closer and lock your lips. Jaehyun’s fingers gripped your waist, keeping you in place, and you weren’t really sure now who was taking over the kiss. You found your hands over Jaehyun’s cheeks, when he pushed you away slightly, pecking your lips to let you breathe.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” his grip on your waist loosened, making you wish he gave you a hug. You nodded and Jaehyun let you go, initiating a walk near their dorm.

to: Jaehyun

“do you think, we could see each other?”

You texted Jaehyun nonchalantly. Your messaging history with him seemed to get more active than before, since the last time you asked him to come out wasn’t more than a week ago.

You stared at your phone, biting onto your lip. It was midday, he probably was asleep, at least, that’s when Taeyong usually was barely awake and you guessed that’s what everyone at their dorm did.

You might’ve cried through the whole night after leaving work around midnight last night, after one more ugly rant of your boss, but you were not planning to admit that to anyone. You took a sick leave and didn’t want to give any fucks about what would he think of your sudden sickness. You wanted to see Jaehyun and get his help on releasing your stress, and maybe, most likely, you wanted him to do more than just kiss you, and lack of reply on his side made you more frustrated than you would like it to.

from: Jaehyun

“it’s alarming, you know that?” he texted you back later on.

to: Jaehyun

“wdym”

from: Jaehyun

“stress levels at your work are alarming.” you chuckled at his reply, biting onto your lower lip to think of reply.

“we can, though.”

“I’m out of the dorm, so just tell me where you’d like to meet.”

to: Jaehyun

“think you could come up to mine like now?”

from: Jaehyun

“I thought you’re at the office”

to: Jaehyun

“I took a sick leave”

“I got sick and tired thinking of you and not being able to have you by my side.” you re-wrote the message 10 times, making your insides do a flip. This, kinda took you somewhere else, somewhere where you weren’t just asking Jaehyun for kisses to release stress.

from: Jaehyun

“okay”

“your address?” his response seemed too dry for your own liking and you hated yourself internally for letting him know you were thinking of him like that.

You sent the address and dropped the phone onto the couch. He should’ve replied differently, and the thought sat in your brain until you heard another notification.

“by the way, I got sick and tired thinking of you and not being able to have you by my side months ago.” he sent and you froze. You kind of erased his sudden confession out of your brain, not because you didn’t take it into account, but because Taeyong still had no clue about all this, and because kissing for a couple of times in a grown up world wasn’t meant to mean much, right?

It didn’t mean to mean much, but it did for Jaehyun already, and maybe, probably did for you too.

You felt heaviness in your chest while you waited for him to come. You knew that it was there because you wanted to feel his lips on yours, run your fingers through his hair, feel his fingers on your cheek. Your breath hitched when he pressed on the door bell and you ran, but then paused before the door to not seem like you were desperate, once again. You gave yourself a promise to keep yourself collected and pushed the door open. Jaehyun stood there in a black jean jacket, with his fringe tucked behind a black cap. His hands were in his pockets, scanning your figure that was still wearing pyjamas.

“Hi.” You smiled and walked to the side, inviting him to come. “We don’t really greet each other, do we?” you chuckled and watched him undo his converse.

“Yeah.” he nodded and stood back up, looking around. “Hi.” Jaehyun took off his jacket, revealing to you that he’s wearing a black t-shirt, and held it in his hands, before you reached out and hung it by the door. Jaehyun stood quietly and watched your every motion. Suddenly you realised that maybe kissing was your own very special way of killing the awkwardness of being one on one and you should’ve not held back and just kissed him. “Something happened, right?” you looked at the floor, being ashamed of the whole idea of calling him over in the first place. “I mean, we don’t really talk to each other if it’s not you willing to release stress through kissing.” your body felt heat at the hint in Jaehyun’s voice that you were using him. You knew it more than he did, he didn’t need to hint it to you. You used him because you were afraid to admit you liked your best friends friend, and you used him because he was the one who allowed all of it. He was the one who kissed you first.

You slowly walked towards him, still not being able to look Jaehyun in the eyes. Stretching your arms towards his, you forced him to hug your waist and he locked his arms around you tightly, closing the space left between your bodies in a second. Your fingers slowly crawled up his chest and he let you kiss him, deeply as ever. He bit your lip and a moan escaped your throat, when Jaehyun’s fingers dug into your side.

“I want to lie down, let’s go to my bedroom.” you whispered in his mouth and he agreed quickly, allowing for you to take the lead. You sat down with your back to your headboard and Jaehyun sat facing you. Your fingers strolled up his thighs until they got way too close to his centre and you moved them back onto his shoulders, so you could support yourself getting your body on top of one of his thighs. Jaehyun’s hand held your faces close to each other, and when you tried to reach out for him first, his lips caught you midway and crashed against yours. He roughly pressed your body against your headboard by your shoulder and you whimpered. Did he plan on taking this somewhere else too? You guessed he did, if what he said about wanting you was true. You slid fingers down his stomach and there’s a small clashing of tongues because he’s startled. His body stiffened and whatever he focused on, helped you to take full reign of the kiss. You stuck your tongue out, letting a trail of saliva still connect you as he moved his head back. Your fingers moved past the band of his jeans and you squeezed his member through thin material of the skinny’s. He gasped and you moved your lips to the column of his neck, squeezing his member rhythmically.

Jaehyun seemed to recollect himself, grabbing onto your hand and pushing it away. “So this, is how things are going to go?” you thought if he meant to ask if you really were implying on sex or not and chuckled.

“If you have any preferences I’ll gladly take them into account.” you chuckled and tried to move his face closer to yours.

“I didn’t mean this. I’m asking, if this is how we’re going to be, me and you. If the only connection we’re going to have is when you need me to release your stress. Starting with kisses, now sex. I kissed you because I was dying to. We kissed once more and I thought this will change you towards me but now I just cant shake the feeling off that I’m being used.”

“Speak to Taeyong.” you simply stated.

“About us?” he asked after thinking of what you said.

“Yes. Tell him.”

“And if he’s fine with us, what’s then?”

“Then, just love me.” you chuckled at him and leaned in to peck his lips. “I’m already thinking of you all the time, so you don’t have to worry I won’t love you back.” Jaehyun watched your face expressions change. “I hate confessions, why are you keeping quite for so long.” you chuckled and hid your face on his chest, feeling Jaehyun’s hands wrap around your body and making the two of you fall down on the bed. “Can you stay? For a while, or will you go back to talk to Taeyong?” you raised your head and looked him in the eyes, running your thumb over Jaehyun’s lower lip.

“I’ll tell him later, okay?” you smiled happily and kissed his lips. “You’re obliged to go on a date with me now, by the way.”

“What’s up?” Jaehyun picked up quickly your call “Oh, baby.” he gasped immediately after hearing your sob through the phone.

“I’m fine.” you said as you wiped tears off your cheeks “I just called to say I won’t be able to see you before you leave. I’m probably staying at work till midnight.”

“Please.” he sighed into the phone and you couldn’t pick up if he was mad because you couldn’t say goodbye properly. “I’ll come to your office.”

“What? No, no. They could recognise you, Jaehyun.”

“I’ll wait for you outside the building. I’ll be there in 40 minutes, okay? Will you be able to come down?”

“I will no matter what.”

“Good.” he smiled as he spoke and you could hear it through the phone. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I, too.” you breathed into the phone loudly trying to calm down when Jaehyun hung up. Being at the office was shitty either way you looked at it and you walked outside way before the meeting time, sitting on the bench with no backrest, and hating every person who thought placing such benches was a good thing to do.

You spotted Jaehyun’s figure out of the car immediately, his long legs, highlighted with skinny black jeans he used to wear all the time back then, ran towards the building. A cap was sitting deep on his head, running so no one could see his face. He raised it only when he reached you and you almost gasped at how teenagely innocent he looked for his age. Months later, introducing Jaehyun to your parents, your mom asked awkwardly if Jaehyun was of age and you would never forget how hardly you laughed at that question.

“My ugly crier.” he cooed whispering, for you only to hear and squatted before your sitting figure, cupping your cheek as he sat down. You smiled but felt like crying again. Not because of the nickname, but because Jaehyun was about to leave the city for a little while, because even though the nickname ‘ugly crier’ was filled on his side with affection and humour, you knew he called you that, because no matter how many times he begged you to quit the job that made you cry, you protested. He put his own frustration in that nickname and you understood that and never held it back against him. “Why is he keeping you hostage?” Jaehyun’s hand laid on your neck and you almost slid from the bench to your knees on the ground to be on the same level as he.

“Because I asked if I could leave 30 minutes early.”

“Fucking ba-“

“Jaehyun-ah.” you placed your palm over his lips.

“I can’t ask you to quit this shitty place anymore” he sighed even more distressed than you are. You knew this gave him so much stress too that he couldn’t deal with atop of dealing with his own work problems. “Baby, I beg you. For me, for us, if you don’t want to do this for your own peace of mind, do it for mine. If you’ll quit, I’ll do everything in my power to take you with us on tour. We’ll get to travel the US, together. Please? I don’t want you to stay here, crying on your own when neither i or Taeyong can be around. Please, Y/n. I can’t leave you in this state.”

“And how are you imagine this? Where am I going to get money, if I’m going to mindlessly travel the US for a couple of months? Who’s going to pay my rent?”

“I’ll work this all out, I promise. You’ll find a better job once we’ll be back. God knows what will happen next year. Maybe we’ll have even less time together than now. I would never ask you to drop your career for me but this place is ruining your nervous system. We’ll take this as a break, okay?” you nodded without even resisting him for a second. “You agree?” Jaehyun asked confused. “After all those months of asking you just agree with me in a minute?” he chuckled amazed.

“You should’ve just begged earlier.” you smirked at him and Jaehyun gasped, pulling your head closer for a kiss. Your head collided with his cap, forcing for it to fall back onto the ground. You chuckled through the kiss and let go of him so he could put it back on. “And what if they’ll not allow for me to tag along?”

“I’ll pay for your stay.” he said immediately, making you chuckle at his little, or not so little, flex.

You felt like that year was indeed the best year of your life. You knew that quitting that job would be a pleasure, but quitting the job and getting a chance to travel with your boyfriend and best friend at the same time felt ecstatic. You felt happy and free, free of any duties and responsibilities, enjoyed your life and hadn’t had a single thought about what awaited for you back home.

Taeyong beat into your head that being financially dependent on your boyfriend is not a crime and you are allowed to do it, especially when the boyfriend wanted to do it for you and when he did it willingly for you. At the end of the day you knew, that once you’re back home you’re looking for a job no matter what.

But pandemic hit little before you could finally find it, and the company put hiring on pause, and you found yourself locked up in one room with Jaehyun for way too many days in a row.

Pandemic hit and you found yourself cling onto Jaehyun way more than you wanted yourself to, and it wasn’t even about finance. This was an emotional cling, to an extent where you called him crying, when he had to leave you completely alone for two weeks cause of quarantine.

“Jaehyun-ah.”

“You’re breaking my heart every time you cry.” his eyes visibly saddened at the picture he saw on his screen.

“I love you.”

“Baby, I do love you too. When I’m allowed to, I’m running back to you.”

“But I need you now. Can’t I sneak in? I’ll spends those two weeks with you, I have nothing to do if you’re not around.”

“I love you and I love how attached you are to me, but I think we should be able to go through a quarantine without tears, okay?” you nodded and blinked at him.

“You attached me to yourself completely and now you’re saying that I should be able to go through this without tears. How am I going to do that?”

“What are my options? I have to calm you down.” he smiled lovingly and you looked away for your own good.

“I hate you.” you sighed into the phone and dropped your head on the pillow. “Maybe I should’ve stayed on that job.”

“Don’t overthink this. It’s already been over a year.”

“Yeah, a year.” you showed your face back on the phone. “My happiest year.”

“Mine, too. It’s not like I’m not attached to you, too, it’s not like I’m not dying to be right next to you too, you know that.”

“Maybe we’re too codependent?” you asked and Jaehyun shook his head a no.

“We’re just deeply in love. If the feeling goes away I guess we’re going to get into routine.”

“But I can’t breathe if you’re not around.”

“Then this will be a great opportunity for the both of us to lay back a little.”

You agreed on laying back, agreed that maybe personal space was still a thing even when you were in a relationship.

“Have you two considered moving together? Since you know, Jungwoo is at the dorm all the time and stuff.” Taeyong sat across you and Jaehyun, looking more like an investigator than a friend.

“Have we?“ Jaehyun’s eyes scanned your face expression with a little smile.

“No, and we won’t.” you shook your head and dropped your back against the seat.

“No, my little angels are in a fight?” Taeyong widened his already big eyes.

“Not in one that I’m aware of…?” Jaehyun ran his eyes around confused and moved his hand onto your thigh, that you gladly covered with your palm. Taeyong’s phone rang and he jumped up.

“Oh, Baekhyun hyung is waiting for me on the server, I’m sorry.” you could only see the back of his head disappear before you could reply.

“Did I upset you somehow?” Jaehyun flexed his fingers under your hold.

“I wonder how you could do that.” you smiled at him and scrunched your nose, smooching his cheek with a loud sound.

“Then it’s just a matter of principles?”

“You never said before you wanted to live with me.”

“I thought it’s an obvious next step in our relationship. We kind of been together for a while.” Jaehyun watched how you bent his fingers one by one back and forth.

“You might need a reality check, baby.” you chuckled and finally looked back at him, biting your lower lip.

“Huh?”

“Did you by any chance forget what you’re doing for a living?”

“I didn’t-“

“Then why are we even talking about this?” you smiled with the smile you knew he hated so much. Getting on his nerves wasn’t something you wanted to do.

“Should we talk about this?”

“I maybe should go home.” Jaehyun’s gaze changed and you knew you hurt him. You stood up and walked over his stool, hugging his shoulders from the back. “I know you have a schedule tomorrow.” you pecked his cheek once again.

“I don’t fucking care about the schedule when you’re acting like you’re my mom and I’m a clueless child.” Jaehyun grabbed your wrist and pushed you softly off his back, holding on to the stool with his other hand and turning around to face you ”Well, yeah, I am clueless why you said that we won’t consider moving in, but I’m not a child and you can talk to me if there’s something in between us that I didn’t notice.”

“I don’t want to be like this.” you pouted and ran your finger over his shoulder.

“Like what?” he caught your finger and held onto your palm.

“I don’t want to live like I stand a chance…” you looked at Jaehyun’s face for a split second, catching his focused gaze on you, chewing onto his lower lip nervously. “Like I stand a chance against your job.” Jaehyun gasped loudly when you finished your sentence.

“You know that I won’t put you-“

“I know, Jaehyun, I know, but I don’t want you to be like this. Once everything gets back to normal, you’re going to start travelling again, be even more busy. I’m not going to follow every one of your steps, it’s wrong. It’s like I don’t have a personality and once you’ll feel like it too we’ll fall apart. It’s inevitable, it’ll happen sooner or later anyway. If we’re moving in together I’m going to come into that place and cry, cry every time I’ll come back home and will realise that you’re not coming back too, because you’re in Tokyo or in Los Angeles, or somewhere else, I don’t know where else you could be going. It’ll be painful and I don’t want to be in any more pain than this. I already am in enough pain every time I realise we are not forever.” your fingers subconsciously squeezed Jaehyun’s.

“No.”

“I never said this because I knew you won’t like this reality, I don’t like it too.”

“No.” he stood up, towering in front of you. His hand let go of yours, taking your face into his arms instead. He stood closer, not giving you a chance to look away, letting you sink in the pained look on his face.

You swore on your own self for replying that way to Taeyong, it wasn’t really the time to have a reality check. You couldn’t remember the time you fought with Jaehyun last, usually you’d be on Cloud 9 in his presence and only get the saddening thoughts while being left alone and by the time Jaehyun was around you again, you’d get so overwhelmed there wasn’t a chance for you to feel anything except for flapping of butterflies inside of your stomach. “You’re not right and I am sure of it.” he began talking fiercely, quickly changing the manner by the end of the sentence. “Why you never told me you were hurting?” his thumb made soothing motions over your cheek.

“Because when you’re here it’s all good, Jaehyun.” you crawled your hands onto his waist and pulled yourself closer to his warm body. “Now it’s going to be all good too.” You whispered almost into his lips, allowing for him to do that last move of his neck to lay his lips atop of yours.

“I want a family with you.” he didn’t even kiss you properly before the words left his mouth. “Not now, in the future. We could work it all out, I know it’s not something I can do - being with you all the time right now, but at least I could try. I want to try being with you even if it seems like I can’t.”

“Not now because you know deep down you can’t drop everything?” you smirked, not in a cruel way, just as a statement of a fact.

“Maybe that too…” he sighed.

“I love you.” you blabbered when his words died. “That’s why I would never want you to drop the job that’s making you happy. That’s why being a family is not an option now or five years later. Maybe I’m weak or maybe I’m selfish? Or maybe you are selfish for asking me to suffer.”

“Don’t call being with me suffering, I love you.”

“I know you do, but… I guess I never realised in what fucked up thing I got myself, and I couldn’t realise for a very long time. And now I’m left with hating you and loving you at the same time.”

“So you do for real hate me?” Jaehyun looked concerned. You couldn’t work out if he took your words seriously or not.

“Only a little, when you’re purposefully taking too long on making me cum.” you said loudly to put an end to that ongoing conversation.

“What are you saying.” Jaehyun’s shy smile brought his dimples out and your heart finally began beating again, making that bad aftertaste of the previous conversation hide away.

“Are your ears turning pink?” you chuckled and raised your arm to touch them. “They’re totally pink and warm.” you chuckled at him, feeling him drag you to his room. “I didn’t know you were shy of me.”

“Yuta is behind that door.” he hissed and pointed at the door that was a meter away from you two. You widened your eyes and now full on laughed. “Are you possessed or something?” he kept on hissing, dragging you to his room.

“I’m sure he heard me moan your name before.” Jaehyun’s hands finally opened the door, and he quickly locked it behind him, pushing you onto his chest. You gladly hugged his neck, when his lips suddenly began hungrily kissing yours. “He might as well hear me moan now.” you mumbled as Jaehyun’s hand traveled down your back, squeezing your butt.

“Shut up.” his lips moved onto your jaw, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down to the column of your neck.

“Usually you ask for moans instead.”

“Oh god.” he gasped annoyed, making his tongue lick through your collarbone afterwards. You whimpered and Jaehyun’s head raised up to look at you.

“What?” you chuckled and pulled him in by his hair.

“I can’t promise that I’ll drop my job for you. I know you wouldn’t believe me, I wouldn’t believe myself either, because it is most likely a lie. And I do realise you wouldn’t ask for that in the first place.” you nodded, caressing his cheeks. “But I’m going to ask you to give me time. Because I know with time everything I want with you is going to be more possible.”

“Why are you so sure of it?” you shook your head in disbelief and chuckled.

“I know my seniors and I know their secrets.” he said too seriously.

“I trust you.” you smiled and tried your best to really trust him. Trust him that all the love you poured out won’t just go to waste one day.

“Fuck. Fuck. Taeyong I’m FUCKED.” you cried into the phone.

“What?” he was confused but didn’t pay too much attention to your cries. Once in a while you called him with something similar regarding your newly found job, but you usually didn’t act that dramatic for him to get too used to it.

“I can’t talk over the phone.”

“You committed a crime and want me to help you cover it?” he joked lamely.

“Get up and come to the cafe we were at last week.”

“The one where you threw up in the bathroom?” he giggled into the phone but heard no laugh in reply. “Okay, it’s not that funny, I’m sorry.”

“Will you come or not?” you sighed tiredly, hearing Taeyong pause his game.

“Of course I will. When?”

“Now. I’m going to leave now.”

“Okay, but everything’s fine, right? Nothing too serious I should worry about?” he suddenly spoke quieter and slower.

“I don’t know but nothing to be worried about for you for sure.” you hung up before he could say something back and left your place. The cafe was actually quiet far to walk to, but knowing that it’ll take a while for Taeyong to get there you just kept on walking.

“What happened? I literally ran out in my pyjamas.” Taeyong plopped on the couch and breathed heavily.

“Don’t shout at me, okay?”

“You cheated on Jaehyun?”

“What?” you cackled shocked but then suddenly thought that maybe it could’ve been a better problem.

“Thank god it’s not this.” he sighed relieved and dropped back onto the backrest.

“So you think I’m a cheating type of person?” You raised your eyebrows at Taeyong.

“No, I don’t think that. I just thought it because you wanted to tell me and not him. Go on, tell me what happened?”

You paused for a minute or, actually, maybe two, watching him take your glass of water to drink. You didn’t actually want him to choke, but he was being slow and you couldn’t keep your hand behind the table anymore so you just dropped it in front of him. “What? What are you trying to show me? That’s a proposal ring?” he pointed at your finger, even though it was a different hand. He gulped again, and you just moved your hand away and then he spat and attracted everyone’s attention to your table. Excusing himself multiple times at everyone who stared, he shifted his eyes blankly from you to the table in turns. “Does he know?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I just found out.”

“Then it probably most likely is wrong?” Taeyong asked hopefully and lit up. “Take another one?” he watched you reach for your bag and hide your hand in it, roughly dropping a ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests onto the table. To be exact, 13. He mouthed an O.

“Is that enough to be sure?”

“Why did you take so many?”

“Because I ordered one, but then two more because this one could’ve been wrong, and then I thought that if these two are the same I need a third one for reassurance. Then I thought that this brand sucked and I ordered a different one, but then this one was also positive so I went to the grocery store around the corner and bought everything they had.”

“Oh my god.” Taeyong simply stated.

“E-fucking-xactly.” you were ready to hit your head on the table, but this would probably attract curious eyes you didn’t need.

“You know, all of these could still be wrong… like, something’s in your urine or something.”

“I booked an appointment for tomorrow. Will you come with me?” you reached out your hand to hold onto Taeyong’s wrist.

“Isn’t it better for Jaehyun to…?”

“I won’t tell him.” you shook your head vigorously and held onto Taeyong tighter.

“Ugh… why?”

“He’s going to do stupid things.”

“Things like what?”

“Things like preparing himself to being a dad.”

“And what’s stupid about it?”

“Hey, look. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah?”

“And you’re Jaehyun’s friend too.”

“I don’t catch it.”

“Besides that, you two kinda work together. Think of it as a leader, not our friend.” he finally seemed to understand.

“You know that these two things are not really related.”

“He’s not dumb but he is at the same time capable of dumb things.”

“Elaborate.” Taeyong shifted in his seat.

“I’m just afraid he’ll quit or do some dumb shit that will ruin his life.”

“He could really do that.” Taeyong shook his head probably imagining. “But he’ll have to know at one point? I mean, he’ll notice.”

“Not if I’m not carrying on the pregnancy.”

“No.”

“Taeyong-“

“If you’re doing that, I’m telling him.”

“What would be the point if it’s done?”

“Wait, what? I’m confused. Did you do it already?”

“No, I won’t tell you now, even if I will.” you gathered the test and threw them into your bag “If Jaehyun never finds out about this, you’ll be the one thankful.”

“I’m not sure my job is winning over the fact my best friend wants to kill her baby.”

“If I’ll do it I’ll do it only for him.” you stated and Taeyong sat deeper in his seat, thinking.

“How did that even happen?” he asked suddenly meeting your annoyed gaze. “No, I didn’t mean physically, I mean how did that happen, like you two don’t use protection or what.”

“I hate this conversation.”

“We’ll you gotta tell me since it’s already started.”

“I think it’s because of that time I forgot to take the pill in the morning and only took it before bed. I heard this can lower the levels of protection, but I didn’t think it’ll literally happen like that.” you dropped your forehead on your arms that were laying over the table.

“At least now we know why you threw up.” Taeyong stated and ruffled your hair. “Note taken though, never do it raw.” he cackled loving his own joke.

“First, find yourself someone who’d do it with you at all.” you bit making Taeyong even more amused.

“Too offensive with the person that will go to the doctor with you AND keep his mouth shut before you tell him.”

“I should’ve just kept it all to myself.” you cried into your arms.

“So… I guess now we can totally say that you are, in fact, pregnant?” Taeyong watched you put the papers away.

“Yeah, except for the fact we’re not saying this to anyone.” you tried to not seem too burdened or upset. “And I mean it, Taeyong.” you threatened him with a finger.

“Since I’m the one you granted this secret to, I feel like we need to talk everything through.”

“Can you drive?” you tried your best to ignore him. Ignoring Taeyong was always your favourite option.

“Yeah, sure.” you walked over your car to plop your body on the passenger seat. “You’re not feeling well?” he asked, sitting his body next to yours.”

“I’m feeling like shit.” you snapped and dropped your hands in front of you, hiding your face in them.

“Fuck, Y/n.” Taeyong gasped and undid the seatbelt he just put on. “It’s fine.” you felt his hand get onto your back, caressing it. “People get pregnant all the time.”

“Yeah, they get that when they want it.”

“It’s not true. People get pregnant when they don’t have money, and they don’t want it in general. Or when they think it’s going to ruin their life. It’s the shock, you should tell Jaehyun. He’ll give you emotional support I can’t.”

“He’ll be shocked too and then what?” you raised your head to see Taeyong.

“Okay. Let’s go from the other way around. Do you want this baby ? Do you not want it because you don’t want to mess Jaehyun’s life or because you don’t want babies in general?”

“Because of Jaehyun.”

“Okay, then you have to tell him and see what he has to say? What if he’s like ‘yeah, get rid of that, it’s not the time’?” you widened your eyes at Taeyong. “Well in a nicer form, obviously.”

“It’s like you don’t know that he wont say anything like that in million years.”

“If he ever finds out you had an abortion he’s going to go mad and if you’ll come to him and say that you’re pregnant but now is not the time, he’ll understand you because he loves you.” Taeyong watched your eyes expectantly but you just couldn’t form words into something reasonable.

“Please drive me home.” you dropped your back onto the seat.

“Okay but please think this through.”

“Yeah.” you nodded your head and extended an arm towards Taeyong. He quickly caught it with his and squeezed it.

“I won’t tell him, I promise.” his hand pulled yours to his chest and then let go.

to: Taeyong

“I think I know what I’ll do.”

“please, don’t judge.” you quickly sent the other message.

You have thought things through, you wanted for Taeyong to know everything first.

from: Taeyong

“you’ll text or want to meet?”

“I actually want to see you.“

“come over”

“I’m home.”

to: Taeyong

“k”

When you got to Taeyong’s room, you found him play his beloved computer rolling your eyes unamused.

“When you said you wanted to see me I thought you’d at least get your butt up to open the door.”

“You know the c-. Oh, right. It changed, I’m sorry.” he pouted, standing up to get closer to you. “Who opened the door?”

“Ugh…Hae…?”

“…chan?”

“Yeah, probably, the tall one.”

“That’s Johnny.”

“I’m sorry.” you looked around awkwardly and sat down.

“How many years has it been?” he shook his head disapprovingly. “I’m giving you an excursion to meet everyone after you tell me when we’re telling Jaehyun about the baby.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling him and you’re not allowed to fight with me about it.” you added the second part seeing Taeyong open his mouth.

“Okay? Then just tell me the reason.”

“I saw him yesterday, we were hanging out and then we kinda… and I said that I forgot to take the pill, and that we can’t…” You paused awkwardly. “I said that if we’re going to do anything, I might get pregnant and he said that it’s not a problem. I was like ‘stop joking’, because I most definitely felt amusement in his voice and said that yeah we can do it but then we’ll have to do something about it, you know, if something happens.” you shivered remembering his face expression afterwards. “He then suddenly turned serious and said that if I’m somehow some day getting pregnant we’ll adjust to that and that’s that and then he just went quiet after he said ‘imagine, if you’d kill our baby?’”

“Yeah…” Taeyong nodded, somewhere in his thoughts.

“I just can’t tell him, It’ll hurt him too much.”

“So you’re just going to do it quietly?” his loud sigh filled the room. “I’ll support you, of course. But I kind of got used to the thought we’re having a baby.”

“I can’t do that either…”

“Huh?” Taeyong’s head lifted quickly to look at you.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

“Oh my god, deep down I knew you would never do that to your relationship but when you took too long to decide I kind of started doubting.”

“I really can’t, I just imagined and I can’t. It’s not the time to have the baby, but it’s definitely not something I can do. At the end of the day, it is a child from someone I love. It’s Jaehyun’s baby.”

“Exactly.” He nodded vigorously.

“It’ll be difficult at first, especially if the baby’s going to resemble him so much, but I’ll get used to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to break up with Jaehyun.” Taeyong’s eye twitched, grimacing on his face a smile that turned in confusion.

“What the-“

“I can’t ruin his life.”

“And what will you tell him when he’ll see you walking around with a child that’s probably gonna be his copy.”

“If that ever happens, it’s going to be none of his business by the time the baby walks.”

“So you’re just going to come up to him today and go ‘let’s break up’?” Taeyong seemed sceptical about every word that left your mouth. “You are willingly making yourself a single parent?”

“I haven’t thought about how I’m going to break up with him or when, but I’ll do it.”

“Just so you know, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to break a perfectly fine relationship because you don’t want to ‘ruin’” Taeyong drew brackets in the air “his career and life? Too much self sacrifice over nothing. I could tell him, you know? As if you’re scared to upset him, I’ll tell him because I worry? He’ll come up with something and then you’ll figure it out together. I’ll be the one to blame over a problem.”

“No, it’s not needed. I’ll tell him, I can do that.”

You tossed and turned in your bed through the night, felt your leg shake under the table in rhythm with some melody in your head every day you went to work. Your teeth always bit onto your lip and the way your eye twitched from time to time made it too obvious you were a ball of nerves. You had your obvious reason, but the more you postponed fulfilling what you had planned, the more it felt wrong. And no, it wasn’t the decision that felt wrong, it was the fact you let your casual relationship with Jaehyun while keeping in your mind that you had to break up with him. The thought made you sick, even so more it made you sick because this technically was all a lie.

“I wish we could’ve went out somewhere to eat.” he sighed as his body dropped onto the floor next to you. You helped him free food boxes he brought out of the bags.

“It’s fine, I’m tired anyway after the walk.” you took a quick glance at his focused gazed to hopefully stay unnoticed, but his eyes met yours anyway, leaning in quickly for a peck on the corner of your lips. “Good thing Jungwoo’s not home.” you noted awkwardly and thought how breaking up in front of Jungwoo would be awkward indeed.

“He’s staying over at his parents for two nights.”

“Did you make him leave?” you chuckled.

“No, he wanted to go back home before the comeback.”

“Oh, when is that?”

“On Friday.”

“This very Friday?”

“Yeah, I told you, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised the time passed quickly.” you could already feel Taeyong’s hands choke you if you’ll ruin Jaehyun’s mood for the comeback season.

“It saddens me that we won’t see each other as much.” his palm landed on your thigh and you suddenly realised that the two of you forgot about the food.

“It’s only couple of weeks.” you stretched out a smile and leaned over to pull out chopsticks from the bag. “Here.” you sighed and implied on you two eating, feeling on the verge of tears when Jaehyun’s hand began drawing small circles up your thigh. It’s the tingling feeling in your stomach that made your eyes water. Just a little more, just a couple strokes up and he’d touch your stomach, where the baby that was his began to grow. You wondered if he could get it somehow if he’d touch you, if the baby somehow gave him inner signals but you knew you were probably going crazy, so you pulled his hand off your leg and simply said. “Im hungry, let’s eat.”

“Couple of weeks now, and then couple of weeks a bit later on and then year-end shows. You know how it is, when it starts it’s like it never finishes.” he pursed his lips apologetically and you thought that maybe it’s a good thing. Work will keep him busy and you’ll just cope with it somehow on your own. “Remember I told you about the concert?”

“Mmh.” you nodded but refused to look at him. Looking at him made your insides turn and it wasn’t the best feeling.

“We’re going to have solo stages this time, I thought I’ll do the song I wrote for you.”

“No.” you spoke as soon as the last sound left his mouth.

“I knew you’d say that.” he chuckled and put the chopsticks away, leaning more onto his bed.

“You said it’s the song for my ears only, now you’re thinking of showing it to all of your fans… I want it to still be special.” you couldn’t keep your eyes on the wall anymore and turned to face him. Your heart screeched as your gaze ran over his warm smile.

“Okay, I won’t.” he smiled knowingly, stretching out his hand towards you. You were thinking you should move away, but your body weren’t used to dodging Jaehyun’s touch, so you just froze, feeling his fingers snake over your nape, pulling your face in front of his. “But now I have zero ideas of what should I do.” he whispered before kissing you softly. He didn’t try to move away and you kissed him back - slowly and softly.

“Didn’t you write things before that?” you pulled him back when you could feel his mood change to the one you were hoping to avoid.

“I did but they’re not good.”

“Maybe you’ll get inspired to write something new?

“I need it by the end of next week. And I don’t feel like anything inspiring could happen to me.” you looked him in the eyes, wondering if you should tell him what you wanted to right now. A broken heart was a great inspiration to write songs, you thought.

“And I thought I’ll forever be your muse.” you raised your eyebrows playfully and looked away. Joking would probably be better, for at least now. A little more time in peace won’t hurt anybody.

“Now I feel bad.” he stated and dropped his head to look at the ceiling.

“I was kidding.”

“I know, but still.” Jaehyun outstretched his hand to pull you to his side. You crawled over to him, moving the food out of the way. Your hands hugged his waist automatically, loosing your face in the crook of his neck. Jaehyun hugged your shoulders and you trembled a little in his hands. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that he can actually take the song because you’d die to hear him sing it on stage. You wanted to tell him that you don’t want to leave, you wanted to ask him to stay together before the day of the comeback comes, but alol that left your lips was a gasp. You gasped and moved your hands from his waist onto his neck, hugging him so tightly, that if you were a little bit stronger you’d probably break his bones. I love you, I love you, you cried in your brain but couldn’t say it loud. Maybe Taeyong was right, maybe you were sacrificing too much over nothing.

“Baby.” he cooed and it took so much in you to not cry. “I know you’re against it so much, but I talked about this with Taeyong and he says it’s okay if we’ll live together.” his hand caressed your back, he wanted to look you in the eyes, but his words only made you breathless, you didn’t want to see his face. You didn’t want him to see your face. “I’m not forcing you, but even if it’ll be the ghost of me in that apartment it’s better than not seeing you at all.” you thought how could you make him stop talking, you scrunched your nose and rubbed it against his neck. “Baby, are you glued to me?” he chuckled and forcefully pushed you off him to look at you. “Or you’re hiding from what I said?” you looked at his ears to not look at him. “At least consider it, okay?”

“Okay.” you nodded, feeling Jaehyun get his lips on your jaw.

“I really want you.” Jaehyun whispered into your ear, moving his body closer to yours. His hand forced you onto his lap before you could come up with something to refuse him. You couldn’t think of a thing to say even when his lips trailed a line from your jaw behind your ear. You couldn’t remember the time when you refused him at all, couldn’t remember what people could say when they didn’t want their partner back. Probably, because you wanted him back so much you couldn’t think at all since the moment his palms landed on your thighs. Jaehyun’s fingers tugged the turtle neck you wore higher and you caught his hands mid action. His eyes opened and you looked at him too.

“Leave it on.” you mumbled quickly, hoping Jaehyun wouldn’t put too much attention to it and he didn’t, locking his lips with yours once again. He was moving his hands over your body swiftly, forcing a gasp from you as his

hand undid your bra under your turtle neck, moving to the front, cupping your breasts. His tongue slid into your mouth as you gasped, and all the courage you built to tell him no flew out of the window. Your fingers gripped onto his nape, fidgeting your body on his lap when his fingers caressed your stomach. It made you feel like he knew and you cried into his mouth. Jaehyun took it as a cry of want, moving his hand lower, undoing the button on your jeans, slipping his fingers to caress you through your underwear.

“Jaehyun-ah.” your lips left his in a moan. You already could feel a bubble of pleasure in your lower stomach and you couldn’t understand if this was the effect of pregnancy or you realising it’s the last time you’ll ever feel his fingers on you. His fingers moved past your underwear allowing for him to feel the swell and wetness of your heat.

“Do you love me this much? It makes me happy to know you’re still into me as much as you were back in the day.” he chuckled satisfied, slipping a finger inside of you. Your hips began their paced moves to meet Jaehyun’s hand half way. You felt him get hard under you and the feeling made you even more drunk on him than before.

“I want to go home. I’m going to cum.” you cried, squeezing your eyes tightly. “Jaehyun, please. Don’t let go, please.” you moaned on the verge of tears, mixing your words with whispering profanities. Jaehyun watched you with his eyes wide open. He couldn’t believe how vulnerable you’ve suddenly gotten, how easily you were a crying and moaning mess in his arms tonight. He wanted to pull back and feel you cum over him, extracting his hand, but you didn’t open your eyes to watch him, you just began rubbing yourself against his now hard length. Jaehyun panted as he felt the pleasure too. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and he sucked onto it, kissing you deeply. The kiss made your core throb, making you get closer to your release. Your fingers blindly found Jaehyun’s hand that now was helping you rub your thighs against his, forcing it to go back inside your underwear, to rub your clit in shaking circles instead. And he did so, sending you over the edge in minutes. Your hips stopped moving, feeling his fingers caress you through your high. You hated the feeling on your overstimulated heat, forcing his hand away from you. You dropped your body against Jaehyun’s to catch your breath. “I want to go home.” you mumbled the only thing that came to your mind.

“Right now?” he asked confused, forcing you to raise your head at him. “What happened?” he asked softly, trailing the tears off your cheeks. “You don’t usually cry.”

“Yeah, I want to go home right now.” your words confused Jaehyun to the extent you felt him get turned off. It was for the best, you thought to yourself.

“That’s… you can stay, Jungwoo’s not coming back.”

“I know, but I still want to go.”

“I thought we could…ugh… I just…” he seemed to glitch for a minute and you felt more awkward with every passing second that you didn’t tell him you wanted to go before it got sexual. “You just came off my hand a second ago and want to go home immediately? I thought we could have actual sex and then see what’s up? It’s not even about sex, I just feel wrong now.”

“I messed up the pill schedule, I’m sorry.” you slid off his legs and quickly buttoned up your jeans.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For not having sex with you.” you mumbled thoughtless, only realising how stupid it sounded when you closed your mouth.

“Are you… are you insane?” he tried to shout at you, probably, but the sound that came out of him was weak and hurt. You closed your eyes in pain. Things you said pained both you and him and you wanted to hit your head on the wall right then and there. ‘Let’s break up.’ three simple words couldn’t leave your mouth and you couldn’t lift your body up from the floor too. “Let’s not fight. I probably misunderstood you. No, I did misunderstand you for sure.” Jaehyun’s fingers reached out for your palm that you moved away.

“I’ll go home, okay?”

“Y/n, come on.” he sighed breathlessly. “What are we fighting about.”

“We’re not, I said I wanted to go home even when you were touching me.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Because I remembered suddenly I have to get up earlier tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll walk you back home.”

“I’m going to take a taxi.”

“Okay, I’ll walk you down to the taxi.”

“You don’t need to.” you got your lips in a thin line. “I need to see Taeyong on my way.”

“I can’t get the feeling off my chest that something’s wrong.”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything, I’m serious.” you suddenly said, squeezing his palm that was resting over his knee.

“What exactly are you thanking me for?” he furrowed his eyebrows again.

“You fool, not for what you just did for sure.” you chuckled and pecked his cheek carefully.

“I love you.” he simply said back and you hated how attentive he got at times. If he was the normal boyfriend he would’ve not noticed how weird you felt inside. Jaehyun’s hand moved under yours to hold it. “I trust you and I trust that you would tell me if anything was wrong.” he whispered and kissed your knuckles. You nodded your head not being able to lie to him verbally. He leaned in and kissed you goodbye.

“Bye-bye.” your fingers let go of him. You stood up slowly and walked to the door. You felt your lungs starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to look back at him and send him a flying kiss but warm tears streamed silently down your face without your contest. You walked out quickly, closing the door behind you, dragging your feet to exit as quickly as you could, just in case Jaehyun would want to come out and say something else.

“Taeyong, I couldn’t.” You cried into your phone as soon as he picked up the phone. “Are you home?” you got the unsatisfactory answer of a no. “I can’t tell him I don’t love him anymore in his face. I can’t hurt him at all. How do I do it?”

“I can’t think right now, I’m kind of busy, I’m sorry, but if you decided on doing it, just do it. Maybe it’s better to do it now, while he’s going to be busy.” you felt warm breeze of early autumn hit your wet face as you got outside. You thought how Jaehyun talked about being busy for upcoming months. Maybe it was indeed the best timing to do it now.

“Okay, you’re right.” you just sighed into the phone.

“I’m here with you.” Taeyong said warmly, even though by the tone of his voice you could tell he was completely distracted. “I have to go though, text me if anything happens.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” you nodded and swallowed the tears you held back to be able to talk.

You quickly found Jaehyun’s number in your phone. You didn’t realise until you dialled it that your heart was beating in your ears. You didn’t realise until you called him that your hands turned into sweaty mess, making your phone slip out of your hands.

“Yeah?” he asked worriedly. “Did you forget something?”

“No…” You gulped so loudly it probably was heard on the other side of Seoul. “Let’s break up.” the world began spinning around you but you still tried your best to walk forward.

“What?” he asked and it made you feel like he couldn’t hear you the first time and you almost backed down. “Break up?” so he did hear you, you thought. “You’re still here? I’ll come down.”

“No, I’m far.” you couldn’t pretend you weren’t crying anymore, so you just let him know about it.

“If you want to break up, why are you crying?”

“I worry about your heart.” you whispered into the phone.

“I want to see you. If you’re far, then I’ll just come to your place.”

“No, Jaehyun. Do you hear me? I’m breaking up with you. I don’t want to see you, hear you. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“I’m going to hang up and you’ll call me tomorrow, when you’re feeling better. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened, okay?” he pleaded, you could feel the tone of his voice turn into a worried one.

“No, there’s no need. Nothing’s going to change tomorrow.”

“Why?” he sighed painfully for your ears and you squatted in the middle of the street.

“Nothing’s there anymore.”

“Nothing’s there anymore? Are you kidding?” you could hear him getting worked up and it actually made you feel better. You wanted him to be mad, it was a good thing he didn’t hide his feelings. You wanted him to hate you, it would be easier if he won’t reach out to you himself. “You were kissing me ten minutes ago. You were next to me, you were holding onto me so tightly because nothings there? Come back. I’m coming outside.”

“Jaehyun.” you cried tiredly. “I don’t want to fight. I’m sorry I couldn’t say this into your face. I felt bad, but breaking up over the phone is probably even worse. I’m so sorry.”

“How can I not fight with you when you’re saying insane things? I know you love me, I love you. I don’t have any other options than to fight with you for us.”

“I…” you wanted to fall on the asphalt and lie there dead. “I don’t love you anymore and that’s the problem. I have nothing else in me to give you.” you lied with closed eyes, pushing your fist onto the ground, making it hurt with the way asphalt bits got into your skin.

“I don’t believe you. There’s no way.”

“Jaehyun, don’t be a child. I don’t love you and that’s it. I couldn’t tell you in the face because I knew you’ll throw a scene. Let’s be grown up about it and let each other live. People break up, its normal.”

“I… I…” his breathes were so heavy in your phone, they weighed you down closer to the asphalt. You could hear doors slamming and other movement. “Don’t fucking move, I’m going outside.” he said quickly and you realised what all those sounds were. You could hear the lock of their door and you hung up on him, running away like a stupid child. You were in fact a stupid idiot, at the end of the day. You walked inside a Seven Eleven around the corner, keeping your eyes on the door. The shop was pretty close and you could see Jaehyun run out of the building, looking around. He walked forward, moving his head around unstoppably, hiding from your view as he walked, making the shiver run down your spine. You were scared because you feared he’d pop out of somewhere behind you and will force you to talk with him. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath, barely breathing when your phone vibrated.

from: Jaehyun

“I’ll come to your place”

“we need a conversation”

to: Jaehyun

“No.”

You almost hid your phone in your pocket, when you realised you could text him to calm him down.

“I’ll text you later on and we’ll talk, okay?”

“I feel like we need time to process everything and chill out.”

from: Jaehyun

“okay”

You didn’t want to admit this was a lie. You didn’t want to admit this to him or you, but you knew you wouldn’t want to meet him ever again. You knew it’ll be too painful to even feel his existence somewhere not far from you.

You saw his figure walk back to the house and sighed relieved. He squatted suddenly in front of the house, hiding his face in his arms for a minute. You suddenly remembered how you pushed your hand into the ground, laying your eyes on your hurt knuckles.

You knew it would be too perfect if you’d just listen to him play, leave the cake and go back into embrace of your best friend. That’s why, when your phone vibrated and made the loud noise spread through the wall you didn’t feel too surprised. You knew something was meant to happen. You still gasped, quickly moving your feet to run away, but the sound of Jaehyun opening his door was too vivid to ignore.

“Y/n.” he said softly and you stopped on your tracks. “I can see you, just in case you think you’re invisible.” he sighed when you just froze.

“Yeah, I know.” you suddenly spoke back, turning around.

Yeah, that’s exactly watch you feared. Seeing Jaehyun with his hair band, a sleeping t-shirt that was too big and too stretched out, making his skinny shoulders and collarbone visible to your tired eyes. His plaid baggy pants hiding from you his legs, thankfully.

“I brought the cake for guys to eat later.” you pointed to break the silence and stop staring, when your eyes landed on the cake still being on the table, remembering how you wanted just to eat it and leave. You should’ve definitely opted for that decision, you sighed. “I’m sorry I bothered you… I’ll go.”

“Yeah.” he nodded and you hated it and was thankful at the same time he let you go so easily. Now, and five months ago, too. You turned your back at him, walking to the exit in peace. “You still owe me a conversation. We never spoke…” he paused and you turned around at him once again. You should’ve not jinxed it. “About us… and how we broke up and things.”

“I… I remember.” you smiled awkwardly.

“When will you be ready to talk to me?” he asked too politely and you almost burned on the spot.

”I am.” you suddenly said and his eyes got wider.

“Like, now…?”

“Yeah, let’s talk now if that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” he nodded but didn’t move. You stood there in front of him not moving too. “In my room? For people not to bother us?”

“Okay.” you nodded and he turned to walk back, waiting for you to catch up with him.

He lead you in. The room, you have actually never been to it yet. Moving to a new place, you heard from Taeyong that they finally all got personal rooms, but it was the only information you got on their new living arrangement. “Fancy.” you smiled to yourself as you walked in. The room was more spacious and was his, which already was enough for it to be perfect in your eyes.

“Thanks.” he replied making you realise you said it out loud.

He sat on his bed and you sat next to him awkwardly, fixing your clothes on your stomach nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry I eavesdropped. I heard you play that song and to be honest… I got a little angry… and walked to the door to tell you to stop.” you spoke as the room felt too quiet in a stupid way.

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t think about me in any way.” you admitted.

“That’s not something you could decide for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, I’m sorry for everything. For the mess I caused and spread all over your live.”

“At least you were honest, right?” he chuckled painfully.

“Yeah… at least a great song came out of it, right…?” you raised your eyes to look at him and he caught your stare confused. “The solo stage at the concert? Isn’t it…? I’m sorry if it’s not and I put too much on my shoulders.”

“No… you’re right.” you shivered realising that all the references you made up in your head were actually completely correct.

“It really is beautiful. Regardless, who it’s about.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“But you let the world see it anyway.”

“Because I had no other option.”

“No, because it’s good.” you smiled at him, making your lips go in a thin line. You hated how your conversation was turning into a weird battle of compliments towards Jaehyun.

“This song doesn’t even matter.” he said and looked away from you once again. “I don’t even know what to start with.”

“I owe you so much explanation, I know.”

“So, you found out you’re pregnant, realised there wasn’t anything for me in you and broke up with me, got rid of the baby and that’s it for the history of us?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to speak about it like that.” your entire chest felt caged.

“I can’t let you leave me for another five months. I’m in pain too. I still love you, I still think everyday about the fact you were pregnant with my baby. It wasn’t someone’s, I could’ve been a dad.” you hid your hand in the pocket of your hoodie. It helped you hold onto your stomach without Jaehyun noticing. “I need to hear you and I want to hear you. Four years, Y/n, four.” you closed your eyes hearing him speak, crying silently. I still love you too, you wanted to cry into his mouth. “I want to know what you knew about our baby, even if it’s not with us anymore, too.”

“I’m not a monster.” you whispered through tears.

“I know, I know.” he quickly said, focusing his vision on your dropping tears. He didn’t dare to touch you and you were thankful. You couldn’t bare if he held you in his arms again.

“I only did this for you. For you to still be here, not ruining your life because of me.”

“How could being with you ruin my life? We were together for so long, yet you… Why did you decide this for me?” he kept his voice low, not getting worked up even if you wanted him to.

“I… when I found out I was pregnant, I knew immediately that we can’t be parents. You’re an idol and I’m not strong enough to bare with being a mom when you’re not around.” his breathing got so heavy it almost was louder than your speaking.

“I knew the moment I found out about the baby it all happened because of me.”

“What?”

“I didn’t give you enough reassurance. I didn’t give you enough in general, to make you sure that I’ll take care of you and our baby. You ran away because I didn’t make you feel secure and I didn’t seem like a reliable guy for a dad, I know that.”

“That is so not true.”

“Please… just…” he spoke slowly but couldn’t seem to form a sentence.

“I was weak and scared. It’s no one’s fault, not yours, I mean. I know you’re caring and attentive and always give your all.”

“I was just always wondering if you broke up with me because you really didn’t love me, or because you found out you were pregnant and didn’t feel like I was right.”

“It’s not that you weren’t right, Jaehyun, please. I didn’t want you to do something stupid for me, that’s it.”

“But why did you get rid of the baby and me?”

“I decided on abortion, but Taeyong said that you’ll hate me forever if you’ll find out I got rid of the baby without even telling you. I agreed, and later I realised I can’t do that at all. I’m not cruel to kill the baby in general, especially when the baby is yours. I wouldn’t be able to kill the baby of the man I loved. So I thought I’ll break up with you and that way you’ll get a chance to get over me and live your life how you should.” you suddenly spoke all the truth, instead of what you were rehearsing for the past months.

“But then realised the baby was putting too much weight on you and decided against it?” he looked you in the eyes but you just stared back. You weren’t strong enough to talk with him about it. “When did you find out about the baby? When did it conceive?”

“I found out in the end of August. It’s due in late April or May. I mean, it was due… I think I got pregnant when we went to Yangyang-gun. We were sleeping through the day and I didn’t take the pill and then… and then everything happened.”

“Yanyang is my favourite memory with you.” Jaehyun suddenly said and you couldn’t help but smile through tears. Yours was every single moment you spent right by his side. “I’ve never been to Yangyang before… and I guess I won’t ever go there to keep things that way.”

“I said everything…” you concluded suddenly wishing to leave. You were slowly sinking into Jaehyun’s presence and it feared you to death. “I should probably go. I’m sorry.” you added another excuse quickly. You wanted to reminisce with him, but reminiscing would lead to even more pain. He didn’t speak back and you stood up, walking to the door.

“Remember how everything started?” of course you did. “You were working at that shitty job. You’d ask me to come over every time you felt too pressured and stressed. I ran to you because I was so hopelessly in love with my friends best friends and I couldn’t tell anyone.” you could hear him get up and soundlessly walk towards you. His fingers landed on your shoulders and held softly. “Can I ask for a favour?” he whispered into your hair, leaning closer. You were frozen but realised you needed to give him an answer, so you gave him a nod. “Can you turn around?” his body moved a step back. You could feel it with the way his body heat left your back. Jaehyun’s fingers let go of your shoulders and you guessed he was expecting to see your face. You didn’t really want to see his face. And you didn’t want to really miss a chance to look at him up close, no matter what he’ll ask of you. You gulped and turned around, meeting his teary eyes with yours. You wondered who looked sadder out of you two: the one who was left or the one that left. “Now… are you, happy?” you squeezed your eyes to not cry out loud in his face. No, you weren’t happy, and he didn’t need to ask it out loud, because it was too obvious for your own good. You didn’t notice how his hands suddenly got onto your cheeks, being too preoccupied to not choke on your tears. You didn’t need a second to guess what he wanted to do, but you still hoped he wouldn’t.

He leaned in, quickly killing the space between you two and locked your lips with his. You wanted not to kiss him back, to be careful about it and not sink back in, placing your hand on his waist. You wanted to push him back but somewhere between your gasps and silent cries of his name into his mouth, your hand pushed his body closer to yours. It’s when one of his hands left your cheek and crawled down your side, under your hoodie and onto your stomach to touch your body once again, when he felt it.

“You’re pregnant.” he gasped shocked. His hand froze onto the bump and you wondered when did you lose all of your senses. “You’re pregnant.” he said once again, as if finally realising what he had said.

“I’m not.” you said and pushed his hand off you.

“You are. Take your hoodie off.”

“Jaehyun.” you raised your brows at him.

“Take it off, you’re pregnant.”

“You’re a maniac, calm down.” you chuckled nonchalantly.

“You didn’t kill my baby.” his brain seemed to lose all of the connection it had with reality. “It’s there, it’s in you.” he dropped onto his knees making you squeeze into the wall. His hands pulled your clothes up without your consent and before you could tell him to collect himself he wrapped his hands over your very small bump. “Is it… okay? Why is it so small?”

“This can happen.” you gulped when his lips touched the skin of your stomach. You felt like you could slide down the wall this very moment. “It’s completely fine and healthy.”

“Hi, baby.” he whispered and peppered kisses over your belly button. “She tried to hide away the fact you were existing.”

“Jaehyun.” you mumbled feeling yourself crying once again. He raised his eyes at you expecting of what you’d say. “It’s a girl.” your heart stopped beating and instead you could hear his heart beat so loudly and quickly. She kicked your stomach and Jaehyun’s face expressed something between death and ecstasy.

“She feels that it’s her dad.” he smiled so purely you wanted to disappear. You couldn’t believe these were the things you took from him, the memories you took from the both of you were weighing heavily on your back.

“Maybe just because she feels I’m not well.” you tried to put him down on earth cruelly.

“No, it’s because she wanted to see her dad.”

“Jaehyun… I need to go.” you said when your phone vibrated once again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he got back up onto his feet.

“I am… this… that you know now, it’s not meaning anything. We’re not back together all of a sudden.”

“It means everything to me. Let me do everything the way we should’ve in the first place.” his hand slid onto your palm, holding onto you tightly.

“Let’s think this through, we both need time to think things through.”

“I love you, you’re carrying my baby, what else is there to think through?”

“I need to think things through.”

“You’re just running away from me, again.”

“No, I’m not, Jaehyun-ah, I’m not.” you whispered and squeezed his hand back.

“Promise we’ll be together again. Promise to her, that her parents will be together when it’s time for her to be born?”

“Don’t manipulate me.” you bit onto your lower lip, running your eyes over Jaehyun’s face. You could tell by a single look that he wasn’t thinking at all. Euphoria was the only thing he probably felt right now. “Didn’t you hate me? At least a little, when you found out about the baby?”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying. How could I hate you, when I’m the reason behind all those decisions?”

“I’ll go.” you sighed disappointed with his answers. You hated yourself even more now that it turned out he was hating on himself for your leaving. “I’m going to text you next week.. we’ll see, what we can do about all of this, okay?”

“Yeah.” he nodded and found a place on your stomach for his hand. “I’m going to really wait for this text, just so you know.”

“I know.” you nodded, reassuring him and you that you were very aware of his feelings.

You let him plant a kiss on your temple and forced him to separate from you, to allow you to exit his room and he stepped back, watching you go.

Your eyes suddenly noticed Marks green hoodie and you picked it up, to take back downstairs.

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andysorbit · 1 year

Text

With Love, John (M)

Summary: John is a personality all of his own. He can talk to anyone, charm everyone, and still go home with no one because he's bored of it. Bored of the blushing, tired of the smiling eyes with brows arched up in awe of him, sick to death of the strands of hair being pushed behind bright red ears because he is an Adonis among mortals. Then there's you. His ice water. The girl who makes him obsessed with a single poem because although those words aren't yours, you've opened a dictionary just for him and the words splash him and freeze him in place.

Non-idol!Johnny x Fem!reader

Andy's note: This is kinda long. I know, I know, I know. But!! It hit me a few days ago and I HAD to write it. This is my fkn baby. I put both ass cheeks into this and my ADHD-induced hyperfixation had a gorilla grip on me. I love Phil Kaye and I highly recommend you watch Phil perform Repetition here. Everything here will make sense if you do. I promise.

Genre: slight angst, mentions of childhood trauma, slow burn-ish, smut, romance, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, childhood trauma, oral sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, overstimulation, daddy kink, slight edging, dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia (blink and you’ll miss it), slight katoptronophilia 🪞 (blink and you’ll miss this too), praise kink, strength kink, size kink, is Johnny boy an overindulgence of the kind of man I want? Yes and idgaf.

Playlist: Close to You - The Carpenters, It’s The Falling in Love - Michael Jackson, Feelin’ You - Jesse McCartney, Cave Me In - Gallant, Tablo, Eric Nam, As It Was - PREP, From Eden - Hozier, I Feel Good All Over - Stephanie Mills, Punch Drunk Recreation - Jesse McCartney, NFWMY - Hozier, Like Real People Do - Hozier, Play Me - Taemin

You're flat.

Deadpan and cold like the ice cubes in your coffee on days when the sun refuses to set and you just want to leave.

You never know why you want to leave.

It's boredom.

Dissatisfaction.

Wherever you are, you just want to leave and when you do leave, you always want to go back to the place you left.

It's a pattern of boredom.

Of missing your friends and counting the minutes until you can get away from them the minute they're around you.

Of reading books and skipping to the end because you don't have the patience to take your time finding out what will happen.

A spoiler never ruined anything for you.

You wish life could be that convenient.

You wish you could skip to the end to see if this shit that feels more like poorly written filler actually has a point or if you're an NPC set up for everything yet destined for nothing.

The tall guy comes into the store on an evening that feels exactly like every other evening and you think it's Wednesday until Ningning tells you that it's actually Friday and you grunt because it's just that bad.

"Excuse me. Could I talk to you for a minute?" the tall guy asks you.

"Yeah... just gimme a minute," you mutter as you finish updating the inventory and Ningning is star eyes and nerves as she fixes her shirt and tucks a lock if hair behind her ear.

He's not that cute.

"What's up?" You ask as you turn to him.

"I noticed that you read a lot. Could you recommend me a book? I'm running out of things and I've picked some duds lately," he says and his voice is like sex and candy and crushed flower petals.

"What genre?" You ask him.

"Any kind. Doesn't matter." He replies as he shifts nervously.

"Date and Time. Phil Kaye. Come on, I'll grab you a copy. Ningning, stay on the register," You say and walk off.

The tall guy follows behind you and as you navigate the narrow paths of the bookstore lined with high bookshelves you know he thinks you're pretty.

It doesn't matter to you though. What does being pretty do for anyone? Nothing if you don't meet the right people.

You turn a corner and pull the book off the shelf, "Here. It's one of the best books I've ever read," You say as you place it into his hands.

He examines the book, "Really?" he asks.

You nod, "You can feel free to sit and skim it if you want."

"I'm John by the way," he says and smiles at you.

"Y/n. If you're trying to steal it, I will punch you in the throat," You say and turn to head back to the registers.

"No- I... I just think you're beautiful," he says and drops his gaze for a moment.

You highly doubt the glare you're giving him really has him that flustered but he's good at pretending.

"So did every man that's ever fucked me over. Get in line." You say as you turn and make your way back to the front of the store

Ningning quits when she finds out that a swanky fashion store at The Oculus in Tribeca hired her.

You're not upset.

She's not really a book-selling girl.

She likes fashion and rich boys who drive fast cars. She hates her roommate Minjeong and working in The Oculus is her step up. It's a higher wage and a step closer to an apartment she can share with her rich boyfriend and not with the girl who may or may not be moving up in the fashion industry a little bit faster.

You don't think Minjeong is a bad person but Ningning is young and one day, she'll see it too.

You post a 'now hiring' sign in the window, one on the counter between both registers, one by the lounge, and one on the patron bathroom door then pray someone worth their salt inquires before the day is over.

This isn't even your fucking shop.

It was your friends until it wasn't. She dreamt of opening a book store and you didn't. You had no sense of direction and were more than content to just work for her. She met some guy named Yuta and you didn't even know the shop was in your name until the mail started coming in.

She signed everything over to you and disappeared. The letter she left is as theatrical as she is. Repetition is her enemy just as it is everyone's but she, like Ningning, likes rich boys who drive fast cars and she fell in love with a rich boy with a fast car who drove her away from you.

Her letter begged you not to hate her and it also begged you not to look for her and you still roll your eyes when it crosses your mind.

John, the tall guy, comes in and he smiles, "So... you're hiring?" he asks eagerly.

"That's what the sign says, right?" You grunt.

"Can I apply?"

The air is thick and his eyes pierce yours. "Don't you have a job?" You ask him flatly.

"I did but... now I don't," he replies with a shrug.

"You know how to work a register?" You ask.

He nods.

"You know how to make coffee, tea, and espresso?" You ask him.

He nods, "I literally worked at a coffee shop I'm like... Michael Jackson with beverages. I got this and I already know my way around the store," he replies with a smile.

He's probably never heard the word 'no' in his life.

"Fine. You fuck up, you're fired. This is my store so I'm HR. The last guy I hired liked my ass. He touched it and I put his face through the fucking counter. Do your job, keep your hands to yourself, and if you're looking for love, download Hinge. Girls come here to read, not to get hit on," You say.

"I doubt anyone who comes in here is as pretty as you are but okay," he says coyly.

"I come here to work, not to get hit on. Do it again and you can go back to that coffee shop. What's your availability?" You say as you take a tablet off the back counter. You navigate the prompts to get him registered.

"Whenever. Just no weekends." He says as he pokes around with the register prompts. The cash drawer jumps open and he slams it shut, "I can definitely work the register," he says proudly.

You nod, "Hooray. The store opens at eight, closes at six. That's a full shift. Monday through Friday. You get twenty-five bucks an hour. Breaks are paid because it just randomly gets too busy for one person to handle everything alone but there's plenty of downtime in between for you to recoup. You got an emergency? Let me know. Jisung, Chenle, and Yeri work weekends. If one of them can't make it, you or I will come in for them. I'll probably send you in. Get a set of keys from the cubby under the register."

You pause and wait for John to get the keys. Once he does, you continue,

"It has three keys. Front door, closet, employee restroom. There is no back stock room. If it's not shelved, we don't have it. Also, the customer isn't always right. If someone's being a bitch, you can tell them. Fist fights are fine but don't destroy my shit. A guy named Jonghyun comes in sometimes. Never charge him full price for anything. I will fire you if you do. He's an angel and we will move heaven and earth to keep him happy." You explain.

"Is he your boss?" John asks. "Nope. He's just the only man I've ever met who doesn't turn my stomach and he's really wonderful." You reply.

John nods.

The patrons browse silently and you pass the tablet to John, "Fill this out. I'll approve it tonight and you're all set." You tell him and take a minute to sip your coffee.

John taps in his information and his hands are beautiful.

You stare at them for a moment before he interrupts you to inform you that he's finished, "Thanks, Y/n," he says.

"It's fine," You say casually.

John is chatty. It's not a bad thing but you don't talk much unless you're familiar with people and your social battery is still drained from going out for drinks with old college friends the previous night and listening to how much they envy you. They're all in long-term relationships, traveling every holiday, and living. How could they envy a life that's as thrilling as dryer lint?

As the days turn onward, you find that John is a splash of color to your grey backdrop.

You don't lose track of the days anymore, you look forward to drinking his coffee and teas, and you like listening to him tell you about himself.

You've learned that his family is short and that nobody expected him to grow to be well over six feet tall but his mom cheated on her husband with the really tall man who gave her a really great deal on a 1995 Chevy Cavalier.

You also learn that he played basketball in high school and college and could've gone pro but he hated it and just liked the attention from girls.

Your favorite newfound story is that his mother confessed the affair and that led to you to learning that his biological father, wasn't entirely a bad guy despite the circumstances and he gifted John a 2013 Jeep Wrangler that he still owns.

John likes to read, he likes cheap wine, samosas, and nineties video games. He prefers savory foods over sweet ones and his favorite thing about his new job is that he can get home to watch Wheel of Fortune on time.

"Date and Time is... really good, Y/n," John says on a snowy Valentine's Day morning. You nod and pretend not to notice the small heart-shaped box and a card in the cubby under your register, "What's your favorite poem?" You ask him softly.

For the first time, there's no bite in your voice; no vocal defense to continue building an invisible barrier to separate you.

"Repetition," he replies.

You stop reviewing the orders for the day, "Why?" You ask.

"Because... I don't know... it's pretty relatable I guess? Sunsets are just six PM now and I don't remember why I wake up anymore," he says and smiles bashfully.

You nod in agreement.

Phil fucking Kaye is a man who wrote your life story and never met you.

A man whose words hit you as if he called you out in a room full of everyone you've ever known and read your browser history aloud is bonding you to some guy you're not even sure you really even like.

"It's my favorite too," You pipe up, "My parents got divorced when I was younger but... they never fully separated. They co-parented under the same roof and it was just as bad as it sounds. All the other kids with divorced parents envied me but they didn't know how hellish it was and I was in the middle of it all. Sometimes they'd give each other the silent treatment for days and vent to me. I learned more about them than any kid should know about their parents and..."

You trail off and smooth out your sweater. John's interest is peaked and you don't feel like stopping yourself,

"Life became a game of repetition. Tense silence, being silently dragged in two opposing directions, never inviting friends over... after a while, I stopped calling it a bad life... it just became home life. After a while, hearing 'your mother is a selfish bitch' just becomes like anything else you hear. 'Time for dinner', 'your father's a liar', 'I never wanted kids', 'make sure you stay away from boys', 'I love you, kiddo'... all starts to sound the same."

John nods, "I get it. My stepdad- the guy I thought was my dad until the growth spurts started, made us do family therapy with my real dad. My mom broke their hearts. My dad didn't know she was married and my stepdad convinced himself that she only did it because she knew he'd give her a cheap deal on purchasing the car." John says with a frown.

"Did he ever come to grips with it?" You ask.

"Yeah... then he killed himself," John deadpans.

You gasp, "Oh shit. I'm sorry," You say and John just shrugs.

"I hear that a lot. It doesn't mean anything anymore. Like... what are you guys even sorry for?" he laughs humorlessly and turns to the registers, "You gonna stop pretending you don't see that?"

You sigh and give him a weak smile, "I didn't get you anything. I'm sorry," You say sheepishly.

"Don't be. It's not really conventional considering our 'I talk and you listen' relationship is literally just me talking and you listening. Open the card at least," he says and reaches for it.

He gently places it in your waiting hand and you open it. The pink card has a porcupine holding little red hearts in its tiny hands and beneath it are the words written:

"I think you're porcu-fine!"

You chuckle, "Really? That's cute," You say as you glance at him and notice his prideful smile,

"I finally made you smile," he says sweetly.

"The card made me smile," You object quietly.

"Come on, open it," he urges you.

You open the card and see a fifty-dollar gift card for Wine World and you smile again.

In his playful scrawl, there's a message inside the card on its white canvas:

I think you're a Moscato sort of lady. Happy Love Day, boss.

With love, John

You smile, "Thank you, John," You say quietly.

John waves a hand at you, "Seeing you smile is rewarding enough. I was beginning to think your face would crack if you ever tried to," he says.

"I feel bad for not getting you anything," You say, "I- This is really nice and I wanna thank you for this somehow."

John smirks, "You can come back to my place and we can order takeout and watch Wheel of Fortune or we could go somewhere and have dinner or... I don't know as long as we can eat together," he says as his eyes search yours.

You toss the idea around in your head. "It's not a date," You cautiously.

"Oh God forbid." He shoots back with a playful smirk.

You both opt for a Cuban restaurant and as you walk there, you realize that John lives a lot closer to the bookstore than you realized. Twenty minutes from the store and thirty-six minutes from your apartment.

"Now I'll have to bring you bagels on the weekends. Gross," he tells you as you both eat.

"You don't have to do that," You reply.

"It's more of a want. You like cinnamon raisin bagels, don't you?" he says.

You nod, "Yeah. How'd you know?" You suspiciously.

John smiles, "The way you like your coffee. Extra light and extra sweet. It was just a guess," he replies coyly.

You lean back in your seat, "Are you always so observant, Columbo?" You ask.

John nods, "Yeah. I can't help it and you're just so fascinating. You kinda remind me of Goob from Meet the Robinsons. I watch people come into the shop and they're so enamored with you- the waitress hasn't taken her eyes off of you since we got here and you just slump along... and you think you're universally despised or overlooked when in reality, everyone is in love with you and that scowl you can't seem to shake. You're an enigma."

John skirts his finger around the rim of his beer bottle and you frown, "Okay, Heath Ledger, did you practice that in the mirror while you were in the bathroom?" You mutter.

He laughs, "Of course I did. I made you smile today. Eventually, I'm gonna make you blush."

"Don't count on it." You tell him with as much conviction as you can muster up.

When the wine hits you, you feel sleepy and very cozy, "Take me home. I'm tired," You groan.

"My place or yours?" he asks teasingly.

"Yours." You say softly.

John's straightens up, "You don't mean that," he says but you know he's hoping that you do.

"Of course, I don't," You say with a satisfied smirk.

"Tease," he chuckles as he waves the waitress over for the bill.

John walks you right to your apartment door and his hand softly moves up to stroke your cheek, "See you tomorrow, boss," he says and you can see that he's also just a little too drunk.

"Will you make it home safely?" You ask him as you fish your keys out of your coat pocket.

"Yeah. I'll let you know when I get there," he says.

Before you can stop yourself, you hug him tightly, "Thank you for today. It was really good and I didn't realize how much I needed it," You whisper against his chest.

He circles his arms around you and then brings one hand up to stroke your hair, "Anytime," he whispers. He feels warm and smells good like old books, lemon balm, and aftershave.

You inhale him once more and let go, "I think I'll leave the shop closed tomorrow. We're supposed to get a snowstorm anyway. Take the day off " You say as you unlock your door.

"You got it, boss." John says as he slowly makes his way to the elevator.

You steal one last glance at him as the elevator doors close.

His brown eyes meet with yours and he winks.

Your intercom buzzes and wakes you up. "What the hell," You whine as you get up.

You practically drag yourself to the intercom, "What?" You grunt before pressing the listen button.

You refuse to react and opt to scream in your pillow once you're in the privacy of your bedroom.

"I have bagels and coffee. Let me in," John says and you can hear the wind whistling around him.

You buzz him in and run to brush your teeth. There's no time to tidy up but getting rid of your morning breath will do.

He knocks on the door and you rush to open it, "Are you insane?" You all but yell.

John smiles and if it were possible, he could beckon Spring back early.

His entire face is red and damp from the bitter bite of the wild snowstorm raging on outside.

He sets down his bag and you help him out of his coat, "I'll go put on some coffee. Jesus, John, you're a popsicle," You sigh.

You bring the bag into the kitchen and empty its contents onto the counter. Bagels, cream cheese, strawberry jam, and ground coffee.

You fight a smirk as you set up the coffee maker.

John comes in, "No funny business, hold me. I'm cold," he says as he waits for you with outstretched arms.

You stare at him unamused.

"Bring it in, mama. Daddy needs body heat," he says as he tries his damnedest to fight the playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"No," You say standing your ground.

"I'm gonna get you. Come here, you grumpy shrew," he says in a mocking voice and he inches closer to you.

He encases his arms around you and you hum, "Fine but only because you brought me bagels," You don't mind hugging him.

Surprisingly, you love it.

"Whatever the reason, I don't care," he hums against the top of your head.

He leads you in a very slow dance and you rest against his chest still groggy with sleep.

He pulls back and stares at you, "I think this is the part where we kiss," he whispers.

You fight a smile, "Okay," You whisper back. "That's all? 'Okay'?" he laughs.

"Fine. Bring it in, daddy. Mama needs a kiss. Is that better?" You say sarcastically.

Johnny presses a hand into the small of your back, "That's perfect... Good girl," he purrs.

"Oh stop it," You hiss sheepishly as you press your face into his chest.

"Are you flustered? That means you're blushing. C'mon, lemme see that pretty face," he says and his voice is coated in sex and sweetness as he pulls back to examine your face.

You know he's filing this away for a later time and you avoid meeting his eyes with yours.

"You can let all of those guards down, Y/n. I've already got you and we both know it," he says smugly.

He dips down to press his lips to yours and you believe him.

He's got you.

You let him take the lead and he kisses you so hungrily that you have to fight to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together in front of him.

"Why do you feel the need to get me?" You ask against his lips.

He squeezes you tighter to him and trails kisses along your jaw, "Because you've never made me feel special," he whispers.

"Well, no offense but... you're just a guy. Flawed and human like anyone else, why would I worship you?" You tell him.

"And that's exactly why I'm so drawn to you. Around you, I don't matter," he chuckles.

You look up at him, "You sound insane. Make it make sense," You say.

"I hit my first real growth spurt when I was ten. That's when everything fell apart and my mom confessed everything. How do you look your ten-year-old son in his eyes and tell him that the man he's been calling daddy- the man who signed his birth certificate and raised him isn't his actual father? At first, my biological dad rejected me and my stepdad cried every time he looked at me so I did what any rejected ten year old boy would do, Y/n... I made sure everyone liked me. Everyone, all the time. It wasn't hard because I was already the kid everyone liked but I just never had bad days, never had down days. I was just always smiling everywhere I went because I never smiled at home," John trails off and holds you as close as he can get.

You let him and you stroke his back, "You need therapy," You say and he laughs, "See what I mean?"

He kisses you again, "I didn't walk through a blizzard with bagels to be abused. Eat with me and then let's just sleep," he says and pulls away from you, "Come on."

You take two plates out from the cabinet over the sink, "Why didn't you drive?" You ask him.

"I hate driving when it snows," he says.

You two clamber into your living room; cups full of coffee and bagels on plates and you watch the snow wildly rip through the air. The silence is comfortable and John offers you a bite of his bagel. It's a plain bagel with a small amount of cream cheese and some strawberry jam. It's a nice change from your usual cinnamon raisin with more cream cheese than bagel.

"Am I your boyfriend yet?" he asks. It's a whisper of a question that you almost don't hear.

"Ask me later," You reply and turn to share a smile with him.

"Okay," he says and scoots over to you, "You have jelly on your lip and I would very much like to be a cheeseball and kiss it away... can I? I mean, it's not a lot so it'd be a waste to use a napkin."

You laugh and lean into him then lick your lips, "Did I get it?" You ask playfully.

"You want the truth?" he counters.

"Nuh uh," You say.

"It's still there," he whispers and leans in to slot his mouth against yours. Your stomach and chest flutter and flip.

"I think it's later now. Am I your boyfriend yet?" he hums against your lips and his tongue dips past your lips.

You nod.

John pulls away, "I wanna hear you say it."

"You're my boyfriend," You say to him and he smiles contently, "Righteous."

He gently takes your coffee cup from your hand and places it on the coffee table then guides your hands to his chest, "So we're together now. It's official," he says proudly.

Together.

After many dates and stolen kisses in the bookstore, you think you've completely fallen for John. His hands rubbing gentle circles into your back when he hugs you has become an addiction that you never hesitate to indulge yourself with. Your hardened exterior finally crumbled and you can honestly say that you love this man. He knows it but he's gentle and patient.

You shut down the registers and smile, "If you insist," You say softly.

"I do... Spend the night with me this time," he whispers as he comes up behind you.

"Too much dip on your chip, buddy," You say flatly as he turns you around to face him, "I can be convinced though."

John kisses your forehead, "We can have dinner and eat ice cream..." he kisses your lips then trails kisses down your neck, "Then I can paint your nails and we can watch a scary movie and I could hold you when you get scared."

He presses his lips to the pulse at the base of your throat and your eyes squeeze shut. "Paint my nails?" You repeat incredulously.

"I had a summer job in my cousin's nail salon for three summers," he says proudly, "I can even give you cute little decorations."

He has you as he always does and you just want to be as close to him as you can get. "Let's go then," You whisper.

You stop off at a pharmacy and pick up polish remover and a few bottles of nail polish. Pink, rusty orange, teal, and black.

"Okay, let's go see what ice cream they have," John says as his hand envelopes yours.

You let your mind wander, just for a moment, to how his hands would feel as they roamed over your body and you purse your lips.

You pass the family planning aisle and he stops, "Should we get condoms?" he asks you gently, "It's totally up to you."

You don't want to be so obvious so you pretend to think about it, "I think we should... just in case," You say shyly.

He leads you down the aisle and he actually looks nervous for a moment.

You squeeze his hand, "Well... you know yourself better than anyone," You pipe up as you stop in front of the array of condoms.

He chews his bottom lip as his eyes scan over the different boxes. He grabs a box of extra-large Magnums and you freeze in place.

John laughs quietly, "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I- I- uh- you got extra large. You know what size you picked up, right?" You babble.

John leans into you, "Yeah... I know, baby," he replies and his smile is just too delicious.

"Oh... okay then," You say and try to stay cool.

"I'll be gentle with you. I promise," h says and you all but collapse into a puddle.

After settling in and having dinner, you and John tidy up.

"Come get changed so we can do your nails," he says gently.

You nod and follow him into his room. He opens a drawer and takes out a slightly worn Keith Whitley t-shirt. "Pants or no?" he asks.

"No... I don't usually sleep in pants. Don't like it," You say as you take the shirt from him.

"I don't usually sleep in shirts," he says as he fishes sweatpants and another t-shirt out for himself. In a moment of bravery, you strip out of your jeans and sweater and fold them neatly then slip the t-shirt on.

"I was gonna give you some privacy but okay," John chuckles.

You shrug, "It's fine. It's just underwear," You say with a chuckle. John removes his clothes and you gawk just a bit.

"It's just underwear," he repeats and redresses.

You admire the Mike Nesmith t-shirt that he's wearing, "I've never seen these shirts. Are they bedtime exclusives?" You ask.

"Yeah... they've seen their better days," he replies, "Get comfy and I'll go get the polish."

You climb into his bed and inhale his fresh sheets. Your nerves send your thoughts in a thousand different directions at a million miles per hour. You inhale then exhale, "This is fine." You tell yourself.

You glance at his worn down copy of Date and Time on his nightstand and smile.

John comes back in, "Okay, let’s do this," he says as he gets into bed beside you, “Did you decide on a color yet?”

You nod, “Teal for my main color and... orange for my secondary color,” You say.

“Okay so I’ll do orange on your thumb and your fourth finger and the rest will be teal. Sounds good?” John asks as he rolls the teal bottle of polish between his hands.

“Yeah... what are you doing?” You ask him. “Mixing it. It’s better to roll the bottle instead of shaking it. Prevents air bubbles," he says and gives you a cocky grin.

“That’s cool,” You say and he leans in closer,

“Tip me for sharing my knowledge," he says playfully and puckers his lips.

You kiss him softly, “Do a good job and I’ll tip you again ” You say.

“Hold on. Let’s play some music," he says as he reaches past you to get his phone off of the nightstand, "What are you in the mood for, my love?"

You shrug, "Surprise me," You say. He pulls back and you watch him scroll for a minute. He smiles and taps his screen. Lucille by Kenny Rogers plays on the Bluetooth speaker on his dresser, "Here we go... y'know my stepdad liked country music. He had great music taste." John says.

"Did he?" You ask softly.

John nods and fond smile shines through, "I'm still curating a playlist of the songs we used to listen to... it was way too much to remember at once but every once in a while, another song comes back to me then I get to add it to what I have so far."

You smile at him, "Does it help you feel closer to him?" You ask him.

"Yeah... sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never left me" John replies and gets to work on your nails as you both share more stories.

John finishes your nails as hums along softly. "Your voice is pretty," You tell him.

He kisses you gently, "You think so?" he asks. You nod, "Yeah," You say as you pull him into a deeper kiss and he reaches behind you to put the bottles of polish on the nightstand.

"What are you getting at, huh?" he purrs against your lips. "Oh, nothing really." You reply coyly. John pushes you onto your back and stares you down, "Nothing at all?" he asks and peppers your lips and neck with kisses.

"My nails are wet, John," You whisper. "Oh right. Let me help them dry a little faster," he says and brings your hands up so he can gently blow on your nails. "John," You whine.

"They'll be dry soon. Are you wet somewhere else, baby?" he says as he eases up the hem of your shirt ever so slowly. You nod and carefully place your hands on his shoulders to prevent smudging your nail polish.

"Do you want me to touch you? I bet those pretty panties are soaking wet," he dips his hand into your panties and slowly eases his fingers past your folds, "Oh, baby... is this all for me?"

John rubs slow circles into your clit and your eyes flutter shut, "John... faster... please," You whimper. He watches you intently and you involuntarily spread your legs a bit wider. "You stay put and let those nails dry, sweetheart. I'm gonna see just how wet you are. I wanna taste you."

You've never let a guy go down on you and as much as you want it, you're afraid of it, "John... I- I- wait-"

"Baby, it's okay. I need you to trust me, okay? I promise you won't regret this. Just really want you... it's more of a need if I'm honest and if you'll let me, I'll make you feel so good,” John looks at you with hungry eyes and you nod, “Yeah... yeah,” You whisper and just like that, he’s inching down, raising your t-shirt past your hips, and hooking his fingers around your panties.

"Look at me while I do this, okay? Don’t close your eyes," he murmurs as he pulls your panties off entirely and tosses them to the side. You watch him with your hands placed awkwardly on your stomach and you want so badly to run your fingers through his hair.

He holds eye contact as he pushes two fingers into you and sucks on your clit. “John!” You shrill and he shifts to hook one of your legs over his shoulder then brings his arm around to hold you in place.

You buck your hips and throw your head back as you feel him bring you closer to the orgasm you’ve been dreaming about, “Please! Just fuck me, John... I need you inside me.” You beg and John pulls away.

He licks his lips and curls his fingers up to hit your spot, “I am inside you, pretty girl. Is this not enough? Tell me what you want,” he says softly.

“I want you to fuck me... please, John. I need you,” You beg and he sits up to take his shirt off. His toned body is all you need to stop caring about how dry your nails are and you trace your fingertips over his chest and down his stomach.

“Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/n. Feel it," he says and brings your hand down to stroke him through his pants. “Oh God, John,” You gasp. He feels huge and you’re afraid, excited, and overwhelmed all at once.

He bends down to kiss you hard, "I don't even know what I wanna do next... wanna suck your tits, wanna keep eating that pussy out, wanna turn you over and fuck you into this mattress... decisions, decisions," He purrs as he lifts you and takes your t-shirt off. He quickly unhooks your bra and flings it aside, "Shit, babe... Y/n."

He mouths at your nipples and rolls them between his fingers, "You're so gorgeous. Fuck... you like this baby?" he breathes as he presses his face into the valley between your breasts and breathes you in.

"Yeah... John... feels so good," You pant, "I can't take anymore. Please, please, please."

John laughs as he stands up, "Miss Y/n is a beggar? I never knew that. Miss grumpy little bookstore boss is begging to get slammed. Looks like you're gonna cry if I don't."

You sit up and tug at his pants, "And I will so stop fucking around and gimme it," You demand and he laughs before nudging your head which sends you falling back against the mattress. You both laugh and you reach up for him, "C'mon, please? I really will cry," You say in a small voice.

John takes down his pants and his boxers and you stare at his throbbing dick. "Oh shit," You gasp.

John smiles as he pulls you up by your hand, "Come on, beautiful. It's not so scary, right?" he says gently.

You scoff, "Yes it fucking is. Holy shit, John," You say. John laughs again, "Take your time with it. Come on. Open your mouth."

You can't deny that just the sight of him is making your mouth water despite the sheer anxiety. You try not to wonder if he'll even fit inside you but it tugs at the back of your mind.

You open your mouth and he slowly guides himself inside. He holds your head steady and slowly rolls his hips, "Such a good girl. See? You're doing great," he moans. You wrap a hand around the base of his cock and bob your head around him slowly; savoring the feel of him against your tongue and the back of your throat.

"You're so fucking pretty. God, you look so hot like this... Such a beautiful girl. Come here. I'm dying to get inside you," John says as he pulls back and pulls you up to press a hot, wet kiss to your lips before kicking his pants and boxers off.

He climbs into the bed and pulls you on top of him. He teases your clit with the swollen tip of his cock and for a moment, you want to stop and use a condom but you look each other in the eyes and silently agree that neither of you can be bothered.

He lines himself up at your entrance and you hold your breath in anticipation.

"Hey, hey... you gotta relax, sweetheart, okay?" he says as he gently strokes his thumbs against your hips.

"O-okay. Just... please be gentle," You whisper. "Of course. I promised you I would. Just keep breathing for me and don't tense up, okay? Just relax," he says warmly.

You inhale deeply and hold it for a second before exhaling and holding onto John's broad shoulders. "That's my girl," he moans as he slides into you and completely bottoms out. He stretches you beautifully as he waits for you to decide that you're ready.

You clench around him and he presses a searing kiss to your lips, "Take all the time you need," he whispers.

You can see the need in his eyes but he's patient with you just like he's always been. He kisses you again then drags his mouth over the skin of your jaw then down to the pulse at the base of your throat.

As you begin riding him, he holds you steady and sucks marks into your neck and chest, "Look at you fucking yourself on my dick. God, baby... you like that, huh?" he groans huskily.

"Yeah... I- oh fuck! I love it, baby." You pant. "Aw, you love me?" John chuckles playfully.

"Uh-huh... I do... so much." You whimper as your voice breaks.

John smiles, "I love you too, baby," he says as he grips your hips and thrusts himself into you. You cry out and wrap your arms around his neck, "Feels so good... yes, John. Yes, yes, yes- God! Please don't stop... please."

John flips the both of you over and looks down at you, "So wet baby,' he sighs as he traps your arms above your head, "You're taking me so well... like we were made for each other."

You clench around him, "I was made for this... for you to fuck me... made for you," You whimper and wrap your legs around his waist. John reaches for a pillow and positions it under your hips, "You wanna see God tonight?"

You stare at him eagerly, "I already am," You whisper and John fucks into you like his life is depending on it.

You take it and you feel him slam so deep into you that you spread your legs even wider because he just invokes something so lewd and desperate in you and he is God tonight. You worship him with each stroke and his name is a prayer on your tongue and down your throat. His eyes are your pearly gates and his hips are your hellfire.

He presses a hand down against your abdomen. He knows he's got you wrapped around his fingers and he laughs a breathless laugh, "I'm just a guy... flawed and human like anyone else. Why would you worship me?" he heaves as he gives you back your own words. "John," You squeak, "Please."

The way he pins you down drives you mad and you just want him to wrap his hand around your neck. You reach up for his hand and he gives it to you. You bring it down your lips and kiss his knuckles then bring it down to your neck, "Please?" You ask softly and John circles his hand around your throat just right.

"God, you're such a dirty girl. Let's try something else. I think you'll like it," he says as he pulls out of you. You whimper at the absence of him inside you as you let him reposition you on your hands and knees closer to the foot of the bed.

"See that mirror?" John asks as he points to his full mirror across the room. You nod. "Watch us," he says as he slides back into you.

John pulls you up and presses you back against him. One hand travels up to your neck and the other travels down to tease circles into your clit. "John!" You cry.

"Cum for me, baby. That's my good girl," he croons softly against your ear. His fingers speed up and you cum undone but he doesn't stop, "Let me know if this is too much," he moans. Your body lurches and twitches but you don't stop him. You're greedy for him and he knows it. You mew and whimper but you let him keep going.

"Is this my pussy now, baby?" he asks. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes... fuck!" You whine and roll your head back against the firmness of his shoulder.

“Gonna cum, baby... oh, baby, yes, yes... baby," he moans and his hips stutter as he fills you. “John," You choke out and he doesn’t stop.

He pulls out and turns you onto your back before easing back inside. He lays on top of you while using one arm to support his weight and you cling to each other as he milks himself into you. “God, I never wanna fuckin’ stop," he groans.

“Then don’t stop... I don't want you to stop... please,” You beg as his hips sloppily collide with yours. He dips down to kiss you

He strokes into you a few more times before you both fall limp. As you both become more grounded, John sighs, “Ah shit.”

“What, baby? What’s wrong?” You ask him softly. “I fucked my boss. That is so unprofessional” He says and smirks. “What kinda boss fucks a subordinate? That’s so slutty.” You chuckle.

“Nah, she’s not so bad. Only slutty when she’s naked. Gotta look out for those quiet ones, y’know," he shoots back.

You both laugh. John kisses your forehead, “I love you," he says gently “I love you too.” You reply.

It takes a bit of effort but you both get up, shower, and then change his bedsheets. John gets you cozy in bed and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m gonna go get a morning after pill. Wait for me?” he says, mouth lingering for a moment. You nod and snuggle up beneath his comforter.

“We can eat some ice cream when I get back,” he kisses you and heads out. You lay in the silence of his room and replay the events from earlier. You blush as you remember the feel of his mouth on you and the way he moaned your name.

You roll over and eye his copy of Date and Time before sitting up to grab it. You flip the through the lightly worn pages before falling onto the poem that drew you both closer. A loose scrap of paper marks the page and you pluck it up to read it:

I told her I think she's beautiful. She said every guy who's ever fucked her over thought the same thing. Maybe she's not mean at all. Maybe she's just tired. Maybe repetition has made her tired?

He's not wrong. You slip the paper back into its place before closing the book and holding it close to your heart for a moment. Finally, you close the book and place it back on the nightstand. He really analyzed you and came to a conclusion in the very book you sold him. You feel yourself fall deeper.

It doesn’t take him long to come back. He brings you the pill with a glass of water and you take it. You laugh as the box of condoms sit atop his dresser still sealed up. “It’s funny how we grabbed those for ‘just in case’ like we didn’t already know what was gonna go down but it’s hilarious that instead of actually using one, you ended up getting stuffed and creamed like a cannoli," he chortles.

You blush, “I foresee an IUD in my future." John smirks, "More stuffin' and creamin'? Hell yeah.," he says with a fist pump. "Really, John?" You laugh. "Really, baby," he retorts.

The heat from outside billows into the store as John comes in. He ran to get lunch as you watched the store. “It’s swamp ass out there," he sighs as he wipes his brow, “But... daddy got those fuckin’ burritos, baby.”

You roll your eyes and smile, “You’re a mess,” You laugh. He brings the food and drinks behind the counter then looks you up and down, “I really love how that dress looks on you," he says as slides his hand up the back of your sundress to grip your ass.

“Stop it, John!” You hiss reluctantly.

“Shhhh, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna know if you hush your pretty little mouth," he whispers and brings his hand around to slip down the front of your panties.

“John,” You whisper. The jazz instrumentals play over the store speakers and John pushes you against the back counter and rubs your clit slowly, “Gonna let daddy make you cum right here?” he asks into your ear.

You close your eyes and push your face into his chest, “Oh God," You whimper and he rubs you faster. “You’re so wet, baby. You should’ve told me... I would've taken care of you sooner," he purrs. You come undone and he pulls his hand from your underwear and slides them into his mouth to suck them clean, "Love the way you taste," he hums.

You laugh shakily, relived that he not only got you odd but that nobody noticed. “See? Nobody saw us and nobody heard you," he says softly.

“Confession time,” John says as you two cuddle up in the coolness of your air conditioned apartment. “Oh Lord Jesus,” You say as you sit up and straddle him.

“So uh... remember that day I came in and you hired me?” he asks. “Yeah. I do. Best day ever.” You say quietly.

He pinches your cheeks, “Well... remember how I said I didn't have a job?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah...” You say and narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “I didn’t lie or anything like that but I was on my way to work when I saw the sign in the window and... I went and quit then came back hoping like hell I wasn’t too late," he says.

You crack up, “You’re insane, John! What if you were too late?” You ask him.

“Then I would’ve crawled my sorry ass back to rhe coffee shop and begged for my job back.," he says with a shrug, “You were worth it.”

You smile and stroke his face, “Can I make a confession?” You ask. John nods. “I don’t recommend that book to everyone... Date and Time, I mean. It’s a really special book to me and I don’t just go telling everyone who needs a book recommendation about it,” You say.

John smirks, “I’ve been working in that store with you five days a week for almost two years now, sweet cheeks. I’ve never heard you recommend it to anyone. I already know but... why did you tell me about it?” he says and takes your hands in his.

You shrug, “Because when I looked at you, I felt like I was supposed to,”

He nods, “You liked me all along, didn’t you?” he asks smugly and you nod, “I did but that Valentine’s Day gift... that changed everything.”

John quirks up an eyebrow, “How?”

You stroke your thumb over his bottom lip, “The next morning, I woke up and I remembered why.”

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softsan · 7 months

Text

🖇Dare The Devil, Make Him Smile. TEASER.

MASTERLIST | MAFIA PROFILES

WORD COUNT: Approximately 35k (might end up longer tho)

GENRE: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Taeyong, Queenpin!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Childhood Friends, Betrayal, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut,

DESCRIPTION: You were the only surviving heir of the old-time Mafia kingpin that had ruled the four territories. You were long thought to be dead, living the normal life you had always wanted...Until you run into a Taeyong, a formidable ghost from your past. You are then thrown back into the Mafia underbelly, reuniting with enemies you had hoped had forgotten you. Will you run away? Will you stand beside Taeyong, kingpin of the North, and be his queen? Or will you take your rightful revenge?

WARNINGS: Possessive Themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Kidnapping, Strangulation, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters,

TAGS: Please send me an ASK if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

“Y/N!” Taeyong immediately froze, catching sight of you. His breath was labored, his arms shaking, “What are you doing here?” He scanned the surroundings, his face still contoured in alarm.

“Uh, I saw the roses” You tried to keep your voice neutral, “And I followed the hedges. Before I knew it, I’d gotten lost.”

Taeyong let out a long, worn breath, “I thought someone had taken you,” He shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry,” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

“Never go off on your own,” Taeyong reopened his eyelids, the intensity of your stare almost making you squirm, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” You said as you were told, dazed by how close Taeyong had gotten.

“Good,” He allowed himself to gently brush your cheek with the back of his hand, “Let’s go back then.”

Yebin may be still in the gardens. You reacted. She might need more time to get away from here.

“No!” You said a little too loudly, “Let’s stay out here,” You pulled onto Taeyong’s tie, to prevent him from turning back around.

Taeyong gave you a confused look, his mouth parting to say something. You immediately, yanked on his tie just as you had done earlier, and planted your lips on his. Taeyong was momentarily stunned. Your delicate fingers grasped onto his cheeks, bringing him in close.

You were a little worried, that Taeyong would pull back and question your intentions but your concerns when quelled when he kissed you back.

You felt Taeyong’s chest swell, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. His kisses were heated, and domineering, he took the lead, his tongue swiping your lips apart and entering inside your mouth. You reflexively let out a moan. You had never been kissed as such. A kiss that ignited your insides and made your knees buckle.

Taeyong halted. You blinked, taken aback by how suddenly he’d stopped. Taeyong eyes darkened, the sound you just made. He wanted to hear it again.

“Taeyong?”

His lips crashed back onto yours, encapsulating your mouth. He kissed you feverishly, his hands running down the length of your back. He pushed, closer making the two of you stumble backward, into the wall.

You could feel the feathery touch of his hands move past your hips. You made a soft noise, which incited him to lift both of your legs off the ground. Your legs instinctively curled around him, grasping him tight.

His lips broke from yours, “Y/N,” His voice husky, his tone dripping in desire.

His lips trailed down your chin, then your neck. Your hands found his hair, tugging on his locks when he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

“Taeyong,” You whined,

His chest swelled. He wanted to hear your pretty voice say his name again.

He returned to the spot—his tongue darted, licking across its surface. Taeyong latched onto your skin, the twinge of pleasure and a little bit of pain made you tighten your legs around him even more.

MONI’S NOTE: I'm so excited to finally release this and give it an ending it deserves🤗 I hope you enjoy the changes I've made too. It's been a long time coming, and I thank everyone for their patience!

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boulevardk · 1 year

Text

Fitness is Key (M): PREVIEW

- pairing: johnny x reader (f)

- genre: personal trainer!johnny / non-idol au + smut

- word count: 800

- summary: Let's face it: getting into to shape is hard. But it's a whole lot easier when you have a fitness trainer as your roommate, right? Turns out, staying focused on exercise is a little harder than you thought. Especially when you've got a certain trainer on your mind and not so pure thoughts of the things you wish he'd do to you. You're in luck, though, since the trainer has gone a work out planned that will really hit the spot.

- warnings: oral sex (f receiving), language, the slightest bit of degradation

- author note: i'm still alive. I hope to release the full fic in the next couple of days. Thank you always for your support xx

- Jay

-----

“Oh, Johnny, that’s it,” you breathe out. “Please touch me there.”

He chuckles at your desperation as he drags his fingertips down your thighs slowly. “Touch you here?” He taunts as his hands reach your knees. You shake your head and whine. “No, that's not right…” Johnny hums, pursing his lips in fake confusion. “What about here?”

Again Johnny’s hands graze past the area you need him most as you feel his large hands brush against your hips. Groaning out in anguish, you clench your fists tightly at your sides and feel the warmth of Johnny’s bed sheets beneath your skin. “Oh, I know,” Johnny gasps in mock surprise. “How about right…” he places his hand right on your mound and your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of finally being touched where you needed him most, “here.”

The man laughs at your reaction and begins to rub small circles against your clit, feeling your wetness. “You like that, huh?” he taunts. “Such an impatient little brat, all spoiled and naughty. Just wait until you get the real thing inside you.” Using his free hand, he reaches down to his cock and pumps it. He halts his finger movement against your mound and your eyes shoot open in panic from losing the pleasure. You meet his gaze and he brings his fingers to his lips to suck off your wetness from his fingers. All you can do is stare while the attractive man moans at your taste before speaking, “C’mon, it’s time to get up.”

You frown and cock your head to the side.

“Seriously, I said I’d help you, but I also said you need to follow my rules,” he continues. All too abruptly, you're ripped from your dream with a firm shake of your shoulders.

“God, what the fuck!” you tell out and bring your hand to clutch your racing heart, “What’s wrong with you?”

Your housemate raises an eyebrow and scoffs, “That must have been some dream if you were that upset to wake up from it.” He remarks with a smirk. “What were you dreaming about, hm? Better yet, who were you dreaming about?”

As if he can see right through you and read your thoughts, you finch at the question and shake your head adamantly, “W-what? Nothing, no one,” you stammer and only make the grin on Johnny’s face grow wider. “What are you doing in my room anyway?” You hastily try to change the subject as you feel the blood rush to your face and warm your cheeks.

Johnny clears his throat and moves away from your bed and toward the door, “Forget so soon? I’m supposed to help you get into shape and stay healthier, remember?”

Your previous conversation from the night before comes to mind and you nod your head as the memory replays in your mind. Johnny sees the gears in your head turning and begins to walk out the door.

“It’s 8:30 now. Get up, get changed, and have something light to eat before we start to work out. The last thing we want is you fainting while exercising on an empty stomach.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning, you salute him sarcastically. He continues, “After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

You furrow your brows at that, “I think you’re just inclined to say that as a fitness trainer. Next thing you know, you’re gonna tell me to run a mile every morning at the break of dawn and drink ginger shots religiously.”

Throwing his head back and laughing, he remarks, “No, no, that’s not until steps 10 or 11; you’re still a beginner so I won't take it that far.” Your eyes squint at the idea of that even being a potential possibility.

“Although I do have a beet juice and kale protein smoothie if you're interested-” he begins with a devious smile on his face.

“Nope! No, I’m good!” you exclaim and scramble out of bed.

He nods smugly, “That’s what I like to hear. Up and at ‘em before I start charging you for my services.” He comments as he walks out your bedroom door.

Gasping, you pull up the sheets on your bed and shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind of the dream you had before being abruptly woken up by the man of your fantasy. You only had half an hour before you had to work out with him, and you still had to eat and get ready before then… Looks like getting yourself off would have to wait until after your exercising. You huffed in annoyance. But at least the shower head might make for a good substitute for Johnny's tongue-

You stop yourself and rub your temples. Maybe working out with him was going to be harder than you thought…

#boulevardk #nct smut #nct imagines #johnny suh #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fanfiction #johnny suh fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny suh x reader

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jaetaimjadore · 2 years

Text

doublure d’argent | l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Genre: strangers to co-workers to lovers, fashion designer!reader, magazine columnist!Taeyong, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, PG-15

Warnings: profanity, slow burn, ANGST, mc is the classic bitch-turned-agreeable kinda character, Taeyong is kinda shallow at first, allusions to sex (nothing explicit), mc has hair long enough to tie up, sexual innuendos, kissing, toxic behaviour from aHEM certain individuals, inaccurate depictions of the fashion industry, food and alcohol consumption, Taeyong shirtless at times

Word count: 48.3k

Synopsis: You’re the renowned founder and fashion designer of Argent, the luxury fashion label known best for its one too many silver linings across the world’s hottest runways. With New York Fashion Week around the corner and your latest collections fresh on the racks, you’re certain to have buyers grovelling at your star-studded heels. But when fake news spreads like a wildfire and your top model pulls out at the last minute, you’re left with no choice but to hire a wide-eyed stranger with an unusual penchant for toast.

a/n: so this was supposed to be 17k...aNYWAYS, four long months and it finally dropped *claps everywhere* !! this fic is laced with all forms of angst so please excuse the sheer amount of it! A huge thank you to @intotheneozone for beta-reading it in its initial stages (even though she barely knew me at the time, god bless)!!! Also just as a heads up CFDA stands for Council of Fashion Designers of America. I really hope you enjoy the fic, and I worked super duper hard on it so feedback would be greatly appreciated :))

I. …boyfriend?

Some people say you’re the embodiment of magic, able to mastermind a rough image into the finest cashmere sweater, turn a quick sketch into flowing spools of chiffon. Some say you’re the world’s next Coco Chanel, with high-end collections wooing the fancy of every rehearsed critic sitting at the foot of the catwalk; the cat that never fails to catch their tongues and stun them speechless. And some people may just call you a stubborn bitch – actually, most do; uncompromising to all forces of the universe so long as your expensive little stilettos are able to carry all that heavy rage.

It’s a real wonder how you’ve only managed to break two pairs so far…or perhaps a third now, as you sit in the back seat of your car, Louboutins jabbing furious holes into the mat beneath them as your jaw spasms in anger.

“What do you mean, the seams came undone? If they came undone, fix them!” you snap frustratedly at your executive assistant, thumb and forefinger digging at your temples as he delivers the horrifying news over the phone.

“Y/n, listen-”

“No, Ten, you listen to me. That coat is Argent’s signature for the fall collection. I want those seams fixed and spotless by six o’clock sharp, and if the tailor can’t do that, fire him and find someone who can.”

Ten sighs over the line, your stern voice stunning him to a silence.

“Don’t waste my time again,” you leave him no room to answer, cutting the call.

What a joke. Can’t even fix a simple seam slip.

You eye the Rolex watch on your wrist, deflating into the leather seat. You sink in so deep that the stillness of the car’s engine becomes all too noticeable among the raucous honking outside. Your nose scrunches at the pungent odour of diesel that floats around the air, head turning towards the tinted window that tucks you safely away from the bustling streets of New York Times Square, a place where time remains static, but the world never ceases.

“Charlie, how much longer now?” you speak impatiently to your driver, eyes narrowing at the heavy traffic ahead, cursing all the motionless cars that widen the distance between you and your destination. You’re going to be late for your Harper’s Bazaar photoshoot, and you’re not an ounce bit pleased about it.

He respectfully meets your eyes through the rear-view mirror. “Not long now, miss. Fifteen minutes if the traffic pulls through.”

His words have you pinching the bridge of your nose, teeth grinding together as you attempt to breathe in slowly, hoping the gesture dampens the temper bubbling at your throat. “Do try and hurry up,” you strain out.

“Yes, Miss.”

If there was one thing everyone ought to know about you, it’s that whatever you say is whatever goes. It’s a simple rule, a power you’ve come to possess as director and head designer of your world-class fashion label, Argent.

Things haven’t always been this smooth, however. What the world doesn’t realise is that the person they see – the person you show them – is merely the glistening tip of a cold, submerged iceberg.

It was years ago when you’d left your expensive home, when you’d escaped the vile clutches of what most people would call family. Yours was the textbook definition of everything your friends ever wanted but everything you could never stand. Your family wasn’t a family at all, but a lost cause. Comprised of a runaway father, and a controlling cougar of a mother, whose cheap excuses did nothing but blind her conscience from the blatant fact that she couldn’t do the one job all mothers are supposed to do right.

Paris. You’d taken a one-way ticket into its pulsing heart. It had welcomed you warmly, was there for you when you’d stepped off that plane with two suitcases and a pocket full of cash. While your parents chose neglect, Paris chose you; helped you find your footing among the scrappy sequins and calloused muslin.

From there, you’d clawed your way up the viperous ladders of the fashion industry, one fine sketch at a time, until New York beckoned you with its ritzy finger.

Recognition was never an easy feat, and critics never ceased with their petty down-talk. But none of it ever compared to your mother. You’d taken the harsh blows and dealt with all the world’s criticisms that told you to give up and that you’d never make it. Hard work eventually bred success and before you knew it, you had indeed, made it. You had built Argent from the ground up, gained fame and fortune through its name and earned your rightful place in the industry. Now, you’re prowess personified. A bat of your eye has your employees cowering in fear, every trend-setting design has your competitors green with envy, and every hand-stitched item has expensive bidders falling to their knees in front of you.

So yes, people may call you a bitch.

But you’re the bitch that keeps the fashion world turning.

“We’ve arrived, Miss Y/l/n.” The car comes to a halt outside a lavish stone building with HB spelt in bold, black letters. You eye the structure from above the frame of your sunglasses with a smile, always impressed by the certain statement exuding through its walls. But your smile only lasts so long – and you’re sure to have aged five full years – as your gaze travels to the horde of blinding cameras that begin to flash from meters always.

You sigh at the sight, muttering an offhand, “Wish me luck, Charlie,” before stepping out onto the sidewalk with the help of a security guard, hand rising to shield yourself from the bright flashing and frantic yelling of your name coming from every which direction.

Being a celebrity fashion designer has always meant fame and fortune come at both name and face value. The paparazzi doesn’t faze you however – by now, you’ve all but harboured their constant buzzing into your daily routine – but they are a royal pain in the ass, tailing your every move to fulfil their quota of shots.

Oh, the perils of being famous.

With one hand wrapped around your Céline handbag and the other tucked fashionably into the pocket of your Burberry trench, you strut right ahead, the security guard tailing behind as you mentally rehearse the drill you’re all too accustomed to by now: straight posture, head down, ignore the questions, smile for every sixth camera, and don’t. Stop. No matter. What.

You follow the drill until the air once more smells clean and your heels echo loudly against the polished lobby tiles, the yelling and flashes another memory held off by the glass doors. You send the security guard a thankful nod before ripping off your sunglasses and scanning the reception area. The pathway from there to the dressing room falls nothing short of memory as you head straight for the elevators to the twelfth floor.

When the doors ding open, you’re greeted with the busy scene of HB staff setting up the photoshoot area; stylists pushing racks of designer clothing in and out of doors, while photographers position their cameras and softboxes around a white paper backdrop.

Now, this is more like it.

You smile as you see Seulgi, the head photographer, approaching from across the room with a large, expensive camera strapped around her neck. “Miss Y/l/n, happy new year! It’s a pleasure to have you back! How are you?” She greets you with two formal pecks.

“Happy new year. I’ve been well, thank you for inviting me again. And please, call me Y/n.”

She nods politely, leading you past all the chatter and commotion, picking up a bright red suit along the way with a sparkly silver strip along one of the blazer’s lapels.

They did their research, you think inwardly.

Silver lines are your signature emblem; every article of haute cotour produced by Argent has at least one visible strip of silver on a given part.

You’d first thought of the idea after hearing your French mentor speak the words ‘chaque nuage a une doublure d'argent’; the French counterpart for the common saying every cloud has a silver lining.

Ever since then, you’d adopted the saying in every aspect of your life, went as far as naming your brand after the phrase – argent being the French word for silver – and added your own little twist to it. Now, every cloth has a silver lining. And though you still can’t pinpoint exactly why you were originally so smitten by the phrase, one thing you’re sure of is the comfort that blooms when you speak it aloud; a comfort that can’t be brought by anything or anyone else. A comfort that radiates a certain hope when all feels lost.

As your eyes travel down the sparkly silver line along the red suit, that feeling washes over you like a warm shower on a cold winter’s day.

“The makeup team is ready when you are.” Seulgi stops in front of a black door at the far end of the room, handing the suit over as you enter.

You hook it on clothing rack inside, taking a moment to absorb the soft cream walls and the vinyl flooring beneath you.

“Gosh, it’s been a while,” you murmur aloud.

This is the first photoshoot you’ve had in four months, having been buried neck-deep in preparations for New York Fashion Week. If you had it your way, you’d be the only designer on your team. But as the universe would have it, running a world-class fashion label requires hundreds upon hundreds of workers – other designers, fabric researchers, tailors, seamstresses, retail marketers; the whole damn lot. As the head of Argent, it has been your number one priority in these formative months to ensure that every item of clothing – every little stitch and work of embroidery – is perfectly pristine for the runway.

New York Fashion Week is no walk in the park, so imaginably, this is always the busiest time of year for you. But luckily enough, Argent only hires the best of the best in all fields, so majority of the preparations have gone rather smoothly, with your fall and winter collections fast approaching the green light. Now, with less than five weeks remaining until D-day, you’ve finally been able to pick one of the many magazine invites that had been collecting dust in your mailbox.

After changing and having the hair and make-up team work their magic on you, you’re soon posing in front of the white backdrop under Seulgi’s direction.

“Shoulders back a little…tilt your head just a bit…okay, that’s great!” She bends slightly, clicking a few shots the new angle while striking up small talk. “So, how’s work been treating you lately?”

“Stressfully so,” you sigh with a breathy chuckle.

“Hmm, I can tell.”

You give her a questioning look. You don’t really care much for the stress; it comes with the job. But when people outside your company walls can tell you’re stressed, that’s where it becomes a real issue.

“You look tense.” Seulgi lowers the camera to look straight at you. “Try and loosen up a little. Think of something nice.” She snaps another picture. “Like your boyfriend.”

You freeze.

Boyfriend?

What boyfriend?

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” you ask, posture slagging with your incredulous expression.

Needless to say, you don’t have a boyfriend. Hell, you can barely fit in time for yourself, let alone a man who wants to eat up the precious minutes of your day. Your career is far more important to you – it’s the sum of your life’s efforts – and a boyfriend would only be an obstacle in your way. Not to mention your public image would be in shambles if the tabloids ever heard of a romantic connection.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You clarify rather rudely, still confused as to how Seulgi came to that conclusion.

It’s then that her expression drops. “Oh no.”

“What?” you spit out dubiously, eyes narrowing as she motions to another staff member, who hands her a magazine. “What is it?”

You find yourself suspiciously beckoned by the gaudy paper in her hands, cautiously stepping closer and snatching it from her fingers to read over glossy front page with horrified eyes.

EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS: THE CATWALK’S HOTTEST NEW ITEM! Y/N Y/L/N SPOTTED COSYING UP TO TOP MODEL JUNG JAEHYUN OVER PASTA AND PINOT. IS THIS THE COUPLE WE’VE ALL SECRETLY BEEN WAITING FOR? Read more on page 26

As if on instinct, you feel the harsh grind of teeth behind your red lips, jaw locking as your eyebrows furrow, scanning over the words one, two, three times over.

What the fuck is this?

You turn to Seulgi who visibly shrinks in fear at your piercing gaze. “What is this?”

“It’s all over the tabloids,” she replies nervously.

The room is silent, save for the crisp crumpling of the page in your tightening fist. You inhale deeply, try to maintain your rapidly exhausting composure in front of the dozens of people around you. “It’s fake news,” you grit out, eyeing each and every one of them with an expression that screams and don’t you dare believe otherwise.

You turn back to Seulgi. “I need to leave.”

She nods anxiously, absentmindedly fiddling with her camera. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”

You reply with a firm nod, rushing to change back into your previous clothes and hastily making your way to the elevator. The floors seem to go by slower than ever as you impatiently call your driver to pull up outside the building, head running a mile a minute with your disordered thoughts. You don’t have half the mind to care about the cameras as you charge through them seconds later, slamming the car door shut as soon as you sit inside. The traffic outside has died down since earlier; something you couldn’t be more thankful for as you urge Charlie to speed off while hurriedly dialling Ten’s number.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Ten, arrange an urgent board meeting for this evening. Make sure Jaehyun and his agent are there too.”

“But you have a model inspection durin-”

“NOW!”

─── ⪧ ⪦ ───

“What the hell is this?”

The conference room pulses with the anger coursing through your veins as you glare at the dozen frightened heads seated in front of you, tossing the five magazines in your hands across the long, polished table.

If becoming a fashion designer was your first tribulation, this comes close second.

A scandal.

Seulgi wasn’t wrong when she said the rumour had made it all over the tabloids. Us Weekly, Hello, People, Grazia; you’re plastered on the front cover of every celebrity gossip magazine.

Having witnessed your fair share of celebrity guises gone wrong, you’ve long determined that your reputation precedes you before anything else does. As such, up until this point you’ve managed to keep a clean slate with the public eye, always cautious not to be seen with anyone in a romantic light or speculated to have engaged in risky behaviours. And if for whatever reason you were, your public relations team has always been prompt in striking deals with the press before the release of any absurd articles.

So, where the fuck were public relations this time?

“Did you know about this?” You turn your hard gaze to Jaehyun, who sits at the other end of the table with his agent, arms crossed over his chest as he shakes his head in confusion.

Jung Jaehyun is the highest ranking male model of SM Agency – one of the most elite modelling agencies in the world. He’s also the representative model of Argent, the face of your advertisements and the finale walker at all runway events. After you, he’s Argent’s attention-grabber, and if your judgement sits correct, that’s precisely the reason the scandal is blowing up so vastly.

A relationship between a designer and her top model is one of the biggest taboos in the industry. It isn’t something unheard of, but it does cast a shameful light of ineptitude on even the most talented of people – though you have to admit you would also be disgusted at yourself if the rumours were true.

Which they aren’t.

You had simply met up with Jaehyun the day before to discuss some outfit alterations over dinner. And though you are friendly with each other, that dinner was strictly business. No romantic feelings whatsoever.

“May I suggest suing?” your public relations advisor, Doyoung, suggests from beside you, inspecting the magazines laid out in front of him with slitted eyes.

You pause at his words, the idea sounding a little too tempting. Even more so considering you’re more than capable of making it happen.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Irene, Jaehyun’s agent, speaks up from across the room. “The writer remains anonymous, and we don’t know the original publisher. On another note, the rumours would only appear true if we started suing every gossip magazine out there.” She looks between the two of you, eyes pointed and snake-like. “Both of your reputations are on the line here. We can’t risk making matters worse by feeding theatrics. Especially not right before NYFS,” she turns to you.

By this point you’re just about ready to pick up the leather chair in front of you and launch it at the windows, but instead, you take a seat on it to dampen the urge, shaking your head in disbelief. What the hell were you supposed to do in a situation like this? Speaking against the press would falsely push the rumours to the affirmative, and remaining silent would do the exact same…or perhaps even worse.

Doyoung huffs frustratedly beside you, tossing down the magazines with a loud smack and eyeing Irene seriously. “What else would you suggest then?”

You look up expectantly, feeling the ripples of anxiety in your chest descend into tidal waves, waiting to crash over you as you wish for Irene to announce an oh-holy solution to this mess. You’ve seen the consequences that come with such rumours, watched other designers undergo merciless removal from fashion shows and even their place in the CFDA. But you’ve worked far too hard, stayed up endless nights in your office and on calls – planning, altering, reviewing, discussing the fate of your fall-winter collections. If you’re removed from New York Fashion Week, you can kiss your precious reputation goodbye along with all of Argent’s high-paying bidders. Now all you can hope is the defamation dies down as quickly as it had come.

“I think I should pull out from the show.”

The tidal wave crashes over you, drenching every fibre in your body with the abrupt snap of your neck towards Jaehyun.

“Excuse me?” you sputter out, the shock of his words cascading through you as he clasps his fingers on the table.

“The rumours started when we were seen together. It’s more likely than not they’ll die down if I distance myself from Argent…at least until after the show.” He looks to his agent. “Irene?”

“He’s right.” Her nod of approval brings down with it a heavy air that expands throughout the suffocating silence of the room. You feel it grabbing at your throat as you turn towards Ten and Doyoung, who to your dismay, both nod back warily.

“But he’s my top model.” Your tightly collected knot slips with the loud slam of your hands against the table, voice raising in a shroud of panic. “He’s the final walker of the show, he’s supposed to end-”

“Well, there won’t be any show if this escalates any further,” Irene interrupts, the loud echo of her voice strumming at the nerves growing deep inside you. “It’ll only be temporary. We’ll have to release a public statement in the coming weeks, and until then not a word should get out to the press.”

You back down, sighing heavily, head shoving into the cold heels of your palms, searching for any form of comfort as it dawns on you that for the first time in your years at the top of the fashion chain, you’re feeling absolutely helpless.

“Is there no other way?” You want to rebuke yourself for the way you look around the room with a new state of vulnerability swirling through your eyes. These are the people you’re supposed to be bossing around, not searching hopelessly for a solution to save your backside. But somewhere in your mind, you know that throwing a temper-tantrum would only push you towards wrong side of the spectrum. You’re the victim here; you’re the one in need of help. But when nobody answers your desperate plea, all you’re left to do is stand from your seat, gulping down the worry with a deep breath.

Losing your top model is better than losing a year’s worth of effort. It isn’t something you suppose, but rather something you’re forced to accept as you look toward Jaehyun with a final sigh. “Jung Jaehyun, you are temporarily dismissed.”

II. The Grand Toast

Lee Taeyong is a simple man.

He has all but three passions in life; money, writing and toast. And though he’ll never admit it, these three passions are also his three greatest weaknesses, stemming all the way back from his humble beginnings.

Taeyong had lived most of his life in uncertainty, grew up in a little rustic household along the outskirts of New York. Money was always the biggest scarcity; the biggest if that plagued his juvenile mind in times of solitude. He still remembers living pay cheque to pay cheque, watching his mother wake at the crack of dawn to work four tireless jobs; wondering whether or not she’d go to bed with a full stomach that night.

Taeyong remembers seeing the colour drain from his father’s eyes day by day. His old man was a struggling journalist, who spent his tireful days sitting at his old wooden desk surrounded by more piles of crumpled paper than profitable works.

“Don’t ever be a writer, son. You’ll waste your life away.” Taeyong’s father had often spoke these words to him. They were well-meaning in nature, this much Taeyong knew. But nothing could have stopped him from falling in love with the wonderful world of writing and pop culture.

As a child, Taeyong was never granted the luxury of scuffing classroom floors with the spiffy sneakers all his friends wore. He never had the chance to dine at fancy restaurants or drive the hottest wheels, rather learning to enjoy such indulgences through the tall stack of out-seasoned comics and magazines that laid in corner of his room.

Typewrite somehow possessed a certain magic that material possessions never could.

Each night, with delicate hands, Taeyong would dive into each page – every one of them; not a single page went overlooked. And while his body rested in the corner of his room on his twin-sized bed, his mind would drift wild through the boundless limits of his imagination. If he was lucky, his mother would be home early. She’d lull Taeyong from his daydreams with a soft kiss to his temple, and hand him a cool plate with warm slice of buttered toast. This was the most affordable gesture of love he had ever known.

But to this day, his father’s words still linger in the back of his mind every now again.

You’ll waste your life away.

Taeyong tips back the glass flute that now rests between his warm fingers, hissing contentedly at the sweet tingle of pinot that lingers on his tastebuds. He finds a certain comfort in the velvet chair beneath him in this moment, feeling blithe amidst the pleasant murmur of other patrons and the smooth jazz that dampens the tinkling cutlery around the restaurant.

Sorry dad, he thinks to himself, a wry smile forming at his lips.

He had found his calling in journalism years ago, mastering his skills to the point of being offered a columnist job at Luxe, one of New York’s most infamous magazine editorial firms. Since then, he’d expanded his horizons, pitching in on articles in all imaginable sections of a magazine, including – but not limited to – news headlines, home and leisure segments, entertainment issues and even gossip columns.

And with his gracious salary, money no longer became an incessant worry, but a prize for Taeyong; a prize he’d stop at nothing for, so long as it kept filling in his bank account.

“Everyone, I’d like to make a toast.” Taeyong turns a relaxed gaze to his boss, Heechul, who stands in the dim lighting of the restaurant, clinking a dessert fork to the wine glass in his hands and eagerly glancing around the large table that seats the Luxe editorial team. Grinning widely, he raises his glass in Taeyong’s direction. “A toast to the one and only, Mr Lee Taeyong.”

The table erupts in a loud fit of cheers and whistles at the mention of the name, bursting through the once soft ambience of the restaurant. Taeyong smiles, bowing his head bashfully at the pats and nudges he receives from his colleagues.

This isn’t the kind of toast his mother would make him, but it’s a toast, nonetheless.

“This man,” Heechul gestures to him, “is the anonymous genius behind the recent exposé of Y/n Y/l/n and Jung Jaehyun. His article has broken Luxe’s weekly advertisement and subscription records by three, and I repeat, three full times our average sales.” He sets his glass down, shaking his head dramatically. “Give him a round of applause, everyone.”

Taeyong covers his ears, laughing along as the hollers grow almost deafening among the resonating claps that bounce around through the shiny glassware. The article is the first he’s ever published about fashion figures, and he can’t be prouder of himself than to have broken records with it.

The notion embraces him with the one thing he’s always been dreaming of: certainty. Certainty of his job and abilities, certainty of his money, certainty of his life.

“Why don’t you say a few words, eh?” Heechul sits down as the cheering quietens.

Taeyong nods respectfully, reluctantly pushing out his chair to stand up. “Well, uh,” He clears his throat. “I guess I’ll start by saying a huge thank you to every single person here for their endless support and encouragement on this segment. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass…a lot of the time,” he snorts with a small laugh, earning a few chuckles around the table, “but yes, once again, I couldn’t have done it without our amazing editorial team, so thank you all very much.” Taeyong presses his hands together in thanks, bowing and sitting back down in his seat.

The spotlight sure feels warm now that it shines brightly on his perky cheeks.

As he goes to reach for the wine bottle across the table, Heechul grabs it before him, pouring the dark red liquor into his own glass. “Who knew Y/n would stoop so low as to date her cover model?”

Taeyong doesn’t reply. He doesn’t feel the need to. By now the whole world knows of the fact; other magazines have been prickling with envy for being seconds too late from publishing the news.

Instead, Taeyong nods with a smile, allowing his boss to now fill his flute. Heechul holds his own glass up, which Taeyong gratefully clinks, once again welcoming the burn of pinot as he lifts the heavy glass to his lips.

Ten stands outside one of Argent’s largest alteration rooms, anxiously peeking through the small crack of the door, watching the way you arrange an extravagant taffeta bow on a model wearing a grey runway dress.

He realises those dead-set features of yours haven’t changed a single bit in the years he’s known you; you’ve always worked with a certain passion in your eyes, a magician’s touch in those fingertips. And though you’ve always been quite the intimidating figure, even the world’s harshest critic would be a fool not to admire the dedication and loyalty you put into every one of your creations.

That is, if you had your main model to promote them all.

He feels himself gulping at the notion, eyeing the piece of paper resting all too serenely on the clipboard clutched in his hands. You had given him the task of finding a model to replace Jaehyun for NYFW, but it was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. Every competent name Ten had racked his brains for sits with a bright red line of ink running straight through it. Now he’s trying to come up with a way to break the news to you.

Without losing his job.

“Quit dallying, Ten, I know you’re outside.”

He quietly gasps at your impassive voice behind the door, gingerly nudging it open just enough to slip through. You can almost feel the tension radiating off your assistant as he steps inside, and it doesn’t take genius to know that something is wrong…well, more wrong than the events of the last week.

“Turn around,” you instruct the model in front of you, taking the fabric clamp resting between your teeth and clipping a pleat together. You glance up at Ten with a sigh. “What’s the issue.” He hasn’t uttered a word, but it’s a given for you to assume the worst by this point.

Jaehyun’s departure a week ago had the opposite effect than intended, only fuelling rumours further; bullshit claims such as ‘it’s all an act to hide the relationship’ and whatnot.

“All the listed models declined.” Ten stands meters away, a hesitant cloud of air floating about his being as he continues, “We don’t have a replacement for Jaehyun, Y/n.”

You feel the energy leaching from you before he even finishes his sentence, stepping back a few feet and dropping into your chair, hands dragging over your face with a groan.

Are you surprised? No, not particularly; at this point, it’s almost as if the universe is making a fortune from your tumbling misery.

Every cloud has a silver lining, every cloud has a silver lining, every cloud has a silver lining.

The phrase does little to alleviate the tension settling in your brows. You wave the model out of the room with a stressed flick of the wrist, waiting until the click of the door resounds before directing hopeless eyes to Ten.

“No one?”

He shakes his head with pursed lips.

“Not even after offering them double salary?”

“No,” he shakes his head again. “They’re all under contract with other labels. No one’s ready to join Argent…especially not after the sca-” You raise a hand before he speaks the word that had all but tipped your perfect world upside-down in the span of a week. And, as you sit here, wrapped in the suffocating turmoil of this word, you feel yourself slipping into a pit of desperation.

You can’t do without a main model. You need a main model for the show.

“Honestly, Ten,” you chuckle dryly, thoroughly amused by your ever-growing list of shortcomings, “We might as well just pluck someone right off the streets at this point.”

III. Goodbye, World

“What the hell am I doing here?” Taeyong mutters to himself quietly, eyes anxiously flickering around the modern looking room he currently sits in. It’s at least four times the size of his office at Luxe; an immaculate interior space with high-rise ceilings and polished surfaces that reflect his wary expression in every which direction.

If someone were to ask him why he’s currently sitting in this architectural masterpiece, staring ahead at the silver letters that spell Argent, he wouldn’t be able to come up with a logical answer. One thing he could tell them though, is that he’s scared for his ass.

His eyes flicker to the half-eaten slice of bread pinched between his buttery fingers.

Darn toast.

***

The rich aroma of ground coffee beans and burnt caramel wafts through the chilly city air, warming its way through Taeyong’s lungs as he breathes in the sweet atmosphere around him. He stands in the café’s queue outside, body naturally leaning towards the warmth that radiates from the steaming swirls of creamer beyond the counter, eager to grab his own cup to soothe the frost prickling at his fingertips.

“Excuse me, sir?”

A voice sounds from behind him, fingers lightly tapping at his shoulder as he turns to face a clean-cut man with honey-toned skin and feline features. Taeyong raises his eyebrows.

“Yes?”

The man clears his throat, tugging his scarf looser. “I apologise if this seems abrupt, but I’m looking to scout a male model,” he extends a hand with a formal smile.

“Uhhh, okay.” Taeyong furrows his eyebrows, offering his own cautious hand out of courtesy, though still unsure why this stranger has decided to approach him during his precious lunch break. “But why are you telling me thi-”

“You satisfy our physical standards.” The man’s tone of voice seems almost rushed and frantic, but somehow maintains a baseline elegance to it as he pushes on. “My name is Ten Lee, my company is desperate, and you seem to look the part,” he sighs heavily, pretentious aura deflating with his hunching back. He stares at Taeyong, a pitifully desperate expression glazing over his features, hands pressing together in front of his face. “Please. It’ll just be for the next month or so…I promise this isn’t a scam.”

Taeyong can only frown in confusion, not a damn clue how to respond to this desperate stranger’s plea. It’s not everyday he gets approached by a strange man to model for a company, but everything about the offer seems to be floating in mid-air; no binding conditions, no mention of a contract, nothing.

And besides, what is this Ten guy even expecting of Taeyong? For him to just drop everything and-

“We’ll pay you double your current salary, I can guarantee it!”

Taeyong perks up at the words, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

Being paid double his current salary sounds like a dream. He stands there, biting the inside of his cheek in thought, hypnotised like a snake to its charmer at the notion of all that extra cash. He thinks back to his job at Luxe; he’d have to take leave were he to accept the offer.

Taeyong sets aside the better part of his conscience that warns him of all the red flags, waffling over his inexperience in fashion magazine culture. He’s only ever written one article on the topic after all, and given that his job stands on the very basis of experience, he supposes the offer may also be a learning opportunity for his writing in the future.

In a way he’d still technically be doing his job.

“And this…isn’t a scam?” He folds his arms, reluctantly stepping out of queue with a raised eyebrow.

“Absolutely not!” Ten swipes his hands in front of his face to emphasise his point.

“Okay, keep talking,” Taeyong nods, a suspicious lilt in his voice. It’s almost as if his words electrocute Ten with the wide smile that breaks across his face and the extravagant gestures of his revived limbs.

“Okay, so I’ll give you the address right now and we can-”

“Wait, now?” Taeyong interrupts. “Like, right now?”

Ten simply blinks. “Yes.”

Taeyong sighs to himself, looking longingly towards the café. The same smell of coffee and caramel tugs invitingly at the growing hunger in his stomach as he turns back to Ten.

“You do realise you’re interrupting my lunch right now.”

Ten’s smile only widens. “No problem, uh…” he trails off, silently giving the blonde man an opening.

“Taeyong,” Taeyong chimes in.

“No problem, Mr Taeyong! we can get you anything you wish to eat at the company.”

Taeyong finds himself interested once again, a tilt to his head as a small grin twitching at his lips.

“Even toast?”

“Even toast.”

***

So here he now sits, beloved toast in hand, the silver logo in front of him glinting like the devil as he ruminates what a damn fool he was for following Ten straight to the building of Argent Fashion Labels…the very company whose head designer falls victim to this year’s biggest celebrity scandal.

The scandal that Taeyong is equally responsible as he is liable for.

He’s all but convinced now, that Argent had somehow come to know about his writer’s identity. There was no plausible explanation other than someone from Luxe must have ratted his ass out in exchange for a handsome reward. After all, the people Taeyong worked with were exactly like him: money-minded and even more so, money-blinded.

He’s sure of it, that Ten’s previous offer must have been a planned façade to lure him in for interrogation and God knows what else.

Shit, I’m done for.

Taeyong regrets it; not writing the article – he somehow can’t bring himself to regret that one thing among this imminent doom. But he regrets not having thought about the consequences before and after the article’s publishing. Not to mention his inferior position against a world-class fashion company. Taeyong regrets not having realised how he might’ve ended up shooting himself in the foot while chasing the loot at the end of the rainbow. Now all he can see are the rain clouds growing darker and darker along the way, counting down the seconds until he’s homeless on the streets.

It’s only a matter of time, now.

The thought only draws Taeyong’s attention to the massive silver clock that ticks loudly on the left wall. He frustratedly tosses his toast back onto the plate on the coffee table in front of him, foot tapping anxiously against the shiny marble tiles.

Bloody hell, why is everything in this place silver?

He jumps in surprise as the door behind him opens, sending a cool wave of air fanning over the back of his neck. Immediately standing up, he turns around to be met with none other than you, Y/n Y/l/n, striding in his direction; an utterly unreadable expression on your face as Ten follows punctually behind. Everything about you excludes a certain power, from the way your heels click loudly against the tiles beneath you, to your blouse that flows with every intimidating step taken forward. You’re breathtaking. Literally; Taeyong almost forgets to breathe, gulping as you sit at the desk in front of him, Ten standing beside you. It doesn’t take him long to know his place in the room.

“Mr Lee Taeyong.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promptly replies.

This is it, goodbye, world

“I understand you’ve agreed to model under Argent for the next month.” You clasp your hands on the table, eyeing the man who sits in front of you. You’re almost compelled to scrunch your nose at the faint scent of butter that lingers around your office, noticing a small plate on the coffee table with a half-eaten piece of toast sitting in it.

It takes Taeyong a few seconds too long to process what you say, and he’s not sure whether it’s because of the nerves that bounce around inside his chest, or because he’s distracted by the way your voice wraps around his name so exquisitely.

He finally nods.

But as you look at him, you can’t help but feel that something isn’t right. He’s quite attractive if you’d say so yourself; wide eyes, pale skin, slim physique; he could very probably measure up to Jaehyun in visual regard. But despite this, everything else about the man has you questioning his competency for the job. Taeyong’s very appearance has you wondering exactly how experienced he is. For starters, all of his clothes are out-seasoned – not a single designer item in sight – and his dirty blonde hair appears as if he’d simply ran a hand through it and called it a day.

“May I ask which modelling agency you’ve come from?”

Taeyong furrows his eyebrows at the seemingly candid tone in your voice, wondering if it’s all just an act to catch him in his own trap. Your own eyebrows knit together upon seeing his puzzled state, growing suspicious as you clear your throat for him to answer. He looks up in a panic, the words spilling from his mouth before he’s able to control them.

“I-I didn’t come from a modelling agency.”

“Is that so?” You turn to look at Ten with narrowed eyes, tongue poking your cheek menacingly as you tilt your head in question. Said man only looks at you innocently.

You glance back at Taeyong. “I’m sorry, could you give us a moment?”

He nods as you drag Ten out of the office, making sure to close the doors on your way (without slamming them, as hard as the task fares).

“Why do I have a clueless imbecile sitting in my office?” you hiss, voice stone-cold and harsh, accompanied by the tapping of your impatient foot as your arms cross over your chest.

“We were desperate, and he fits the standards,” Ten snaps back, jutting his head forcefully in the direction of the door. “What more do you want?”

You scoff, pointing a rigid finger toward him.

“You said you’d hire an experienced model-”

“You said we should pick someone off the streets!”

“Oh my god, Ten!” You stand stupefied out of your skin, grip over your dwindling sanity loosening as your fists instead begin to clutch at the air in frustration. “I didn’t mean it literally!” you screech out as quietly as possible so Taeyong doesn’t hear from inside. You suck in sharp breath through your nose and release it with an exasperated sob, head hanging heavy with the exhaustion that piles on top of all your existing woes.

“I have half the mind to fire you right now.” You lean back against the cold wall, the words slip out quietly against your better judgement, though you know you don’t mean them, and you know Ten knows it too.

“We don’t have anyone else right now, Y/n,” he voices out defeatedly. “We’re lucky this guy even agreed on such short notice.”

You close your eyes, cursing the writer of that godforsaken article a thousand times more before sighing and speaking up, “Have you done a background check?”

“He’s all clear.”

“So that’s it, you’re just going to leave Luxe?” Heechul sits down in his chair, disbelief warping a tensed display over his conventionally relaxed features.

“Only until after New York Fashion Week,” Taeyong mutters half-heartedly, eyes sauntering around Heechul’s office for perhaps the thousandth time, distracted by the way the room suddenly seems inappreciable compared to your office at Argent.

Every corner of his desk is covered either with cover plans, or untidy notebooks filled with gaudy page markers that stick out in every which direction. The tall shelves behind hold an array of old, weathered books, untouched and probably collecting dust along their thick spines. The office is not a mess in its entirety per say, just highly unorganised; a factor that diminishes the modern touch the room had once possessed years ago.

Your office, by contrast, was a lot cleaner and shinier and spacious than this.

“Taeyong, you’re our best writer. You can’t expect me to just let you go like this for a month,” Heechul sighs.

“Heechul,” Taeyong moves to the edge of his seat in hopes to convince his boss. “I’m just going for the journalist experience. Nothing more, nothing less.”

It’s partly the truth, he thinks to himself. Heechul didn’t need to know about the money side of the job; it’s not his business to. Besides, what’s a little white lie worth in the grand scheme of things?

Heechul eyes Taeyong sceptically. “And they don't know about the article?”

“Not as far as I know,” Taeyong smirks, leaning back in his seat once again, watching as Heechul’s conflicted expression morphs into one of defeat.

“Okay.”

Taeyong nods enthusiastically, thrusting himself out of his seat with a widening grin

“But on one condition.”

Heechul’s words stop him in his tracks, earning a questioning look from him.

Conditions are never good news.

He watches as a sly smile stretches on Heechul’s face. “You go undercover into Argent building and write a debunking article by the end of the month.”

Undercover?

Taeyong narrows his eyes at the man, almost swearing he sees a sinister glint swirling somewhere around the black of his pupils. Writing is Taeyong’s forte; the condition just seems all too convenient given he’s single-handedly resigning from his job for a month. He wonders if he’s reading too much into the situation, something which Heechul seems to take notice of. “Oh, come on, I bet there’s a lot of scum behind those silver doors. We already got a glimpse of it...” he trails of suggestively.

He’s got a point, Taeyong ponders. It’ll be easy money.

“Will I get paid for it?” he asks.

“Sure will,” Heechul links his hands across his scattered papers, the same devious expression on his face. Something about him in this moment feels unnerving to Taeyong, but he just can’t tell what, so instead he decides to cut his losses and bite the bullet.

“Consider it done.”

IV. Depraved Little Devil

“You’re late.”

“It’s six thirty-eight in the morning!” Taeyong chokes out in disbelief. He was all but expecting to be greeted with a lovely ‘good morning, thank you for your time’, but this is what he gets?

“Yes,” you finally tear your gaze away from the papers, straightening in your seat with a dazzlingly professional smile to mask the annoyance in your voice. “And that makes you eight minutes off mark.”

Taeyong scoffs internally. Debunk point number one: mistreatment of employees.

He slumps down into the black couch opposite you, eyeing the way you sit there, hair in a tight bun, twirling a pen between your fingers as if you’ve just attended three back-to-back meetings and opened a new fashion line in the process.

“I didn’t even have breakfast,” he mumbles aloud, an obnoxious yawn leaving his lips. Frustrated fingers scoop through his dishevelled hair, tugging lightly at the roots while he regrettably hopes this isn’t the life he’s obliged himself to for the next month.

“That’s not my problem, Mr Lee.” You pick up the schedule Ten had made from the corner of your desk, eyeing over the long list of jobs with a deep sigh.

The whole scouting process was usually fairly simple. You’ve rarely needed to worry about training your models as most have been hired from prestigious agencies with plenty of experience. But given Taeyong’s complete lack thereof, you’ve taken it upon yourself to be his mentor – at least for the first week or so. And though it’s a huge inconvenience to say the least, it’s something you’ve long decided must be done if Argent is to keep its name in the fashion industry.

“Well,” you stand, schedule clutched tightly. “We’ve a long day ahead of us, so please follow me.” You walk to your office door, holding it open for the man who doesn’t even have the decency to budge from his seat. “Promptly, Mr Lee,” you articulate the words loudly, piquing with irritation and forcing your eyes shut to prevent burning holes in the back of his head. There are only so many hours in a day, and it’s last thing you need for him to be uncooperative given the constraints.

“Please, it’s Taeyong.”

There's a certain lilt in his voice that compels you to open your eyes, somehow warning you of your ‘do-or-die’ predicament. He turns around, still sitting all too comfortably on the sofa, meeting your eyes with his own raised eyebrows.

“And Miss Y/l/n, are you really going to make me work on an empty stomach?”

─── ⪧ ⪦ ───

“Yeah, this one will need a lot of work.”

You turn to your Models Manager, Johnny, who stands beside you shaking his head at the scene before him.

“You think so?” you mumble anxiously, following Johnny’s gaze to Taeyong who humours himself with one of the stylists across the studio, happily munching away at the buttery piece of toast he’d coaxed earlier.

“Oh, honey, I know so,” Johnny clicks his tongue, crossing his arms while examining the man in front of him.

“Yeah, me too I guess,” you sigh in vanquish, the gravity of the situation weighing down heavily on your shoulders. Taeyong is proving to be more of an intricate piece of work by the minute, and it’s going to take an unconventional amount of effort to make a worthy prototype of him.

“Height is going to be an issue too.” Johnny taps at his chin, eyes slitted as he turns to you. “Jaehyun’s a real asshole for leaving you on the edge like this.”

You sigh, eyes fixating on a silver spool of satin resting in the far corner of the room.

“He had reason to.”

“Well, that’s a load of crap,” Johnny snorts. “He can’t just leave and expect everything to be normal again. That’s not how showbiz works, Y/n, I mean see for yourself, the rumours have only grown since then.”

I know, goddamnit!

You want to scream the words out loud, let them grab at Johnny’s throat and shut him up. But of course, they remain at the back of your own throat, stuck alongside the anxious lump that manifested a week ago. The words are there, but only for you and your racing mind to hear each time you swallow them down.

“But,” Johnny drawls out, nudging your side before suddenly retracting in fear as you send an icy gaze to him. It seems not just him, but even your other employees have been getting a little too comfortable around you in the past week. Suffice to say, you’re not the least bit impressed by the informality.

“Out of turn,” you voice sternly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny nods immediately.

“Continue.” You turn back to Taeyong who now sifts through a rack of clothing with another stylist, grimacing at the thought of his greasy fingers staining the fabric. Just as you’re preparing to march straight ahead and grab Taeyong by the ears, Johnny speaks up.

“I was saying,” He stops you in your tracks. “Every cloud has a silver lining. Right?”

And just like clockwork, the words don’t allow you to take another step forward, clearing away the hot steam pelting up inside you with a fresh, cool air. You feel your fingers uncurl from their place in your palms – not having realised they were fisted so tight in the first place – and sigh once more, nodding to Johnny.

“You’re right.” The phrase sits bitter on your tongue. It’s not something you’re accustomed to voicing aloud, but it seems just about everyone except you is right these days – either that, or you’re just always a couple steps behind, and it’s something you’re not all that thrilled about.

“This guy’s a tough one, but don’t you worry.” Johnny sends you a sympathetic smile. “We’ll make a star out of him yet.” He side-steps past you with three loud claps echoing around the high white ceilings of the room, walking toward Taeyong. “Alright mister, hands off the racks, we’re not at that stage yet.”

You watch the comical way Taeyong jumps at Johnny’s sudden intrusion, almost amused by the way he blinks up like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed with cheeks slightly puffed out with the last few chews of bread. He tilts his head past Johnny’s figure, sending you a questioning look.

“We’re affiliated with SM Agency, but our models are all trained here at Argent as we have specific requirements.” You step forward, gesturing to the tall man beside you. “This is Johnny. He’ll be your personal manager, trainer and agent for the coming weeks.”

“My personal manager?” Taeyong raises his eyebrows in surprise, not remotely used to the prospect of having his own personal manager. A columnist assistant is the best he’s ever gotten with his job at Luxe – and that too on the luckiest of days.

“You betcha,” Johnny clicks his tongue with a bright smile.

Neat and gaudy; these are the first two words that come to mind as Taeyong scans Johnny from head to toe. The man is neat in the way his neck-length hair is pushed back with just enough gel to keep it looking fluffy but still elegant. His outfit is what makes him look so gaudy; a fitted white suit with a red silk shirt. Both items of clothing are far too bright, blinding even, as Taeyong blinks away to save his poor eyes.

“Shall we?” You turn to Johnny who nods.

“Let’s.”

“Let’s what?” Taeyong shifts his eyes between you and Johnny and back again, watching as you hail the two stylists from earlier.

“We’re going to take some measurements,” the words barely leave Johnny’s freakishly heart-shaped lips as the stylists step forward.

Taeyong’s personal bubble is all but reduced to a vanquished nothingness as the ladies pull the measuring tapes from their necks and slide them around either one of his wrists. The strips of silver glint and sparkle under the scintillate lighting from above, catching Taeyong’s startled gaze as the stylists make quick work of wrapping them around every inch of his arms. Stunned as he may be, he can’t help the small laughs that leave his lips at the tickle of the plastic on his skin. A ghost of the sensation lingers as the frantic scene stands still every few seconds, filled with scratches of lead on small notepads that record the numbers, before continuing until the tingles vibrate all the way to the top of his arms – wrists to forearms to elbows to biceps. The ladies then abruptly step back, much to Taeyong’s confusion.

“Sir, we need to measure the torso,” one of them speaks, a sort of pinkness washing over her cheeks.

“Okay,” he nonchalantly raises his arms out to his sides, shivering slightly at the cool air that wafts into his shirt. But the stylists don’t step forward, planted still in their spots, causing Taeyong eyebrows to knit tighter together.

“Take your shirt off, Taeyong, we don’t have all day,” Johnny’s voice echoes from a couple metres away.

“Huh?” Taeyong’s eyes blow wide in shock.

“Damn, he really doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny mutters through his smile, and you have to purse your lips to repress your own smile before it denounces your self-possession.

Taeyong almost humbles himself at Johnny’s gesture to get on with it. He feels a confliction gripping at his wrists as his fingers toy with the hem of his shirt. He’s not typically the self-conscious type, but he doesn’t know how else to describe the feeling that creeps up his spine as all the eyes fixed on him in this moment become a little too apparent.

Paycheque, whispers the depraved little devil in Taeyong’s mind, and it’s almost appalling to him how quickly his fingers proceed to tug off the flimsy fabric. He leaves himself to his own devices, exposed on an ephemeral whim that forces him to stomach a small pit of regret in its wake. However, time and task leave no room for awkward silences as the measuring tape passes around the tender of Taeyong’s waist. He stiffens at the cold sensation, trying his best not to retract with every tickle, thanking the third entity that once again revives the bustling conversation around him. He allows the stylists to have their way, opting to distract himself along the clean lines and edges of the studio.

You, on another hand, stand meters away observing Taeyong with equal amounts of confusion and curiosity lacing through your features, realising that Ten’s judgement had indeed hit the bullseye days ago when he’d first brought Taeyong to Argent. Taeyong’s proportions are almost idyllic for a man who apparently survives off butter and bread; just enough muscle in his arms and stomach to show off beneath a lace top, just the perfect amount of slender appeal to fashion a suit and tie. It puzzles you to no end. Most rookies have to be given strict diet and exercise plans to meet Argent’s requirements.

Perhaps this is the silver lining Johnny was talking about earlier; not having to issue health monitoring for the next few weeks.

“His body makes up for expertise, I guess,” Johnny mutters in surprise.

You wonder if he’d read your mind, but your arrogance doesn’t allow the silence to drag on too long, replying with a complacent, “Like you said, height is an issue.”

He shrugs. “Nothing a good old pair of insoles can’t fix.”

“He’s on the skinnier side.”

“And yet you’re still staring.”

Johnny’s words catch you off-guard, and it’s when your eyes stop at Taeyong’s elbow that you realise the statement lingers blatantly true in the air; you are, indeed, staring at him. But it’s too late to deny the fact, so you rather turn to Johnny, concealing any shock with a stubbornly unamused expression.

“It’s my job to stare.”

“It’s your job to stare at clothes,” Johnny counters with a quirked eyebrow, “which he’s not wearing any of.”

“He’s wearing pants-”

“You’re staring at his pants?” Johnny raises an eyebrow, an insolent smirk finding his face.

Your lips part slightly before you’re able to help it, an unsolicited warmness filling your cheeks as your eyebrows furrow in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“No,” you avert your gaze to the whiteness of the walls, “I’m not.”

You have every right to fire Johnny for implying something so absurd, but the notion that only he can help transform the shirtless nobody in front of you into a piece of art, stops you. It’s your duty to make sure Taeyong is well-trained for NYWF, and you’re going to make a star of him even if it’s the last thing you do.

There’s only a handful of things Taeyong gravely lacks in, and fashion – and anything remotely related to the word – is one of them. It has always been an otherworldly concept to him, a foreign language he couldn’t even begin to make sense of, let alone articulate for himself.

Four days into the new job have shown him the sleek work ethic of Argent and its employees. Everything about the place has been far beyond his means; all much too different to the usual job he’d grown passionately accustomed to over the years. He’s seen enough vibrant mood boards and fabric spools to last him through his next lifetime, peeked through and scattered a few too many fingerprints on the many polished windows of miscellaneous rooms.

Today, the job brings Taeyong to his first fashion shoot.

He blinks at the fool of a man that stares back at him in the full-length mirror, wearing a velvet turquoise suit with silvered cuffs, a grey vest of some unnamed exotic fabric inside of the suit, and a pair of yellow-tinted…ski goggles?

The entire look is offbeat; eccentric in colour and much too flashy with the strips of silver running down each leg of the pants. It’s a drastic change from the plain black jeans and shirt Taeyong had picked from his closet that same morning. He eyes himself, vision slightly obscured by the yellow filter of the goggles. It makes everything appear a couple decades older as if it were part of a picture snapped in the 80’s.

When his eyes flick to your reflection in the mirror, he pauses. Even you look a few decades back-dated with your pencil skirt and tucked-in sweater. In Taeyong’s eyes, you could almost pass for a timeless fashion icon; famed and fawned over in an era far behind you. All you needed now were a pair of satin gloves, sunglasses and a round-brimmed hat. He’s surprised to see that your expression appears moderately impressed as you eye his outfit – a stark contrast from the louring grimace he’d expected to find. In the time he’s known you, he can’t recall having seen you smile even once.

Not that you’re smiling right now, just not frowning.

“Okay, not bad,” you nod, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. You’d originally designed the suit with Jaehyun in mind; as unconventional as it is, Jaehyun was the only model that was certain to wear it well. But of course, you haven’t had the chance to see him wear it given the circumstances, so there’s a certain comfort in know Taeyong is able to fashion it nicely in his stead.

“How do people even pay money for this?” The words roll off Taeyong’s tongue with a genuine incredulity that doesn’t quite sit well with your temperament. Any hint of appreciation on your face is torn away by the scowl that settles in place, annoyed as ever at his remark.

“Clearly, you’re lacking knowledge to throw about thoughtless questions like that,” you announce, walking forward and turning him around to face you. Your fingers automatically pinch at the lapels, folding them the right way and flattening the fabric around Taeyong’s neck and shoulders. Nothing bugs you more than an unfixed collar.

“Well, I won’t deny it,” he replies nonchalantly.

There’s something about him that is so infuriating, and you’re not sure whether it’s the assured way he speaks that irks a certain displeasure in you, or the fact that he’s your last resort for the biggest show of the year. It’s still unfathomable how you’re going to survive the next month with him, and that too in the name of saving not only your company but also your backside.

However, as hard as the task stands, today is about finding Taeyong’s flattering angles, not his trying faults.

When you both make your way into the shooting room, you push your frustrations aside, deciding wasting energy is futile in any case; blissful ignorance would the best way to go from here on out.

You watch with intent as the photographers guide Taeyong to a stool in front of the grey backdrop set up in the middle of the back wall. All it takes is a few instructions from them before softboxes begin their blinding light shows, flashing with every click of the cameras. Amidst it all, you stand surprised at how well Taeyong poses for the camera; chin up, eyes sharp and lips parted. You eye the way he repositions himself on the stool, can’t help but take note of a certain poise that exudes in his movements as he shifts a foot to the ground; a suave flow that over the years you’ve ascertained only ever came naturally to a person, or never at all.

“Did you practice your expressions?” you ask, referring to the list of facial expressions Johnny had given Taeyong to rehearse a couple days prior. However, your question is left suspended in the air as Taeyong turns to you. His eyes meet your own with the same intensity he’d shown to the camera, lips curling up into a devious smirk that pulls you back from the indifference you’d sworn on yourself minutes prior.

“Why? Are they good?” The words pull one corners of his lips slightly higher.

You’re not given the chance to reply with a “surprisingly so,” as a loud ringing from behind interrupts you. You turn to the refreshments table and pick up the phone, eyebrows furrowing at the caller ID.

Kim Heechul

The name sits familiar in your mind somewhere, though you’re not able to place an exact finger on where you’ve seen it before.

“Who is it?” Taeyong calls.

“Kim…Heechul?” The words leave your mouth in a question.

You watch the way Taeyong’s eyes widen and abruptly drop, as if to hide the obvious tension that fills him from head to toe. His once-soft features harden in a split second, shoes echoing loudly against the tiles as he steps off the stool, almost knocking it over while hastily making his way to you. He snatches the phone from your grasp, sending nothing but a hesitant glance your way, leaving you to stare in bewilderment at the double doors that swing with the phantom of his hard shove through them.

“Y/n?”

You turn to the photographers who stand with equally puzzled faces.

“Give him a minute, he’ll be back.”

And when he does walk in minutes later, the tension seems to hang even heavier from his limbs as he stiffly places the phone back on the refreshments table, lips pursed, hands fidgeting and ears tinted slightly red.

Stringent as you may be, you feel a genuine worry somewhere inside you at his suddenly bothered state, feeling an intrinsic need to ask him:

“Is everything okay?”

When he turns around, you decide he must either be a really good actor, or a master at hiding his emotions, as all ounce of malaise seems to have evaporated from his face, replaced with his signature smile that voices the words:

“More than okay.”

Taeyong leans back in his chair, groaning into the heel of his palms. His laptop glares back at him in the darkness of his home office, a full page of words typed skilfully on the white document taunting him in the brimming silence of what most people would call a mind blank.

“Shit, what was it?” His eyes squeeze shut, fingers pressing into his temple in attempt to recall the idea his memory had lost while trying to note down his previous points.

It has been a week since the day Ten had snatched Taeyong from his lunch break and thrust him into the curious world of Argent Fashion Labels. Everything in between then and now has been a hectic whirlwind of ridiculous outfits, blinding cameras and boundless strips of spangly silver; each passing day bringing with it a multitude of new experiences, and each new experience bringing tasks and trials galore…oh, and some fabulous points for his debunking article.

As it turns out, modelling for a world-class fashion label is a lot harder than Taeyong had originally anticipated. He can’t recall a time his solace has ebbed and flowed as much as it has in the past week.

Unsurprisingly, his problems all seem to stem from a single entity within Argent’s walls.

You.

You, with your ridiculously hefty standards. You, with your unbearable personality. You, with those sharp eyes; the same pair Taeyong would call beautiful, were it not for the scrutiny they hold every time they meet his own from across the room.

That certainly isn’t to say there haven’t been some decent experiences. For starters, he’s had the chance to wear clothes worth more than his entire wardrobe, and as ridiculous as they look, they are invaluable in every sense of the word. He’s also been able to acquire some basic knowledge of the fashion industry in general, which could prove to help him in his future writing endeavours. He is grateful for these things, of course, but the only thing that really keeps him around is the dough that awaits at the end of the month.

Money always takes precedence, and if his next article becomes a hit…

***

The doors swing heavily behind, sending a surge of cool air fanning Taeyong’s back as his feet carry him a safe distance away from the shooting room.

Man, that was close.

He thumbs at the answer button on his phone, pressing his ear to the speaker as the ringer dies down. “Hello?”

“Ahh, Taeyong, how are things going so far at Argent?”

The voice over the line only draws a sigh from Taeyong as he murmurs back an apathetic, “Heechul, now’s not a good time.”

The man chuckles. “No problem. I Just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten our deal.”

“Yeah, the article, I know,” he hurriedly answers, cautiously eyeing his surroundings for potential listeners.

“The debunking article,” Heechul emphasises.

Taeyong doesn’t reply, rather biting at the inside of his cheek, anticipation finding his tensed features as he distractedly scans every corner of the ceiling for security cameras.

“You’re getting paid for this, remember. Don’t make me regret sending you to Argent.”

***

The article must be an immaculate work of art, this much Taeyong is certain of.

He sits in pensive silence for minutes on end, willing for the fog to clear his mind. But it doesn’t take long to realise the futility in trying to overcome writer’s block at half twelve in the morning, so with a heavy-lidded gaze, he shuts his laptop, rolling his neck and shoulders with a small wince. If there’s one thing all these years in journalism have taught Taeyong, it’s that writing and back pain are an uncompromising package deal.

He eyes the magazine that rests beside his laptop, reaching over to scan over the glossed paper with a deep grimace.

HANDSOME IN CHEEK, ANONYMOUS IN THE STREET Meet the new mystery stunner of Argent Fashion Labe-

Taeyong closes his eyes with a snort, saving himself the effort of further reading. He can’t help but shake a bang at those ridiculous words, even more so, at the picture of himself seated on the same stool from days ago, wearing the same turquoise suit with the same grey turtleneck, and those godforsaken yellow goggles.

Absolutely ridiculous.

The Vogue issue resting idly in his hands is one of the many that were released earlier in the week. Taeyong has garnered an unprecedented amount of attention since then; despite merely being an unnamed face on the cover of a magazine the number of young women noticing him on the street has been growing by day.

A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a finger tapping rhythmically at his chin.

“Perhaps I could get used to this.”

Crazy.

She must be crazy.

“I’m walking the final runway at New York Fashion Week?” The words sputter haphazardly from Taeyong’s mouth, finger jabbing painfully into his sternum as he stares dumbfoundedly at your seated figure across the room. “What about Jaehyun? Doesn’t he usually do it?”

Taeyong watches the way you tentatively sip at the steaming cup of green tea in your hands. Your appearance is no different than usual, prim and proper in your black work dress, hair tied high in a tight, formal bun, and eyes still filled with that same stunning contempt.

What he doesn’t see, however, is the panic that lies hidden behind the deep creases of your demeanour; the way your pulse quickens in apprehension of having to fully explain your situation to him. You can only attempt to gather the scattered traces of solace from deep within you, sighing in defeat.

“Look, I’m sure you’re aware of the article that was released just over a week ago.”

Taeyong makes a genuine display of himself, nodding in faux conviction as your voice grazes his hears.

If only she knew.

“Well, to put it lightly, whoever wrote it was gravely misinformed.” You avert your gaze to your office windows, a deep sigh pushing past your lips.

“Wait you’re…” Taeyong’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion, a small sinking feeling whirling in the depths of his chest, “you’re not dating Jaehyun?”

“No,” you reply.

Taeyong watches the way a sorrowful smile pulls your lips up, your eyes trained somewhere along the bustling city streets outside. “Jaehyun is taking a break from Argent, and…” Your words weigh heavily in your own mind, though you can no longer bring yourself to show any more anger for them. You’ve long decided that it is what it is, and the situation can’t be helped; that the punches are either to be copped in the gut or rolled with, and that the latter option fared best in the grand scheme of things.

Your eyes find themselves to Taeyong’s.

“…you’re really our only hope for the show, Taeyong.”

Taeyong sits opposite you in a state of confused conflict, wrapped up in a harsh turmoil as he realises his horrible mistake.

You and Jung Jaehyun are not a couple.

He hadn’t thought about the very possible fact when he’d written the article. It hadn’t even once crossed his mind when he’d sent it in for publishing. But at the same time, it wasn’t right for you to have withheld the information that his only business at Argent was to be Jaehyun’s makeshift replacement...

“Please.”

Now, there’s something new swirling in your eyes, something Taeyong has never seen or heard before in your voice. He’s not sure how to respond, brows furrowing from not hearing the usual malice along your words, guilt sinking through his skin as they hang unadulterated in the air. It’s his fault you’re sitting here pleading him to help you out, his own carelessness that has now labelled him ‘Argent’s new handsome model’, his own greed that has every magazine plastered with his face on the front cover.

But regardless of the fact, Taeyong has gotten himself into this mess and there’s no way he can back out of it now.

Three small nods come from the man in front of you, and you’re not sure you’ve ever felt such a relief ripple through your being before this very moment.

V. Teach Me How to Walk

“Have a good night, Joy, I’ll call you back for a final fitting. A week or so, tops,” you bid your model goodbye with a smile, turning to hang a green houndstooth two-piece on the clothing rack beside a box of assorted fabrics.

“Thank you, Y/n, have a good night yourself,” she smiles before stepping out, the click of the door the only static company left in the large alteration room. You flop down into the swivel chair behind the sewing table, eyes crossing to the loose strand of hair that tickles across your cheeks. You blow at it once, twice, three times, eventually thumbing it away to save it from landing in your eye again.

“All in a day’s work,” the words whisper past your chapped lips in a deep sigh as you toy with a loose strip of silver satin, wrist rising to face view.

9:18 PM

You’ve gone overtime by an hour and eighteen minutes, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you relish in the first solitary silence of the day, absentmindedly weaving the satin through your fingers, gaze trained on the clothing racks. Your eyes flick from hanger to hanger, inspecting the numerous outfits that brush up against each other – some with their silver linings peeking out, other with them concealed between laces and fine cottons.

It’s now that you realise your smile is still bright and prevalent on your face, feeling a little light and airy in your seat.

There’s only two weeks to go until the show and things are finally beginning to look up. As it turns out, recruiting Taeyong might have been your best decision yet – a silver lining to the cloud, if you will. Since his Vogue debut the week before the scandal rumours have narrowed down tenfold, and the paparazzi, shallow as they ever be, now distractedly hover over ‘Argent’s new mystery model’. As per some genius advice from Doyoung, you’d purposely kept things discreet by only revealing Taeyong’s face to the public eye; no name, no personality, just a few head and body shots. It’ll save the audience a heart attack on show day, Doyoung had said. Discretion had also proven to be an excellent marketing strategy as bidding offers once again pile high and heavy. To top it all off, your clothing lines are on their final inspection rounds, and today has been a highly productive day for you, all much to your delight.

You hum contentedly, pushing up from your seat to grab your coat and handbag. You take the satin that still rests limp and gorgeous in your hand, tying it loosely around a handle of your bag and walking to the door. You turn back to the room with a final grin. On a normal day, you’d have frowned at the scattered fabrics on the tables, but right now, the mess seems brilliant to you, painting the room vibrantly with potential of becoming something remarkable given a few clean stitches.

With a hand reaching out to flick the lights off, you step out, only to immediately pause at the sound of muffled music from the other end of the dimmed hallway.

Strange, you wonder, everyone should have gone home by now.

The music grows less and less obscure with every step you take forward, eventually bringing you outside a room you like the call ‘The Walkway’. With a hand pressing gently against the door, you peer inside, surprised to find Taeyong’s blonde mop of hair strutting up and down the long platform with exaggerated effort. It’s only your duty to note he’s not doing the finest job at it, but the determined pout on his concentrated features strikes down all your criticisms like a bowling ball. Somewhere in their stead blooms an unforeseen fondness for his efforts, shining bright as the narrow beam of light glowing upon on your smile through the crack of the door.

You watch as Taeyong groans in frustration, a small giggle leaving your lips only to be immediately covered by the slap of your hands, eyes wide in shock at yourself.

What is this? Why were you giggling like twelve-year-old at a grown-ass man struggling to walk?

The answer to your question lies in another unsuppressed laugh from your own lips, flowing freely with the music that surrounds Taeyong tripping over himself on the other side. You realise you’re giggling because it’s actually funny – endearing even, though you’re not able to conjure the thought as your feet push forward on their own accord, carefully leading you inside until the light of the room bathes you with its glow.

“Hey,” you voice out, trying to catch Taeyong’s attention amidst the music. Though, it’s apparently a futile effort given his lack of reaction.

“Taeyong.”

Still no response.

With a huff, you grab the speaker remote secured to the wall, silence resounding in a tumultuous wave as you the hit pause button. Taeyong whips his head around, frustration ever-evident in his face, only to melt away in the second he catches you standing to the side.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt you, I was just on my way to grab some popcorn,” you jab a thumb behind your shoulder, amusement strung high in your eyebrows and in the curl of your lips.

Taeyong rolls his eyes, traces of sweat glistening on his neck as he takes a swing of the bottle resting on a chair at the edge of the platform.

“And she smiles, folks.”

You set your things down and take a seat, grin somehow widening though without the slightest effort of restraint.

“Mm, and you should consider yourself lucky to see it,”

“Mmmm, I do,” Taeyong hums back, imitating you with a fascination strewn to his brows. He’d like to think that among other things, your reins had loosened a little since the day you clarified the scandal to him. Formal talk has all but reduced to trivial bantering and back-and-forths between the two of you, which, according to Taeyong’s books, is progress at the very least. It was almost as if each passing day was peeling away the layers of stubborn temperament that made you, and beneath each unearthed layer was a beautiful set of lips that seemed to tug close and closer to your eyes every time, emerging a little brighter in the mornings and lasting vibrantly well into the evenings. It was contagious, your smile; something Taeyong was only just realising with the witty lilt and small mischief that often quirked around its soft creases.

“What are you doing here so late?” you ask, though the answer is plastered blatantly in every corner of the room and in the sweat that lines Taeyong’s forehead. He huffs as he sits in the seat beside you, expression falling at the drop of a hat. His last few days had consisted of making efforts to channel his guilt into honing his modelling skills, and much to his surprise, things had been fairly simple once he’d set his mind to them. But there’s just one thing he still can’t seem to get.

“The walk,” Taeyong combs a hand through his hair frustratedly, “I just can’t get it down.”

“I’d honestly be surprised if you did,” you hum, the soft haze to your voice catching Taeyong miles off guard, plainly evident in his dumbstruck features. It draws a chuckle from you, watching his otherwise round eyes expand further before softening at the genuine melody that comes from your throat. “You’ve only had, like – what – two weeks? It can take the average model months to perfect.”

“This must be your first non-attack on my ego,” he mutters, ruffling another hand through his hair.

You really can’t seem to figure out how your mouth manoeuvres itself into yet another upturned stretch, but it seems you’re not in any rush to as your voice too leaves you at its own grant.

“Would you like a hand?”

Taeyong raises his eyebrows, very clearly surprised at your offer.

“In walking? Aren’t you a fashion designer?”

“No,” you simply state, earning a quizzical look from him as you stand and walk to the large platform in the middle, turning around to with a sly expression painting your features, “I’m a jack of all trades. Fashion design is just my royal flush.”

“So you’ve modelled before?”

“I’ve had my fair share of walking time.”

And it isn’t a lie. It was almost a piety for all the best fashion designers to take modelling classes as part of their early training to understand the scope of their clients.

Your nonchalant shrug renders Taeyong thoroughly impressed as he follows your path to the empty catwalk, nodding in approval. “For once I feel like listening to you,” he crosses his arms with a small tilt to his head, “Funny.”

“Very,” you deadpan.

“Fine, then. Teach me how to walk.”

It still sounds absolutely ridiculous to Taeyong; having to have someone to teach him how to walk of all things. He’s never had to think about the way he walks before. It was just another absent-minded task in the daily turnover of his life; writing didn’t require walking as a trained qualification, the only walking he needed to do was from his own office to the bathroom and back.

He makes his way to the back end of the platform. You follow his path, a warm tightness igniting in your chest at the therapeutic click of your heels with every step as you count along the rows of chairs neatly lined on either side. They’re black; unfilled by bustling guests, soundless amid the white walls that edge them. You turn back around to the empty room, nostalgia blanketing the forefront of your mind. You suppose to the third person, it would simply look like any other empty catwalk, the plainest of scenes with a pretentious prospect. But to you, the ceilings echo high with years of vibrant memories, from Argent’s first fashion show within these very walls, to the numerous others you’d hosted in between. You can almost hear the clacking of cameras, see their flashes clear in the crisp silence as it warmly embraces you. That is, of course, until Taeyong cuts through it all.

“Any time now would be great, thanks,” he mithers, tapping on your shoulder.

Suffice to say, the idiot is lucky you’re having a good day.

You ignore him with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, instead standing tall and dignified, announcing, “Cat walking is simple. Half of it is in the mindset, and the other half is in the posture. Here.” You reach out to his arm and drag him closer a little too quickly for your mind to keep up, leaving you no choice but to ignore the split-second warmth of his skin under your palm before your hands retract back again. “Don’t overthink anything too much. Just keep your shoulders back, but still relaxed.” You follow the direction of your own words, shoulders rolling to a neutral position. “Head straight.” You raise your head up. “Gaze focused.” You point a finger forward, focusing your eyes on the clock hanging on the far wall. “Don’t sway your hips, and most importantly, try to make it look natural.” You turn to Taeyong. “Watch me.”

And he does exactly that as you walk forward, every mentioned benchmark maintained flawlessly in the poise of your ankles as they carry you through his gaze. Your arms flow naturally with the fabric of your blouse, a new sort of purpose in the smooth strides of your legs as you turn around with ease, daring to look Taeyong in the eye while approaching back.

“Now you try.”

He nods firmly, the same concentrated expression sewn through his pursed lips and sharp eyes, striding forward with intent.

Your bottom lip immediately finds a home between your teeth as you struggle to hold in your laugh at Taeyong’s stiff steps, accidentally snorting out loud as a hand flies to your mouth in attempt to cover it up. If he was an awkward mess before, he’s all but the complete opposite of that now; way too rigid for anyone’s good, chest pushed animatedly forward, and a little (a lot) too much swing in his arms.

“Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” Taeyong snaps frustratedly, turning around, looking just about ready to stomp a heavy foot down and throw a temper tantrum right there on the glossy platform.

“I…” you trail off, trying to find the right words so as to not hurt the precious little pride he apparently thrives from, “…appreciate the effort.” It comes out with a nod and little snicker at the end, pursed lips doing their best to sequester the giggle at the back of your throat. All jokes aside, you really do appreciate his initiative of staying back late just to practice his walk, finding a newfound respect for his willingness to improve. It had been a massive shift from the dynamic of the past week and you’re not going to let it slip if it’s the last thing you do.

“But seriously, what has Johnny been teaching you this whole time?” you ask, genuinely curious how all those extra hours of practice with Johnny hadn’t seemed to avail Taeyong’s technique in the way you’d expected it to.

“The best angle to take a selfie?” he offers, walking back with a pitiful sulk on his face.

“You don’t say,” you grumble under your breath.

“I mean, he’s been doing a pretty good job at that, at least.” Taeyong chimes in, shrugging with an impressed pout.

“Well, soon he might not have a job at all,” you muse, eyes narrowing in scrutiny of the thought, before shaking your head briefly at turning back to Taeyong. “Anyway, from what I gather, it looks like you’re trying too hard.”

He snorts, “Look who’s talking–”

“Would you just listen for a second?” you snap, dwindling patience echoing with your voice in the ensuing silence, Taeyong staring half-surprised at the outburst.

“Yes ma’am,” he concedes, a playful raise to his eyebrows.

“Thank you,” you sigh deeply. “Remember how I said half of the walk is in the mind?”

Taeyong nods.

“Well, your mind is on overdrive. You need to relax.”

“Okay, and how do you propose I do that? Do you have some kind of–”

“Just...” you interrupt him, stepping forward, hands finding their way to the tense planes of his shoulders “...relax.”

Your touch must have come with something of a magic as Taeyong feels the tension in his muscles evaporate with the ticklish sensation of your fingertips. The snarky comment he’d prepared moments before dies on the tip of his tongue as he eyes you from the shortened distance between your bodies, your hands emanating something warm and wonderful that pricks the hairs up on his arms. He’s quiet, swears he hears your breaths fall slightly laboured as your hands smooth over the angle of his shoulders down to his arms. It’s not something you’re unaccustomed to, having assisted a plethora of other models with this exact motion of your hands. But with Taeyong, it feels like a foolish act of impulse, something that was perhaps best not to have done in the first instance. You can’t seem to evade the gulp that gathers in your throat as your fingers delicately brush over the hard muscle that lies under the soft fabric of his shirt, and it dawns on you that beyond the lanky body and the wide shimmer of his pupils, this man is much sturdier than you could have ever foreseen. Warm too; his skin tingling pleasantly under the cool air conditioning that frosts at your own fingertips.

You glance up at him, and oh, the fool you are for getting caught up in his gaze and the little scar that you notice sits right beside it, something you’ve only just taken note of from seeing him up so close.

“Why so quiet?”

Your question quietly lingers between the two of you for Taeyong to answer, but it’s almost as if you are asking yourself the same thing, searching for an immediate explanation to the sudden cascade of…whatever this is. Why are you being so quiet? Why is your pulse growing higher by the second, and why – just why – can’t you take your eyes off this man all of a sudden?

“I’m relaxed,” Taeyong murmurs, gaze suddenly preoccupied with tracing the curvature of your lips, every little crease beneath the layer of long-faded lipstick, a little dry but still somehow enchanting.

You simply blink up at him, wondering if his words parallel the answer you’re also searching for. You’re not bothered by the wisp of hair that falls into his half-lidded eyes, and you can’t even bring yourself to be surprised about your apathy. Not when you’re distracted by the way his eyelashes shift each strand ever so slightly with every blink. Perhaps even an unfixed collar would look perfect on him in this moment-

No.

Your hands drop from his arms as you take a quick step back, quiet breaths the only tell-tale sign of your faltering front as you avert your eyes elsewhere.

“Okay then,” you clear your throat, attempting with much effort to set aside whatever twisted emotion that whirls in the pit of your stomach, gesturing haphazardly to the platform ahead. “Try walking now.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong shakes the bangs out of his face, much to your concealed disappointment. “Yeah, okay.”

You feel a certain shift in the cool air that brushes your skin as he strides ahead, all warmth clinging tightly onto him as single minutes bleed into dozens, ebbing and flowing to and fro as you watch Taeyong’s figure from your place. You keep a safe distance from him, but the trance from earlier seems to weave itself in a taut string between the two of you, growing all the more prominent as the night progresses in a stretched-out silence filled only by the echo of his shoes and your small purls of praise. His walk turns out to be a lot better, still imperfect in many ways, but better, nonetheless; shoulders liberated from the rigidity of before, a more natural essence to the placement of his feet. And it leaves you mussed and tangled in your thoughts, unable to shake the new light under which he walks.

What had happened earlier, and just when did the silence become so deafening through all the blatant banter?

Neither you, nor Taeyong have an answer. Not now, and not among the quiet rustling of coats when you eventually decide to call it a night. He steals a glance your way, catches sight of your wary expression, and turns back to the floor, a minuscule, little heat radiating on the smooth of face as if your hands now cup his cheeks as they previously did his arms.

What would that truly feel like? He wonders, holding the door open for you as the lights die down in a hushed flicker. You brush past him with a small thanks, the door clicking shut as he too steps out into the hallways. The windows in the corridors don’t glow with the natural light of the day, simply reflecting yours and Taeyong’s blurry figures as you walk side-by-side toward the elevator. You press the button and wait patiently, relieved that the spike of your heels stops the idiot inside you from rocking back and forth on her feet.

“Can I ask you something?”

You almost jump as Taeyong utters the words beside you, the elevator doors welcoming you into its small, shiny box as you nod.

“Why silver?”

He eyes the silver fabric tied loosely around your handbag, glancing up when you don’t speak, only to be met with a small tilt of your head and a confused frown that has his own lips pursing if only to keep his smile at bay.

“I mean, why not gold? What’s the reason everything in Argent is silver.”

“Chaque nuage a une doublure d'argent.” The phrase slips past your lips without much thought, something natural and warm to accompany the flutter in your chest from the elevator’s descent.

“Italian?” Taeyong asks, charmed by the faraway look in your eyes and the wistful smile that stretches just underneath them.

“French.” You glance at him, a rush of goosebumps decorating your arms under the thick layer of your coat as one side of his mouth quirks into an endearing grin. “It means every cloud has a silver lining.” Your smile widens fondly, the memory of your mentor in Paris replaying clear as day in the canvas of your mind. “I named Argent after the phrase; it literally means ‘silver’ in French,” you chuckle with a small shake of your head. It all sounds a little too ridiculous now that you stand here in hindsight, so surreal that you almost feel like bursting out in a fit of uncontrolled laughter at your impulsive, juvenile decision all those years ago.

But to Taeyong, it only makes you a little more human to know you’d named the biggest fashion brand in the world after a cliché little phrase.

You walk out moments later into the nocturnal buzz of overfed zebra-crossings, moving billboards in the distance, and all else that comprises the faithful oath of New York City. There’s a chill in the air and perhaps that’s why Taeyong finds himself stepping a little closer beside you, studying your features bit by bit as the wind whips your hair from atop your head. The smell of New York gasoline tingles at his nose, but it seems to fade with the relaxed grin that adorns your lips.

Taeyong suddenly stops in his tracks, and you turn back, watching as he digs a hand into his satchel, pulling it out in a loose fist which he brings up to you. His fingers uncurl, revealing a small circular box sitting in his palm.

“Here.”

“Lip balm?” you question, eyebrows furrowing as you glance up at his insisting gaze.

“You need it more than I do.” His smile seems genuine, not a sarcastic lilt to his voice, no intention to offend as he places the lip balm in your hand and closes your fingers around the cool plastic. Absentmindedly licking your lips, you feel a dryness on the skin – a likely result from nervous chewing and the dry chill of the season. Realising the truth in his words, you turn back to Taeyong, noticing a rosy hue beginning to bloom around his pale cheeks, his blonde hair once again fanning through his eyelashes to the waves of the cool wind.

For a set of very simple and obvious reasons, you wouldn’t normally accept lip balm from anyone other than…well, yourself. So, the soft “thank you,” that glides forth from the back of your throat takes you by surprise as you slip the small box into your handbag.

You bid Taeyong goodnight, and he acknowledges you with a two-fingered salute and a small smile. His eyes sparkle with something indiscernible, and as you make the slow, dazed walk to your car, you realise you’re in no rush to understand anything except the sureness of his smile, and the tingle in your chest that had somehow become a default response to it that evening.

Taeyong doesn’t move from his place on the concrete, hands warmed snugly by his pockets, watching your silhouette fade into the night with a strange sort of affection fledging somewhere inside him.

As he readies himself for the journey to his own car, something catches his eye on the sidewalk from metres away, glinting under the streetlights. He squints ahead at the object, walking forward and picking up a small piece of cloth before the wind carries it elsewhere. It sits cool in his palm, silver and shimmery and peculiarly delicate, its corners flapping incessantly with the wind and its middle warming up soothingly beneath the secure curl of his fingers.

He lifts his head, catching the last flail of your coat in the breeze as your silhouette turns the corner at the end of the street, and smiles, tucking the silver fabric into his coat pocket before turning around and strolling to his car.

The darkness of your ceiling greets you with its usual stolid silence as you sink deeper into the plush embrace of your duvet, reaching to pull it up over your shoulders. Your hair tickles the skin of your cheeks, now liberated from its tight up-do and splayed freely along the whiteness of your pillow. Sleep had long brushed its feathery touch along your eyelids, but they still somehow blink vacantly into your dark bedroom.

Never before had you been an insomniac. You should have been asleep by now – you would have been asleep by now, were it not for the bright smile behind your eyes that jerks you awake every time they flutter shut.

A deep crease forms between your brows as you turn frustratedly onto your side, huffing out a sigh of contemplation and confusion, trying to figure out why the thorn in your side now presents himself as a dream just waiting to happen. You know it’s not right for Taeyong to be running through your mind like this. The sole fact that he’s your model-in-training should have made it very, very wrong in the first instance. You should be ashamed, mortified even.

So, where the hell is the remorse?

It’s nowhere to be found. You’ve tried searching for it, hoping to find the slightest little remnant of guilt deep within you, but it seems you’ve emerged with something else instead. Something that came in the form of flushed cheeks and warm hands, awkward silences and, most surprisingly, a smile.

Contempt? Petty frustration? It’s all gone just like that, and goodness, is it jarring to suddenly feel emotion in such a peculiar way.

Perhaps calling Taeyong into your office days ago and practically begging on your knees for him to stay wasn’t your brightest move – hell, it had all but knocked your pride down a few pegs and you weren’t liking it at all. But at the same time, it seemed to have pulled a few improvements on Taeyong’s end…but then there’s this new side of him that has you fluttery and warm, mulling over the mental snapshot of his smile and the way his hair flows with the wind and-

“Ughhh,” you groan out loud, pulling your pillow over your head in attempt to halt your spiralling thoughts. “Go. To. Sleep.” You accentuate your muffled voice with three hard thumps of your fist on the mattress, before jerking up to the sound of a notification on your phone.

You wonder who in their right mind would be texting you at such a late hour as you reach to your nightstand and pick the device up. You squint down at the blue light that illuminates your face in the dark, eyes scanning over the slightly hazy typewrite on the screen that says:

Taeyong [12:47am]: Goodnight :)

You simply sit there, half-wrapped in your duvet with eyes wide, blinking over the nine letters and emoticon that sit so brazenly under Taeyong’s name. It’s outlandish from all the previous exchanges you’ve had – your last message being from a week ago, reprimanding him for being late to the job yet again. He hadn’t replied to that text, and it had once bothered you to all ends that he hadn’t. But right now you can’t find it in you to care as you stare down at this text, very much typed out by him, wishing you a ‘goodnight’ (never mind the fact that it really should have been two words instead of one).

You bring a hand to your cheek, massaging circles into the bone hoping to relive the ache of another smile that forms on your lips.

God, what is wrong me?

You feel your worries lifted by the darkness around you as you think back to everything from hours earlier. Taeyong’s flawed walk and the pout on his lips, the warmth of his skin and the firm muscle hidden beneath it. The bangs in his eyes and flicker of lashes in the wind, the little box he’d rolled into your palm and the odd comfort of his fingers as he did. It makes you become all too aware of the small, rounded silhouette sitting amongst the shadows on your nightstand. You’d accepted it less than two hours ago, and that too without a single fuss, but you still hadn’t taken the liberty of using it yet.

You find yourself tracing a finger along your still very dry lips, grimacing at the thought of what they must have looked like to Taeyong earlier, and decide that there really isn’t any other time like the present to reach over grab it. You unscrew the lid of the box and bring it to your nose, the fragrance of artificial strawberries wafting through your senses as you swirl a finger through it and dab at your lips. You catch the faintest taste of strawberry sweetness as you purse them, and it suddenly dawns on you that Taeyong must have used this exact lip balm numerous times before…on his own set of lips…

“What the fuck, Y/n,” you whisper aloud, halting all absurdities from taking over your thoughts, placing the box back on your nightstand and flopping back onto your pillow, sheets pulled all the way up to your chin.

Nothing good ever came from being awake at such an hour – not even on the pages of your design book – so, with a final sigh, you close your eyes once more.

Perhaps it was Taeyong’s message, perhaps it’s his lip balm, or it might even be his annoying little smile that still paints itself on the back of your eyelids. Whatever it may be, it lulls you easily into the sleep your eyes so crave, brushes you softly and leaves you with another smile to last through the night.

VI. The Loved and The Lost

The morning welcomes you with a slap to the face – or to the ears, rather – as the shrill ring of your phone jolts you from whatever petty dream you must have been having.

You groan into your pillow. This was far from the way you’d planned to start your first weekend off in months, but, alas, the world seems to care less and less of your plans with each passing day, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

Rolling onto your side, you reach for your phone to see Ten’s name, thumbing at the answer button.

“Ten,” you mumble with a groggy voice, fingers rubbing the light into your eyes, “you know it’s my day off work-”

“I’m sorry Y/n, but you need to check the news.” His voice is frantic on the other side of the line, almost as if he’s jogging as he speaks, but it doesn’t fully register as you stretch your limbs under the safety of your covers, yawning out a lazy, “Why?”

“Just do it! Now!”

The urgency in his raised voice has you sitting up abruptly, ear pressing in harshly to your phone screen as you scramble out of bed balancing it on your shoulder, almost tripping over the sheets as your ankles catch on them while rushing to the living room.

“Okay, okay, but what’s wrong? Is everything alri-” Your words die in your throat as you switch your television on, the news channel opening straight away to…

Jaehyun?

He’s at what looks like a press conference, sporting a relaxed smile while answering questions from reporters in the audience. Your eyebrows furrow at the headline on the bottom of the screen.

SM AGENCY SUPERMODEL JUNG JAEHYUN TO SIGN CONTRACT WITH QI FASHION LABELS

“What…” you whisper out confusedly to Ten on the other side, a frown settling deep on your features.

“Listen!” Ten urges, and you turn up the volume of the television, a horrible feeling settling in your chest as you lean forward and watch anxiously.

“Jaehyun, is it true that you are no longer contracted under Argent Fashion Labels?”

The voice speaks from the audience, accompanied by the occasional clicks and flashes of cameras that capture Jaehyun as he leans toward the microphone in front of him.

“Excluding all technicalities, yes, it’s true.”

Your jaw loosens in a shocked mix of confusion and anger, your chest rising and falling heavily as you try to figure out what the fuck was happening all of a sudden.

“And what does Y/n have to say about this?”

Nothing. You had absolutely nothing to say about anything that was happening at this moment, no say whatsoever. You weren’t given the chance to step into the picture at all, rather watching in shock from behind your television screen.

“Well, it’s always tough to let a loved one go.”

The grin that stretches widely across Jaehyun’s face pulls a nauseating ache into your chest, as if your stomach were being folded in on itself. What the hell was Jaehyun trying to imply?

“So, you don’t deny the dating rumours?” The question echoes from another reporter, followed by a silence that lasts a second too long.

“No.”

You glare at the flatness of the screen in front of you, fists curling into your palms as the rest of the conversation drowns out behind a red curtain that seems to draw itself around you.

“Y/n?” Ten’s voice asks worriedly through the speaker.

You stand, jaw locking as you switch the tv off, voice as stone-cold and emotionless as the deepening scowl on your face. “Contact public relations immediately and schedule an appraisal meeting for this afternoon. I’ll handle the rest.”

─── ⪧ ⪦ ───

The roots of your hair yank painfully at your scalp, tugged up in a bun so high and tight it’s almost the only thing that seems to hold your flaring temper together.

Almost.

“Miss Y/l/n, what are you doin-”

“Give me a fucking break,” you seethe through clenched teeth, charging like a storm past a receptionist that calls out from the desk, sitting right beneath the audacious letters SMA.

It’s ironic really, to be voicing these very words on the day that was actually supposed to be your break. You’d initially hoped to spend it well – perhaps wake up at noon and lose yourself in one of your neglected paperbacks, or take a dip in a rose-infused bath with a soothing glass of wine-spice, or both. But it was all a story of lost hope now, buried beneath the heavy breathing and pounding of your chest as you skip the steps two-at-a-time all the way up to the sixth floor of this godforsaken building. You didn’t want to take the elevator, didn’t care if you snapped a heel and had to limp the rest of the way up. Etiquette is now a notion of the past as you stride past each pretentious pair of eyes, uncaring of their whispers as a single phrase repeats itself incessantly in your mind:

Jung Jaehyun is fucking dead.

It’s frustrating how the route to his office is ingrained so deeply into your memory as if it were the route to your own, all rhyme and reason relinquished as you launch yourself through its doors, blowing your blazing fuse the second it slams shut behind you.

“What is wrong with you?” you roar out into the white walls of his office, bristling with fury to see Jaehyun still dressed in the same outfit as press conference; the suit that isn’t one of your own designs, but one of QI Fashion Labels’ instead.

“Oh, you saw it.” It isn’t a question that apathetically slides from Jaehyun’s tongue, just an insolent flatness to his voice that tugs your eyebrows taut, so infuriating it has you slamming a hard hand on his desk.

“The whole damn world saw it, Jaehyun. What the hell happened to our agreement?”

“Qi offered me a better one. So, I took it.” He doesn’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on an editorial magazine he obnoxiously flicks between his thumbs. “I’m a top model, Y/n, but that means jack shit if I can’t do my job.”

“Nobody took your job away from you, Jaehyun, you brought this upon yourself!” You point a finger at him, maddened with his insinuation. “You were the one who pulled out of the show last minute. You were the one who left me to deal with all of this just to save your own backside-”

“I did it for you too!” He stands, leveling himself with you.

“Did you?” Your voice lowers to a threatening murmur before erupting in the next moment. “THEN WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THAT CONFERENCE?"

“IT WAS A PUBLICITY STUNT, Y/N, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SAY?” he yells over you, “‘I’m sorry? Will you forgive me?’ Is that what you want?”

You simply stand there, jaw falling unhinged, stunted to an unforeseen silence from the disdain that tumbles through his words. You feel a surge of blood rushing to your face in a twisted combination of anger and humiliation, trying to maintain the little composure that dwindles within you.

This feels so different.

Nobody has ever looked at you the way Jaehyun does now, with so much contempt and derision. You were supposed to be at the top. You were always the one to satisfy, to gain respect from. But now, it seems you’re the single mockery of everything around you, frailed and muted with your entire world bared as it crashes head-first into the ground.

“How dare you,” you spit. “You had no right.”

“This is showbiz, Y/n,” Jaehyun deadpans. “People come and people go, and the world still keeps turning.”

“Well, what about my world, Jaehyun?” You step forward, glaring right into his eyes. “What. About. Mine?”

“Oh, stop with the fucking act. You’re the worldwide fashion designer and founder of Argent, you’re Y/n Y/l/n! The world revolves around you!” He violently throws his hands up. “Okay, I walked out. But the second I did, you snatched some new guy right off the streets. What does it matter then? You’ve got everything you need-”

“He’s here for a month, Jaehyun. A month! And you were supposed to be back right after that.”

You pause. So does he. No words meet the air, just heavy breaths filled with clamorous intention. You try to gather your thoughts, every cogent piece of dialogue, anything that will change Jaehyun’s mind. But it all seems to slip from your grasp the second your mouth opens without your mind to wisely follow.

“I gave you everything.”

“Sure. You did.” Jaehyun nods, but you’re only left to kick yourself in the face as a sinister look sweeps across his features as naturally as the oxygen spills from your lungs. “But you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I was the first and only person willing to take you up on your offer all those years ago, when you had nothing except your sketchbook going for you. You only gave me everything because I gave it all to you first, Y/n.” Jaehyun leans in with a threatening tilt to his head, smirk only growing more scornful with the sharp breath that leaves him. “I made you.”

His words sting you somewhere deep inside, all your futile shields arming in an instant to protect yourself.

“You did not make me.” You feel dizzy with the harsh grind of teeth behind your chapped lips, breath growing deeper in attempt to control the tears threatening to terrorize your eyes. “I worked my ass off to get where I am now, and if I didn’t have you, you best believe, Jung Jaehyun, I would’ve had someone better.”

Jaehyun leans back, pride clearly stabbed and bleeding from the heart, though he does a much better job at hiding it than you with the twitch of his lips into yet another spiteful smirk.

“You know why people don’t like you?”

Enlighten me. You want so badly for these words to tear through your throat. But they don’t, held back by your last wavering nerve.

“Because you’re a bitch. A stubborn, cold-hearted bitch.”

And that’s it. You back down with nothing more to say and nothing more to lose, eyes shifting around the floor, your shields defeated and conquered with that one word.

Bitch.

It wasn’t anything new – perhaps occupying third place on the long list of bywords copped under your name over the years. But never before had it burned as much as it does now.

Your fingers tighten into their customary fists; not out of anger, but rather in search of a warmth somewhere in the gulf your palms. You gulp, lips pursed and dry with the caution of tears, not once looking Jaehyun in the eyes as you turn around and walk to the door. With shaky breaths and shaky fingers, you pull the door handle only to pause and turn back once more, daring yourself to meet Jaehyun’s eyes despite all your efforts not to.

His face still holds the same comely features as the day you’d first found him kicking rocks outside of Vogue building. It all flashes clear in your mind; him as a fresh-faced rookie with a freshly rejected application balled in his fist. You’d just made your move to the Big Apple back then and that boy had once been a Godsend. He was polite and charming. Heck, you’d even started out with a small crush on him, awed like anything that he was willing to throw all caution to the wind alongside you. Jaehyun had signed your self-made contract and had his shot at showbiz. He had been a huge contributor to Argent’s growth in the industry; that much stood true among his harsh words of the present and you couldn’t discredit him for his work in that regard. As Argent grew, luck had smiled upon him in the form of an SMA recruitment officer knocking at his door at the wee hours of one fine morning, whisking both him and his name fresh into the celebrity scene to gain the recognition that he had rightfully deserved.

That he had once deserved.

Not anymore.

“Go to hell, you bastard.”

He doesn’t say anything – he doesn’t need to, the tightening of his jaw confirming everything words couldn’t begin to explain. And there’s nothing more heart-shattering than the realisation that hits you in this moment:

You’ve lost Jaehyun. You’ve lost a partner. And worst of all, you’ve lost a friend.

You step out of Jaehyun’s office, slamming the door shut, tears burning furiously in your eyes as the distance between you and him grows wider and wider with every hasty step.

You try to pick apart all the layers in your mind, try to separate all your rights from all of Jaehyun’s wrongs. But in the grand scheme of things, you realise there really isn’t much to separate at all. You’d both started out together, two parallels of the same temperament, chasing a fame and fortune that was destined to become yours someday. And here you both are now, a world-class bitch and a two-faced asshole, both sitting high and mighty in your thrones. The only visible difference now, is your preserved integrity and his tilted crown.

It was always so easy to be wronged in the cruellest way imaginable, especially when all started to seem perfect. Wasn’t it just yesterday you were floating in the clouds, and shimmering with a rose-tinted glow?

But here you are today, refusing to shed violent tears and buried beneath the rubble of misplaced trust.

It must have been so easy for him to push you down. And it had all happened in the unsuspecting blink of an eye.

“-with a high of sixty-three, and an eighty percent chance of widespread thunderstorms all throughout New Yor-”

You groan out loud, thumbing the television off and tossing the remote to the side.

“No Karen, I don’t want to know about widespread thunderstorms,” you grumble, slumping into the leather of your sofa with a sulky pout. Since when had cable television soured up so much?

From what you can remember, it had always been something to look forward to in your younger years, an escape from reality. But now all that’s decent to watch is the news, and that has been completely off-limits as per the PR meeting that had happened a day ago (and you’d broken that rule, obviously).

The news about Jaehyun’s departure has understandably been a secret to no one, having been circulated in every magazine during the very hour of your last brawl with him. It had all taken its toll on you, even you conceded to that very sure fact. But what you absolutely did not concede, was the three days’ worth of exile the board had forced upon you thereafter. Three full days! It was absurd in all sense of the word. You still find it ridiculous that they, your employees, had taken the liberty to order you, their boss, to take a break a fortnight before the biggest fashion show of the year.

You wouldn’t have listened to them, of course, not when with all the end-phase preparations and a multitude more fittings to cram in the short time left. But as it turns out, it isn’t exactly an easy task to escape being held at gunpoint by your own stellar employees.

A fashion designer always had a project to work on; always something to start, finish, improve or fix, no matter the quality of their predicament. You’d call yourself a refractory to the system as of recent, currently sunken halfway into your couch with more than your fill of malaise-induced boredom to accompany you, contemplating whether a Netflix subscription would be a sensible investment for the next few days.

You look to the mannequin stand in the corner of the room, frowning. On it is Argent’s final runway item for New York Fashion Week; an item you’d taken the liberty to smuggle home in hopes of finishing. But you haven’t gathered the tenacity to do so, the workaholic itch in your fingers seeming to have tired itself out with the sole fact that the outfit was originally Jaehyun’s to wear.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table, lethargy weighing heavily on your limbs as you reach forward to pick it up.

Ten [3:18pm]: Wendy, Joy and Winter’s final fittings have been reviewed and completed

Ten [3:18pm]: how are you going?

You sigh in relief, happy to have not received any bad news from Ten yet. Receiving regular updates was the compromise for your agreement in being cooped up inside your apartment, but the very act of picking up your phone always feels like a gamble, given all the unpredicted mishaps of the last month.

Y/n [3:19pm]: that’s great, keep up the good work!

Y/n [3:19pm]: going as fine as I can without anything to do

Y/n [3:20pm]: oh, could you also make sure the white boot-coat set is finished and reviewed?

Ten [3:20pm]: already been done

The smile that pricks at your lips feels almost unnatural after days of consistent frowning. Though it’s not a typical trait of yours, you’ve always favoured the idea of realising the worth of your possessions – or rather, persons – before their eventual disappearance from your life. So, it comes as a quiet sort of surprise as you realise that Ten Lee is worth so much more to you than you could ever have expressed.

Now that you really think about it, he’s probably the person you’d entrusted the most personal information with through the entirety of your career, and if it wasn’t for your stiff-necked pride, you’d even call yourself lucky to be able to call him your executive assistant. In all honesty, you’re not quite sure what you would have done – where you would have been, how you would have survived – if you didn’t have Ten to help you through it all. Prompt in his actions, justified in his reasoning, astute in the mind; Ten really is the best of the best.

Another vibration of your phone draws you back to the screen, though it’s not the name you expect to find.

Taeyong [3:25pm]: hey, you busy?

You scoff at the message, muttering a blasé, “Am I busy. Of course, I’m not busy, what a stupid thing to-”

Taeyong [3:25pm]: that was a joke in case you didn’t get it

Taeyong [3:25pm]: I know you’re bored out of your mind right now

Your indifferent gaze drops to a scowl. You try to convince yourself it’s root cause is the infuriating man on the other side of your phone, but you know deep down it’s just your petty temperament; annoyed that you weren’t able to catch onto his little joke…if one could even call it that.

Y/n [2:25pm] yeah whatever, how’s your walk going mr happy feet

Taeyong [3:26pm]: happy feet 🤨

Taeyong [3:26pm]: is that my compliment for the day?

You can’t help but snicker at his reply, glad that you don’t have to suppress the atypical expression on your face while in the safety of your apartment walls. Perhaps there was some advantage to being stuck at home, after all.

Y/n [3:26pm]: take it or leave it, it’s up to you🤷‍♀️

That’s another thing you’ve learnt to use in the last day: emojis. It was stupid, really, something so out of the ordinary for you. The whole point of using a small picture in a texting app never really made sense to you; it’s called a text for a reason. But that was until Taeyong had dared you the day before to text only in emojis. It hadn’t been the easiest task, but you’d survived, and as a bonus, taken a liking to some of the mini yellow figures – just enough to use them around Taeyong at the very most.

Taeyong [3:26pm]: hmm I’ll take it

Taeyong [3:26pm]: only because it’s as rare as this 😊

There was that infuriating tingle in your chest, nestling inside you in some tucked away in a corner and seeming to only emerge at the thought of Taeyong. It’s something unexplainable and uncontrollable, never before felt in the way you’ve been feeling it lately.

Was he thinking about your smile? If so, how long had been thinking about it? Since when? And why?

You glance to your arm, noticing goosebumps arise on the smooth skin as the question comes to mind. Your thumbs hover over the screen, unsure how to respond to both Taeyong and the giddy, ticklish feeling inside you.

Taeyong [3:27pm]: anyway Charlie’s on his way for you

Taeyong [3:27pm]: I’ll see you soon

You hum in confusion, eyebrows knitting at his text, wondering if you’ve been granted an early exemption from your impending two days of exile.

Taeyong [3:27pm]: oh also don’t wear anything too expensive

VII. Tell Me

You had started from somewhere familiar, grounded by the undying rumble of city-goers and loud tumble of traffic in every which direction. You had started with the all the colours of the rainbow reflecting in your eyes from moving billboards, weathered yellow taxis and sun-lit windows; with your head angled high, glimpsing up towards the concrete jungle that made up your every dream and every struggle and everything else in between.

At least a couple dozen minutes later you sit in the same backseat, looking out of the same window, but the only vehicle that seems to be on the road is the one that Charlie drives you in. Gone now are those ever-known gaudy hues of the city, now replaced with the flaring expanse of green rolling hills, natural in height and pure in tone, and a divine sky peeking out to capture it all in its blooming embrace. Your ears ring with the nigh echo of road-rage-infested honks, almost as if searching for the sound somewhere in the low buzz of 90’s classics scratching on the radio. There isn’t an ounce of man-made construct to behold, no shine of metals under the clouds, nor a single slab of greyed concrete to dampen the vibrant blades of grass that seem to grow an inch or two taller with every quarter mile. Pleasant would be the word to describe it all; perhaps even beautiful, were it not for the very sure fact that this was definitely not the way to work as you’d originally thought it to be.

As the car rolls to a stop, you peek out once more to the same emerald scape, still no building or vehicle or even person in sight to bale your suspicion.

“Charlie, what is this? Where are we?” You sit forward, resolute in searching for, at the very least, a barn house hidden somewhere amongst the grass and sparsely scattered trees.

“Mr Lee asked for you to be dropped here, miss. I can’t say anything more.”

“Oh, so you take orders from him now. I guess I just don’t get a say in anything anymore,” you mutter childishly, slumping back into the leather seat and fishing out your sunglasses from your purse. “Can you at least tell me where I can find Taeyong in all of this-” you glance out “-grass?”

“He told me,” Charlie raises his fingers in air-quotations, “‘she’ll find me once she gets out.’ I don’t have any further information, miss.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” you huff, opening the door handle and stepping a foot out before pausing and turning back to your driver. “Please don’t bypass me next time.”

“Yes, miss.”

You narrow your eyes at his jolly smile, fully stepping out and closing the door and grimacing at the scratchy grind of your boots in the dry dirt of the road. You take a step toward the field, but the revving of the car behind you doesn’t allow you to breathe in the fresh air as you turn around wide-eyed to see it leaving faded tracks in its wake.

“Hey!” you screech, arms flailing like a maniac. “Charlie, come back!”

It’s futile in any case as you watch the black Jaguar speed off into the distance, your last speck of familiarly becoming one with your memory of the city as you stand there, handbag falling from your shoulder to your elbow, body deflating with literal abandonment.

Note to self: must fire Charlie.

You look around at the place anxiously, spotting a single car parked metres ahead, before turning to the countryside and standing on the balls of your toes. You scan through the maze of tall, gangly grass and tiny yellow flowers, hoping to find a certain blonde-haired hooligan traipsing somewhere between it, praying that the car belongs to him and not some other hooligan waiting to kidnap you and God knows what else. But you don’t see Taeyong anywhere, instead deciding to try your luck by stepping into tall grass, squinting as the gradually waning sun glints warmly through the top of your sunglasses, catching your lashes as they continue to flicker across the field.

It’s almost ironic for a scene earthed so deeply within nature to feel so unnatural, as if you were the most fabricated facet to roam this quiet part of the world. Walking through a field, being carried further with a cool breeze stirring through your locks and a land of serenity to call your own; it was such a simple act. It feels effortless to just exist in such a place, for your lungs to expand to their fullest capacity and welcome the refreshing change of milieu. For your arms to sway with no particular intention except that of a freedom which you had no idea you’d craved so deeply at all.

It’s a rare sight to see your own shadow rippling beside you, cast by the gentle fall of the sun beyond the field in absence of all the city’s tall buildings and metropolitan smog. It felt almost otherworldly to feel the tingling sensation of grass pricking at your fingertips, welcoming you in sweet greeting with every soft crunch beneath your feet.

“Wasn’t it supposed to rain?” you wonder aloud, head tilting up and catching sight of white tufts of clouds scattered infrequently through the sky, no foresight of said stormy weather in the seemingly perfect view. It doesn’t seem to matter either way as you sigh in genuine content, embracing the soft tickle of stray hairs against your cheeks, the warmth gleam of the sun, and strokes of grass at the exposed skin of your ankles.

“Figured you needed the fresh air.”

You abruptly turn around to a faint voice that comes from behind you, puzzled to see a dark-haired man sitting metres away, his pale skin obscured by the grass. The wind carries his hair in the same way it does yours, soft looking antennas waving you ‘hello’ from atop his head. Squinting forward, your gaze scans through the tall green lines and yellow petals, finding a familiar pair of eyes staring right back at your own.

“Taeyong?”

You step towards him with the warm shine of the sun on your back, wondering how you had missed him in your previous surveillance of the area. The grass brushes past your calves with such ease, as if parting to create a pathway just for you to walk along. Taeyong pats the clear stump of earth beside him, lips tugging into an uneven little smile as you sit down on the long of your coat, placing your bag in your lap.

“Hey,” he offers.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

You furrow your eyebrows at your own question, surprised at your own unseemly dialogue for the current setting.

Gosh, I really do need this break.

Taeyong only chuckles quietly, more than accustomed to this little habit of yours.

“Don’t worry, I’m done for the day.”

Your lips part, ready to question how on earth he could be ‘done for the day’ – since no one at Argent was ever done before sundown at the very least. But you stop yourself just as the words graze your tongue, rather opting to fall distracted with the hair that you only just realise now matches the tone of Taeyong’s eyebrows.

“What did you do to your hair?”

He looks up to the curtain of hair on his forehead, realisation striking his features as if he’d forgotten about the change of look altogether. “Oh yeah,” he scoops it back with a casual hand, the smooth complexion of his face glowing under the hue of the falling sun. “I dyed it yesterday; Johnny suggested a more natural colour.”

“It must be the best thing he’s done this month,” you mutter with a small snort, freezing on the spot as Taeyong turns to you in surprise, the meaning of your words settling down on you with the flushed heat that gathers at your neck. “I-I mean-”

“You like it?” he asks, voice falling soft and almost anxious as if hoping for your approval. Though it was all in your job to evaluate his appearance, you just can’t push aside the feeling that this – the goosebumps painting your arms in erratic waves, the hopeful eagerness sparkling in his eyes – was different to all the other times.

He tilts his head with a small smile, and it somehow does wonders to muddle up your thoughts as you nod wordlessly in response to his question, unable to trust your own voice. Your eyes focus on the soft shadows of swaying grass that dance across his cheeks, overcome with a certain urge to reach out and catch one with the tip of your thumb.

Your gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by Taeyong as he turns back to the sun, his smile never once faltering as he watches it fall lower and lower in the sky with each passing second. His eyes flicker to his periphery every now and again, happy to see that his intention for bringing you to this place is running its course. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure whether it would work, whether you would be able find the same contentment in this field as he always has. But as he watches it all once again – the grass, a little taller than the last time he’d visited, the sun and it’s softening hues – he supposes it must be impossible not to fall for the magical charms of such a green expanse.

***

Taeyong’s school shirt beats wildly with the wind against his stomach, the white fabric riddled with so many unkempt creases, he was sure to earn an earful from his dad once he returned home.

The school day couldn’t have gone by any faster, and while all of his friends were attending their extra-curriculars – Yuta at soccer training, Mark at basketball practice and Kun at his piano lessons – Taeyong finds himself all alone, riding his bike in solitude down an isolated country road with nothing but the rhythmic huffing and puffing of his chest to accompany his fast-peddling feet. His backpack hangs heavy with the weight of the many comic books stacked inside, its straps sliding down his shoulders before being shrugged back into place every dozen seconds or so.

Come on, come oooon, almost there! He ushers to himself. The thought manifests with an electric buzz of excitement, his wrist lifting from the handles to shield his face from the sun as it glints its orange rays in his periphery. Taeyong smiles, allowing himself to turn towards it and bask in its warmth, the greenery just below it swaying peacefully in the same way as the tousled hair against his forehead.

He cranes his neck in search for the familiar patch of flattened grass, for the little raw pathway he’d paved from his frequent visits to the field. It wasn’t too far now, just a couple dozen metres and he’d be right-

“Aahhh.”

The front tyre of Taeyong’s bike catches a loose rock on the ground, sending him toppling to the ground as he loses his balance, landing on his side with the loud crash of his bike beside him.

He groans, sitting up, lungs expanding and deflating heavily, a juvenile shock leeching into his features as he takes a few moments to process the fall. He feels a sudden sting on side of his face, expression twisting into a pained frown as he reaches up and dabs at a wet spot at his temple, flinching with a quiet sob at the shooting pain.

“Ow,” Taeyong whimpers, tears pooling at his eyes, though he refuses to let them stain his cheeks. He holds onto his grazed arm, gathering all his strength to pick himself off the ground and dust off his shirt. He feels his heart shatter as he looks down to his bike, taking in its now-dented frame and punctured tyre. Reaching for a tissue from his backpack, he holds it to the wound, hissing at the sting while looking either side of the desolate road.

There isn’t a single car, nor a house in sight. The emptiness of the place wasn’t really something he had paid much attention to until this moment, an inkling of regret seeping into his conscience from not having listened to his parents’ warnings not to go riding outside by himself. Sighing in defeat, Taeyong shoves the blood-stained tissue into his pocket, picking up his bike, slinging on his backpack once again, and opting to continue his journey; he’d gotten this far, so he saw no reason to turn back now, not unless he wanted to fast-track his inevitable scolding…which he certainly doesn’t.

Relief washes over Taeyong as he no sooner finds the notched pathway among the thick mane of grass. He sets down his bike at the edge of the field and strolls along the beaten trail, tall sedges stroking either side of his legs and leading him toward the same little patch of stubbly grass he’d made routine of greeting day by day. He drops his backpack to the ground, planting himself criss-cross applesauce right beside it and eagerly hauling out his comic books with a small grunt. Balancing his fancied print on a single knee, he once again dabs the bloody tissue on his wound, trying his best to ignore its persistent sting.

A yellow flower sits flattened on the page, a withered replica of those that dance around his head, marking the page he’d left off the night before. He pulls it out and delicately sets it down in the grass, allowing the wind to carry its petals somewhere far, far away along with all his seven-year-old worries as he bows his head and loses himself between the pages in his fingers.

Just for a while.

While Yuta kicks a black-and-white ball across a field, Taeyong douses himself in the zestful war of good versus evil, heated air painting his forehead with tiny beads of water that trickle down to cool his neck. While Kun perfects his trills and tenutos on ivory keys, Taeyong revels in the crescendo of action and dooming plot twists. And while Mark practices his three-pointers on the court – though it’d take him years to actually shoot a clean hoop – Taeyong embraces the final defeat of the vengeful villain, triumphing alongside the hero just as the sun brandishes its last smile for the day.

And at the end of it all, he plucks another flower from a tall stem somewhere nearby and presses it neatly between the last read pages of his nth comic, before returning home with a heart ever so heavy and saddened, bidding the field yet another inevitable goodbye.

***

A placebo. That’s what the field had been back then. And as Taeyong looks at you now, notices the relaxed lilt to your otherwise stiff posture and the small flicker of a smile on your now not-so-chapped lips, he realises that the placebo still holds strong and true.

And it indeed does, as you allow the knots in your face to relax for the first time in what feels like years. All of this was a rarity at best, with most of your evenings spent under the bright lights of your office, faced with vivacious reds and purples and silvers, all wrapped in the constant buzz of central air conditioning. And while you still haven’t a definite answer to why Taeyong had brought you to this field in the first place, you feel privileged enough that he did. Privileged to be able to bathe in the seeping warmth of the sun and breathe the soothing rustle of grass against the wind. It serves to elicit a sort of epiphany in your mind; that amidst it all, the world of fashion and fame feels so absolutely worthless.

‘Natural beauty’ is a term you’ve always chosen to steer clear from in your very fabricated life. You’ve heard it used in various contexts, thrown around in offhand and meaningless ways that never really seemed natural or beautiful at all. But the phrase seems to take on an entirely new meaning here, somehow more tangible and definite than you have ever known. This – where you are now – is a beauty coined by nature itself. No fabrications, no impressionable colours, nothing to be stitched or sewn or cut or styled just to breach the bracket of perfection. Even the clouds that seemed to have accumulated up above only play their just part of looking beautiful, and for the first time in a long, long time, you understand exactly what you need.

This.

This is what you need.

Your smile drops to a frown in an instant, eyes flickering down to your lap as your mind spirals back to your last conversation with Jaehyun from days ago.

But this is exactly what I can’t have.

Your next words fall from your lips before you’re able to help yourself, voice quiet but still so loud in the silence.

“Taeyong, do you think I’m a bitch?”

Guilt tugs itself taught in your chest at the thought, and you suddenly feel like a fraud for so much as sitting here and allowing yourself to enjoy every small wonder of this field. None of it was ever yours to enjoy in the first place. You belong in the tumbling noise of the city, amid the streets of towering skyscrapers, wrapped in eternal sheets of expensive fabrics, under the blaring flashes of fame.

Taeyong turns to you with a questioning look, eyebrows riddling with confusion upon seeing the frown on the same pair of lips that were smiling so contentedly the last minute he’d seen them. It isn’t the same frown he’s grown so used to over the preceding weeks, but one that now bares a genuine sadness to it.

He can only sigh, fingertips tingling with an unsolicited urge to reach out and tilt your chin his way as he mulls over his own thoughts. He can’t tell exactly which place your question had come from, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be too far off if he took a wild guess.

“You want my honest opinion?” Taeyong breathes out, and you can’t help but curl your knees to your chest at the thought of what’s to come.

You don’t want his honest opinion. You really don’t.

But perhaps it’s something you need.

So, you allow yourself to nod, giving him the okay to speak freely. He nods back, blinking a few times before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah, I think you are a bitch.”

Your head hangs low under the heavy weight of reality as it sinks deeper than you’d ever allowed it to before, and with a sorrowful nod, you allow yourself to crumble a little on the inside with Taeyong’s words. You’re not sure what you were really expecting from him with your question; you knew better than to bank on a free shower of compliments, but you certainly weren’t expecting his answer to bite and burn as much as it does now. But you suppose that in the end, he only recites the very insult you’ve been brushing off for years. But it’s only now that it truly feels justified, as if you can no longer brush it away without slipping further into its unforgiving throes, forced to accept it as it is with no sure-fire excuse to walk away.

“But I also think underneath it all – underneath the whole façade – that you’re a very likeable person.”

Taeyong hasn’t even a clue what he’s saying, the words simply leaving his mouth as naturally as his own breath mingles with the wind.

You turn to him, a bout of hesitancy in the slow blink of your eyes as you search his gaze for even just the smallest shard of deceit. You don’t find any, though it doesn’t stop your attempts to convince yourself he’d only said the latter out of pity.

“I don’t know,” you release a shallow sigh, bitter with the new sensation of complete and utter defeat. “Everyone else begs to differ.”

Taeyong eyes you sceptically.

“Everyone else, as in Jaehyun?”

“Especially him.”

“He’s an asshole, Y/n.” He shakes his head, almost annoyed at you for still allowing that cheap excuse of a man to mess with your head, even after he’d taken the liberty of opening Argent’s doors and showing his own way out.

You chuckle resentfully.

“That asshole is one of my only friends…was…my only friend.”

“Well, last time I remember, friends don’t abandon you and clype you out on national tv.”

You pause upon hearing Taeyong’s words, realising the blatant truth in them. No friend would do such a thing if they truly were a friend, and the fact that Jaehyun had done exactly what a good friend shouldn’t have…

It couldn’t have felt any more scary than it does now.

And it leaves you wondering if any of it – if any of the friendship you thought you and Jaehyun had harboured through the years – had been real in any essence. Perhaps it had been real, even just for a short while. Perhaps it had been lost in translation somewhere along the dividing paths of your careers. But it certainly doesn’t feel that way in hindsight, and friendship or not, it certainly doesn’t exist anymore.

Taeyong doesn’t avert his eyes from you, doesn’t care that the sun had finally kissed the green horizon up ahead, rather focusing on the turmoil brewing so evidently through your features.

“Tell me,” he voices out softly, not a second thought to the sureness of his words.

“What?” you ask.

“Whatever’s on your mind.” He resists the urge to reach forward and take your hand in his own, looking deeply into your eyes and finding a need somewhere deep down. A need to know the full story of you, to understand you. “Tell me whatever you want. About yourself, about Argent; everything. I’ll listen.”

You find yourself staring up at Taeyong in bewilderment, your hair batting against your cheeks, though never a bother, as you try to formulate a response to his offer, realising that this is the first time someone has asked you to share your thoughts freely. This is the first time someone truly seemed to care about something other than your fame or your fortune or every other profitable prospect in between.

This is the first time someone is willing to listen.

So, maybe it’s the soft prickle of grass at your ankles, or your vulnerability that’s now borne far beyond redemption; perhaps it’s the faint scent of flowers all around, or maybe even be the brown-haired man sitting right in the middle of them. Whatever it is – whether a combination of everything, or nothing all – it causes you to smile, yielding away your defences and bursting all your dams free for a short while.

Taeyong feels his heart swell as you begin to speak out every little thought that comes to mind. And just as he’d said, he listens. Not only to your words, but to every subtle inflection of your voice, to the rise and fall of new emotion that even you didn’t think you could express.

You’d planned to loosen the restraints just slightly, but wind up releasing the reins altogether, indulging in Taeyong’s attentive nods and hums as you paint him a vivid picture of the past he never could have imagined you to have lived.

He discovers a lot; of your father’s departure when you were merely eight years old, and the childhood you’d spent under ceaseless scrutiny thereafter. He finds out how everything from the friends you had to the clothes you wore, had been controlled under your mother’s dreadful custody. How you’d fled home at the young age of seventeen and found yourself in the city of love with not an ounce of love to give. Even less to keep.

“It was always just me, myself and I. And I hated it.” You blink ahead at the orange and pink hues among the gathered clouds, the sun now. “I guess I just wanted to break free from that trap, and I did it through fashion. And it did work. It worked wonders,” you sigh, pausing to gather your thoughts before continuing with a smile. “Opening Argent had been a fantasy come true. I’ve achieved…so much; things that were once merely a figment of my wildest dreams. I have a cupboard full of awards. Invites from Tokyo, London, Italy, Shanghai, you name it.” You find your words falling short on your tongue, replaced with a dry chuckle and a small shake of your head. “But isn’t it just so funny how years of control can spiral out in the span of a day? How everything can suddenly turn in on itself as if none of it really mattered?”

Your eyes are wistful and faraway, as is the prevailing smile on your lips, and while Taeyong wishes so badly to reciprocate the expression, he just can’t bring himself to do so. His spirits plummet ten feet underground as everything seems to click in his mind, now envisioning you in a new kind of light; something a little softer, subdued, not nearly as blinding as the spotlight you lived under.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just being dramatic. This is showbiz after all,” you deadpan, recalling Jaehyun’s words with a sigh.

All the fame and wealth that you now have. All the esteem and praise and acclamation. You once seemed to have everything he could have only ever dreamt of; everything anyone could have ever dreamt of. A world-class fashion label and a famous title should have been enough. Designer clothing and expensive buyers, the spotlights and privilege of being ‘the world’s best and most renowned’; all of it should have been enough. But after listening to everything you had to say, Taeyong realises it never would be. That material possessions are worth nothing without the emotional sentiment that was supposed to come with them; that it’s all meaningless without someone to share and celebrate and enjoy them with. He wonders what exactly your motive had been when choosing to walk into this hectic world alone, unwilling to believe that you’d come with the intention of ending up where you are now.

Taeyong pictures a different version of you, someone written in the pages of your past, years younger than you are now. He sees a young girl with fiery passions and enough quirks to back every one of those passions with. She wasn’t perfect in the least, had many flaws to take in her stride, but she shone brighter than all the silvers in the world. She sought her dream through perseverance, never once allowing a frown to so much as grace the smile that had once sat so naturally on her face. She had so much to gain from life.

So how could she be sitting right here with a handful of losses and a shattered heart?

Taeyong wonders what exactly you had done to end up in this position but can’t seem to find an answer. You hadn’t done anything wrong. It strikes him that perhaps it was because of people like him, that people like you could never truly live the lives you’d originally planned for yourselves; perhaps it wouldn’t have been all that bad had he been more careful with his sources.

His pensive silence feels a little too tense and prolonged, causing you to grow conscious of every little confession you’d shared moments prior. You want to know what Taeyong is thinking, whether his respect for you falls any fickler in his mind now that your heart lies bared on your sleeve.

“Well, I’ve opened my gaping scars,” you announce quietly, watching him from the corner of your eye, “don’t think you’ll get away without opening yours.”

“I don’t know if I can compete with you, really,” he answers solemnly, realising the value of his own fulfilling childhood despite the downfalls.

“Well, what about that one?”

Taeyong flinches back in surprise, his thoughts interrupted by the finger you point right next to his eye.

“Sorry,” you mutter, retracting your hand back in embarrassment.

He accepts your apology with a small wave and shake of his head, amused by your sudden awkwardness as his own hand lifts to trace the scar beside his eye that you’d pointed at.

“This?” he asks, and you watch a small nostalgic smile grace his lips, nodding in response. Taeyong’s scar is something you’ve been curious about since your evening together in the Walkway Hall, and sitting so close to him once again has only served to remind you of its unique intricacy – almost as if it were there for a specific reason, carved into his skin in a sort of poetic way that only seemed fitting enough for him.

“I got this when I was really young, actually. Seven, I think?” He pouts in thought, and you don’t think he could have looked more endearing in this moment. “I was riding my bike and wasn’t looking where I was going and-”

“And you fell.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand lifting to sheepishly rub at the nape of his neck. “It was somewhere around this field, actually. Somewhere along the road.” He turns back briefly, pointing an aimless finger along the path of the road.

“Oh, you’ve been here before?” you ask, eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity as you sit straight, eager to know more about him.

“More times than I can count.” Taeyong’s his smile grows wider in fond recollection, and you feel another bout of goosebumps rise on your skin as if you too can somehow feel the strength of the memory that so clearly flashes through his mind. “Comic books were my religion,” he chuckles, “and this field was my second home. I used to come here almost every day and just read until sundown.”

How nice it must have been, you wonder to yourself, eyes sparkling with mental image of a seven-year-old boy sitting in solitude among the grass with a book in his hands. You almost wish you could have met him all those years ago, talked with him until the sun no longer smiled down upon you.

“In fact, it was when the sun was setting that…” his voice fades away as he turns his head to you, a soft pang flaring in his chest as he watches your eyes glint with little remaining arch of the sun, your skin aglow with a hue of warm orange. You turn to him with a bright smile, and it’s only now that he realises the erratic beating of his heart beneath his ribcage, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was…distracted by the sunset. That’s how I fell that day.”

“I can understand why,” you mumble, turning back to the field and allowing yourself to breathe in the final golden glow before it settles below the grass. “It’s stunning.”

“Always has been,” Taeyong croons, gaze still trained on your soft eyes, trailing down to the natural curvature of your lips, wondering if they’d feel as soft as they now look.

He finds himself overcome with emotion, wanting to inch closer to you, to embrace you in his arms and slide the cool tips of his fingers between the warm gaps of yours. He wants so badly to be able to rest his chin on your shoulder, nuzzle his nose into your neck and listen to the perfect melody of your voice for hours, to read and make sense of all your thoughts like his very own fascinating comic from all those years ago.

God, he wants to kiss you.

Right here, among the soft whispering of the wind, Taeyong wants to hold you tight and stroke your cheek and let you know everything will be alright.

He sighs, wondering if you feel the same way, if you’ve ever felt an inkling of what he’s feeling in this moment, watching as you tilt your head up to the sky.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” you sigh, blinking up and following the clouds as they glide swiftly into one another among the turquoise of the sky. They’re a lot larger now, darker too in combination of the lacking sun and a natural greyness. “We should go.”

“Wait,” Taeyong catches your wrist momentarily, preventing you from standing as he reaches another hand into his pocket.

He pulls out a familiar-looking strip of silver fabric, pinching it by the ends and holding it up to the sky. You eye him, confused, eyebrows furrowing at his bizarre gesture before squinting up at the fabric. You tilt your head watching it curiously as it stands out brightly among the dull clouds, trying to make sense of its significance up in the sky. But a faint rumble of thunder has your eyes widening in realisation, the meaning of his actions striking you as brashly as the following clap of thunder.

Chaque nuage a une doublure d'argent. Every cloud has a silver lining.

You turn to Taeyong with a look of shimmering wonder, beaming along with the warm sensation that flowers in your chest as he regards you with all the world’s sincerity in his eyes.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he murmurs softly, compelling you never to leave his eyes, hoping his words hug you as warmly as his body aches to do so in this moment, unknowing that you feel his overwhelming comfort with every heavy breath that leaves you. He uncurls your palm and places the fabric on your hand, smiling at your curious gaze. “It’s yours. You dropped it last week, so I kept it safe for you.”

You nod, suddenly jolting in place as the sky suddenly resounds with another roar of thunder, the wind angrily whisking through the grass and picking up your hair in its path.

“Okay, but we really should get going before it starts to pour.” Taeyong scrambles to his feet, offering you his hand which you gratefully take. Your mind spins astir as he doesn’t let go of your palm, leading you to the car you’d seen parked on the roadside earlier and opening the passenger door with a nod of his head for you to sit inside.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I’ll just wait for Charlie to come and take me home.” You step back with a polite shake of your head, digging around your bag for your phone to contact said man.

Taeyong clicks his tongue, hips leaning back into the cool metal of his car, an amused grin tugging at one side of his mouth as he watches your triumphant expression upon finding your phone.

“Charlie’s not coming,” he declares, hands crossing over his chest.

“What do you mean, he’s not coming?” you eye him suspiciously.

“I mean,” Taeyong leans forward, “that he’s not coming.”

“So, what? Do you plan on taking me home? In your own car?” you ask, puzzled by the cocky raise of his eyebrows.

“Ten only arranged a ride for you to get here, so yes, I do plan on taking you home. In my own car. You got a problem with that, miss fashion fabulous?” Taeyong tilts is head to the side and you huff in response, the nickname causing your eyes to once again find their customary place at the back of your skull.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Well,” he pushes himself off the car, taking a step forward, “I’m your only way home right now, so either you get in my car, or…” he pauses and looks up, your gaze following his to find a growing realm of angry, ashen clouds rumbling with the profession of their next intentions, bouts of white electricity flashing between their overlapping shadows.

And with that, you don’t utter another word, helping yourself inside the passenger seat of Taeyong’s car and snatching the door from his grip to slam it shut. You have no intention of being left alone in the middle of nowhere to be soaked in the rain, that’s for sure.

Taeyong only chuckles to himself with a fond shake of his head, jogging around and finding his place in the driver’s seat just as the first drizzles of rain adorn themselves delicately through his hair.

Y/n [8:06pm]: thank you for today

Y/n [8:06pm]: the field was nice

Y/n [8:06pm]: the sunset too

Taeyong [8:07pm]: what’s your take on Ferris wheels?

Y/n [8:07pm]: ???

Y/n [8:07pm]: that’s not random at all

Taeyong [8:07pm]: for educational purposes :D

Y/n [8:07pm]: I don’t know

Y/n [8:07pm]: I’ve never been on a Ferris wheel before

Taeyong [8:07pm]: 😱😱😱

Taeyong [8:07pm]: the disrespect

Y/n [8:08pm]: I was trying to thank you for today but I guess I’ll take it back or something 🙄

Taeyong [8:08pm]: you’re welcome

Y/n [8:08pm]: too late, Sonic

Taeyong [8:08pm]: you underestimate my speed

Y/n [8:08pm]: is that so?

Taeyong [8:08pm]: tomorrow 7pm, be ready

Taeyong [8:08pm]: weren’t expecting that now were you 😏

Y/n [8:08pm]: you’re not slick :/

Y/n [8:09pm]: but why? What’s happening tomorrow?

Taeyong [8:09pm]: curious, are we?

Y/n [8:09pm]: I think I made that abundantly clear

Taeyong [8:09pm]: well…

Y/n [8:09pm]: well…?

Taeyong [8:09pm]: I guess you’ll have to wait and see~~

VIII. A *Bit* of Fun

You had tried with all your might, must have spent a good hour the previous night mulling and fussing over where exactly Taeyong was to take you this time. After having taken you to the field, you had decided that this man was as whimsical and unpredictable as they ever came. In the end, you were left clueless, tossing and turning through your muss of bedsheets with a little too much to lick your lips over (and use Taeyong’s lip balm to soothe the dryness thereafter). You had not a clue as to where you were expecting to end up the next day. All the of New York’s most prized attractions graced your mind, but none of those locations seemed to be remotely feasible for two of the industry’s most well-known faces to be seen together in.

So, it certainly came as a huge surprise when you’d found yourself standing in front of a dart-throwing stall in the middle of a fairground, with what feels like half the world’s population ambling around you in every which direction.

“Of all places,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything else, voice muffled by the mask that Taeyong had previously handed you in the car – your public incognito, as per his exact words. You adjust the scratchy material on your face, still absorbing the exorbitant glow of tube lights all around you and the indistinct conversation buzzing through the night air with the occasional rumble of roller coaster tracks in the distance.

“You do realise we have a fashion show to attend in eight days,” you turn to Taeyong, unable to gauge his expression save for the crinkle beside his eyes, absentmindedly following as he strides closer to the stall, “the biggest one of the season, may I add.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have anything better to do locked indoors?” he deadpans, his scar glowing with the golden light as he glances up to the pricing board before turning to you.

“I could have for all you know,” you bite back, resisting the urge to cross your arms like a child, unwilling to admit your petty defeat in this argument.

“I don’t think a pity party for one counts, love. We’ll take ten, please.” Taeyong doesn’t spare you a glance, rather handing a five-dollar bill to the stall vendor in exchange for a handful of darts. You stare at him in disbelief, the nickname burning holes in your mind with the flush that burns your cheeks, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the mask to hide it away from the world.

“Taeyong, I swear if we get caught-”

“We won’t,” he interrupts, tapping a deliberate finger at his mask. “Besides, I think you deserve to have a little fun before the show,” he plucks a dart from the pile in his hand and holds it out to you with a tilt of his head, “Don’t you?”

You don’t reply, eyeing the pointed object with scepticism drawn between your brows. In plain honesty, you’ve never touched a dart in your life. The only sharps you’ve ever had to handle have come in the form of sewing needles, fabric clamps or garment pins; never darts.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to throw a dart?” Taeyong’s eyes widen with incredulity.

“Of course I know how to throw a dart,” you scoff, eyes mimicking his own while snatching the dart from his hand, refusing to back down in the face of yet another one-up from him. Of all the things you’ve accomplished thus far in life, this surely couldn’t be such a hard feat to strive for.

Taeyong grabs you by the shoulders, turning you to the rows of balloons beyond the counter.

“If you pop more than eight balloons, you get a prize.”

You nod resolutely, eyes narrowing in on a red balloon in the middle of the board while lifting the dart in front of your eyes. Angling your wrist meticulously, you draw a mental beeline from the dart to the balloon, pulling your wrist back and launching it forward. Your keen expression falls as fast as the dart as you watch it plunge into the ground, turning grouchily to one very amused Taeyong who snickers all too blatantly at your expense.

“That was a practice run,” you shoot him a your most convincing scowl (which probably isn’t very convincing at all under the mask), holding a palm out for another dart which he gives you all too happily. You take a deep breath, lungs filling with the heady aroma of sweet and salty popcorn from the stall just across, lifting your hand once again and this time angling your wrist a little lower than before. Why exactly you feel the need to show your strongest mettle in such a measly little game is beyond you, but if there’s one thing you’d commend yourself on, it’s your determination, and you’re not lacking an ounce of it in this moment.

You throw the dart, huffing as it ricochets off board and lands once again on the ground with a flat thud. Taeyong’s laughter follows even louder this time, incredibly melodious yet so very extremely infuriating at the same time.

“Alright then, if you’re so good, why don’t you go ahead and try?”

“My pleasure,” he chuckles, crinkles still decorating the side of his eyes as he takes a dart, lifts his wrist and throws it forward, all while maintaining eye contact with you as if it were the easiest thing to do in the world.

You’re left to watch the way his cheeks rise under the mask as the damn balloon bursts, your own jaw pulled down in confused shock.

“How-”

“It’s called practice.”

You can’t see Taeyong’s face, but you’re positive if you reached forward and pulled down his mask, that smug grin would be stretched wide across it – in fact, there’s no need to pull it down when you’re practically able to imagine it there yourself.

“I can help you if you want…” he trails off, a suggestive lilt to his voice that rubs your stubborn temperament the wrong way, prompting an adamant shake of your head and as you once again hold out your hand. “Another one please.”

The next six turns are spent with a gradually diminishing morale accompanied by defensive utterances to excuse your clear ineptitude for the game. In the end, you manage to score three balloons, one of which had burst purely by some inexplicable coincidence. Taeyong on the other hand enjoys himself all too thoroughly, delighting so much in your concentrated stares and irked huffs, that when you turn to him wide-eyed with a hand emptied of darts, he can’t help but present you with another bundle of ten.

No wonder she made it this far, he thinks to himself, admiring the drive that came in the form of your cinched eyebrows and stolid posture, unwavering as you still somehow continue to miss your newly appointed blue target.

“You know, you always go on about how I’m so stiff, but have you ever realised how stiff you are?” he muses aloud, testing the waters while stepping slightly closer to you.

“I’m stiff because I have to be stiff, it’s my job,” you mutter back inattentively with one eye winking shut in focus, far too absorbed in reacquiring your target.

“We’re at a fair, Y/n.”

You gasp, unsure whether it’s from the fact that Taeyong had just spoken your name in public, or from the coolness of his fingers wrapping around the dorsal of your hand. You’re unable to control the goosebumps that flourish over your skin as his other hand cups your shoulder, your breath hitching as he lowers his head beside your own, so close that you can feel his stray hairs tickling your temple with every puff of the cool breeze.

“You don’t have to be stiff here.”

He’s so close that you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, his hand sliding down to the exposed skin of your wrist, pressing softly into the bone.

“Loosen up.”

You can only pray that your mask doesn’t make your shaky breaths more noticeable as you gulp down the sudden urge to turn your head toward Taeyong, far too afraid of diving head-first into something far beyond your boundaries.

You suddenly blink as a loud pop resounds from ahead, eyes shifting to find the dart no longer secured between your thumb and forefinger, the balloon now nothing but a limp scatter of blue latex shards on the ground.

“See? Simple, right?” Perhaps it was the loud burst that makes Taeyong’s voice sound softer than before, or perhaps he really had lowered his voice. You can’t tell either way over your growing pulse under his still grip on your wrist. When he lets go and stands straight, your eyes fall shut for a second, a silent breath of relief leaving your lips and warming your cheeks.

You don’t allow your mind the liberty to drown in your growing whirlpool of thoughts, questions and emotions, hands rather working by themselves to grasp another dart and flippantly fling it forward with no particular drive. To your surprise, it strikes a yellow balloon square in the middle with the loud, refreshing pop.

You snap your neck to Taeyong, eyes growing wide with a newfound excitement as he claps loudly, a wide smile taking over his features.

“I didn’t even try!” you shriek out in joy, arms moving in animatedly haphazard gestures, and Taeyong swears this is the first time he’s heard a real giggle from you. You throw another dart, still paying no attention whatsoever to the angle of your wrist or the position of your feet, yelping loudly as another balloon pops. “Hah! Did you see that? Two in a row!”

Taeyong laughs at the little bounce in the balls of your feet as you continue with the rest of the darts, eyes dancing affectionately over the image that is you.

Truly you.

It feels so surreal to him, having the privilege of witnessing the unfolding of such guiltless excitement, finally unearthed from deep within the person he’d once sworn was far too stuck-up to feel any emotions at all. He finds it so peculiar and endearing all at once that such a small achievement could bring the light to your eyes like nothing else in the world; that it really doesn’t take much to make you happy, and all you really need is a little freedom from the image the world makes you out to be.

You wind up with a grand total of eight clean balloon strikes, a little too gratified when picking out the largest purple teddy bear – that isn’t really as large as it sounds. Far too high in the clouds, you waste no time in dragging Taeyong to almost every stall in the fairground as if you were the one who left him hanging by a thread the night before.

And if there’s one thing that Taeyong realises while watching you fish for rubber ducks in a makeshift pond, it’s that you look extremely pretty when you work, but you look even prettier when you’re having fun. He also realises that you’re among the lucky ones when it comes to rigged carnival games….and that you’d wholeheartedly fight the world just to get your hands on the last scoop of green tea ice cream (thankfully there was no bloodshed since the child standing in front of you decided to change her mind to rainbow fairy floss in the end).

Being able to walk around in public without a bodyguard to tag closely behind, or the constant buzz of paparazzi and their blinding cameras; it felt absolutely divine. Like a breath of fresh air that everyone deserves to experience at least once in their lives. But as the universe would have it, peacefully indulging in an ice cream is a code red situation that not even the shrewdest of celebrities could ploy their way around. So as per Taeyong’s admittedly genius idea, you find yourself standing in the queue of the Ferris wheel with napkins painted in sticky swirls of green and brown (he opted for chocolate; a very predictable choice, you think), distracted by the squeals of children sliding down the Helter Skelter on the far right.

“So, this is why you asked me about my take on Ferris wheels yesterday,” you hum, head tipped back to welcome the bright shimmer of the multicoloured carriage lights bringing life to the navy-tipped sky.

“A speedy observation indeed,” Taeyong teases, nodding for you to enter a newly emptied carriage before climbing in himself and thanking the operator who secures it shut.

You sigh contentedly as the carriage rises and stops for the next few passengers, allowing yourself to embrace the butterflies that flit beneath your ribcage with an exhilarated sort of nervousness. You pull the mask off your face, relieved to be concealed in a dark enough space from the rest of the world, left alone for a while with the soft strokes of evening air cupping your cheeks and a nice scoop of your favourite ice cream to melt on your tongue.

You’re unable to control the small smile that tugs at your lips as you catch Taeyong’s gaze from across you. The stupid grin slapped across his face causes yours to widen, followed by a small giggle, which Taeyong tops with his own frivolous laughter, and soon enough you’re both surrounded by the echoes of your own fit of hysterics, no rhyme or reason to the wide smiles and slitted eyes.

“Why are you laughing?” you ask between giggles.

“I don’t know, why are you laughing?” Taeyong titters back.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, hunching over to compose yourself with a hand pressed to your chest, taking a deep breath and turning to the view from your newly heightened angle. You have never really understood why people would willingly come to such places. Why would one allow themselves to be enticed by futile prizes at the cost of an absurd amount of money and by-chance luck?

But as you look down now, you see a multitude of familial relationships gone right, illuminated by the golden glow of scattered lighting around the fairground. You see couples with entwined fingers, swaying together in queues and proudly pecking each other’s cheeks at game stalls. You see children, starstruck and ever-dazed by the very prospect of thrill rides, tugging at their parents’ sleeves and bestowed with peerless amounts of benign love. Everything seems to make a lot more sense as you realise all of this is done for the experience between people; friends, families, partners and lovers. For the emotion and the connections and all the combined energy to present itself in the form of love and laughter.

“So…” You almost miss Taeyong’s voice as it somehow blends in fluidly with the white noise beyond your little sky cubby. “This was…fun. You had fun, right?”

“Hmm,” you hum playfully, eyes trained upwards in ingenuine thought.

“Oh, don’t even lie to yourself,” Taeyong scoffs.

You smile, taking a pensive bite of your cone. “I guess I had a bit of fun.”

“Uh huh,” he murmurs, eyes fixated on the tote bag beside you overflowing with prized plushies and miscellaneous stuffed animals you’d both ruthlessly won.

“Okay, maybe I had quite a bit of fun,” you chuckle, taking another bite of your ice cream.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he smiles, eyes peering unwaveringly into your own, and it’s only now that you grow conscious to the sensation of his knees softly brushing your own, his head resting back against the glass, and a dazed expression that finds a muse somewhere deep within your being.

You mirror Taeyong with a contended sigh, relishing in the tickle of his knees while finishing off the remainder of your ice cream. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, the lights beyond casting a shifting pageant of shadows over his velvety features, silvering the soft ends of his windswept hair. In this moment, you think Taeyong looks like a piece of art, some rare specimen that you’d only expect to find in a gallery; something you’d approach and have no choice but to fall hypnotised by, placated and inspired to the fine point of no return.

You realise it’s starting to become increasingly hard to evade the blithe air that engulfs you whenever in Taeyong’s presence. It would simply be an act of pettiness to deny something so apparent to both you and him. You can’t recall the last time you’d had even an ounce of the fun you’ve had collecting horrifyingly lurid plushies this very evening, or the last time your cheeks had ached from smiling so naturally in the span of a few hours.

You tilt your head in thought, eyes shifting once more to Taeyong’s hair, lips twitching up at the bright outline of it.

You’ve brought your silver linings to the world through Argent, always made sure that every stitch was perfect to a fault, that the sky was clear of clouds wherever you dared set foot.

In the one time when your world had taken a dark turn – the one moment you needed a silver lining to guide you through the rough – Taeyong had stepped in and shed a warm light to the other side. Perhaps he was that silver lining you needed all along, and all it had taken was you walking right under those dark clouds to realise it.

“Come to my place after this.” Your words slip under command of a momentary whim, your mind suddenly alight with a new kind of motivation.

“Come to your what?” Taeyong chokes out, surprised by your unexpected statement.

“My apartment,” you nod resolutely, moving to secure your mask back on your face as the carriage approaches the ground once again.

“For what?” he asks, securing his own mask too, the genuine perplexity in both his voice and expression rather amusing to you now as you simply smile back.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

IX. Give Yourself a Break

When you said you’d take Taeyong to your apartment, the last thing he’d expected was to be standing in the middle of your living room among a flurry of smooth jazz, wearing the very outfit he was to show off to the world in eight days. But to his pleasant surprise, the ensemble consists of the most comfortable set of fabrics he’d ever worn – and probably the most abundant too, he realises, as beads of sweat bloom at the roots of his hair.

On the very inside, Taeyong wears a thin dark blue turtleneck woven from the finest organic cotton money could buy. On top of it is a crisp, white oversized dress shirt held together by a matching navy tie. And on top of that is a navy jacket complete with a matching set of pants; greens, oranges and ceruleans seeping into the navy cloth, hand-painted so strategically that the third person would assume it to have been tie-dyed. Argent’s logo decorates every free space in a black paint that shimmers hypnotizingly under the scintillate lighting above. To top it all off, is the signature strip of silver running down the right sleeve of the jacket and the left leg of the pants.

“You’d think your shoulders would be smaller than Jaehyun’s,” you mutter, examining the two-and-a-half extra centimetres on the measuring tape held across Taeyong’s shoulders, before hanging it back around your neck, “I guess not.” You take the initiative to slip the jacket from his shoulders, clearly in your working element as you walk back to your dining table and remeasure the material, “thank goodness I started with a few extra centimetres of fabric.”

Taeyong doesn’t know whether to be offended or flattered by your offhand comments, but he quite frankly can’t bring himself to care, far too distracted by the sheer magnificence of your penthouse despite having spent the last hour inside of it. He’s still awed by the modern lighting that hangs high from ceilings, stunned by the roof-length windows that present a panorama of New York City at its prime hour, the fresh downpour beyond the glass bathing his ears in its soothing rumbles.

He takes a sip of the wine you’d poured for him, its sour tingle and sweet taste a perfect complement to the comforting ambience, eyes relaxed and travelling to the empty cardboard take-out boxes scattered across the dining table.

That was yet another unexpected turn of the evening; being wined by the world’s greatest fashion designer who apparently also likes to dine at the local Chinese take-away from across the street.

He then allows his eyes to fall on you, the most awestriking object in this room.

He watches you – every part of you – and doesn’t let himself look away, committing you into his memory like never before. He’s seen you work at Argent; steadfast in your movements, perfect posture, never a crease in your brow. But now, it feels as if a barrier has been torn down between that version of you and the person that sits before him now; your hands moving with a certain delicacy as you fold the material, not a single care in the world for the slight hunch in your back, and a very unfettered crease in your brow as you blow away stray hairs from your bun.

Yes, Taeyong had once wondered why you had chosen the life you currently live, but it’s no longer a question in his mind now; a statement rather, for which all evidence is presented in the very subject of his gaze.

“Great! I think we’re just about finished.”

Taeyong shifts his eyes as you walk back brightly, handing him the jacket for a final trial, which he slips on easily.

“Good?”

“Perfect,” he smiles back, relishing in the relieved expression that washes over you as you dust your hands in accomplishment. “But wasn’t this supposed to be your break period?” Taeyong pointedly raises an eyebrow.

“Listen, I’ve been breaking,” you lift your fingers in quotation marks, “for the last two days, and that’s more than enough time for me to slowly go insane.” You accentuate your point with a long, hard swing of your wine, gulping it down to its last drop and finishing with a hiss. “See? Who drinks wine like that? A madwoman, that’s who.” You cross your arms over your chest, your stubborn pout melting into a smile with the swarm of butterflies the erupt in your chest as you watch Taeyong hunch over in boisterous laughter, hypnotised by the dazzle of his smile along with the shimmer of the suit.

“You’re insane,” he snickers, sighing as his laughter dies down.

And you’re beautiful, you think back, not a single question to pose against the decided fact, though you try your best to conceal the epiphany with your nonchalant words. “Yeah, and the whole world knows it. Now go change before you crease the fabric.”

Taeyong snorts out loud, sauntering down the hallway with a small shake of his head and a hand ruffling through his hair – which you had previously tried your best to style to somewhat match the outfit (though it’s not your forte to put it lightly). Taeyong pushes his way into the bathroom, still not yet acquainted to its colossal size and the absolute shine of the marbled floor tiles. The view of city had seemed to follow him there, still twinkling in all its nocturnal glory through the tall glass window behind the jacuzzi tub upon which his clothes hang.

It’s all but a sight for sore eyes, but Taeyong doesn’t allow himself to admire it for a second longer, abruptly turning to the mirror, fingers clutching the edge of the counter as he properly examines himself, awestricken at the man that stares back at him. Never before had he thought an outfit could suit him so well, and you are the only person he can accredit for that. He softly smiles to himself, appreciating the sheer talent of a being that you are, so committed to anything and everything you set your mind you – even a game as small as darts would light the match within you ablaze with passion.

But his smile falls in an instant as his eyes drop to the dual sinks – one surrounded with various lotions, perfumes and a make-up accessories, while the other is completely empty; surrounded by nothing but unused space, all covered in a thin layer of dust. The contrast is simply far too existent to ignore, and it frustrates Taeyong to all uncontrollable ends, his frown deepening sorely as his eyes close with a shake of his head.

No wonder she’s so lonely, he thinks. Working all day on designer clothes, cooped up from twilight until dusk in her office, feared to the bone by her employees and framed for all the wrong reasons. And all of that, only to come home to this: a dual sink that only can’t serve its true purpose. A bottle of wine that only she can pop open and pour into a glass. And yet she somehow still keeps going. Even on her break.

Taeyong meets his own eyes in the mirror, jaw clenching with a certain overcoming power, not wasting a single moment before lurching himself toward the door. His eyebrows furrow as he steps out into the hallway, bathed in a newfound darkness that now blankets the entirety of the apartment. He steps forward, wondering if you’ve already gone to bed, though the jazz music that still floats gently by his ears testifies against the notion.

Taeyong turns into the living room, stopped in his tracks by the silhouette standing before the glass that separates her from the world beyond.

You stand at the edge of the glass, fingertip pressed to the top of the highest building, eyes alit with the glimmer of the infamous Big Apple showered in a dazzling patter of rain. The view had caught your eye moments before, compelling you to close the lights and awe before it.

It has truly been a while since you had admired it to its full extent, inhaled the breathtaking kaleidoscope of skyscrapers at their glorious heights and the sparkling lights of the streets. The last time you had properly smiled at this view was years ago, with your elbow slipping dazedly from the window ledge of your tiny studio apartment, if one could even call it that. You’d sat by that window, having just shaken hands with a crestfallen model outside of Vogue building, and an assistant who went by the curious name of a number. You’d watched this view every day from a distance that was much further away than now, when it all seemed like a mere prospect, as did your character.

Purchasing the penthouse you stand in now had brought you all too close to the city, you’ve realised. This view had somehow become a routine part of your daily life, lost somewhere between the absentminded glances and fatigued muscles after a long workday, brushed aside along the way and forgotten as easily as every bright flash of a camera on the street.

You’re happy to find the same previous contentment in this view from up so close. Perhaps it isn’t even remotely the same. But it is still contentment, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you tired?”

The glass fogs slightly as you release a breathy chuckle in response to the low murmur behind you.

“Do you usually go to bed this early?”

“No, Y/n,” there’s a quiet pause, filled only with a soothing piano and quiet footsteps approaching forward, “I mean…aren’t you exhausted with your life?”

Head turning to the side, you see Taeyong’s silhouette standing in your periphery, silent and expectant of your answer. You gulp involuntarily, all too heedful of the single affirmation that should have fallen from your mouth, though you don’t allow yourself to speak it.

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice hesitant and breathy. The music evaporates in an instant, leaving the air void with a jarring silence, still among the heavy sigh that leaves Taeyong. You stiffen as you feel his presence behind you, electricity shooting through your body as his warm fingers brush your own from behind. You attempt to turn around, but the squeeze of his hand around your palm stops you, thawing your frosted skin and holding you in place as if to say, “it’s okay, be still.”

Your breath leaves you in trembling exhales, chest rising and falling heavily with a boundless rush of goosebumps, butterflies thrashing violently in your chest as your heart rate rises.

“Locking yourself in your office morning to night. Always being the perfect one in the crowd. Building all these walls around yourself, confining your entire personality inside them. It must be so exhausting.” Taeyong’s voice just above a whisper, your eyes training on the brightest window you can find among the galaxy of them twinkling in the city, if only to drown his voice out with the soft murmur of the rain.

“I’ve worked too hard to be tired now,” you reply, voice just as silent as his.

“You need to give yourself a break.”

“I’m already on a break.”

“And yet, here I am wearing one of your hand stitched coats.”

You don’t respond to him. You’re not sure how to respond, when all that that leaves Taeyong’s lips is an irrefutable fact, causing you to gulp once more as you realise that he’s right.

And you’re very wrong.

“Here you are,” he breathes, “still worrying about that godforsaken fashion show.”

You lips part, all but ready to deny Taeyong’s words, though you don’t have the chance to as his voice falls to a whisper.

“With this godforsaken bun.”

You feel the tightness at your scalp loosen suddenly, chest rising shakily as your hair cascades down the flushed skin of your cheeks. You’re left light-headed and faint with the sharp exhale that leaves you as you turn around to face Taeyong only to stumble back, startled by the sheer proximity between you and him. His fingers only tighten around your own, your other hand pressing behind you into the cool glass, sending a throttling shiver through you that feels all but electrifying as you meet Taeyong’s eyes.

They sparkle so beautifully in the dark; a mesmerising mirror reflecting the bright lights behind your shoulders, so alluring you would foolishly relinquish every part of yourself if only to stare into them for an eternity longer. Allow yourself to drown in them, along with the heady scent of pinot that heavily fans your cheeks.

“What are you…” you whisper, lost of your words while looking down to your hands as Taeyong’s fingers push through their gaps, his palm pressing firmly, warmly, against yours. “What are you doing, Taeyong?” You look back up, nose brushing softly against his.

“You look gorgeous like this,” he ignores you. “With your hair down.” His other hand lifts to your hair, knuckles softly stroking along your locks. “You look beautiful when you’re playing darts…and tossing bean bags…and eating ice cream. When you’re not constantly worrying.” You feel the warmth of his forehead against yours, his hair tickling your cheeks as they find comfort in the slide of his palm against your blooming skin.

“I-”

“Just stop,” he breathes, the phantom of his lips finding yours in a sweet tickle, “stop worrying.”

You want to process the moment, you want to understand why it’s becoming increasingly hard to stay level in the time and space of this moment. But your inhibitions fall away as you close your eyes, a whispered profession of “okay” falling short with the press of Taeyong’s lips to yours.

He exhales and you blossom under his soft touch, finally relinquishing every fibre of your being to the man you’d never thought would accept it. Taeyong’s lips are gentle, a perfect match for yours, reassuring and tantalising all at once. His hand slides to the curve of your back and yours to his cheek, his fingers burning through the fabric of your blouse and yours cool and refreshing on his skin, tracing the scar by his eye as he pulls you closer. Impossibly closer. So close that you feel it all once more; the sturdy plain of muscle in his arms, his chest, his shoulders. The protection of his embrace and the inebriating balm of his cologne, the blazing slip of his hand under your shirt; you allow yourself to feel it all at once.

All sensation of worry is lost in Taeyong’s lips, fading with every whispered profession that follows you to the pathway of your bedroom. He shows you how wonderful it can be to forget the world for a while, to lose yourself in the softness of his hair and in every newly discovered tattoo etched into smooth of his skin. He calls you beautiful more times than you’d ever heard before, admires every part of you with in all five senses until you both find yourself wrapped under the warm, white covers of your duvet, foreheads pressed together and eyes once again falling shy of each other’s gaze.

“It looks like a rose,” you murmur into the silence, the cotton of Taeyong’s shirt comforting against your skin, rain still beating soothingly against the windows as your fingers once more trace along Taeyong’s scar.

“Yeah?” he hums, eyes hooded and soft on your own, a corner of those pretty lips turning up in a small smile, “I never thought of it that way.”

Am I in love with him?

You furrow your eyebrows as the thought graces your mind unexpectedly, so sudden – almost as if it were natural – that your smile falls in an instant with the all-consuming, fluttery pang in your chest. Your cheeks feel warm and florid against pillow as you watch Taeyong frown in question toward you.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, hand brushing the hair from your cheek, replaced with soft pad of his thumb that only strokes a fresh layer of heat into your skin.

“Yeah,” you shake your head, eyes blinking rapidly in a mix of nerves and giddiness, “yeah just…thirsty, I guess.”

“Well now that you mention it, so am I,” Taeyong muses, lifting the covers from himself and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“It’s okay, I can get it-”

“I’m already halfway there, babe.” He looks back to you with a smirk, before turning and leaving you to watch him sauntering out the door, cheeks so hot you swear you might be coming down with a fever or something.

“Babe?” you whisper to yourself, an idiotic smile tugging your cheeks so uncontrollably high, you’re forced to pull the covers all the way up to your nose to suppress the small giggle that leaves you. “My god.” You lift your hands to cover your face, the giddy smile refusing to escape you at any cost, praying that Taeyong somehow gets lost along the way if only to buy you more time to calm yourself before he returns.

Embarrassingly enough, he had somehow found himself in the utility room before finding your kitchen, squinting as his hands finally reach for the very inconveniently located light switch. He’s beginning to realise that everything in your penthouse is either four times larger or four times more expensive than the average apartment. Unsurprisingly, your kitchen checks full-clear in both departments, and it leaves him scratching his head as to which drawer to begin scavenging for two pathetic little glasses.

Luck finds him with the sixth handle he pulls back. He plucks out two shiny, clear glasses and fills them at the sink, noticing two of the very same glasses sitting prettily in the dish rack beside it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, closing the tap and lifting the filled glasses. He perks up at the sound of a notification bell in the distance.

It must be important if they’re texting so late at night, he thinks to himself, setting down the glasses and walking to the living room where the sound had come from. He finds his phone on the sofa, the small device emitting its blue light into the darkness of the room as he picks it up, squinting down at the message.

Kim Heechul

6 Text Messages

Taeyong feels his heart sink upon seeing the man’s name, chest pulled taught with a foreboding tension as he reluctantly unlocks the phone. His pupils shrink further and further with every letter that meets them, Adam’s apple catching in his neck.

Heechul [12:02am]: I see you’ve earned yourself a fanbase

Heechul [12:02am]: Though I don’t recall fame ever being part of our deal

“Fuck,” Taeyong breathes out, collapsing onto the couch with a hand scooping back his unkempt locks, his mind beginning to cloud with a suffocating bout of anxiety.

Heechul [12:02am]: One week, Taeyong, that’s all you’ve got before the show

Heechul [12:03am]: I expect that article to be on my desk ready for publishing the day after

Heechul [12:03am]: The money is only yours if the job is done right

Heechul [12:03am]: Do not forget your place

Taeyong sighs heavily, another whispered curse leaving him as his eyes fall shut with the prickling throb taking over his chest. It seems he truly had forgotten his place.

He hasn’t laid a finger on the article in the last fortnight, his laptop all but a forgotten clunk of metal in the corner of his room after he’d plunged himself neck-deep in all the preparations and practice for Argent’s segment at New York Fashion Week. A page and a half of quarter-truths and impulsive spleens is all the article had made itself to be thus far; nowhere close to the usual quota of words, and even further away from the reality of all mentioned points.

“I thought you were getting water.”

Taeyong hurriedly clicks his phone off, turning to see you standing in the hallway, cruel guilt dousing through his entire being as he tries not to lose himself in the stunning image of you wearing his white button-up shirt.

“What are you doing here? The kitchen is that way,” you ask, an endearingly confused expression twisting through your features as you point a finger over your shoulder.

“I, uhhh,” he blinks, mind falling blank as he scans the room for an excuse, “the city,” he points to the windows, “I got distracted.”

It pains him to see the way your eyes momentarily fall shut with a light chuckle, how your feet patter lightly across the floor toward him along with the rain, the way your hand softens the frustrated tousle of his hair.

“That wine sure got to your head, didn’t it?” you giggle softly, sighing at the velvety tickle of his hair.

How can it be so soft, you wonder, cloud nine far surpassed, and for the time being you’re all but willing to let your head rest up high amongst the bliss of here and now, unbeknownst of the monsters that gnaw at Taeyong’s every thought.

She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve this at all.

“Maybe you got to my head.” Taeyong lifts his head to gaze up at you, your hand slipping naturally to his cheek in slow, soothing circles as you lean down closer to him, his nose tickling your own.

“Oh, and what if I said you got to mine?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer you, instead allowing himself to drown in the halo of city stars glowing around the shimmering wisps of your messed hair. He feels the plunge of his heart growing faster, deeper, as your soft lips press forward onto his own, the familiar strawberry balm finding his tastebuds in a torturously aching dulce.

And your smile. Your beautiful smile.

It lifts perfectly against his mouth, lost in the feeling of him without a single worry to snatch it away, and it’s in this moment that Taeyong decides he cannot let that smile fall. He can’t bring himself to do such a thing to you. Not yet.

He wraps his arms around you, as strong and true as they can possibly be in a moment as false as this. Pushing the spiralling disquietude away from his mind, Taeyong pulls you closer to himself instead, relishing in your scent and the soft tickle of your hair on his temples. He allows his mind to fade away with every impartment of candour gifted from the tips of your fingers to his own, a final thought bleeding through the white of his conscience as it slowly slips from his grasp.

Not yet.

X. Who Am I Really Kidding?

Your three days of incarceration couldn’t have flown past you any quicker. Well, perhaps incarceration isn’t the word that immediately springs to mind now – perhaps a personal rejuvenation scheme would best describe it – as you once again immerse yourself in the lively chorus of frantic questions and invigorating scraping of hangers on and off clothing racks. It was well-deserved too, considering you haven’t felt more alive than you do in this very moment; empowered by the fresh click of your own heels against Argent’s floors, and the adrenaline flowing freely through every vessel in your body.

Preparations for the show are at an all-time high, fast, and furious and seemingly never-ending as the hours roll swiftly into gainful days. Your stresses now stem solely from Ten’s ghastly reports of seam slips and ill-fitting clothes on models (yes, sizes magically change at the last minute, and, no, you still haven’t cracked that case yet.). But it’s something you secretly couldn’t be more thankful for, having decided to cut ties with all your other worries from the past month.

And Jaehyun?

Ugh, fuck him and his two-faced ass.

Your only goal now is to keep everything on track for the next six days. There simply isn’t any time to waste. A smooth finale is the best finale, after all. And the best finale is the result of practice session after tireless practice session, ensuring not a single flaw in things as subtle as the very flow of a model’s outfit.

“Come on people, this is the sixth test run today and I haven’t felt a single ounce of pizzazz from any of you!” Johnny yells over the techno-EDM track playing overhead, gesturing animatedly beside the models who sashay along The Walkway. “Give me some more passion, some zest, some zeal, c’mon you gotta give me something!” He claps his hands rhythmically, eyes ferociously scanning the models as they pose and turn at the foot of the catwalk.

Johnny’s work ethic has been all but ablaze as of late. If there’s one thing you’ve learnt about him through the years, it’s that the man is always up for fun and games until the last fortnight before any show. He somehow always manages to get the job done well and right by one hand or another, and it’s part of the reason why you keep him around despite the trillions of times you’ve been compelled to fire him on the spot.

“I think it’s going okay, actually,” you muse as Johnny approaches you at the very front of the catwalk with an irked huff.

“Yeah, sweet joke,” he scoffs sarcastically, eyes still trained on the models strutting froward. “In what universe does Y/n Y/l/n ever settle for okay?”

“Hmm.” Your eyebrows furrow together as you ponder over his question, unable to formulate a definitive answer yourself. “I have no idea.”

“Well on the plus si-” Johnny interrupts himself with a sharp sigh, shaking his head at the model who turns the bend, before directing his attention to you. “On the plus side, Argent received a few extra bidders while you were gone. A certain Mr Butter Fingers to thank for that; got a little more famous over the last week.”

“Is that so?” You nod to yourself, the hint of a grin seeping onto your features, though you’re unsure whether it’s from the pleasure of regaining success, or the ravishing man behind Johnny’s stingy pet name.

But who are you really kidding, anyway?

“Speaking of the devil,” Johnny mutters, arms folding over his chest, his gaze morphing swiftly into one of pride as Taeyong turns the corner from behind the back wall.

You look up all too eagerly, eyes readily falling on the man who wears Argent’s most prized set of the season. Tracing a slow, invisible path from the heel of his boots all the way to the very fine tips of his hair, you allow yourself to indulge in the very being of Taeyong; in the stoic expression that you know would melt into that gorgeous smile as soon as he steps back inside; in the long, lithe strides of his legs, and in the airy sway of his arms beside them.

“Not entirely perfect yet, but I told you we’d make a star out of him,” Johnny smiles proudly beside you and, for what seems like the first time in your life, you’re wholly unable to argue back with the man.

Taeyong’s overall improvement on the catwalk is remarkable to describe in simple terms, complete with a certain poise so subtle you could only ever associate it with him. A month ago, you would have laughed in the face of they who told you Taeyong would make it this far with the minimal experience he had. But now, watching it all come together from afar, there’s not a doubt in your mind that Lee Taeyong has indeed become a star.

In this moment, you can’t imagine any other person in such a position; you don’t want to. The outfit is simply too perfect like this, draped over and around every part Taeyong; so exquisite as if it were a poem made specifically in the shape of him, accentuating his glow with every step he takes forward.

His eyes fall on you, faltering not once in his movements while you fall besottedly into his gaze for the hundredth time like the lovesick little girl you’ve somehow allowed yourself to become since your…intimate engagements from a couple nights ago.

Taeyong pauses at the foot of the platform, feet planted with a split-second of assured glamour, his lips quirking almost imperceptibly as he sends a playful wink your way before turning back around. You have no choice but to bow your head, bashful and unable to contain the shy smile that embellishes the pinkening blooms on your cheeks.

Johnny watches the whole ordeal dumbfoundedly, eyes flickering between the receding man and the demure subject of a woman standing right beside him. “What is going o-” He pauses as a hand catches his shoulder from behind. He turns to see Ten standing there, his emblematic black clipboard cradled in the crook of his arm, spectacles cast low over his nose. Ten shakes his head subtly, a small beam gracing his features as Johnny raises his brows and turns back around, catching the hint not to continue with his question.

Ten regards you in his periphery, a fond expression twinkling in warmth of his gaze at your tucked chin and down-set gaze. His smile begins to replicate your own as it grows wider with every passing second.

Despite all your tussles, he has always regarded you as his own family. You were like a sister to him, and your happiness was a great source of his own; always a refreshing sight to behold and never failing to foster with it an oddly comforting sentiment. The whole world smiled when you smiled, and Ten couldn’t be more thankful that Taeyong was the idiot to bring that smile back to you when you needed it the most.

─── ⪧ ⪦ ───

You step inside your office before Taeyong, both your shoes echoing alongside the soft click of the door as you head straight for the papers strewn in haphazard piles on your desk.

Being ‘messy’ has never quite sat right with you in any case, but in your every defence, keeping a tidy workspace in the formative days of any fashion show – let alone New York Fashion Week – is always a feat close to impossible. There are far too many things to preoccupy yourself with: the guest and rsvp lists, the show schedule, making sure Argent receives a suitable time slot (preferably around dusk hours for peak outdoor lighting and publicity).

You pick up a cream-coloured card that you assume Ten must have placed on your desk while you were gone, realising that it’s the revised schedule for the entirety of New York Fashion Week.

FRI | 02 | 06 … 7PM: Tom Ford 8PM: Argent 9PM: Michael Kors …

You grin at the line-up, satisfied with both Argent’s time slot as well as the two other world-class labels flanking it. Both male designers are well-known acquaintances of yours, and the very fact of being sandwiched between them at the world’s biggest fashion event is gratifying beyond all means. It serves to remind you just how far you’ve come; that you’ve really made your living worthwhile despite every defected sideshow.

“So…” Taeyong’s voice echoes through the room, and you think there couldn’t have been a better melody to accompany the moment.

“So,” you echo back, a dazed smile growing on your features as you turn to him, hips leaning back against your desk.

“How was I this time?” Taeyong looks at you with a sort of anticipation swirling about his eyes and hope saturating his every spoken word. You watch as his thumbs fidget with the ringer of his phone, his teeth sunken anxiously into his bottom lip while awaiting your answer. You’ve never seen him quite so nervous until now, and it only serves to ignite a ticklish flutter in your chest and a warm smile on your face. Of course, it may just be the fact that he’s featuring in NYFW in less than a week, but the very thought of your opinion being so valued by him brings so much unsolicited joy to you.

“You did well,” you answer, the flutter increasing tenfold with the bright smile that adorns Taeyong’s face in response, his eyes shimmering like diamonds as he brings a hand to his heart dramatically.

“I thought this day would never come,” he sighs heavily, earning a small laugh from you.

“I’m glad you can finally walk now,” you snort, “can’t have my frontline model tripping up on stage.”

“What was that?” Taeyong brings a hand to his ear, taking a step closer to you. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over my raging ego right now.”

You shake your head at the cocky smirk that overcomes his freakishly handsome features, though immediately freezing as he steps even closer and plants both palms on your desk either side of you, his eyes finding your own as he leans forward with a quirk to his eyebrow.

“Your fault, baby, not mine.”

You’ve decided that Taeyong is beyond irresistible at this point, and it bothers you to no end how affected you are, a tell-tale red growing warm on your cheeks as you rebuke yourself for being so unabashedly pliant in his presence.

And, bloody hell, all these nicknames.

A refutation is far from palpable in the hazy fog of your mind, so you resort to the next best response, leaning forward without a single forethought, unable to hold back the outrageously long kiss you press to his lips. Taeyong hums in satisfaction, a hand finding your waist all too swiftly that you’d be compelled to roll your eyes if they were open. This is exactly the reaction he had wanted out of you, and here you are, more than willing to give him exactly that.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

A split-second awareness of the steady clock ticking behind you is all it takes for you to pull away from Taeyong, though not quite far enough to evade the tickle of his perfectly styled hair.

“How unprofessional of you, Miss Y/l/n,” he gasps quietly, faux shock rippling through his face, only to be tugged away with that infuriating smirk and those lazy, hooded eyes.

“Remind me why you followed me here again,” you murmur, eyes glued to the creases of his lips – though not for much longer.

“Oh, so I guess you need another demonstration.” Taeyong doesn’t allow you a second to process his words, his other hand sliding to your jaw and pulling your mouth to his once again in a searing kiss. “This is why,” he mumbles against your lips, and you can’t help but blaze under the soft sensation of him, every inch of you melting naturally as ice under a heated summer sky…that is, until reality dawns on you once again, and you take it upon yourself to stomp a hard heel to Taeyong’s foot.

He pulls away placidly, head tilting in amusement. “You really think that hurt?” He raises an eyebrow, watching your own furrow on your forehead as you look down to his shoes, face falling in realisation. Goddamn you and your perfectly robust shoe designs.

“That’s cute,” Taeyong mumbles ardently, resisting the urge to kiss away the small pout on your face.

“Thank you, now get back to work,” you huff out in embarrassment, unsure how to handle the heat radiating from your surely pinkening cheeks as Taeyong chuckles and takes a step away to walk toward the door. Despite your words, you merely find yourself wishing he’d stay by your side for a little longer, close enough to hold your hands and kindle their warmth even further, unafraid to burn under the very whisper of his presence. But he only turns to blow a kiss your away, exchanging it with a smile of yours to etch in the back of his mind as he exits your office.

You’re left airy and still in the echo of the room, resisting the urge to sway this way and that with every warm wave of joy coating your mind.

“Right, the documents,” you shake your head, eyes flickering before scurrying to your chair. “Focus, Y/n,” you tap your cheek twice, collecting the strewn-out papers into a neat pile before fingering through each one, signing your name wherever required and eyeing through the RSVP list, just to make sure Ten hadn’t approved of any unwanted guests – namely anyone whose credentials align with Qi Fashion Labels.

You jump in surprise at the loud ringing of a phone at the far end of your desk, humming in a second of confusion at the unfamiliar ringtone – though you’re only left to assume the device belongs to Taeyong given his track record of forgetting his belongings in his every wake. With a roll of your eyes, you decide upon ignoring it, allowing the caller to exhaust all futile hope for an answer, continuing to your papers. The ringing ceases after a while, but silence only lasts so long, as it’s shrill cries once again echo through the glass of the room, rattling through your final nerves. With a groan, you reach out to the phone, eyes scanning over the caller ID to find a familiar name once again displayed on the screen.

Kim Heechul

“A friend, perhaps?” you wonder aloud, teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you internally tussle with the thought of whether or not to answer the call.

What if it’s something serious, you reason with yourself, considering that the average caller would merely ring and hang up unless there was an urgent matter at hand. If a few weeks ago was any indication, this Heechul person seemed to have some kind of pull with Taeyong. And though you’re never one to trespass on the private matters of others, you think it would only be right to put the caller’s mind to ease by letting him know that Taeyong would be sure to ring him back sometime later. So, without another second to spare, your thumb finds the green button and the phone finds itself at the cusp of your ear.

“Hel-”

The Walkway’s tube lights flickering to a silent darkness has grown onto Taeyong as something of a delicate sound; as if in the next second, he could expect fireflies to appear with the beckoning tinkle of the bulbs. It’s almost embarrassing to admit that time and again, Taeyong has actually spent that extra second waiting for small glowing specs to appear, but every time, he has left only with his own shadow to greet him a final farewell for the evening.

The same routine emulates today. Taeyong steps out of the room, but this time his silhouette stands a mere sidepiece of the night, his eyes rather much too eagerly finding the screen of his phone, hoping to finally see your name in his notifications.

No Older Notifications

He frowns in confusion, unlocking his phone to find the blue bubble he’d sent that morning still unaccompanied by a reply from you. His frown only deepens, as he turns his head in the direction of your office at the far end of the hallway, a streak of worry convening in the growing creases of his brows at blackness emulating through the glass.

It was a strange and rare occurrence for you to have left work at such an early hour of the evening; so much so, that if you did, one could only conclude that something was gravely wrong.

Taeyong thinks back to the nature of the last two days; all the times you were in the same room but never so much as spared him a glance, the numerous photoshoots you weren’t present for despite having scheduled them in yourself, not to mention your complete absence in all the mock-runways. It really wouldn’t be an understatement to say that things have been rather odd on your end – tense, now that Taeyong really thinks about it. You always seemed to be in all the places he wasn’t and he’s unable to formulate a logical reason why.

It then occurs to Taeyong that neither you, nor him had taken the time to label the relationship you’ve harboured in the past week; there simply was none in the first place. But all of it – the secret handholding, the trivial gestures and texts – he’s positive it’s all come from some romantic facet within you.

Taeyong’s mind sifts through a million thoughts a minute. He can’t help wondering if he’d made you uncomfortable in any way, or if you were just stressed and felt the need to withdraw for a while or maybe you just-

“Done for the day?”

There was that voice that, among the tumble and wave of the last month, had remained solitary and constant. A voice that remained dutiful and obliging, belonging to an equally hospitable man who now steps out of his office with his black clipboard and silver spectacles.

“Yeah, I finished early,” Taeyong replies with a small smile, though Ten only raises an eyebrow as Taeyong’s eyes stray once more to your office behind his shoulder.

“So did Y/n,” Ten states, the metallic scrape of his keys resounding harshly as he twists one in the lock. “She left perhaps an hour or so ago.”

“Oh, do you know if she’s unwell or…”

“She didn’t mention anything specific, but I’d assume so, considering she’s not usually one to leave without some life-altering reason,” Ten chuckles, shrugging on his trench coat and slinging a satchel over his shoulder.

“She’s probably just tired from all the work that’s been going on lately. Burnout isn’t exactly unheard of during this time of year.” Taeyong only nods, earning a pat on the back from Ten. “Well, I’m also heading off early to review the venue with our performance artist. Good work today, Taeyong. Take some rest yourself. You’ll need it.”

“Thank you, have a good evening,” Taeyong answers, exchanging a small bow with Ten and watching as his perfectly styled hair enters the elevator on the other side of the hall. A small vibration casts Taeyong’s eyes once again to the palm of his hand, his phone briefly aglow with the name he’d longed to see for hours now.

Y/n [5:48pm]: Come out to the field

Y/n [5:48pm]: I’ll be waiting

Taeyong exclaims in surprise, a small grin forming at his lips as his worries thaw slightly at the thought of you inviting him to his own favourite place; the thought of you waiting there in the grass for him as if it were something of fate taken straight from a poet’s diary.

Perhaps nothing was really wrong at all.

Perhaps all you needed was a clean breath of air.

XI. Once, Betrayed. Twice, A Damned Fool

It was one thing to watch the sky fade from blue to orange through the mirrored windows of a skyscraper, but it was something else entirely to view it from this position in the field. The sky was not simply blue when you’d set yourself down once again among the bed of itchy grass and ticklish flowers. There’s no one way to describe the colour you had seen, but it somehow felt…deep.

Deeper in colour, deeper in meaning, deeper in intent and in sorrow.

That deepness only grew as evening began its mingling commute with daylight, silently reaching forth its palm and convening a colour far intangibly ardent than orange, all of it accented quite perfectly by the large ball of fire in its routine fall.

You can’t recall another time when the sun had ever felt so blistering among the bittered February air. And, it was rather amusing to you, really, that of all possible days, today is when the clouds had chosen not to shade you. There hadn’t been even a speck of white or grey to dampen the sizzle on your face.

Or in your heart.

You tug your coat tighter around yourself, head tilting as you watch the head of a yellow flower being tugged this way and that by harsh gale. It too doesn’t simply feel yellow – well, not in this moment, at least. Its bud looks wilted, slightly browned as if to preserve what little charming dignity it had once possessed. Such a naïve thing it was. Handing itself over to the forces of nature, blossoming, thriving, living in artless denial, and never once stopping to think it would one day end up bowing down in regret for ever committing such a profitless sin.

There really is more than meets the eye in all conceivable forms of life, you’ve come to realise. But only those cunning enough to blind their abetter are able see right through each facade.

The harsh crunching of grass behind you almost beckons you to turn, but you stop yourself if only to prevent your hair from covering your eyes.

Taeyong simply smiles to himself, your free locks a perfect accessory to the panorama in front of him. He sits down beside you and you dare to glimpse at him in your periphery.

“Hey,” he speaks so delicately. So quietly and softly as if to blend in with the wind and its every hidden sentiment.

“Hi,” you reply, eyes still trained on the yellow flower, and it’s when you refuse to smile or even look at Taeyong that he begins to frown, the worry of earlier finding its place within him.

“Y/n, is something wrong-”

“Did I ever tell you,” you interrupt him, pausing to take a shaky breath as the wind bites at the burning skin of your neck, “about when I was nineteen?”

Confusion settles at Taeyong’s brows, though curiosity swirls through his eyes as they peer at you. The last time you were here with him, you’d given something of general overview of your life as a child and progressions as a designer, but never specifically anything about when you were nineteen. Taeyong shakes his head.

“I lived in a box apartment – at tiny little thing at the edge of the city, just trying to make ends meet. Ten and Jaehyun were the only people I had at the time. Nobody else.” If your voice holds a single mite of sentiment, it’s all but imperceptible to Taeyong, as is any emotion in your distant eyes which still refuse to meet his own.

“Nothing was working out for us in that year; all we really had was a handsome rookie, a jobless assistant and my notebook of drawings. Every company we approached had shunned us in less than a day. We were left broke, desperate, hopeless. I, for one, was ready to give up everything.” The memory plays in your mind as a series of blurred motions, your jaw clenching and chin raising slightly to keep a composed front. “But they both kept me going. They told me to never give up, no matter what. That-”

“Every cloud has a silver lining.”

It’s almost funny to hear those words falling from Taeyong’s mouth so naturally, but you nod, nonetheless.

“I had no choice but to keep moving forward; I couldn’t let them down so horribly. So, every night, by routine, I would sit by my window in my little box, and look out to Manhattan City, just hoping – praying – I’d make it there some day. Somehow.” You pause for a moment, taking another deep breath and gulping down the growing tightness in your throat.

“Look where I am now. It seems like I truly have made it…especially considering my own models are writing fake news behind my back.”

***

“Hel-”

“We just keep hitting those milestones, my friend. Luxe just received a retail offer we can’t deny! The biggest department store in the country wants to show your work off to the world!”

The voice that echoes from the speaker sounds awfully cheerful; an inflection belonging to a middle-aged man, though that’s all you’re able to gather as you mind draws question marks at his peculiar words. You’re quick to remind yourself that Taeyong must have, in fact, had a job prior to the one you’d given him, and assume that this Heechul guy must be one of his colleagues or associates of some kind.

You open your mouth to speak, but the man beats you to it.

“Taeyong, I’m gonna need you to make sure this article is as snappy as your Y/l/n-Jung scandal – no, even better than that.”

Your face contorts in bewilderment, eyebrows cinching tightly together and jaw falling ajar as a wave of anxious goosebumps shroud the skin of your arms. “What,” you whisper, just quiet enough for it pass as a breath of air as a tight pain begins to flare up like a wildfire in your chest.

Y/l/n-Jung scandal?

Taeyong’s…Y/l/n-Jung scandal?

“Boy, is Argent going to be in for a treat. And right before New York Fashion Week, too!”

Your heart plummets with a trembling exhale as the man guffaws heartily, your eyes growing wide and haphazard, flickering to every shiny surface of your office as if to search for some form of an honest, untainted truth.

“Remember, I want it finished by-”

You cut the call and the phone slips through your fingers, clattering loudly – threateningly – against the documents on your desk.

***

“It was you, wasn’t it?” You finally turn to face Taeyong, almost turning back straight away. “You wrote that article last month.”

The brown-haired man shifts sharply beside you in the grass, the sound akin to the harsh tearing of a paper while the sun burns its last blister into sky. You do nothing but view it through the blurring, wet sheen of your eyes, waiting and watching as it falls down and down and down, until all that testifies its existence are the furious scabs of pinks and oranges twisting among the deep azure.

“Y/n, I-” he starts, though his mouth falls dry of any placating words, unable to formulate a single coherent thought from underneath the growing thickness of his breath as you refuse to let a single emotion permeate through those clouded eyes.

“It makes me wonder just how foolish I’ve been all along,” you turn back to the field and force a hard, focused gaze back to the flower, unable to keep a seconds’ longer gaze on Taeyong without an impetuous tear slipping from your eye. “All that time, and all that energy…” And all that vulnerability. And all that trust. And all that love. “…wasted on a shameless man like you.”

It wasn’t supposed to rain today, but your cheeks begin to ache and burn with the salty streaks of water. You can’t seem to care for them being so openly on display. Taeyong has taken everything from you. What more are a few tears?

Taeyong follows the trail of water down your cheek. All he can do is turn away as that harrowing guilt sequestered deep within himself over the last few weeks, finally emerges at the surface, violent and strong and more forceful than ever. It peels at every nerve inside, eats away at all the confusion and the worry and every other emotion in between. It leaves nothing. Nothing but a dark, empty, shameful feeling in its wake.

This is the first time he has seen you this way. And it’s all his fault.

“How dare you defame me. How dare you take Jaehyun away from me, and how dare you have the nerve to show your face in my building and take advantage of my company. How dare you, Lee Taeyong.” Your words fall lifeless and heavy between the growing bile in your throat and endless glisten of water against your skin.

Two days of processing couldn’t possibly have prepared you for this moment.

You’d spent the first day mulling over what you’d heard from the call; there must surely have been some error on your part to hear such a shockingly absurd thing from Heechul. The second day was spent in worry; it was simply unfathomable that Taeyong – the very toast addict you’d hired all those weeks ago – could possibly have written such a false scandal. But it wasn’t until this very morning you’d found yourself as the fool who hadn’t bothered to check his employment history.

Journalist at Luxe Magazine LTD

And since then, you had only been hoping for a miracle. That Taeyong would show up to this field with his comforting presence, hold your hand in earnest, look you in the eye and fully deny your accusation because it’s simply too hasty and completely absurd.

But you realise now that it simply isn’t. That miracles are not an asset to be acquired so easily. Taeyong doesn’t hold your hand, and he doesn’t look you in the eye, and worst of all, he doesn’t make even the weakest, most deficient attempt to deny any one of your words.

So, you decide against speaking any more, allowing your hair to cling to the tear streaks along your neck and cheeks as you rise above the grass into a shifting halo of wind.

“Y/n-”

“Your money will be transacted after the show.”

You turn and the grass waves you farewell, clinging to your ankles in its ticklish murmur until you step out to the road where Charlie stands, his gloved hand clutching the open car door as you hide yourself inside. Regret eats away at you more and more ravenously as you silently view the brown head among the grass, watching with every choked gulp as it bows down into the green horizon.

You didn’t say everything you wanted to say.

You didn’t even say half of it.

Taeyong’s business at Argent was merely the tip of the iceberg. You should have yelled and screamed like your chest was aching you to. You should have told Taeyong exactly what he did, and exactly how he’d hurt you, regardless of anything else. How much pain you’re in to know that while you would have trusted him with every fibre in your being, he had slashed a gaping scar right where it would bleed the most, as if it were child’s play to him.

How you had loved him and how he had thrown it all away.

Betrayal is a fickle thing; a notion always just as deceiving as the betrayer themselves – or perhaps even more. Because in its very essence, betrayal is always supposed to feel like the worst wrong of a lifetime; the worst possible pain one can experience for years to come.

A week ago, Jaehyun was your betrayer, and that betrayal had felt so excruciating, you couldn’t have imagined anything worse than it.

Today, Taeyong stands in that betrayer’s place. Today, Jaehyun’s betrayal feels like nothing. Because today…

Today you had experienced the worst wrong of your lifetime.

The small stain on your coat grows larger by the second as your eyes blink in the shifting scenery, body welcoming the transition of rough road to smooth in the low buzz of 90’s classics scratching on the radio.

And you finally make your leave back to where you had started.

Toward loud tumble of city traffic and all the same vivid colours of moving billboards and weathered yellow taxies. Back to the place where you angle your head high and glimpse once more at the concrete jungle that once made up your every dream, every struggle and everything else in between.

XII. Omniscient Point of View

One fractured soul stands outside Argent building the next morning.

She arrives during the dark of the day, before the city rouses and catches its first glimpse of dawn, before the first light beyond the glass door has been lit. She tilts her head back and allows the wind to beat down against her skin, gaze trying to find the very tip of the building, but alas, the colossal structure seems to fade into the morning sable beyond the ninth storey or so.

This fractured soul plays her role in unlocking the polished doors – for, it must have been weeks since she’d last done so – and switching on the first light of the day to the empty silence of the lobby, her heels click once again for her own ears and nobody else’s. There isn’t a single hair to stray from her tight, unrelenting bun, its roots burning her scalp as if to deserve such a punishment for her lunacy.

She sits at her desk and buries her mind with yet another hoard of preparatory paperwork, an eye flickering to the clothing racks of assorted hues and silver every once in a while, as the first sun finds itself a halo on her cheeks. She watches it rise upon skyscrapers from the sweet haven of those four office walls, her stone-cold nature once again making its home in her heart, numbing her face and every other foolishly torn down wall.

Ten knocks at her door around midmorning for a clothing assessment. He knows of the day before’s happenings; she’d told him as soon as her bare feet met the cold tiles of her apartment floor. But he offers no words of solace, for he himself is at a loss, with a few too many unanswered questions roaming the inches of his mind. Ten doesn’t prod, rather watches her as she works.

Her hands hold the same magic, her voice is loud and clear as ever before, but she has seemed to have lost her spark – the very element that had set her aside from all others, the very reason he’d pushed her to never give up all those years ago. Today, she works a dull day in a robotic cadence, her eyes are blurred with the world’s darkest clouds, refusing to let the thunder clap, refusing to let any semblance of water fall.

Weakness is not her strength, Ten has long understood, and her strength might just as well be her biggest weakness. Feelings weren’t a feasible option if the next four days were to be a successful feat, and that is all she can remind herself of.

Perhaps a couple hours later, another soul finds himself standing outside Argent building the same morning, ashamed and afraid to step foot inside at all, for, crossing the glass threshold would only aggravate within him the blaring flame of all-consuming guilt and regret and shame.

He hadn’t expected to be standing here at all after the happenings of the day before, yet here he is, carrying his frame with an hours’ worth of stew-infested sleep. For, when Ten had called him this morning with a voice full of vacancy telling him to find his way back to Argent, this shameful soul knew it would only be another cruel and selfish act for him to walk away with only four days remaining before the show. Ousting was no feasible option.

He steps inside and readies himself for every constrained stare, every secretive whisper, all the tuts and silent taunts to mar the silvered walls. But he receives none; nothing except warm smiles and welcome eyes, amiable manner, and polite conversation.

She hadn’t told a single other person.

He catches but a glimpse of her in the corner of his eye, but doesn’t find the courage to do anything else. He regards her in the same way as Ten and finds her all too the same; rigid, lifeless, focused and unemotive in all senses. And it’s just like that – among the cheer of small accomplishments and Johnny’s at-last nods of approval – this shameful soul finds himself in a bout of repent, a slippery groove even the most agile-minded may never leave as soon as the hole was dug.

The distance between him and her is growing wider and wider with each minute; he can feel it. He feels it in her touch as she forces herself, one day, to adjust the cuff of his suit after another classical seam-slip; in the way her fingertips feel so foreign as they meet the skin of his wrist in detached brushes. He sees it in her averted gaze while fixing his collar once again. He feels it in her very absence of all other rooms he stands within.

But in the end of it all, he knows much too well that this – all of this; everything – is his own doing. He departs with this very notion at the cusp of sun fall, while she remains within the building, watching the growing darkness through her window, later turning off the final few lights and stepping out into the late hours of night.

Early morning, afternoon, evening, late night, the cycle continues as so for both of these souls; repeating, and repeating, and repeating, as if they knew no better than to let it continue in such a way.

They return to their dwellings each night only to find themselves stuck in the dark. With breaths heavy and eyes tired, their fluffed pillows encase their heads as they search for some way – any way – to find a single merciful speck of clarity among the blinding black. Left with themselves and a mere thought of the other, their minds prickle and prod with each one of their mistakes and each one of their utter regrets.

XIII. Nothing. Nothing At All.

“Y/n!”

Straight posture.

“Miss Y/l/n, look over here!”

Head down.

“Did Jaehyun really leave Argent for Qi Fashion Labels?”

Ignore the questions.

“Just one picture for us!”

Smile for every sixth camera.

“Tell us the name of your new model.”

And don’t. Stop. No matter. What.

Suits and ties – crisp and clean in nature – lavish gowns, cross-dressing trailblazers, scarves and sequins and diamonds and lipsticks of every size, make, shape and colour; here, was one of eight splendid evenings that confounded all the worlds’ fashion partisans to their very cores. Every new trend, whether vogue or wholly obsolete, every essence of haute cotoure and high-style, it was all birthed under and could be traced back to the single most grand title: New York Fashion Week. A beautifully elaborate and gaudy scene to breathe in among the ever-putrefying air of this city; to bear the hollers of shutterbugs alongside the rageful honking of cabs behind one’s shoulder.

Your feet fall heavy beneath the cool satin of your floor-length dress. One in front of the next, they step forward like clockwork along the red carpet that daubs the concrete pavement of the New Yorker Hotel, the very destination of tonight’s mystique. Your head rests level upon your shoulders, a kind of reserved smile adorning the gloss of your mouth. Violent flashes of camera lenses burn your skin aglow as you walk the familiar pathway between paparazzi who spill over the barricades on either side; blustering, clawing, and pushing each other in brutal competition, their hefty hunks of metal held ablaze if only to catch a mere glance of the spectacle that you are…or the spectacle that you appear to be in this very moment.

The epitome of talent, the very pinnacle of grace and beauty; compliments are thrown your way, left, right and centre, suspended around your frame that exudes its confident and assured glow to everyone except you.

Three steps, pose. Two steps, wave. One step, smile.

Oh, little do they know how deceiving such a smile could be. A time of such high regard merely jars you with the harsh anxieties and fretful sentiments of ‘what if?’.

Nervous. You feel terrifyingly nervous, and never had you felt such a thing since at least four full seasons ago, and it’s embittering to realise how shallowed your vigour has become over something as everchanging and facile as the media – even worse that you’d once sworn never to let such a thing happen.

Ten waits for you at the end of the red pathway, his hair sleeked, his body suited to a fault for the occasion, and his very being the only form of consolation among the anxious glamour enrapturing the venue. He smiles warmly as you approach him, cameras finally bygone in exchange for his assuring hand that guides you inside the hotel.

“Some crowd tonight,” he mutters, patting down the lapels of his blazer.

“Thank God.” A hefty breath escapes your lungs, relieved to find yourself under the roof of fresh lobby air that you now share with many other high-end designers – some well-known and some on the rise to their pedestals.

“We should probably make some rounds before heading inside to the catwalk. You know, chat it up with some other designers. Maybe Tom since he’s right before Argent.” Ten suggests, strolling mindlessly with you around the moderate bustle of celebrities, nodding politely to those who smile your way. “It might just make you feel better to have some company within your element.

“Who said I’m not already feeling better?” is your sharp riposte, followed by a momentary glance to Ten’s dubious glare.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, holding a grand set of double doors open for you both to enter.

“Yes.” You raise your chin high, eyes sparkling in the shadowed lighting of the room and shimmering torches decorating the walls. “I am absolutely fine, and as my assistant, it’s in your very best interest to keep it that way. End of discussion.”

You glance around at the seating; half-filled with chattering patrons of neutral-toned clothing. Some hold small notebooks clasped between their hands that rest firmly on their crossed legs.

Critics.

“Okay, then,” Ten replies nonchalantly, tugging you toward a circle of A-list celebutantes surrounding a man in a sleek, black suit who holds a glass of bubbling champagne, “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I just-hello, Mr Ford! It is an utmost pleasure to meet you again.” Ten reaches a respectful hand out to the man, sparking a welcoming dialogue which you’re left to watch with a fake smile plastered to your face. “Now, I just need to head backstage for show prep; same old routine, you know how it goes. You wouldn’t mind entertaining this gorgeous handful for a minute, would you?”

You’re unsure whether an irked scowl or grateful thanks would be a suitable response to Ten pulling you forward, instead opting for a few clueless blinks and a slack jaw as he no sooner disappears behind a large black curtain at the far end of the large room.

Conversation nonetheless ensues smoothly with Tom, starting off with a congratulations and praise for each other’s work. It really turns out to be no surprise why this man is so successful and admired. Everything from his gesturing, his conduct and his fashion intellect falls nothing short of laudable. A few other designers join and leave the loop, and like Ten said, you do indeed find yourself significantly more relaxed to be in their like-minded company.

As the lights later dim for the Tom Ford segment, you bid farewell to the designers, deciding to break away backstage through the same black curtain, behind which the atmosphere takes a drastic turn. It’s nothing all that unexpected, really; simply the normal pandemonium of various models with perfected figures and faces – and a shoe too less, or some form of missing accessory – scurrying around with backstage assistants in tow. You walk down a hallway, dodging as much chaos as possible before finding a door pasted with Argent’s logo and pushing inside.

The chaos remains perhaps even to a higher degree as you watch the bustle of your models, subordinate designers, and make-up artists racing around the room. The clothing racks are almost empty, and it’s something that makes your heart swell with pride as the gravity of the moment begins to fully sink in.

“Oh, good, you’re here. I need a final assessment on some of these outfits, now hurry!” Johnny – quite the image with his hair a fluttered mess and his suit slightly rumpled – rushes over to you, grabbing your shoulders and leading you to a row of your models wearing their finalised ensemble of silvers, silks and cervelts. You remain surprisingly calm through it all, assisting wherever you’re needed and doing your best to settle nerves.

A loud knock no sooner echoes amidst the noise and a woman in a black uniform, donning an intercom headset and black clipboard appears at the dressing room doors.

“Argent Fashion Labels? Ten minutes until your segment. Please navigate all runway walkers backstage for the catwalk.”

The commotion grows louder as you send her a nod from across the room, a new kind of buzz arousing excited jitters and whooping as the models begin to file toward her. You stand on your toes, neck craned upward, watching all the extravagant outfits – your extravagant outfits – exit the door one by one. A small smile begins to form at your lips, only to be immediately torn away as a head turns back to meet your eyes from among the crowd.

And just like that, it’s as if all the cheering and clapping around you is suddenly zipped away from the world, the rapid thrumming of your heart now the only sound ringing loud and clear in your eardrums. There’s something indiscernible in the look that passes through his features, a split-second of…something, though you’re unable to tell exactly what. It always seemed to have been that way, you’ve slowly come to realise.

You gulp thickly, daring to hold his gaze for a second longer before averting your eyes elsewhere. And still, you can’t help but look back once again, but this time, Taeyong is gone with the crowd, somewhere along the bend with the lasting image of your desolate face engraved into his mind.

“Come on.”

You turn as a hand cups your shoulder from behind, met with Ten’s reassuring nod as he guides you out of the room and behind the wall of the catwalk.

“This is it,” you voice out quietly, eyes flickering to the first model, Karina, who stands just behind the runway entrance breathing in and out with closed eyes. She turns her head to you, smiling nervously, and you only smile back. But this time your smile finds you widely – hopingly, encouragingly. You whisper out a quiet, ‘you got this’, and in return her smile too, grows.

And then she’s off.

Freely and fleetingly, her feet land on the platform with self-assured glamour, the outfit from your sketchbook never having suited another person more than it does her in this very moment. She walks in time with the techno music; hips level, arms loose, expression poised, she stops, poses, turns, and finds her way back to the very head of the stage. As does the next model, and the next, and the next.

You watch it all tucked away behind the wall; every single one of your creations of the last year springing to a mirthful, beautiful life with every blink of the eye, click of a heel, drop of a beat. Some models walk with skilfully pocketed hands, some carry a bag on their shoulder, and some on their elbows. Every model has at least one form of nuance to them, but every single one of them wears a line of silver. One by one, they breeze out and in, past the devotees and the critics, through the feverish nerves and the anxious excitement. One by one, they make it through, there and back until only a final one remains to do them all their justice.

Taeyong doesn’t meet your eyes as he stands at the edge. He knows he wouldn’t be able to step out onto that shiny platform if he so much as took another selfish glimpse.

And he couldn’t do that to you.

It happens too fast; all too suddenly, much too overwhelmingly. So much so that it feels wrong that every one of your painstaking efforts – every sleepless night, every endured loss – amount so simply to the thirty seconds Taeyong spends on stage.

That was supposed to be Jaehyun.

Jaehyun should have been wearing that outfit, with his hair styled in the same gelled coif, walking on that long platform with camera shutters lighting up on his smooth complexion. Jaehyun should have been the one to halt at the foot and clench his jaw if only to maintain what little of his composure he had left. Jaehyun should have been the one to walk back and finally look you in the eye with all the world’s anguish and remorse, hoping to see an ounce of emotion in those eyes of yours, only to find nothing.

Nothing at all.

And when you later walk out onto that long, star-studded stage for your lasting impression, you suddenly find yourself confused and unwilling to concede all at once. You link arms with the models on either side of you and take your well-deserved bow for the audience, knowing full well that this is where another season meets its close.

You take in the standing ovation with a vacantly present smile, but you don’t breathe in any of it like you once remember doing. You look at the cameras and the reluctant simpering of critics, but you don’t truly see them in the way that you once you did. You walk off that stage and wish a congratulations to every person you couldn’t have done this all without. But every praise, every compliment; it all falls from an empty place within you.

In Ten’s suggestion of “keeping face,” you find yourself standing at the cusp of midnight at the venue of the after party. You’re in an entirely different place with a flute of sparkling champagne poured by none other than Alex Wang himself resting in the tips of your fingers. Only, the flute remains unkissed, no lipstick stain to fashion on the shiny glassware.

In somewhat of a stupor, you watch the world as it revolves around you in a kaleidoscope of slow and fast motions, standing amidst the glitzed lights, lost in the place you’d once always called paradise. The place you were supposed to know like the back of your hand. Multitudes of bodies blur and manifest before your eyes, shifting like phantoms in disguise. Doused in glitter and endless waves of net, every celebrity stands anew in their dresses and suits - not nearly as casually unwearable as the pieces from the catwalk, but still extravagant nonetheless - all perfectly suited for a night of folly amid the pounding music and blaring lasers.

Still as a robot, you smile at your conversationalists as if it were programmed into your muscles. You smile until it stops hurting, until you feel numb and until you just can’t take it anymore.

And when you leave and you later lay yourself down on the soft mattress of your bed, ridden of any blinding lights or fabricated clothing; as you blink once again at the empty ceiling of your apartment, you can’t help but feel completely, and utterly alone.

You’d sworn it would feel exhilarating. You’d sworn to make it exhilarating for yourself. But the truth finally surrenders in the form of all the uncontrolled tears that roll agonisingly down your cheeks, staining your neck and expanding the chill on your pillow.

This was not how anything was supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to turn out this way.

But you were aching and there was nothing you could do about it except finally, finally, allow yourself to cry. To let every pent-up emotion out of your tired system. And nothing could have felt more natural than doing so while being stuck amid the motions of such a false and fabricated world.

─── ⪧ ⪦ ───

Taeyong looks down to the little scruff of paper with a ten-digit number scrawled in haste and the words ‘call me’ sitting right beside them. He doesn’t know how or when the paper had found itself in the sweaty creases of his palm, but he has no intention of investigating further, ripping it up once, twice, three times, and watching it fall to the ground with the shiny confetti that flutters around his throbbing head.

A glass bottle – perhaps his fourth of the late hour – sits loosely in his other hand, ready to drop and shatter as its contents sit bitterly in his mouth, burning his throat with each heavy gulp. Crowds of models brush suggestively at his sides, some subtle and others not as much, but their efforts fall futile as the dark-haired man of interest simply blinks out to some faraway place at the after-party venue. As if searching for the one he truly wished to find among the crowd.

When he’s convinced that you’re not there hidden somewhere among the shadows, Taeyong simply turns around, back turned to the blinding disco lights, and exits the party. His business there and everywhere else in the damned industry was done; he’d walked the runway, finished his job, and there simply was nothing more left for him to do now.

He leaves with weighted limbs and a fogged mind, no knowledge of how he later ends up seated in the chair of his home office. He still wears the same suit he’d shown off to the world mere hours ago, but his make-up is now smudged, hair a dishevelled muss, breaths heavily intoxicated and eyes shallowed and heavy as he opens his laptop, glaring at the document that had sent everything crashing to the ground.

Taeyong doesn’t think twice – doesn’t care for the wall clock that reads an atrocious hour of the AM – as his fingers firmly clutch his phone, dialling a number he should have dialled much too long ago.

It takes no less than three rings for a groggy voice to emerge from the speaker, but he cuts it off immediately with a breathy whisper of:

“I can’t do it.”

The words are as quiet as the dark room around him, as still as the cool air.

“Heechul, I can’t submit the article.”

“What are you talking about, boy?” Heechul scoffs quietly – threateningly – though there seems to be some form of panic to his voice. “Do you even realise what this means for you? What this means for your money-”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING MONEY ANYMORE!” Taeyong roars into the speaker, every ounce of composure lost with the furious rise and fall of his chest, tears of anger beginning to blur his vision. “This is her career we’re putting on the line! Her entire life. Everything she’s worked for. And for what? Another godforsaken article to tear it all down?”

It’s almost as if Taeyong speaks to himself through the phone; finally voicing the truth as it so blatantly exists.

“I don’t care-” His voice drops to a broken sob, “-about the money anymore. I just-I can’t do it.”

A heavy pause welcomes the hot trickle of water to his cheeks, a pathway glistening with the blue light in front of him.

“You really are your father’s son,” comes Heechul’s cold voice in the dark. “Always getting too caught up in your subjects. Too personal. Weak and cowardly.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Taeyong seethes, teeth and jaw clenching furiously.

“How do you think he ended up with your mother of all people?”

The venom in Heechul’s voice is clear and his words all too obviously spiteful. For what reason, Taeyong doesn’t know, nor does he have any desire to as his thumb cuts the call without another lasting word.

His eyes, wet with dark streaks of flecked eyeliner, flicker back to his laptop; to the words he’d forced onto the white page that had breached and bled onto his dignity. His hands find his mouse, and he clicks down, dragging the cursor through the words, line by line, every letter drowning in a blue highlight only to disappear with a single press of the backspace button.

A blank document was where it all started, and a black document is where it all ends.

His eyes fall shut with this final thought, only opening to the bright halo of mid-afternoon sun the next day, head resting sideways on a stiff elbow. He hauls his body up, downs a pill for his headache and accepts the pelting water from the nozzle of his shower, all accompanied by the numbing nothingness of his mind. A coat, a scarf, a beanie, and a tinkling pair of keys are all that accompany Taeyong as he later steps outside his apartment, down the streets and among the noise of the city. He buries his face in the warm fabric around his neck and pulls his hat atop the tips of his ears, glancing out to the pedestrians and vehicles along the roads, the billboards and the buskers and everything else that he hadn’t before taken the time of day to notice and appreciate. It wasn’t often that he’d found himself walking on his own two feet among this tall wilderness of glass and concrete; it wasn’t particularly his of choice of scene. But now, with the icy wind flowing through his lashes, Taeyong feels a sort of silent beauty amid the stereotypical chaos. It’s something subdued, almost impalpable, present in the artwork hidden in the coolness of alleyways, the sky’s reflection upon the buildings, and in the simple workings of the city itself.

Somewhere along his solitary way, he passes a newsagency flanked at its front with rows and rows of glossed booklets. Some display you, Y/n Y/l/n, Head of Argent Fashion Labels, bowing at the show from the previous night.

Many others display him, but no longer just his face.

MEET LEE TAEYONG, THE FASHION FRAUD OF THE DECADE Argent Fashion Labels’ new model exposed as the anonymous writer behind the Y/l/n-Jung scandal

Taeyong picks up the magazine and inspects every inch of the paper, spotting Kim Heechul in a tiny font just beneath the bold typewrite. He doesn’t turn a single page, just eyes the man on the front cover with a longing so painful and deep, wishing that man hadn’t been so blind and foolish. If only not merely for his own sake, but for everything he had put you through since the day you’d first locked eyes.

Taeyong places the magazine back down, not bothering to pay for a copy, and decides to return home. As he once again seats himself at his desk, he feels a sort of enlightenment, as if he were now free of some form of a suffocation that he hadn’t realised had been there all along.

He opens his laptop to be met with the same blank document from the night before, fingers brushing lightly over the keys.

XIV. Okay?

It’s almost laughable how often the past repeats itself. Recycling old scenarios, emotions, and situations all for meticulous use in the present.

Ten finds himself the subject of such a phenomenon once again; standing outside your large office doors and peeking through the tiny crack, watching you in your current preoccupations of planning out Argent’s spring-summer line for the next season. A sudden wave of déjà vu reminds him that those dead-set features of yours really haven’t changed in the long time he’s known you. Still so passionate, and still so mystical. But there was now something different about you.

The weather had slowly begun to bleed into the supple hands of spring and with it, you too seemed to have thawed on the outside; now less austere in manner and more permissive to those around you. A month had come and gone since the success that was New York Fashion Week, and the tabloids – though ever-present in Argent’s business – were once again beginning to mute themselves for the time being. Now that the heavy preparations were over and the competition was down, you’d found a well-recommended model by the name of Lee Jeno, and he’d taken over the top model position with much fulfilling ease. He was almost too perfect for the job, things seemed to have settled back into a comforting routine, and much to everyone’s surprise, you often smiled.

But Ten could see past it, knowing all too well it was all just another façade of yours; that while each of your smiles came from a well-intended place, they did not resonate with you at all. He knew that from within, you only grew more fervently frigid and harsh with yourself, if only to never again commit the mistakes that you had in the early months of the year. Ten knows that all along you’ve been hurt by someone you’d invested far too much trust in. That along the way, you’d lost a certain part of yourself to a man that had made you feel alive in a way you’d never felt before.

He looks down nervously now to the clipboard held to his chest, jumping as your voice comes from behind the door.

“What is it, Ten?”

Sighing, he pushes forward into your office, gnawing at the inside of his cheek while eyeing you nervously. He can see just how much of an affect Taeyong has had on you, even now. How you’d picked up on those little habits of his and adopted them as your own, from the slight humour in your witty remarks, to the quirk that now seems to find your eyebrow. You weren’t even aware of it, but it seemed that Taeyong was now an unshakeable force in your life.

“What?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, please don’t tell me there’s another delay in the fabric delivery. I spent three hours on the phone with them yesterday just to make sure that-”

“Y/n,” Ten interrupts you, taking a deep breath and stepping closer to you.

“What?” You snap, impatient and confused by his sudden anxiousness.

“This,” he unclips a magazine from his clipboard and places it on your desk, sliding it in front of you, “just got published today.”

You pick up the book with an apathetic expression and scan over the front cover, only for your brows to crease while reading over the bold text.

JOURNALIST LEE TAEYONG FINALLY EMERGES FROM THE DARK-

“No,” you hold the magazine out to Ten and look away, refusing to read any further. “I don’t want to see it.”

“Y/n-”

“No, Ten.”

“Just read it, for God’s sake!” he yells, slamming the magazine down on your desk and opening it to a double page.

Your eyes widen at you look up at Ten, blinking in shock of his furrowed expression and angry tone. It was rare for him to raise his voice with you unless the matter was urgent, so you find yourself in a bout of hesitation.

“Why?” Comes your voice in the tense silence. “Why should I read this?”

“You just have to trust me when I say you’ll want to,” Ten replies, now soft again.

You take in a deep breath through your nose, unsure what to expect from the article given the sincerity in Ten’s voice, and hesitantly look down to the spread pages.

There is no short or easy way for me to say this, but it must be said.

I do not write this letter for the appeasement of anyone, nor for any sympathy, and I do not expect or wish for anybody to take my side. My side is unjustifiable. I write this letter in hopes of delivering the truth, and the truth only, regarding my recent involvement with Y/n Y/l/n and Argent Fashion Labels.

My name is Lee Taeyong. Most of you now know me as the anonymous writer of the Y/l/n-Jung scandal, or the fraudulent model who entered Argent Fashion Labels as a gossip spy. Perhaps even both. These claims are not wrong, and I am here to address them in their utmost verity.

The truth is, I am no model. I am a journalist who, in the past, worked under the editorial division of Luxe Magazines LTD in Manhattan city. In my job, I was well-approved, highly acclaimed and lucrative to the firm. These were unfortunately the materialistic qualities under which I thrived. In the event of being offered a celebrity scandal headline, I jumped without rational thought, and wrote a false and misleading article about a non-existent love affair between Y/n Y/l/n and Jung Jaehyun.

I must clarify that they were not, in any way, intimately involved with each other. I did not check the hard facts, and for this I am deeply sorry to them both. I must further clarify that Jung Jaehyun is innocent, and I take full responsibility for his departure from Argent Fashion Labels, as well as the losses suffered by both parties as a result of this.

Regarding my temporary employment under Argent; there are no words that can justify my actions. It has taken me a great deal of disillusionment and self-reflection to understand the gravity of my intentions when entering the position. It is not Argent’s fault in scouting me, but mine for accepting the offer and intruding on my rights and responsibilities.

I will be transparent in saying I was to write another article; this time to ‘debunk’ Argent as a whole company. Initially, I thought it would be an easy task. And while I must concede that there were external forces at play, I was in no case, justified to continue with knowledge of the consequences.

But in wake of all this, I cannot bring myself to regret the time I had spent at Argent. I had thrust myself into a new environment; it was a dizzying and expeditious experience at first. I was ready to quit the job as soon as I started.

But dare I say, I’m glad I didn’t quit, because it was these experiences, the people, the friendly faces all working toward a common goal and the connections I had made through them. All of it changed who I am and what I stand for. Everything at Argent was a massive challenge. I would have expected no less from a world-class fashion label. But it changed me.

In the end, I had chosen not to publish the second article, because I no longer cared for all my previous qualities. It didn’t matter to me how well-approved or highly acclaimed or lucrative of a person I was.

But I was too late in realising this. Consequently, I have wronged many people; in doing so, relinquished the trust they had in me, and for this, I will forever repent. I was a coward who chose to sacrifice not only his own honour, but the honour of Y/n Y/l/n.

I am at fault, and she is not. She is innocent in all regards.

I am so, so sorry for all the trouble I put her through. I am very deeply sorry for all the effort and the time, all the hours and all the energy she had spent in me.

To the tabloids, the paparazzi and all celebrity gossip agencies out there: Y/n Y/l/n is not the person you think she is. She isn’t the fashion industry’s monster. She isn’t a hot-headed, unappeasable snob. And she is certainly not a bitch.

Once again, I am not looking for approval or sympathy from the public eye. But please, if there is anybody to target for the matters discussed, it is only me.

With each of these words, I need nobody to believe me except one person.

I am sorry.

Your lips part as your eyes read over the last three words over and over again, gulping through the emerging mixture of emotions that gather in your mind.

“He didn’t accept the transaction,” Ten murmurs softly, now seated on one of the sofas.

You can’t seem to do anything else but blink, breaths growing shallow. “He…he…” you try to formulate words, though they don’t come out, “why didn’t he-”

“I think you know why,” Ten whispers, a solemn look in his eyes.

Why?

Was it because Taeyong had taken pity on you? Or was it because he decided to take the moral high road? Was it because he wanted to save his own face? Or was he truly, deeply sorry?

“I-” You stand up abruptly, “I need to go see him, Ten.”

You really hope he is truly, deeply sorry, and you have no choice but to find out.

Ten stands up with you, surprise evident on his features. “Wait, what-now?”

“Yes, now!” You look around frantically, before pausing. “Wait but…where would he be?”

“Are you really asking me that right now?” Ten raises his eyebrow.

“Ten, this is serious, tell me!”

“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in the air, starting to panic along with you. “Like, his house, or-or the field maybe, or-”

You gasp quietly.

“What?” Ten asks, oblivious.

“Ten,” you call to him softly, grabbing your purse and walking to the couches.

“What-oh.” He asks again, only for you to lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile, “for everything.”

He blinks. “O-okay.”

With a single nod, you turn on your heel and scurry toward your door.

“Wait, woman, your coat!” Ten yells, jogging to your coat hanger and tossing your trench to you.

“Thank you!” you yell back, leaving Ten standing in your office among the silent echo of the doors that swing shut behind you, stunned with his hand still holding the cheek that you’d somehow kissed.

“Uhhh, okay,” he speaks to himself, though it sounds more like a question than a statement. “Okay,” Ten chuckles once again, reaching back for his clipboard before clearing his throat with a curt nod.

“Okay,” he says once more, before exiting your office with a growing smile.

XV. Une Doublure D'argent

The world truly is a lonely, lonely place. You ought to have learnt exactly that, if nothing else in amongst the tumultuous waves that make you up. Now, it is not the barren, desolate land that you compare to the city, but the solitary nature of your surroundings that reminds you of it. In the end, you realise that everything stands for itself. Each blade of grass is merely its own blade of grass. Each skyscraper is, in itself, its own skyscraper.

The notion finds you as you once again make the journey from the city to the countryside, this time in your own car, with the wheel sliding under each palm of your hands. From where such an epiphany had suddenly manifested, you have absolutely no idea. You simply allow your mind to drift in whichever direction, feeling the enormous space all around you as the road cuts into broad, green plains beneath the cloudy sky.

It seems all the radios know how to play these days are renditions of the same smooth jazz, but you let the speakers echo as they please, too busy with looking around and trying to remember the exact place you’d sat in among this maze of greenery.

Now that you really think about it, what you’re doing right now is absolutely ridiculous; something your past self never would have envisioned you doing in the future, because why would he be here of all places?

“A mess,” you mutter to yourself, “I’m just a big, fat me-”

Your foot slams down on the breaks as a dark head of hair emerges from the thick bed of grass on your left, yet another solitary figure hidden among the scene before you. Parking the car, you merely sit behind your window and watch him for a minute, noting the familiar way his locks shift in the breeze, some straying from the rest. And contrary to what you’d anticipated, such a view is oddly settling to take in. When the head disappears among the field again, you sigh, retrieving your bag and exiting the car to find a bicycle laying down outside the entrance of the same beaten down dirt path. You once again walk through it, welcomed ever so delicately by the pasture flanking its sides.

You reach into your bag, pulling out the magazine spread and approach the man lying down on his coat.

“What is this?” You make no haste in voicing your words, holding the article over Taeyong’s face and forcing yourself to ignore the flutter of goosebumps that arise on your skin as his eyes flutter open...

And then flutter back shut again.

“Excuse me?” You tilt your head, scoffing in disbelief. This was anything but the reaction you had been expecting.

“Hello?”

Still no response.

“Taeyon-”

“I thought you were smart, Y/n.”

His words catch you off-guard, eyebrows scrunching.

“Do you hear yourself right now?”

He simply hums in apathy, bringing a forearm to cover his still closed eyes to which you scowl in frustration, suddenly compelled to jab your boot into his side.

“Ow! What do you-”

“Taeyong, what is this?” you repeat yourself, shaking the magazine in your hand. “Tell me clearly what this is.”

He sighs, sitting up with a quiet rustle and combing a hand through his hair.

“Well, did you read the headline, or…”

You simply scoff once again, an irked smile finding your face as you turn around to leave.

“Wait.”

Taeyong catches your wrist from his spot on the ground, stopping you before you can take another step away from him, and you curse under your breath for the shiver that trickles through your body. His grip is so tight and unrelenting that you have no choice but to evade all thought of trying to shake it off. Reluctantly, you turn back to him, trying to level your breathing as his eyes meet your own.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he speaks softly, the wind carrying his voice with its echo as he peers up at you. “I couldn’t just leave without telling the truth…even if it had to be after a month.”

You take in his words with a growing frown, and just like that, everything you had planned to tell him – every single rehearsed sentence from your monologue of emotions – fades from the tip of your tongue, forgotten in the dry of your throat as you gulp, and without another thought, step forward and lower yourself down to the ground beside him. Minutes are spent thereafter in the silence of the outside, looking out to the grey sky with empty eyes. But within your mind roam a tangled, blundering string of ineffable thoughts, none of which you can seem to comprehend yourself.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Taeyong asks defeatedly.

“I’m giving you two minutes to explain everything that happened – and I mean, everything,” you blurt out, refusing to look at him until everything had been laid out properly in the open. You need all the answers before you can make any drastic considerations.

Taeyong sighs and you catch a small nod from him in your periphery. He begins with the first scandal, repeating everything he had written in the article that rests in your hand; how he’d genuinely believed it to be true, and failed to check the truth behind the dating rumours. Next came his modelling proposal, how, back in January, he’d accepted Ten’s offer at his frequented coffee shop and later found out it was a job for Argent. Then he explained Heechul’s offer of going undercover.

“Heechul,” you interrupt Taeyong, now all too familiar with the name. “He’s your boss?”

“Not anymore,” Taeyong sighs.

“You left your job?”

“More like I was fired, but I guess you could put it that way.”

“So, Heechul is the one who asked you to write another article? To debunk Argent?” you continue, “and you agreed?”

“Yes,” Taeyong replies, a hesitancy in his voice, unsure of what to expect from your reaction.

“Okay,” you nod, spurning any emotion from seeping into your features, “continue.”

And he does. And his words exceed far longer than the two-minute time slot you’d initially granted him, but you don’t move from your spot, nor do you attempt to stop Taeyong as the whole truth finally spills from his lips with the blooming emergence of dusk.

You gather that he’d written the majority of the debunking article in the first week or so of employment at Argent.

“…but when you told me the truth about the dating scandal, I was ready to drop everything and leave,” he pauses. “But then again, I couldn’t just do that to you. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I left, you’d have no model and I’d feel guilty. If I stayed, I’d still feel guilty, but I figured that the least I could do in that situation was help you…as ironic as it sounds.”

You sigh in deep vanquish, unsure what to make of his words or how to feel about his overall intentions.

“I actually forgot about the article after that day because I genuinely took on the role,” Taeyong adds with a small voice, and it only serves to muddle your thoughts up even more. On one hand, he’d defamed you, driven Jaehyun to leave Argent and join another fashion label, and then proceeded to romance you all while writing another article behind your back. But on the other hand, instead of leaving, Taeyong had stayed with you for an entire month, kept up with his modelling duties, walked the runway at New York Fashion Week, and maybe – just maybe – given you a sense of enjoyment while doing so.

“I deleted the article on the night of the show and called Heechul to tell him I couldn’t submit it. Then he fired me and released an exposé article the next day.”

“And you didn’t accept the money either,” you murmur from beside Taeyong and he shakes his head. “And then you released this article a month later,” you hold up the magazine, “just out of the blue.”

And he nods.

And you nod back.

And then, looking out once again toward the silence of the field, your brows furrow with a lingering thought.

“Why did you do it in public?” you ask quietly, a spark of anger beginning to brew inside you. “Why did you have to release an article in the first place? Why couldn’t you have just come to me yourself?”

“I already told you, I had to tell the truth-”

“But why didn’t you come to me?”

Trying your hardest to stabilise your breathing, you turn to Taeyong, immediately shivering with another unsolicited prickle of goosebumps at the mere sight of him. You’re adamant on knowing the reasoning behind his drastic actions, unwilling to believe that everything that you had built with him – everything he’d done with you – was simply just an act.

Taeyong has to pause at your question, expression tensing as he inhales deeply, searching for the answer which is surprisingly hard to pinpoint.

“I couldn’t-” he sighs sharply, “I couldn’t bear to face you after everything I did. I was ashamed.”

“And you weren’t ashamed that night?” you dare to ask, facing forward again with a shaky breath.

Taeyong knows exactly which night you’re referring to. He’d gone through a month of deep rumination, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could have prepared him for the striking pain in his chest when he finally turns to your downcast figure staring toward the sky with a doleful look in your beautiful, but incredibly sorrowful features. The only other time he’d seen you in such a genuine sadness was the very first time he’d taken you out to this place; when you’d voiced every one of your worries and he’d listened to them all. When he’d let you believe that you had his trust.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed in my life,” he whispers, turning to face his lap, completely heartbroken to have brought this all upon you.

“I just needed you to say something back then; anything…” you begin, voice breaking without any idea of where your mind is leading it, “…but you just disappeared without a word.”

You turn back to him, your own heart breaking at the genuine remorse present in every inch of his expression. In the drained depths of his eyes, and the shadowed bags just beneath them. In every crack on the pink of his lips and the very wilt of its frown.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he whispers, his helpless gaze focused right on your own, “I’m so, so sorry.”

You’re forced to close your eyes with a pained, shaky breath.

It truly is a lonely, lonely world. You haven’t always had someone to lean on in every moment of needful solitude, but you had just so happened to find Taeyong months ago, in one of your biggest moments of need yet.

It doesn’t seem to matter under which context he’d come; all that matters now is the fact that he’d been there for you. And it dawns on you just how much your life had been riding on this man after you’d met him. No matter your feelings toward the notion, because for once, you didn’t have control, and it didn’t matter whether you liked it or not. Your input had not a single ounce of weightage in the grand picture when you were around Taeyong.

In his presence, things had felt as natural as this field, and as effortless as merely existing here in the tall grass. You’d found yourself caring less and less for inhibitions, letting go, turning away from all the nasty what-ifs that make up everything the world hates about you. Slipping up here and there…it had started to feel okay. And it was all because of him.

He was your anchor in a time of great need.

The fact still remains that his initial motives were flawed and his silent departure equally as painful. And it still hurts that you’ve had to find him yourself even now, hidden in this field without any direction or prospect for his future.

But all of that pain dulls in comparison to the pain you feel while looking into his eyes right now.

This has all been painful for you. But it must have also been so painful for him.

You’ve searched within the confines of your thawing heart and found something of a crackling hope amid the fire of betrayal, thinking that maybe Taeyong deserves the benefit of the doubt. That maybe somewhere along the way, his original motives had lost their significance. That it couldn’t have been easy for him to write that letter about himself. That he wouldn’t have put himself through the trouble of public scrutiny were he not a changed person.

Maybe you’re a fool for thinking that way, maybe you’re just selfish. But you can’t face the other way now, and there’s only one apparent reason why.

“It’s not okay,” finally comes your reply, voice as airy and soft as the wind. “And I thought I needed more from you, because you really, really hurt me, Taeyong. And I wish so much that I could hate you for it but,” you pause, lifting a hand to cup his face, “but all I needed was an apology, because that’s all anyone ever needs from the person they love.”

You really thought you needed more from him.

But you love him.

You love Lee Taeyong.

And all you really needed was a sincere apology.

You feel Taeyong’s cold hand find your own face, warming against your skin. He brings your forehead to gently meet his own, soft whispers of “I’m sorry” melting repeatedly against your cheeks, soothed by the feathered stroke of his thumb. “I love you too, Y/n, I’m so sorry,”

You pull back just enough to find his eyes once again.

“I forgive you.”

And Taeyong pulls you back to him, your body now encased in the haven of his arms like never before as his face finds a home in the warmth of your neck, refusing to let you go when he hears the soft sniffles on his shoulder.

“Don’t cry,” he breathes, holding you tighter. “Please don’t cry, Y/n.”

“You don’t think I’m a bitch,” you mumble into his coat.

“Of course you’re not.” Taeyong unwinds his arms from you, gently wiping your tears while looking you in the eye. “God, fuck no.” His words pull a small chuckle from you and Taeyong doesn’t think anything has ever sounded as sweet as your smile, nothing has ever felt as nice as your fingers in his own, or as comforting as the mere thought that you were here with him once again. That you loved him despite all his flaws and mistakes.

“I have something for you,” you untuck yourself from his arms and reach back into your handbag, lifting your hand back out in a fist and bringing it in front of Taeyong. He eyes you with something of a knowing smile and slowly uncurls your fingers, revealing the round box of strawberry lip balm he’d given you months ago.

“But it’s yours,” he mumbles as you slide the box into his hand.

“You need it more than I do,” you grin coyly, and Taeyong can only shake his head in adoration while unscrewing the lid to find it half empty since the last time he’d used it, applying the balm to his lips as you once again reach back into your bag.

He looks up as a loud rumble resounds throughout the sky, the grey clouds having grown darker with the evening, shifting and whispering among each other with a newfound purpose ready to be fulfilled.

You raise your hands up to the sky from beside him, and Taeyong turns to you curiously, his gaze following your arm to the silver strip of fabric pinched between your fingers, shimmering with infinite hope in front of the looming clouds. You turn to Taeyong, a soft smile forming at your lips as you regard him with all the world’s sincerity in your eyes; the one thing so certain in his greatest moment of uncertainty.

A silver lining to his darkest clouds.

“Don’t forget it.”

Reaching out to him, you hold Taeyong’s hand tightly with the fabric clasped warmly between both of your palms. And as you bring his hand to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss to his skin, Taeyong finds a certain comfort in the softness of your lips; how they’re no longer chapped as they once were, and how they beam up at him so beautifully.

“Don’t ever forget it.”

finis

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everything-fine-n-peachy · 1 year

Text

The sun is also a star (l.dh)

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader genre: angst with some fluff (if you're delusional like y/n) summary: high school besties who may or may not be just besties, a dash of one sided pining and very oblivious golden retriever energy dh

You’re the type of girl to fall in love with the stars. The kind of person that enjoys the thought of distant worlds, the idea that there may be life beyond the pale blue dot. The mystery of space thrills you.

The same applies to love.

You liked them bright, burning with so much intensity, and warm despite being lightyears away. Like Lee Donghyuck. Always so close yet so far.

There was always something in between you, you just couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

He was supposed to be your best friend. None of this was supposed to be a problem. You think maybe it’s your fault for thinking up all this nonsense. All your fault for the tightness you feel in your chest when he so much as looks your way with those eyes, for the banging in your ribcage when he pulls you in for a hug, and for those godamn thoughts that plague your mind of this boy before you go to sleep.

Donghyuck would always linger. Never long enough for it to mean something but long enough for it to fill your head with fuzz so that you can’t think straight.

Your eyes meet from accross the large assembly hall as you bring volunteers in for your clubs’s peer program. Just like that Donghyuck is bounding towarding you at a hundred miles an hour. He drapes an arm around your shoulder before flashing the group a careless grin.

His gaze falls on you and you feel the ground shift under your feet. You push him off, highly aware of the watchful eyes of underclassmen.

“Get off of me, jesus Hyuck, we’re working here!” you scold, earning a few sniggers from the juniors in your care.

Despite yourself you laugh. Typical Donghyuck and his typical antics.

Before you could even say anything, in true Donghyuck fashion he addresses the crowd, “I sure hope this senior isn’t being a debby downer.”

You playfully slap away the finger he has pointed on you. “Oh, stop it. Just say that your own group got bored of you and kicked you out.”

You smile trimuphantly with your hand on your hips.

Donghyuck feigns offense complete with the perfect look of utter betrayal, “is that how you treat your best friend?” He yields but doesn’t leave you alone just yet.

“You know they say, the more you hate, the more you love,” he singsongs before clicking his tongue, “bet you’re just secretly in love with me.”

You glare at him, looking nothing short of annoyed. You will yourself to stay calm despite the nerves bubbling just below the surface of your stomach.

Donghyuck bursts out laughing after a beat and you don’t want to admit it but you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

“You know I’m just messing with you right?” He swiftly boops your nose before running off back to where he was supposed to be.

Oh he really had no idea, did he?

86 notes · View notes

fizzydrink698 · 2 years

Text

illicit | yuta

kinktober day 5: hair-pulling

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader

word-count: 3.3k

genre: criminal au, rivals to lovers

warnings: swearing, sexual content (oral sex, reader receiving), references to violence and general criminal activity

summary:

You swallowed, banishing the thought. “Are you trying to seduce me into being a hostage?”

Yuta’s lips twitched. “Why not?”

“This is a fucking terrible idea,” you muttered under your breath, as you followed Yangyang and his little detour through the alleyways.

“Don’t blame me,” Yangyang said, with a shrug. He didn’t seem to share your caution, strolling through the dark as if he were walking through his own home and not literally enemy territory.

Technically. It was in warehouse districts like these that territory boundaries blurred the most. That was the reason you’d taken this route in the first place – two blocks of warehouses would belong to the Blood Gate, take a left and you were in Sannoh territory, wander too far to the north and you’d stumble into Oya. It was hard to defend borders as confused as these.

You persisted. “If they want to talk, fine. Why the fuck should it be in their territory? It should be on neutral ground.”

The location was some nondescript restaurant, not quite at the heart of Blood Gate territory but close enough, as far as you were concerned.

“To be fair, what part of this city is neutral ground?” Yangyang asked. “We’ve managed to carve up most of it between us.”

“Maybe you should blame Ten,” came a voice from the back of the group, just a little too loud for a man so low in the hierarchy. “He was the one who lost us that sector.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you and Yangyang snapped in unison.

Ten didn’t lose you anything. The Blood Gate was about to launch a full-scale assault, and Ten chose to save lives and profits by clearing out the restaurants and casinos and various other semi-legitimate ventures your organisation owned, and left the Blood Gate to ‘reclaim’ a bunch of empty buildings and some dingy alleys.

But because there was no big dramatic fight, or blood spilled or people to avenge, small-dicked little shits like that guy wanted to complain about it.

Still, you quickened your pace to reach Yangyang, falling into step beside him and lowering your voice. “Seriously, Yang, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“It’s a risk, I’ll admit. But if anything happens to us, you know it’ll be grounds for a full-scale turf war. That’s why we’re being sent,” Yangyang pointed out, giving you a nudge with his elbow. “The almost un-expendables.”

You hated that he was right. The two of you were high-up in your organisation, valuable enough to keep close, valuable enough to avenge, valuable enough to justify war should you be attacked.

But not quite valuable enough to be protected at all costs. If you were killed, the organisation might suffer, but it would live to see another day when you would not.

One day, you were determined that would change. You would embed yourself within the company, make yourself essential, tie the survival of it to your existence and nothing else.

But until then, you had to grit your teeth and bear it.

Dinner was, amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, uneventful.

The subject of your talks was relatively simple. A new gang, barely shoved out of high school, so new that even their name hadn’t really been established yet, had managed to steal the docks out from under the Blood Gate’s noses. Your organisation had ties to shipping companies, and could get their hands on some impressive naval support.

In exchange for setting up a blockade around the docks to corner these upstarts while the Blood Gate made their move by land, your organisation would be given a whole bunch of stuff: money, weapons, a strip of new territory out by the commercial districts. Definitely nothing to sneeze at.

Your bosses gave the go-ahead over the phone, and you signed the deal. Simple.

Something very much not simple was the way that one of the Blood Gate members had been staring at you all night. You felt it constantly, his eyes trained on your every movement, the way you leaned forward in your seat when discussing blockade logistics, the way you traced the rim of your wine glass when you listened to anecdotes, the way you lifted your napkin to your mouth to dab away any errant smears of sauce.

You’d met him a handful of times before. Nakamoto Yuta. People mistook him for a thug and not much else, but there was a wicked intelligence behind his eyes. He knew how people worked, how they thought, where they would next strike.

At least, you’d thought so. Now, you wondered just how smart Yuta could be if he chose to stare at you so openly and so blatantly this whole time.

You’d made the mistake of glancing over and locking eyes with him twice over the course of dinner, and both times he’d smirked at you. Both times, you’d turned away.

You weren’t certain who had noticed. Yangyang might have, if he’d been paying attention, but the second the deal was signed, he’d been content to divert all of his focus on the pretty waitress assigned with pouring wine for the table. Yuta could have gotten out a switchblade and thrown it right at your face, and Yangyang would have needed a second to drag his eyes away from her legs before he could intervene.

After dessert, when the meal was winding down and settling into the ‘coffee-and-desserts’ stage, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

In there, you gave yourself a minute to decompress, to compose yourself as you tried to grapple with the evening’s events: smooth negotiations, no imminent threats of death, Nakamoto Yuta ogling you for two hours.

That wine had been nowhere near strong enough. You wondered if you could pull a server aside to ask the kitchen to slip a shot of whiskey into your americano. Maybe two.

You took some time to reapply your lipstick, and with one final deep breath, you unlocked the bathroom door and pulled it open.

To reveal Yuta, standing so close to the doorway that you almost ran face-first into his chest. In one quick motion, he pushed you back inside the room with a hand on your shoulder, and sneaked inside after you, locking the door behind him.

You raised your fists, stepping one foot back, assuming a defensive stance. “What the fuck is going on?”

Slowly, sharing exactly none of your urgency, Yuta turned away from the door to look at you. He shifted backwards, just slightly, leaning his back against the dark wood, hands in the pockets of his slacks.

He was tall, all lean muscle and long legs. Living up to the Blood Gate moniker, he was wearing a dark red suit, tailored perfectly, to match the rest of his delegation. Before tonight, you’d only ever seen him with his hair down, long and dark and so thick that it almost seemed shaggy, but now it was pulled back into a bun. Two pieces at the front fell loose on either side of his face, framing it perfectly.

“…You don’t seem pleased to see me.”

You blinked.

He didn’t budge, not even an inch.

Eventually, you rolled your eyes and dropped your hands, straightening up. “Figured that out all by yourself, did you?”

“I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you are.”

He tilted his head, and you caught the subtlest flickers of curiosity in his eyes. “Does Yangyang know?”

“Know what?” You asked, lifting your chin, challenging him directly.

At this, Yuta grinned, his lips parting to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. Slowly, he took a step towards you.

“That you’ve fucked me…four times now? That’s a little concerning, isn’t it? Once, you could brush off as a fluke. But four times–”

“Three,” you interrupted, calmly, as collected as you could manage.

His brow furrowed just a touch. “Four. Shinjuku, Yokohama, Nagoya and Osaka.”

“Three. Osaka doesn’t count.”

“In Osaka, you rode my face until you cried, and you’re telling me that doesn’t count?”

“As fucking? No.”

He scoffed, and even as his grin dropped, he couldn’t hide his amusement. “Semantics.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “Is that why you followed me in here? Because if you’re hoping for another, you–”

“No,” Yuta said, simply, before adding in a slightly lighter tone. “Unfortunately.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, picking up on the subtlest of edges to his tone. You knew when Yuta was being insincere, and this wasn’t one of those times.

And then it hit you. “…No. No, you have got to be shitting me.”

“You signed the deal yourself,” Yuta pointed out. “Both sides are entitled to procuring leverage against the other, to ensure both follow through on their parts.”

“No,” you repeated, unmoved.

Yuta shrugged his shoulders, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was sympathetic or just amused. “I don’t think you have much of a say.”

“I say that all of you can go fuck yourselves if you think I’m just going to sign up for being a hostage.”

“‘Hostage’ is a strong word for it.”

You laughed. “Oh, really? Then, why don’t you come over and be our leverage?”

“Shotaro already volunteered,” Yuta sighed, as if his hands were tied.

“Well, Shotaro’s a moron.”

“Would it really be that bad? I can take the next few days off,” Yuta said, stepping forward again and closing the distance between the two of you. His hand drifted forward, the back of his knuckles coming into contact with your side. His gaze shifted from your face to follow the way his hand slid down. “I could finally fuck you in a real bed.”

Just as he probably intended, the image flashed into your brain of soft sheets, comfortable pillows, and Yuta’s hands gripping a bedframe so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

You swallowed, banishing the thought. “Are you trying to seduce me into being a hostage?”

Yuta’s lips twitched. “Why not? A little revenge for Shinjuku.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. You had sneaked away after your liaison with a USB drive Yuta had sworn to guard, and he continued to claim that the whole evening had been one big honeypot scheme. You pointed out how dumb he was to just drop the jacket in which the drive was pocketed onto the floor and forget about it, and that sneaking away with the drive had been an entirely unplanned happy accident.

As you reminisced, you must have fallen quiet long enough for Yuta to chance leaning in for a kiss. What a mistake on his part.

Your hand reached up and grabbed at his bun, pulling at his hair to jerk his head back. His breath caught, his long stretch of neck exposed. You could just barely make out the edges of his back tattoo, curling around the nape of his neck, peeking out of his jacket collar.

You smiled at him, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s negotiate. Give me your offer in full.”

“Do you always do business like this?” Yuta asked, and the angle in which you had him meant his eyes were almost obscured completely through his dark lashes. He gestured to the way your fist had wrapped itself in his hair.

You looked him in the eye, and let your grip relax slightly. After a moment’s hesitation, and with more than a little reluctance, Yuta went to pull his head away, and you snatched him back again, fingers twisting in the base of his bun. Already, it was starting to unravel.

This time, Yuta couldn’t help but grin. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am,” you said, with a shrug. “Now, talk.”

“Talk?” Yuta repeated, slowly, and you didn’t realise just how much filth one word could hold. “That’s not usually how I use my mouth when I want to persuade someone.”

Something deep inside your gut clenched. You managed a brief reply. “Oh, really?”

With just a wordless, charged look between the two of you, Yuta moved both of his hands to your hips before suddenly lifting you onto the counter beside the sink. Stepping closer, between your parted legs, Yuta went straight for the sensitive spot on your neck, right at the pulse point – a spot he discovered in Yokohama, after realising the ways in which the muscles of your body would tense to hide your reactions to anything that felt dangerously good.

You closed your eyes, arching into him slightly as you enjoyed the sensation, but the sudden memory of whereyou were gave you pause. Using your grip on his hair, you pushed his head downwards. “We don’t have much time.”

“You’re just impatient,” Yuta countered, rolling his eyes, but followed your directions. Slipping his hands under the hem of your dress, he pulled it upwards, exposing more and more of the soft skin underneath. You knew he’d glimpsed your underwear when he murmured. “Black? My favourite colour.”

“In Nagoya, you said it was blue,” you said, managing to keep your cool even as Yuta kisses just where the fabric ended and your thigh began.

“It changes,” Yuta mumbled into your skin, before turning his head and pressing open-mouthed kisses through the fabric of your underwear.

You felt the first gasp of breath leave you, felt the way your body began to relax.

Yuta was good – why else would you risk so much for this? He was experienced, and more importantly, he was intuitive. This was the fifth time the two of you had…connected in this sort of way, and he’d already figured out what speed you liked, what pressure. What your body thought it wanted, and how to give what it needed.

When you felt his tongue press against you, as if he were licking through the fabric, the hand gripping his hair began to slacken under the sweet relief.

Only for Yuta to pull away slightly, as he reached up with his hand to grab your wrist and very pointedly kept it pressed against his head. “Don’t stop.”

That was usually your line.

Intrigued, you went one step further, finding his hair tie and pulling it loose from his hair entirely. As it fell down around his head, you tossed the hair tie somewhere and instead grabbed a handful of his hair. You decided to test handling him a little more roughly, tightening your grip, and you were rewarded with a low noise from the depth of Yuta’s throat as his mouth was on you once more.

It developed into the perfect cycle. When Yuta made you feel good, your grip tightened in his hair, which seemed to only spur him on to do more. He didn’t even try to remove your underwear entirely, he just used to fingers to hook under the waistband and dragged them halfway down your thighs, just enough to give him the room he needed.

He seemed to like getting messy – or maybe it was just the enthusiasm he knew was essential in something like this. You couldn’t half-ass it and expect good results, you had to…

You cried out as his lips closed around your clit and he sucked, loud enough that you slapped your free hand over your mouth to stifle any other suspicious noises from reaching that kind of volume. But it was just getting so hard to remember why you had to, because all you could feel was Yuta’s mouth and all you could hear was his noises and yours and your hips were already rocking forwards and you were pretty sure that by this point you might even be dripping down his chin and you wanted–

“Is everything OK in there?”

Yangyang.

It took everything in you, every iota of self-restraint, not to groan in frustration at the sound of his voice. You couldn’t stop now, you wouldn’t, you were getting–

“You’ve been gone a while. Some people are moving to the balcony to smoke, and…is something wrong?”

Your hand shook as you slowly removed it from your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you tried to shout back. “No, I–”

Your voice cracked, breathing heavy, because Yuta chose that exact moment to run his tongue over your clit in the most infuriatingly perfect way. You looked down, trying to summon an expression of disapproval, and you were met with Yuta’s amused, utterly shameless eyes as he continued to eat you out with little to no regard for the consequences. You tried to pry him off by yanking on his hair, but he held on strong enough to stay within reachable distance, eyeing you the whole time.

Gulping, you steeled yourself to try again. You’d survived other kinds of torture before, and this was by far the nicest you’d ever experienced. You could do this.

“Sorry, Yang! I’ve…I’ve got stuff I’m trying to deal with,” you called out, proud of the stability of your voice. “I’ll be out in…uh, ten?”

Yuta murmured into the crook of your thigh. “You won’t last five.”

“Just go to the…” you cut yourself off again with a hiss, as Yuta returned to lavish his attention on your clit. “The balcony. I’ll meet you out there.”

To your intense – intense – relief, Yangyang seemed to take you at your word and left with a slightly awkward goodbye.

With him gone, you turned your focus back onto Yuta. “Fuck, you’re such…a dick.”

Yuta hummed in agreement, which was probably a calculated move, as the vibrations made you physically judder. Immediately, you clutched at him tighter, moving your hips more and more.

You needed it, you needed it, you needed the feeling it gave you, you needed the way it broke you just a little, the way it cracked open your shell, you needed Yuta’s face fucking ruined, you needed it, you needed…

“I…I’m…it’s…” you gasped, tears forming in your eyes. You were clutching Yuta’s hair so tightly that you were sure your nails were starting to dig into his scalp, but he didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, honestly.

Your orgasm hit, white-hot and blinding, and your brain turned to mush. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t think, you just gasped and shook with the after-effects. Like electrocution, intense, slow, violent.

Yuta let you ride out the last of it against his tongue, and eventually, you recovered. Your breathing began to slow, your body slumping with relief, your eyes fluttered to a close as you tried to come back down to reality.

Your grip finally loosened in Yuta’s hair completely, and you slowly began to card your fingers through it. It was so soft, almost reassuring in the same way stroking a beloved pet felt.

Yuta rested his forehead against your thigh, seemingly enjoying this softer treatment of his hair – nearly as much as he seemed to when you got a little rougher.

Your eyes were still closed when he finally spoke.

“We could have a week of this,” Yuta pointed out, slowly pulling your underwear back up your legs, putting them back into position. “Every single day. What’s stopping you?”

Maybe it was still the aftermath of that orgasm.

Maybe you were just tired of having to bottle everything up all the time.

You let out a deep breath.

“What happens after that week?” You asked. “It’s getting hard enough as it is, pretending like we hate each other.”

Yuta stilled. Something in the air changed, as if the very atmosphere between you two was surprised by the vulnerability that just escaped from you.

You felt the urge to take it back, pretend you’d never said it. But you were determined to never take a coward’s way out, so you bit your tongue, and decided Yuta would just have to deal with it.

You opened your eyes to find him staring at you, something in his eyes that you couldn’t identify between sadness and affection.

Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. These were the moments that always made it worse, the ones where you forget, just for a second, what lay just outside of those doors.

“We’ll figure it out,” Yuta declared, quietly, when he broke this kiss. “Just…please, say yes. Will you stay with me?”

You rested your forehead against his, exhaling slowly, and opened your mouth to answer.

144 notes · View notes

primehyuck · 8 months

Text

MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

#haechan #haechan fanfiction #haechan smut #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut

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neopuppy · 2 years

Text

Chain (M)

Preview: Switch—>

“They’re just kids..” Johnny sighs. Rubbing his temples enough for skin to gather in folds between his eyebrows. Evidently annoyed and frustrated after listening to your mother scream for the last hour.

“How can you say that?!” She shouts, pacing around behind him ripping at chunks of hair.

Jeno smirks by your side, drumming his fingers against the dining room table. “We’re adults, and we fuck. Get over it.”

Pairing: Johnny x female reader x Jeno

Word Count: 20k

Genre: Jeno’s dad has got it going on AU, pwp, dc/nc elements(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), some angst, fluff, extraordinarily filthy, M/F, gratuitous smut

Warning: Johnny is Jeno’s dad— and not a good one, cheating, manipulation, black mailing, morally corrupt overall, terrible people, age difference(legal), power imbalance, jealousy, daddy/mommy issues

Smut Warning: dom/sub dyanmic, sneaking around, spanking, choking, oral, sub drop, ‘threesome’, daddy kink, ass play, breeding, hate sex, cock warming, hair pulling, praise, degradation, aftercare

a/n: this is a sequel, and yes you have to read the first to understand💙

Jeno knew he had some nerve to talk back to your mom like that, but his father hadn’t raised him to respect his elders anyway.

“No you are not!” You mother shouts, doing a shoddy job of making Jeno budge from where he’s positioned in front of you. “Ugh! Where is your father!”

“Good question.” Jeno sneers, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you going to get the fuck out of my room or what?”

Your mother’s eyes nearly pop out their sockets at that, stomping her feet out of the door shouting for her boyfriend.

Johnny uses this time to escape, hopping on one foot back into his clothing. Snapping his fingers at Jeno before he makes an exit. “Enough. The two of you get cleaned up right now.”

That’s how you find yourself sitting at the dining table across from where Johnny’s ripping hair from his scalp. Your mother found him allegedly oblivious to any of what had just took place, quickly commencing a screaming match as she demanded he punish his son.

“How can you say that?!” She shouts, pacing around behind him ripping at chunks of hair.

Jeno smirks by your side, drumming his fingers against the dining room table. “We’re adults, and we fuck. Get over it.”

“You little!”

If not for Johnny’s arm shooting out to block your mother from lunging across the table, Jeno wouldn’t be dawning such a cocky smile right now. He seems more than pleased by the response. Receiving an intense glare from his father.

“Calm down, this isn’t going to help us resolve anything.” Johnny whispers, wrapping your mother up tightly in his arms. Soothing her spine with circular massages that make you feel rage building up in your sternum.

Jeno seemingly picks up on your discomfort, shifting slightly to throw one of his thighs over yours in a playful manner. He shrugs, rolling his eyes like he could care less about the mess you’ve landed yourselves in.

“And you!” Your mother’s tone becomes shrill, passing through your eardrums like an alarm disrupting your sleep abruptly. Ripping Johnny’s arms away from her waist to step ahead and hover the space the tables put between you. An accusing finger strikes forward, shadowing down your face where she directs it. “How could you?? I didn’t raise you to act like a slut!”

Well. That’s a lie.

“She’s not a slut.” Jeno pipes in. He stands up too quickly, making the dining chair he was sitting on drop with a loud clatter. “Well..”

Looking down to face you, Jeno licks his lower lip. Pinching your chin between two of his fingers. “She can be..”

Johnny’s thankful your mother’s behind him with her jaw likely on the floor. His eyes turn into thin slits sharp enough to cut through his son as he glares ahead. Gaze burning through where Jeno’s fingers keep your head tilted back to watch him.

“But only for me.” Jeno’s tongue clicks, letting his eyes drift in his father’s direction. Smooth enough for only his dad to notice, knowing him like the back of his own hand.

“That is enough Jeno.” Johnny sits up straight clearing out his throat. The hollows of his cheeks twitch, sucked in and out giving away the true irritation overtaking his emotions.

Back and forth shouting goes on for the next hour. Johnny at least having the decency to excuse you and Jeno to your rooms after his son continues throwing in unhelpful commentary. Murmured voices travel up the stairs. Your mother accusing Jeno of taking advantage of you, corrupting you. Blaming Johnny’s only son for ruining her innocent daughter.

‘She’s never even had sex before! Suddenly she’s letting your son use her!! And without any form of protection!’

Chewing at your nails you have to give your mother credit. She’s not completely wrong, other than putting all of the blame on Jeno.

Only seconds away from discovering the truth that her beloved boyfriend had been to one to strip you of your purity. If this was her reaction to believing Jeno had ruined you.. the truth could only be much worse..

The ping of a new text message interrupts your guilty conscience from kicking in.

Johnny- ‘Office. Now.’

Water hitting shower floor sounds from Johnny’s bedroom catching your attention as you sneak down the stairs. Jeno’s door is shut with no hint of noise passing through. Most likely using headphones while busy playing some game. Your mother would at least be occupied for the next 30 minutes, maybe even longer to destress after that argument.

Sneaking your way to Johnny’s office went without a hitch, albeit clinging to the walls in the dark as you tip-toed your way down the hall, just in case.

“Make sure you lock it.” Johnny startles you upon entering. Motioning for you to hurry and shut the door behind you. He’s twirling slowly side to side, ankles crossed over each other. Eyes wavering looking over the room.

“Should I really be in here right now?” Cautiously approaching, you take a seat in the same leather chair Johnny had revealed your blog to you in. The last thing you’d expected after that to end up in a ridiculous scenario of sleeping with your childhood crush…and his son.

“Don’t worry.” Johnny pauses, clearing his throat and folding his arms over his chest. Noting the time as he takes in your pajama clothed figure. A baggy t shirt that looked familiar.. couldn’t possibly be yours..

“Ready for bed?”

Shrugging you ease deeper into the seat, nervously fiddling your thumbs.

“In Jeno’s shirt no less?” Johnny grunts, muffled behind his tight lips. “So, how long have you been fucking my son?”

Stuttering breaks your speech before you can even manage a proper response. Shaking your head in an attempt to steal time to cover your ass. “I-it’s not…like t-that..”

“Oh? Because when I walked in on you earlier, you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit.” Johnny says, voice monotone. “Do you like him or something?”

The question feels like a pile of rocks cascading down on your figure from the sky. “No. I—...something..”

Wrong answer.

Johnny’s chair shoves back, he’s sat up straight. Elongated neck on full display, hand lifted up directing you to get up. He nods down toward his lap. “Come here sweetie.”

Slowly you come to stand, sock clad feet barely moving to approach closer. The way Johnny’s jaw flexes under the dimly lit room only aiding the beat of your heart to quicken.

Gulping the dryness that’s formed in your mouth you stand still before him. Anxiously bracleting your wrists repeatedly.

“Have you been lying to daddy?” Johnny cocks a brow, tilting his head to the side to stare up at you.

“No!” Panic sets in, speaking up louder than you intended. Head shaking again in denial. “I didn’t want to..Jeno, he—“

“Shh shh.” Johnny lifts a finger to his lips. Eyelashes fanning the tops of his cheeks. He sighs, leaning back, humming an upset sound. “Jeno, he’s my son. I know him.”

Blinking, Johnny sets his hard gaze back on you. “He breaks pretty things, he always has,” Leaning in, he cups your hips drawing you to stand between his thighs. “and you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Johnny’s irises gleam staring at you from below. He rubs your hips in thought, biting down on his lower lip with a nod. “But if anyone is going to break my pretty baby, it’s going to be me.”

He starts to gather the shirt covering your hips, slowly following the movement revealing more of your underwear. Leaning in closer he presses a kiss to where your clit throbs painfully. Instinctively your lower half chases after him, receiving the ends of his well groomed nails seeping into your flesh as he controls you from moving.

“You’ve been a really bad girl behind daddy’s back,” Johnny looks up, the skin between his brows wrinkles deeply. Mocking you with large eyes full of fraudulent concern. “How many spanks do you think you deserve for lying to me?”

“But I didn’t—“

That’s not the answer he’s looking for. Instead of allowing you to explain yourself, Johnny manhandles you to bend over on his thighs. Smoothing a large palm up and down the backs of your thighs as he lets out a chorus of disappointed sounds.

“How long did you seriously think you were going to get away with fucking my son?” He finishes the question with a harsh burning slap across your ass. Your stomach crushes painfully against his thighs to get away from the ache. Wiggling your hips to soothe some of the pressure, Johnny grunts.

“You don’t get to enjoy this.” Another heavy slap, two more follow abruptly causing you to clamp your teeth together to contain a screechy shout from passing.

“What do you have to say for yourself? After everything daddy has done for you?” The tone he speaks down to you in almost hurts worse than the next round of piercing smacks delivered to your bottom. Johnny grunts, pulling your underwear to wedge between your cheeks, hard enough for the friction to burn against your rim.

“Come on, speak up!” He says in a lower register. His condescending tongue dripping past the loud slap of skin against skin filling your head.

“S-sorry..” you whimper lazily between a cracked moan. Uncomfortably soaked between your squished together thighs, having to lock your ankles in hopes of not leaking down to Johnny’s legs. “I’m sorry for l-lying to you.”

A pleased rumble rises from his chest, responding with a succession of weighty smacks to both your buttcheeks. Johnny bends forward sinking his teeth into the perk of your ass with a mean bite. His canine teeth sharp enough to break skin as he grips and pulls.

“Ahh!” Covering your mouth, you cry into your palm. Kicking your feet to alleviate the pain. As much as it hurts, you can’t help but believe that you fully deserve it. “Please! No more!”

“What was that?!“ he questions, pummeling your ass with the most brutal smack yet. Hard enough to practically send you falling to the floor. He grabs onto your waist, hoisting you to sit back up, grimacing as your pained bottom meets his clothed thighs. “Isn’t this how you let Jeno play with you??”

Too ashamed to look him in the eye, you drop to his shoulder releasing a pathetic cry. “I’m sorry!”

Johnny’s eyes roll up, letting out a deep breath, he takes a hold of your chin. Licking up a hot tear rolling down to your jaw.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” He blinks, irises sparkling as if he’s looking at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But he’s only looking at you.

“Yes daddy.”

That seems to please him enough, helping you back onto your feet, Johnny turns your face side to side admiring the drying tear tracks shadowed on your cheeks. Pleased that despite how wet your panties are, you suffered just enough to shed tears.

“Listen to me,” Johnny tugs you to press against his chest, sinking the pad of his thumbs into your cheeks deep enough to leave behind indentations. “Don’t touch yourself, this was supposed to be a punishment for lying to me. You got that pretty?”

Forcibly nodding your head up and down, Johnny leaves you with no other choice but to agree. Pecking your upper lip gently in comparison to the treatment you’d just received. He’s drained, the hollows beneath his eyes more shallow than usual. His age showed more in the dim light, lines that Jeno assisted in carving deeper into his flesh over the years.

Upon releasing your face, Johnny signals for you to leave. Shifting side to side for a moment, you know you should feel guilty, but the punishment only cleared away any sense of shame.

“Are you mad at me?”

Johnny’s gaze lifts back to you, noticing your stature, he puts on a soft smile. “Not at all. If I was mad..” Standing up straight, he blinks slowly, taking in your hunched stance. The slump in your shoulders and locked knees. “This would have gone a much different way. Now, get some rest. You have school tomorrow.”

Nodding with a shy wave you move to leave. Wondering how Johnny can still make you feel embarrassed and nervous like this, especially after spanking your ass to the point of throbbing pain.

Even walking up the stairs hurts, stinging up and down the backs of your thighs. As torturous as it feels, it also feels good. It hurts, but you like it. Maybe you like it too much.

As your fingers graze the doorknob to enter your room, you can’t resist the urge to peek a glance at Jeno’s shut door. Johnny said you can’t touch yourself. Nothing about anyone else touching you..

You know better than to not knock on Jeno’s door before entering, but you also know he’d just respond with a ‘fuck off!’. Maturity was hardly his style.

“Jeno?” As you suspected, he’s deeply focused on some mobile game. Resting against the headboard of his bed with headphones on, noisy guitar softly humming through his computer speakers even so. Last time you interrupted hadn’t gone so well, or maybe it had.

Shutting the door you make sure to lock it this time before stepping further in. The small movement you make is enough to deter his attention, slowly shifting to face you with a lengthy sigh.

“Took you long enough.” Jeno says, unimpressed. Languidly looking down over your body. Nipping his lower lip to contain a smile itching to spread at the visual of you wearing one of his shirts, again. “Thought you’d crawl in here sooner.”

It’s embarrassing, shifting foot to foot under Jeno’s scrutinizing gaze, knowing you’re about to plead. Just how he likes it.

“I had to..” you start, ear drums pounding in the aftermath of your ass slapped repeatedly. Hard to believe you could be so smart as you nearly expose yourself once more. “some homework, uhm. School tomorrow.“

“You do mine too?” Jeno allows himself to smirk now. Tossing aside his phone to fully concentrate on your nervous behavior.

“Yes. Of course.”

“That’s a good girl. That’s what I like to hear.” Jeno leans back content, patting the bed space next to him. “Sit.”

Like a trained puppy you bounce onto the mattress snuggling against his side. A large hand clamps down on your thigh as soon as you do.

“Jeno I..earlier, thank you for..” you start, wondering if Johnny hit you hard enough to rock your brain off your spine. “For.. defending? me..”

Jeno scoffs, wedging a space between your thighs to find where heat radiates immensely. “I can think of a better way you could be thanking me.”

He’s pushing between your squished thighs easily, no struggle as you silently hope he’ll assist you where you need him most.

“Your mom’s a bitch you know.” Jeno says flatly. Turning to nestle the tip of his nose along your throat. He nips at the soft skin humming, teasing your covered core with fleeting strokes. “Don’t like how she talks to you.”

Reaching for the bottom of his shirt, Jeno removes the material covering your mound. Groaning from the back of his throat as your navel twitches. Underwear clinging to your cunt, damp and soaking through. “You get wet so fast..”

He blinks, savouring the volume of wetness expelled with each push of his digits. Drenched to his first knuckle as he shoves your underwear in deeper. Cock raging hard, mildly sickened by how cute he finds the moans you try to hold in.

“Next time your mom talks to you like that, I’m gonna fuck your ass right in front of her. Shut her the fuck up for good.” Jeno goes on. Gathering your panties roughly to pull the cotton between your folds. Hissing as he tugs, forcing your hips to lift up and roll against the friction abusing your clit.

“You're mine now.” He breathes against your neck, pouty lips dragging upward to your chin. “Isn’t that right? Daddy didn’t even try to defend you, did he baby?”

Against your natural character you agree, nodding along to whatever Jeno’s going on about. If this is what it would take to reach a mind numbing high, you’d agree to anything he says.

“Mine.” Jeno repeats, lifting up just to land a wet slap down on your center. Trembling with a roll of your chasing pelvis, stinging from front to back, you croon, nodding over and over again.

“Yours.”

Jeno slaps your hip, turning you around roughly onto your stomach. His hand stops mid-air noticing how wrecked your ass already looks. He squints, prodding a mark of raised skin in the shapes of fingers, ones much thicker than his own.

“Jeno! Ah, don’t.” You hiss louder, squirming into the bed to get away from his curious touch. Even gently stroking your damaged flesh hurts, stinging up your spine painfully with each pass of his fingers.

“Did he do this to you?” He says, a hint of concern etched behind his words. Jeno lets out a disapproving sound when you stay silent, climbing off his bed to grab something from his dresser.

“I deserved it!” You whisper urgently. Sitting up with your bottom not fully pressed against the bed.

“What the fuck makes you believe that?!” Jeno starts rummaging through a drawer, pulling out a bottle before returning to where you’re sitting on his bed. He nods with his chin for you to turn around again, moving to sit by you on his knees. “You seriously need to stop acting so helpless around him. Like…what’s wrong with you?!”

The sound of a cap opening reaches your ears next, Jeno drips whatever it contains directly onto your butt. Thick and cooling where it lands, he smears it softly across your damaged skin.

“Jeno, stop,” you squirm, hissing through your teeth. Reaching to grab on to one of his pillows against the headboard for help to get away from his touch. “its embarrassing.”

“This is what embarrasses you?! Not letting some old man smack your ass like a child?” Jeno splutters. Tossing aside the ointment while rolling his eyes. “Why do I even care.”

Peeking over your shoulder, you look over his solemn expression. Wondering yourself why he cares if your ass hurts.

Jeno sighs, catching your sneaky eyes, squinting as a light bulb flickers on in his head. “Is that why you’re here?! You came here to fuck me because he wouldn’t??”

“No..” you try a poor attempt at lying. Dropping your face to hide into the pillow clutched in your grip.

“Liar!” Jeno lifts his hand ready to deliver a brutal slap to your sore bottom. Shaking as he stops himself, grabbing onto his wrist, he pulls back. “Fuck my life.”

“Should I go?” you whine, unconsciously rutting your hips back. Wiggling doesn’t help Jeno’s irritation, finding your ass even more tantalizing to smack now. Biting down on his fist, he lets out a sound of anguish, moving to get between your legs. He moves into a push-up stance, using your shoulder blades as leverage to keep his upper half lifted.

“You’re not going anywhere.” In a practiced swoop, Jeno releases his erect length. Dipping his middle finger between your buttcheeks where your underwear is still wedged up uncomfortably. “I should fuck you right here to teach you a lesson. I’m no one's second choice.”

“Jeno, please, I swear it wasn’t like that!” You squirm anxiously. Pressing deeper into his bed to get away from his prodding fingers.

“Stop lying, I can tell.“ He rasps against your nape, digging his teeth in roughly with intent to leave marks. If his dad had the audacity to bruise your ass up, Jeno would make sure to stake his claim in a more obvious way. Littering your exposed decolletage with teeth bites, sucking blood to the surface to spell out his name. Making sure everyone knows who you belong to.

Jeno rips your underwear to the side, gliding the tip of his length between your ass. Kissing the backs of his teeth each time your hole flutters as his creamy slit pokes against it. “Think your little ass wants me.”

Positioning between your cheeks, he wraps a headlock around your neck from behind. Biting back a growl by nipping your earlobe. He builds a fast pace, leveraging his weight by hauling your chest up from the bed. The angle strains your neck, dropping back against his shoulder as he bounces against your lower half.

“Bet you’re even fucking tighter back there.” Jeno licks, sucking on the end of your jaw. “Think you could even take it?”

Your head shakes furiously, kicking your feet against the bed. Hissing through your teeth from the friction his sweats cause on your tender flesh.

“I know you can’t.” Jeno slows down, huffing minty cool breath down your cheek. He squats behind you, scooping your throat in his palms until you’re completely bent back far enough to watch him from upside down. He licks your forehead, gripping your neck firmly. Hips pulling back only to thrusts ahead, pushing the fat tip of his cock forward just enough to breach your rim.

“Oh fuckkk..” thick eyelashes fan his cheeks, burying the top row of his teeth into your forehead. He shifts to thrust between your ass again, setting a wicked speed with enough force for your bottom to clap against his hips.

“Jeno, ugh!” You whimper, writhing against the mattress. Pussy throbbing between your thighs desperately begging to be touched. He stares for a minute, soaking in your tormented expression. Pulsing between your buttcheeks faster as he watches your big watery eyes watch him. Completely numb and brainless, as if you’d let him do anything.

and of course, you’d let him do anything to you. Use your body until it breaks, fucked so well until all you know is Jeno. He’d make sure of it.

“You want it?” Jeno mutters against your forehead, never breaking his gaze from yours, never breaking the relentless pace his hips give.

“Please! Please, more more!”

Jeno sighs, prodding your rim just enough to feel it suck him in. Just enough to feel your frame tense up in fear, just enough to milk hot cum from his sack. Spurting shots of sticky gooey mess from your lower back to the crack leading down where his dick pulsates.

Squeezing your throat, Jeno sets you flat on your stomach, lifting back his hips just to watch your hole flutter covered in fresh cum. The visual alone enough to make him leak again, twitching against his thigh as he begins to soften.

“Jeno..” you cry, shaking and hiding your face in a pillow. Swollen and pained more than before between your legs.

“I know,” Nodding to himself, he removes your underwear, turning you on to your back to spread your thighs apart. “fuck.”

His admiring stare soothes the humiliation spreading down your limbs. Gazing at your cunt with more love and desire than you’ve ever seen. “You’re so fucking wet, I can smell you from here.”

“Stop..” you say, squeamishly trying to pry your legs shut in his strong hold. Jeno clicks his tongue, lowering closer to examine your heat up close. The end of his nose running up and down the seam of your cunt, releasing a deep moan.

“Don’t you dare.” He says, placing a kiss on your clit much like Johnny had less than an hour ago. The fresh memory brings shame, shoving it aside as you reach for a tuft of dark hair to hold on to. Jeno growls from his chest, lapping up the excessive amount of arousal spilling from your cunt.

“You don’t understand how fucking good you taste.” Jeno doesn’t understand it himself. Randomly stroking his cock the other day after thinking about your wrecked pussy covered in his cum.

If anything made sense to him, it’s that you looked perfect painted with his cum, not his father’s.

Jeno’s warm breath fans your clit, enjoying the responsive twitch you give. Hazed by the potent scent of your arousal up close. He devours your cunt, rubbing his tongue from the bottom to the top. He inhales deep, peppering a round of kisses on your mound before diving back in.

Reaching for your legs, Jeno hoists your thighs onto his shoulder, lifting your lower back from the bed to carry your weight with his jaw. He licks between your folds with unfaltering eye contact. Wrapping his arms around your thighs to grip your breasts. Kneading the fatty covered flesh as roughly as his mouth works.

Jeno’s tongue feels thick and velvety slurping between your core. His nose applies pressure to your clit, filling your gut with flapping butterfly wings. He’s disgusting, licking every leak of your essence like a man deprived of anything to quench his thirst.

“J-Jeno, ugh!” Folded up makes it harder to make out a coherent sound. Gurgling moans mixed with cries, you fist at the bed topper at your sides, digging the tips of your toes into his back.

The louder your struggling moans get, the faster Jeno’s tongue works to lather your cunt in spit. Sucking on your outer labia, dipping back to your pulsating hole, he groans, nipping your engorged clit like a menace.

“I’m close!”

That’s all it takes for him to suck on your clit until your thighs clamp around his head, squishing him hard enough for his face to turn beet red. He growls, swirling the tip of his tongue on your clit, pressing delivish kisses between sucks like he can’t get enough.

“J-Jeno!! It’s..too—too much!” He smirks, kissing your clit, shoving back to push your thighs down on the bed. Spread open completely for easy access, he licks fat stripes up your center. Tongue dipping down to your entrance, covering his nose and chin in slick wet heat.

A wash of ice cold water covers your body cooling down the high rising temperature. Pulling at Jeno’s hair as you whine and struggle to writhe beneath his relentless mouth. Ignoring you, he groans, swallowing the fresh release. Starved for your cries to fill his entire being.

“No more! No more!” You squeal, kicking your feet on his shoulders. Overstimulated from having to hold out for such a long time. The numbing throb stretches from your core muscles to your chest, rising and falling with loud panting breaths.

Jeno hums, kissing a way up your hip to your fluttering stomach to the center of your chest. He licks the sweat coating your throat and collar, sucking on the end of your chin before reaching your lips with a heated kiss. It’s a nice kiss, too nice for what you’ve come to expect from him..

Nice, soft, and gentle. Three words you’d never use to describe him, let alone any of his actions toward you.

He finishes with a kiss on your nose, falling off to your side with a yawn.

“I should go to my room..” you mutter, drained and exhausted after letting Jeno use your body again. He grunts into your nape, wrapping his forearms on your stomach and squeezing.

“Stay still.”

“Have to wake up early for school, Jeno.”

“Be quiet,” he grumbles, biting the soft skin lining the back of your neck. “tired, don’t move.”

It’s hard to deny how cozy you feel trapped in Jeno’s limbs. One of his thighs lodged between yours with his arms holding you snuggly against his chest. As odd as it felt, his behavior only got weirder the next day.

“We’ll save time if we shower together.” He reasons, pulling you by your wrist to his bathroom.

“I don’t think we should be doing this. I have my own bathroom, you know?”

Jeno goes on ignoring you, pushing on your shoulder until you take a seat on the toilet as he turns on the water. Rubbing his swollen eyes half-asleep still, he nods as steam begins to draw moisture on the tile walls.

“I like it hot in the morning.”

Even showering together was never a situation you could have predicted. Jeno lathered up body wash to exfoliate your skin clean. Mumbling something about how he shouldn’t have let you sleep with his cum on your back. An apology..if you interpreted it that way.

Jeno dries his hair off, grabbing a smaller towel to pat up and down your arms. Awkwardly fidgeting as he helps you dry off, you look around, searching for an excuse to leave his bedroom.

“Oh God, I need to brush my teeth!”

“Yeah,” Jeno shrugs, grabbing his clothes for the day. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just walk to the bus stop.”

“No.” Jeno shakes his head, dropping the towel on his hips to stand completely bare before you. “I said I will wait for you. Now hurry up and finish getting ready or we’ll be late.”

Much to your astonishment, Jeno doesn’t argue with you to ‘get the fuck out of his car’. In fact he grabs your thigh, stroking his fingers back and forth on your smooth skin.

“Where’s your first class?”

“Uh..” throwing on your bag, you nod in the direction toward the science building. Expecting Jeno to go about his own way, unsure how to react when he follows your stride with an arm hooked around your shoulder.

Jeno pecks your cheek earning looks and whispers from bystanders. “I’ll find you later for lunch.”

You could only wish for the last two days to feel like whiplash. Leaving your head so far upside down, even sitting in class felt like the room was spinning.

Jeno, Johnny, Jeno, Johnny…Jeno and Johnny..

There was no way for this to pan out well.

—————————————————-

Johnny’s been glaring at his son over dinner since the two of you sat down.

Jeno’s hasn't been unattached from your side since getting home. Even sitting you on his lap while he played a game on his computer. Insisting you owe him still even if your mom knows about the two of you.

‘She doesn’t know about your relationship with my father, unless you want her to find out.’

Jeno even cuts up your food, offering you forkfuls with a sneaky suspicious smile on his lips.

“We should watch a movie tonight!” Your mother suggests boisterously. She stretches in her seat, humming. “The kids can wash the dishes while we find something.”

“I can wash them.” Johnny stands beginning to stack the plates only for your mom to demand he stop, that you and Jeno deserve this as a form of punishment.

“What are you in the mood for, my love?” She asks, digging the end of her chin into the back of Johnny’s shoulder with her arms circled around his fit waist. He catches your gaze, rolling his eyes out of her line of sight.

“It’s up to you darling.”

“I’m in the mood for romance.” petting his abdomen, she begins to turn their bodies toward the living room, missing the gagging sound Jeno lets out.

“Man, she’s a piece of work.”

“Would you believe me if I told you she was actually worse before?” Jeno follows you to the kitchen, even unexpectedly carrying more of the dishes back. “I’m surprised it took so long for my dad to figure out she was cheating on him.”

Jeno reaches for the sponge coating it in dish soap before you’re able to, leaving you to dry as he cleans. “My dad cheated on my mom too, a lot.”

“Oh..”

“I mean, he’s cheating on your mom too. I guess it comes as no surprise.” Jeno nods. “That’s why we moved here. Dad got caught fucking one of his patients, his bosses 18 year old daughter.”

“Oh..”

“My mom had to take a mental health journey after the humiliation he put her through..” Jeno glances your way bouncing his eyebrows. “It even made local newspaper headlines. I’ve never been able to forgive him.”

“I didn’t know..” you start to say nervously. Drying off the last dish and your hands.

“How could you know,” Jeno turns full body placing hands on your hips. “to you, he’s perfect. If he’d chosen to act as a career he’d be winning Oscar’s left and right.”

“Kids! Hurry up! The movies about to start!”

“I swear she’s calling us kids on purpose now.” Jeno mutters, throwing his arms around your waist from behind much like your mother had to Johnny. He nudges your knees to move ahead, walking step by step with you to the living room.

Johnny’s jaw locks up upon watching you enter with his son stuck to your back. Clearing his throat, he pats the small empty spot near him that your mother hasn’t taken up. “Sit here.” He motions toward you, directing Jeno to take the single seater.

He lets out a raspy laugh, licking the shell of your ear. “My lap works perfectly fine as a comfortable seat.”

Jeno cocks a brow at his father, dropping back into a large recliner without releasing his firm hold on your middle. He nuzzles up to your neck, whispering how hard he’s already getting from just being near you.

It’s hard to enjoy any of it with Johnny burning daggers from out of the corner of his eye. Your moms cozied up to his side with a smile on her face resembling a purring cat. Clueless to her boyfriend's building anger, missing the way his knuckles crack into a clenched fist.

Jeno could care less, dipping inside the front of your bottoms, he cups your mound.

“D-don’t..” you shiver, shimmying back into his groin accidentally. He grunts, prodding your bottom with his hardened length. Stroking two fingers between your core, smirking against your cheek at the first sign of dampness.

“Don’t want me to touch you? Afraid daddy will get mad?” Jeno whispers to mock you, pinching your covered clit to make you hiss.

That seems to be enough for his father, raising the television’s volume higher to drown out the sounds Jeno keeps forcing out of you. Playing with your pussy for the next hour until he can’t stand it any longer and ruts himself to completion against your ass.

Johnny doesn’t so much as acknowledge you with a glance or a ‘good night’ before heading off to bed.

—————————————————-

“Finally, you’re alone.” Johnny struts into the kitchen finding you munching on a snack. He scans the room for any sign of his son, sighing in relief to not find him anywhere.

“Jeno’s at practice, I have to head to tutoring in an hour.” You start to explain, pushed into the kitchen counter as Johnny cage's you in with a serious look taking over his features.

“Did you not know that I’m home sweetie?”

“I—“ Johnny bristles not letting you speak, hoisting you onto the counter by your thighs instead.

“Love when you’re in this uniform.” He bites your breasts through the white collared school shirt you’re still wearing, dragging his teeth against the hardened bud. “Slutty little school girl all for me. Gonna let me do anything I want with you dressed up all innocent, aren't you pretty?”

Johnny sucks on your nipple until your top becomes sheer with drool. Dragging his tongue up, he pops your mouth open by pushing your cheeks in. Lapping at your lower lip until your tongue lolls out wantonly seeking to rub against his.

“Come on pretty baby, tell daddy what you want.” He doesn’t really mean it, gripping your face harder to drop a wad of spit on your tongue, he grins. Licking across your teeth up to your top lip, biting down on the plumpness.

“Want d-daddy” you manage to mumble between having your mouth explored. His free hand slaps your thigh, clutching it roughly, pressing the tent that's formed in his slacks to panty covered core.

Johnny knows time is precious, ripping your underwear off with one hand, he throws them to the kitchen floor, releasing his thick cock with the other just enough for his balls to breathe too. Lining up to your entrance, he ruts forward urgently, sinking more than halfway in. Nearly losing it right there by the warm wetness engulfing his size.

“Fuck, fuck,” pulling on your hair, Johnny lifts your loose neck to lick and suck on your mouth. Twirling his tongue with yours to give himself time to calm down. Fucking you was just so much more enjoyable than fucking anyone else. “been too long since I felt my angel, so tight.”

Clutching onto his shoulders, Johnny grabs your waist to push the rest of his size inside. Circling his hips with a precise grind for you to feel every inch of his length pressed along your walls.

“Always so good for me.” He groans, snagging your bottom lip between his teeth. Pulling your waist closer until your ass hangs more off of the counter, carried by Johnny’s muscles straining beneath his long sleeved top.

“Wish you could see how pretty you look taking my cock princess.” He thrusts hard, filling your cunt up with each push in. Making your smaller body collapse against his firm broad chest. Delicate moans tickle from his throat, dancing up to his ears making him want to fuck you harder until you’re a sobbing mess, distraught and not knowing what to do with yourself. “You’re so good for me, taking it even if it hurts.”

The sound of the front door opening and shutting slows down Johnny’s hips. Straightening his spine to listen for either Jeno’s heavy trudging footsteps or your mother’s light as a feather walk.

The familiar sound of his sons sneakers sounds, Johnny curses under his breath knowing Jeno would love more than anything to ruin your time together.

Thinking fast, Johnny scoops you up underneath your thighs, gritting his teeth as he carries you to the backyard door. He kicks it open as quietly as he can in hopes of not calling Jeno’s attention. It slams shut harder than he wishes, knowing you’ll be caught any minute now, he pivots slamming your back against the wall that leads to the garage.

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, kissing the drool hanging from the corner of your mouth. Pistoning at a fierce pace to fuck you open on his cock. Screaming out embarrassingly loud bounced up and down his length, his hands slapped onto your ass, bending his knees to fully throw your lighter figure down.

“Daddy! Daddy please!”

Johnny screams through clenched teeth, dripping in sweat from using the entirety of his strength to impale you on his girth. The slap of your ass echoes through the backyard, nearly muting the door opening up. If not for meeting Jeno’s angered face he wouldn’t have noticed his son standing there. Too caught up in the noisy creamy squelch of your cunt gripping around him.

“Johnny!!!” Your mother’s voice booms from inside the house. Locking eyes with Jeno again, his son licks the bottom row of his teeth, poking the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“I think I saw him head outside!” Jeno shouts, flipping his father off with a smirk before moving back into the house.

Johnny growls, fucking into you at a furious pace. The wall behind you shakes erratically, painfully beating against your spine with each rough thrust he gives you chasing for his release to hurry.

“Daddy! Please! Hurts!” You cry into his shoulder, biting and drooling. Digging your nails into the material of his shirt.

“Fuck fuck!” Johnny’s face contorts, slamming your ass down onto his cock at a animalistic pace. With one hard deep thrust, he jams you against the garage door, trembling against your smaller frame as he finally cums. Warmth fills your tummy, whimpering against his collarbone.

“God, fuck this.” He bites back a pitiful sound, having to slide free from your pulsating heat. “Stay put pretty.”

Johnny sets you on weak ankles, propping you to the wall with a fast glance over his shoulder. Pulling your skirt back down with a quick peck to the top of your head, he grabs onto his pants running behind the house.

“Johnny!!” Your mother steps out just as he rounds the corner. Finding you disoriented against the garage door. She storms over confused, checking your forehead for a fever.

“What are you doing out here?!” She shrieks, startling you to stand straight only to clench your thighs as cum drips down past the hem of your skirt. “Why did Jeno say his dad was out here?!”

“H-haven’t seen him..” you whisper, rubbing your warmed cheeks. “Maybe he mistook him for me..”

“That’s odd.” She looks you over suspiciously, pushing the damp strands along your hairline back. “You better get inside, you’re all sweaty.”

Agreeing with her, you make a walk of shame past your mother with your knees knotted together. Passing by Jeno sat on the couch who blows you a kiss. He chucks your crumpled up underwear at your back.

“You got cum on your sock, hope your mommy didn’t notice that.”

—————————————————-

“Babe! You know what this means right?!”

Johnny’s sat by your mother with a bored look on his face, shrugging and yawning.

“It means we have the weekend free!” She squeals bouncing up and down in her seat. “I’m gonna book us a little day trip! Oh my God! Perfect timing, ugh, I’ve needed a weekend getaway with my honey pie so bad.”

He jerks up straight fully attentive at that, sputtering and coughing. “Huh? What??”

“It’s my Birthday..” you interrupt quietly. Sinking lower into your chair across the dining table. If your mother’s eyes could kill in that instance, you’d be done for.

“You want to act like a little slut and still expect me to celebrate you like some child?” She snaps, tossing her hair back in an arrogant way. “You’re an adult now, what have I told you?”

“Birthday parties are for kids..” you mumble, garnering Jeno’s attention who inserts his foot even when you wish he wouldn’t.

“What the fuck?” Jeno serves your mother with an equally, if not worse, intense glare. “I thought I had it bad, at least my dad still celebrates the day I was born.”

“Honey, Jeno’s got a point.” Johnny lifts his hands, motioning for everyone to calm down. “We can plan a getaway for another weekend.”

“We absolutely cannot! In fact I haven’t had a weekend off with you in months!” She fumes. “Don’t be so dramatic about this! Besides..”

She smiles in a sadistic manner, nothing but malice in her shit eating grin. “Your little boyfriend will keep you company. Isn’t that right Jeno?”

Jeno blinks in surprise, sitting up straight to deliver your mother with an even more menacing smirk. “You’re right, she has me.”

He throws an arm around your shoulder, tilting your chin up to lay a lewd kiss with his tongue down your throat. “Don’t worry about it baby, I’ll make your Birthday unforgettable.”

“Jeno, none of that during dinner.” Johnny sighs, pushing away his hair to fully display the stress lines forming in the middle of his forehead. “I’ll give you two money to plan something.”

“Isn’t that just precious.” Your mother stands up, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “Now we all get what we want.”

Not true, you think, eyeing Johnny locking his phone screen. A vibration received in your pocket one second later.

Johnny: Office. Now.

“I’ll be wrapping up some emails.” He stands up, patting your mom on her ass with a wink to appease her.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” Jeno stands, hooking you by your elbow.

“I’ll be up in a bit, I have to put in my laundry.”

Seeming content with that excuse, Jeno heads off to his bathroom, leaving you scrambling past the kitchen to Johnny’s office.

He’s pacing back and forth along the designer rug sprawled out on the floor in front of his desk. Rubbing his chin in thought, more worried about what a weekend alone with Jeno could mean for him than anything.

“Johnny?”

He stops immediately, rushing to wrap you in a warm hug. Apologizing profusely about having to miss your Birthday. The last one had meant so much to him afterall..

“It’s okay, we can always celebrate another time.” You say to comfort him, drowning in the remaining scent of cologne that's blended in with his natural calming scent.

“I know…I just..worry about you being stuck with Jeno, alone.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine, he’s mostly harmless.” You shrug. “I doubt he’ll even be around honestly.”

“No no, he should at least take you out to dinner. My treat alright? I’ll make sure of it.” Johnny smiles, tapping the end of your nose.

“Okay..”

“Okay?”

“Okay..daddy”

Johnny’s smile reaches his eyes, kissing between your eyebrows. “Here, take out your phone, I’ll put in my other phone number in case you need to contact me this weekend.”

Nodding, you scoop out the device for him, spilling a receipt from earlier along with a folded up photo. He bends down to pick up the trash, opening the phone only to scowl at what he finds.

“Oh!” You snatch the picture from his hold in embarrassment. Heat ignites beneath your cheeks just as fast, ready to jam the thick paper back where you had it hiding.

“Why do you have that?” He confiscates the photo from your fingers before you’re able to put it away furrowing his brows together.

“I..I thought it was cute.” You try to explain, more confused by his sudden anger. “I found it the other day when I was looking for a dictionary in your office. I’m sorry, I should have asked you first..”

Johnny sighs, shaking his head, he pockets the photo of himself more annoyed by your apology than anything. Having hidden or thrown away photos of himself in his 20’s years ago when he decided they did nothing but remind him that he can’t get everything he wants. He can’t reverse time and stop himself from fucking up his life.

He can’t gain back his youth or deny the pain in his limbs. He can’t pretend it’s not his ego taking a bruise whenever his own son one up’s him; growing faster and stronger with age as Johnny grows weaker, questioning if he still has it.

Noticing his solemn demeanor you think it over, opening and closing your mouth hoping to comfort him. “You looked just like Jeno!”

Perhaps comforting others, especially a grown man, is not your strong point.

Johnny’s jaw locks sharpening his already defined features, lips twitching as he fixes you with a half-lidded intense stare.

“You should go to bed, it’s getting late.”

His vague response does nothing to calm your worry, spluttering as you try to backtrack. “I mean, like really handsome! You’re still really really handsome Johnny!”

He sighs, shaking his head, crumpling the photo in his pocket to cool the rage taking over his emotions. Johnny pinches your chin leaning down to set a kiss on your forehead.

“Your mother and I are leaving first thing in the morning. Try not to let my son treat your beautiful neck like a chew toy.”

—————————————————-

“Hey!” Jeno flicks your forehead, groaning when you start to whine. “Wake up!”

Sitting up you yawn, grimacing from the pain between your brows. Was it really necessary to wake you up like that?!

“Dad didn’t wanna disrupt your ‘blissful sleep’, or some shit.” Jeno scoffs, he nods to a cup of coffee from your favorite brewery on your bedside table. “That’s for you.”

“Oh my God, how sweet!” You perk up instantly lifting the cup to your nose. The sweet inhale of bittersweet cold brew dissolves how rudely you were awakened.

“Doesn’t take much to impress you, does it?” Jeno quirks a brow. Shaking his head, he pats your leg, rushing you to get ready.

“Come on, you can finish that on the way.”

“Where are we going?” You question, noting the time being too early for a lunch or dinner Johnny would have set up.

“It’s a surprise. Wear some comfortable shoes.”

Jeno doesn’t say much more than that. As odd as it feels to sit in his car for longer than an hour, the drive is pleasant.

“You can play whatever,” Jeno motions uninterested toward the display. “just connect your bluetooth.”

“Are you sure..what if you don’t like my music?” Jeno rolls his eyes, fixing you with an annoyed glare. “Okay okay..”

Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t complain once. Maybe you even caught his neck bobbing along to the beat of a few songs, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Even humming along to a few songs.

Maybe, you have more in common than you thought.

“Wha—An amusement park??”

Today would be full of surprises, apparently. Shocked as Jeno pulls into the parking lot of your favorite childhood amusement park. He gets out of the car stretching after the long drive.

“Yeah, I usually come every summer but.. since it’s your uh,” Jeno fidgets a bit, rounding his car to grab a backpack from the backseat. Mumbling to himself too quietly for you to pick up. “your birthday..”

An amusement park with Jeno is definitely no way you would have ever imagined to spend your Birthday, yet it wasn’t so bad.

“Do we have to keep playing this game?” You frown, rubbing your forehead where Jeno keeps flicking you each time you answer wrong. It’s not that you were bad at playing ‘Guess Who?’ but Jeno wasn’t the best at describing.

“Come on!” He shouts getting frustrated, still playful as he jumps up and down foolishly in line. “He’s that guy! In that one movie!” He says, shooting ‘pew pew pew’ with a finger.

Cringing, you ready yourself for the next forehead flick. The timer on Jeno’s phone only has seconds left with no clue as to who he could be trying to portray, badly.

“Welp,” the buzzer goes off, Jeno maneuvers you into his arms suddenly, leaning down closer to your face as he bends you back. “You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lipsss.”

“Tom Cruise?!” You splutter, worried he’ll drop you.

“Too late!” Jeno laughs, delivering another hard flick to your forehead.

“Ow! God, you’re gonna leave me with a hole in my face!”

He wiggles his eyebrows, looking ahead to see the line moving. With no recovery time he grabs you rushing forward. “Finally, we’re next!”

Jeno loves roller coasters, maybe even more than you do. He insists you get on every ride no matter what the wait times are. Passing the time with various games or retelling memories of the previous times you’ve visited the theme park when you were kids.

“First time I rode the ferris wheel I got nauseous and threw up all over my dad’s girlfriend at the time.” Jeno chuckles evilly at that. Nodding to the ride as you approach it together.

“That’s awful..”

“Nah, she was a bitch who put ice in my shirt for calling her ugly.” He explains. “Dad wasn’t too happy about it, but I guess I ate a bad corn dog earlier. I’ll never touch those things again.”

“Are you going to throw up on me?” You asks nervously, stepping into the cart to sit opposite of him. He laughs, waving you off, buckling in your seat’s belt before his own.

“Nah, I always end the night with this ride. It’s nice to look at everything from up high.”

“Yeah” you agree, gazing from the cart's window at the lit up rides shining over the night time darkness. Smiling fondly after a long day of standing and walking. It hadn’t been so bad, actually more fun than anything…

Jeno..maybe made you laugh more than you would have expected. Looking through your phone later at the photos captured on the rides of ridiculous screaming faces would be a nice memory. Not that you had too many of those with him.

“Today was really nice Jeno.” You say interrupting the quiet you’ve fallen into. Both enjoying how peaceful it feels as the cart reaches higher and higher.

“It was,” he nods, fishing through a pocket in his backpack. “I know you probably expected some fancy dinner, but I felt like this was something we could do as..friends.”

“As friends?!” You start laughing, surprised by the small gift in his hands. He nods again, this time more to himself.

“You know since..we’re pretending to date.” Jeno clears his throat, holding out the wrapped box for you. “I mean, Happy Birthday.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno plays dumb, rubbing his nape anxiously. “open it and find out.”

Unwrapping the bow, you find the clasp underneath, slowly unlocking it to open up what seems to be a small jewelry box. Met with a silver chain carrying a gorgeous charm.

“Oh my God,” you choke out, overwhelmed by the shiny letter ‘J’ reflecting your face. A letter to show off around your neck proudly. A reminder that someone really cares about you. “Did your dad set this up???”

Jeno’s jaw drops, suddenly angered that he’s stuck in a cart with you. All day he tried so hard to have fun with you, even made an effort to not make fun of you when you dropped your piece of funnel cake, offering to split his with you instead.

“Wow.” He gulps, prodding the inside of his cheek with a deep breath to calm down. “That’s all you think about, you just…God, what the fuck was I thinking.”

“What do you mean Jeno?”

The questions too late, jerking as your ride comes to an end. Jeno busts from the cart like a bat out of hell, shouting without looking your way again that it’s ‘time to leave’.

“Jeno! Slow down!” You have to run to keep up with the insanely fast way he charges out of the park to his car.

“No! Hurry the hell up!”

Hostility and tension congests the car for the entire drive home. Jeno’s mood is drastically different from the easy-going one he’d been in all day. Too nervous to speak up again, you choose to stay silent and let him drive in peace. Worried you would stress him out far too much during a dark drive home.

He doesn’t even bother to wait for you to get out of the car before rushing inside the house. Chasing after him to his bedroom you manage to budge a leg through so he can’t shut the door on you.

“Go away!”

“Jeno! No! What did I do?!“

“What did you do?!?” Jeno shouts louder, pulling you in to slam you against his bedroom wall. “You can’t seriously be that dumb!”

Blinking up lost, Jeno bares his teeth in frustration, snapping them shut and shaking his head. “You really are that dumb.”

“I’m not! You can at least tell me what I did wrong!” You protest, pushing at his chest to relieve yourself of his weight crushing against you.

“I seriously can’t fucking stand you.” huffing a long breath through his nose, Jeno pushes off, turning away from you. Beginning to strip from his clothes to take a long hot shower.

“We were having a nice day!”

“And you ruined it!” Jeno shouts louder, throwing off his shirt.

As he reaches to unbuckle his belt, you think this isn’t how you expected today to end. At the least wishing Jeno would give you a gift with his dick.

“You have no fucking common sense!” He keeps shouting, shoving off his jeans to toss them into a hamper. “Even now you’re staring at me like you expect me to fuck you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to sound too desperate. “It’s my Birthday..”

“Ugh!” Jeno grabs your shoulders, throwing your body down onto his bed. Failing to enjoy how easily he can toss you around, you moan, quickly covering your mouth in shame. “Want me to fuck you? Because it’s your fucking Birthday?! Fine!”

He’s livid now, ripping your clothes from your body like an animal. “God I fucking hate you, I seriously can’t believe how fucking selfish you are.”

“I’m sorry” you start to whimper. Guilt ridden by the heat enveloping your cunt, spilling wetness from your core before Jeno’s even properly touched you.

“You’re not sorry, you’re just a dumb slut begging to get fucked.”

Jeno hates you, he hates how all you care about is his asshole father. He hates how you didn’t once thank him for everything he did for you today. Most of all, he hates how hard his dick gets just by looking at you, even cumming into his fist this morning before you woke up to the thought of you. He hates how fucking bad he wants you to be his more than anything, and thats the problem.

He doesn’t hate you, not really. He just hates that you hate him.

It’s not gentle, it’s not soft, it’s bordering on painful, it’s sloppy and obscene.

Deciding he can’t stand to see your pleasured face, Jeno turns you on to your stomach. Fucking inside of you with one quick thrust without worrying to give you time to adjust. He wants you to suffer and pay, he needs redemption for the way you’ve made a pinching sensation form in his chest.

Thrusting in deep, Jeno grabs on to the back of your neck using his other hand to smash your head into the bed. He slams down filled with rage, smacking against your ass hard enough to have his bedroom full of your muffled screams, throaty grunts, skin brutalizing skin.

“That’s right, take it like the fucking whore you are.” He grits. Thighs flexing from rutting against your ass. Appearing more like a monster ravaging your body as he rams you deeper and deeper into the bed.

“Who fucks you like this?!” Jeno screams, deep and gravely. Slowing down only to thrust in longer and harder, letting go of your head to slap your ass meanly. “I know he doesn’t fuck you like this.”

“No one!” Gasping for breath, you bite on his bedding, wrinkling between your eyes from the high pleasure shooting up your spine with each of Jeno’s thrusts. He pounds into you faster, stinging your ass with accompanying slaps. Thrashing wildly beneath him, you lock up letting out a long cry.

“Stupid whore, cumming around my cock, good for nothing but carrying my cum.” Jeno spits, pulling out before you can even fully enjoy your climax. Manhandling you onto your back, he pushes your legs up, bending you into a completely folded half. He reaches between your legs to grab hold of your throat. Thrusting back into your sensitive pussy at a new angle, stuffing your hole even deeper than before.

“Look how fucking disgustingly wet you get for me.” He grips on your neck, tugging it up making it harder for you to breathe properly. Focused on the way his wet cock slams in and out of your overstimulated core. “Get that wet for someone you hate??”

Even through the haze of heat and tingling nerves soaring down your limbs, you shake your head. “D-don’t hate—you. Don’t.”

Jeno’s upper lip curls in, forcing his cock balls deep. Hitting that spot deep inside of you with each thrust.

“Hate you.” He says it quietly this time, shaking away sweat blinding his eyes. Finding your lost gaze, Jeno decides he hates that the most.

The way you look at him like you’d let him ruin you as much as he pleases.

He hates how hard that makes him cum. Uncontrollably losing his rhythm with a few lasts thrust, he groans, collapsing bodily on top of your suffocated lungs.

Jeno takes a hold of your face with one hand. Grinding his cock inside of you emptying the last spurts of cum. He trembles, forcing himself to let go, even if his lips itch for more. Even if your mouth pouts lewdly pleading for a kiss.

Even if that pain in his chest spreads further.

“Get out of my room.” He whispers, sliding out to turn his back to you.

“Je—“ the sound of your phone buzzing steals your attention. Getting up in search of your discarded clothing, you check the device to find a new notification from Johnny.

New number: Told your mom I have a conference next weekend. Come up with a story, going to take you away to make up for missing your special day❤️

—————————————————-

Johnny’s quiet on the way to the hotel. Cracking his knuckles at red lights as he gazes out of the window. He picks you up from outside of a shopping center already carrying your belongings for the weekend in the trunk of his car.

He hasn’t said much to you all week, not that he’s been able to. If Jeno’s plan is to keep you busy, it’s working. Any moment his father even gets a chance to be around you, Jeno manages to show up. Smiling ear to ear as he douses you with excessive displays of affection. Even if he’s upset with you still, it doesn’t effect the thrill he gets from pissing off his dad.

It’s not far-fetched to believe Johnny’s irritated, having not said a word to you once since occupying the passenger seat. He hardly even looked your way when you got into the car.

“Are you hungry?” You ask to break the silence. Johnny gives you no more than an indecipherable response, grunting from his chest.

Pulling up to the hotel valet, he continues to serve you the silent treatment. Cracking his neck and stretching instead of throwing an arm around you. He nods ahead to a bar upon stepping foot into the main entrance.

“I need a drink.”

Taking in your dressed down attire nervously, you follow after him. No doubt appearing more as his daughter than lover. It wouldn’t have fit your lie of hanging out at a ‘friends’ house this weekend for girl time to dress up too nicely. Much like Johnny attending a conference for two days wouldn’t show up dressed any less expensive and regal than he is now.

“Hello Mr. Suh, have not seen you around in quite some time.” the hostess greets with a charming smile.

Johnny nods, motioning that the two of you would be entering.

“I’ll need to see a form of identification first,” the hostess says nervously. “we cannot have minors sitting at the bar.”

Johnny scoffs, snapping for you to fetch your ID. “She’s not a minor.”

The hostess forces a wider fake smile reading your birthday. “Under 21 are not allowed in. My apologies.”

Johnny sighs, ripping his fingers through his neatly groomed hair. “I need a drink,” he looks you up and down pensively, clicking his tongue. “just go up to the room and wait for me, will you?”

“Okay..” you mumble, sensing you’ve put him in a bad mood. He taps your chin, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Daddy will be up soon alright? Be a good girl and get ready for me.”

If Johnny wanted you to get ready for, that’s exactly what you were going to do.

The suite was just as luxurious as you remember, having spent most of your time in bed on your only visit, you made sure to pack a bikini this time to utilize the jacuzzi.

Johnny had insisted you make a wish list of items you needed, no matter what the price. Adding in his own wishes in the form of scandalous lingerie that did less to cover any bits of your private areas. $200 panties that appeared more like flossy string between your ass and overpriced bralettes that forced your chest to spill out.

With a quick shower, you lotion up and drench your skin in his favorite fragrance. Slinking on expensive delicate lingerie, choosing to wear the set in his favorite color. You’d do whatever it takes to rectify his mood, even practicing how you should pose on the bed. Grateful for the mirror on the wall displaying how foolish some of your positions looked.

Opting to sprawl out on your side to accentuate the line of curves up your frame, you get comfortable waiting for the sound of the door to click.

Waiting, waiting, and waiting.

The side of your face meets the bed an hour later, frowning and feeling stupid the more time ticks by. Johnny doesn’t come up for another two hours.

He stumbles through the suite, bumping against furniture as he tries to find his way to the master bedroom. His skin is painted with dots of pink and red that flush up his cheeks, loose jaw hanging lower when he enters the master suite.

“Fuck,” Johnny grabs onto the doorframe to steady his weak knees. Biting down on his lip as he takes in your figure from the tips of your toes up to your shut eyes. “so fucking cute.”

Kicking off the uncomfortable slacks sucking tighter on his groin the longer he stares at you, Johnny moves further in. Propping an arm on the bed to rid himself of the remaining materials covering his warming skin, he crawls over to your resting figure on his knees. Moistening his lips with a hungered lick, he kisses your ankle first, taking his time to indulge in your silky skin against his rough lips.

As upset as he’s felt for the last week, seeing you laid out and ready for him lit the dying flame in his chest. He hated to admit his feelings had been hurt in any way when you dropped that old photo of him, but he couldn’t shake the thought.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how much older he is than you. How you might just get on better with his son. How you can’t even sit at the fucking bar with him while he drinks.

“Daddy?” Your groggy voice interrupts his spiraling thoughts. Grinning when he hears the sweet nickname drip from your lips.

“You smell so nice princess,” Johnny’s nose drags through your squished together legs, kissing a path upward to your center. He bites at the crevice of your thigh, nibbling too soft to leave any mark. “you’re my favorite, did you know that?”

Each palpitation erupting from your chest grows in speed, rushing from your sternum to the space between your pelvic bone where Johnny presses his lips tenderly. Sucking down deep inhales of your cloth covered core, he groans from deep within his chest.

“My favorite little doll to play with.” continuing to move up, he lays down a trail of kisses from your navel to your breasts, sucking on the perky flesh protruding out of the hardly supportive material. “..what the fuck is that?”

Sitting up on your hips, Johnny makes it impossible for you to move. Picking up the ‘J’ presented on your throat, his brows furrow together confused. “Did Jeno give you this?!”

“Yes!” You exclaim, interpreting the situation in a terrible way. “I’m sorry, I forgot to thank you!”

“Thank me?!” Johnny rips the chain from your neck, painful as it burns digging into your nape, unclasping from his sheer strength. He chucks it off the bed returning to his aggravated mood, gripping your shoulders to examine your bruised and bitten throat. The remnants of his son pissing everywhere like a fucking dog marking it’s territory.

Absolutely livid, Johnny seeps the pads of his fingers into a couple of the lingering teeth marks, wondering how you could let Jeno abuse your precious delicate skin in such a way.

“This is what you like huh?” It’s not much of a question, lifting your loosened neck up with his palm cupping your nape, Johnny brushes his nose along a line of littered marks. “Is that why you were carrying that photo of me? Daydreaming of how daddy could have fucked you like a savage beast when he was Jeno’s age.”

“Johnny, wha—“

“What did you call me?” His other palm encompasses the front of your neck, completely wrapping your throat and still left with enough room to still wiggle his fingers. The evil thought that he could easily snap your dainty neck races to his groin, throbbing against your stomach.

“Daddy!” Panicking, you try to nod. Grabbing onto Johnny’s wrist, which in comparison, your entire hand can just barely bracelet around. The size difference between the two of you only excites you, wiggling your legs together behind his back in anticipation.

“I’ll show you, I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life. I’ll make you scream and cry louder than he ever could.”

Johnny chokes your neck, sickened that his pretty perfect doll would let anyone defile her. Sickened that you’d let anyone use your body for pleasure other than him. He squeezes until you’re tapping out on his forearms with your eyes rolled up. Growing more aroused by the rapid rising pulse trapped in his grip.

“I’ll teach you a lesson, pretty baby.” Johnny lets go to let you catch your breath, you’re gonna need it. Crawling up your torso, thick thighs surround your head. The bed sinking beneath the weight of his knees at the sides. He fists the hair at the crown of your head, dragging heavy balls up and down the middle of your face. Degrading you like he knows his disrespectful menacing son would.

“That’s what you want? Want to act like a dirty slut for daddy don’t you?” Johnny’s sweet tone turns venomous, dripping malice with each viscous word he spews. “Come on, answer me, tell daddy what a stupid little slut you are.”

Wrapping the base of his length, he pokes at your lips, coughing and nodding as you silently begin to agree. Kissing and licking up the mess of precum leaking from his slit.

“Speak up!” Johnny slaps your cheek with his heavy meat, making it all the more humiliating as you respond.

“I’m..” shutting your eyes to contain the tears ready to melt out under the fiery heat spread across your face, you nod again. “a dumb slut.”

“What was that?” Johnny shifts, clutching your face in his large hand. Shaking your head side to side roughly.

“I’m a dumb slut!”

“WHO’S dumb slut?”

“Daddy!” You wail, arching up as he slides inside of your soaking wet cunt, filling you to the brim without much to prepare you other than your carnal arousal. Johnny’s still too big to handle all at once so suddenly. “Oh fuck! I’m daddy’s dumb slut!”

Johnny can’t deny how much more turned on he feels listening to you degrade yourself. Responding to his commanding tongue like a good girl. He groans, grinding into the heat covering his cock. Taking a hold of your wrists, he pushes them above your head to have complete control over your body.

“Love daddy’s cock so much don’t you? My dirty nasty angel.” Johnny hisses, lifting his hips far back enough for only the tip of his length to remain. Thrusting back in each time for you to feel the entirety of his size filling you up.

“Yes yes!” You whimper, reaching for something only to grab at air with your wrists handcuffed together in his meaty palms. His thrusts never cease, building up to a maddening speed. The only sound past your heavy ragged breaths coming from the loud smack of Johnny’s balls meeting your rim.

“Say it again, come on, pretty baby. Keep telling daddy how much you love his fucking cock.” Johnny growls, biting down on your jaw as he burrows deep inside of you.

Holding your wrists down together in one hand, Johnny grips your throat again with his other. His long fingers snake the expanse of your throat, pushing his weight down on your smaller limbs to lift his upper half higher giving you a full view of his cock plunging in and out coated in glossy slick. Emitting wet sounds and splashes with each glide in.

“D-daddy!” You croak out, trying to catch your breath. Losing your sanity little by little in a daze under Johnny’s merciless thrusts. He fucks with determination, pushing you close to the edge of the bed with each bruising piston of his hips. The back of your neck hangs off, gurgling a breathless shout, you arch up giving him full permission to ruin your hole.

Letting go of your wrists and neck, Johnny hugs around your shoulders sandwiching your body to his. “So good for me, pretty baby, just me. So fucking tight and wet, gonna make daddy cum so fucking hard.”

“Please please daddy,” you cry harder, nipping his cheek, leaving behind a patch of drool. “Please inside of me, please!”

Johnny knows you need to feel full, obsessed with hot cum dribbling out of your hole. A filthy little slut just begging to be fucked and bred. He knew from the day he looked through your blog, chuckling at the amount of creampie and breeding posts.

“Ask for it” he groans, digging his teeth into your neck, gnawing the skin to cover up the marks there with his own.

“Please! Cum inside me! Fill me up! Fill me up!” Kicking his thighs, you cum breaking out in rolls of tremors. Finding the backs of your eyes with the tune of Johnny’s deep growls circling your head as he thrusts one last time. He keeps thrusting, pumping spurt after spurt of cum deep inside your cunt. Plugging it up as he stills and fully drops his upper half on top of you, puffing for air along your throat.

He stays like that for a while, only coming to himself when he feels your weakened hands pushing at his shoulders to roll him off. Propping himself up on his elbows, he takes in your face drained of life, sensing a small pang of guilt. Clueless as to how his son can fuck you so meaninglessly, and how you can enjoy it.

Getting up to grab a few towels, Johnny covers your exposed skin to keep you warm, mumbling something you’re too exhausted to comprehend.

He draws a warm bath in the whirlpool tub, knowing you both could use something to soothe your muscles after that excursion. Mentally cursing for not packing a bath bomb or stress relieving body wash, he’d just have to make due with the shower gel provided by the hotel.

“Come on angel, bath time.” He picks you up effortlessly despite using up most of his energy. Melting away most of the alcohol in his blood by sweating as if he just had a long high calorie burning workout. Johnny helps place your face in the crook of his neck, pulling your thighs around his naked hips. He steps back into the bathroom with the tub now full of steamy hot water, testing the heat to not scold your skin.

Dropping the towel covering your back, he steps in keeping your limp body attached to his front, grabbing on to the edge of the tub to lower down slowly. The hot water stirs you to mumble something against his neck. Shushing you, he scoops some of the water in his palm to pour it down the upper half of your back not immersed.

“Too warm for you princess?” Johnny presses a kiss to your forehead, lightly stroking up and down your spine.

“Like it,” you mewl, licking up the vein lining the column of his throat. “so empty daddy..”

You don’t need to say more for Johnny to understand. Tilting your chin up, he pecks your lips gently, sliding deeper into the tub to place your hips directly on his. Continuing to kiss you as he lifts your bottom up by the backs of your thighs to lower you back onto his length.

“Mmmphh..” Johnny moans against your lips, tempted to thrust up and fuck you again. His cock twitches inside the warmth of your walls wrapping him up snuggly, but he knows you need time to recover.

“Is that better angel?” He whispers, kissing up to your ear. Massaging your lower back until you give up fidgeting.

“So good, perfect.” You nod, falling back into a comfortable position cradled in his arms. Johnny knows exactly what you need after fucking you past the point of feeling alive. Stripping your flesh from your bones to feel you from inside out only to place you back together again better than you started.

“That’s because you’re so perfect.” He coos, pouring some of the shower gel out to clean off the mixture of bodily fluids stuck to your skin. “My good girl, you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

Opening your eyes, you wonder what he means by that. Suddenly missing the necklace that was ripped from your throat. Johnny hums expecting a response, reaching lower to dip between your legs where his cocks lodged inside of you.

“..yes daddy..”

“I know how to take care of you best,” he continues, speaking softly. Portraying a much different character when he needs you to succumb, hand over all of your trust. “that’s why it’s important for you to do as I say.”

Johnny finishes by kissing the top of your head, rubbing circles on your clit with two firm fingers. Asking if you’ll be ready for more soon, because you don’t have all night to waste.

His comforting words came off less genuine the more he worked you up. Thrusting up into your core only a few minutes later to fuck you again.

Any exhaustion or sadness Johnny had felt earlier quickly disappeared the longer he fucked you. Milking his cock into late hours of the night until your little body gave out.

He had to laugh, knowing Jeno could never fuck to straight to sleep.

“That’s why you come to me,” Johnny says, kissing your eyelids, thrusting one more time before filling your cervix with another load of cum. “Daddy knows best.”

The next day Johnny insists on taking you shopping to make up for missing your Birthday. It’s difficult to complain when he kisses your lips each time you try.

“I’m really not upset about it,” you say despite following him down the street with your arms attached to his bicep. “I had a lot of fun on my Birthday.”

“With Jeno.” Johnny stares straight ahead, nose twitching enough for the sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose to move.

“He wasn’t too bad, the roller coasters were fun!”

“Hmmm,” Johnny nods, motioning to a jewelry store ahead. “I think a necklace, to replace that cheap thing you had on yesterday.”

“It’s not cheap! There’s sentimental value behind it!” You stomp, rubbing the letter decorating your neck.

“Is that what Jeno told you when he gifted you this piece of tin?” Johnny scoots your fingers away to look over the necklace. Poking the tip of his tongue out as he rubs it between the pads of his fingers. “Used my money to buy this and still couldn’t find something nice. Can’t believe I raised him.”

“I thought.. that you picked it out for me.”

“Sweetie please,” Johnny scoffs, directing you into the store. “I am a man of class. Jeno is still an immature boy. I would never allow that cheap jewelry to touch your beautiful skin.”

“So..” slowing down, you trail off in thought as an employee approaches him to assist with the case he’s looking through.

Jeno’s anger by the end of your day together was beginning to make sense. If he had actually bought you the necklace as a gift, then had he really planned the entire date as well? Johnny seemed to not know what the two of you even got up to on your Birthday.

Jeno had every reason to be mad at you.

“Look at that,” Johnny smiles, draping a thin silver chain on your neck with a diamond heavy enough to caved your chest in. “absolutely stunning. Only the best for my little doll.”

“It’s…a bit much.” You frown, noticing how much less shiny the ‘J’ is in comparison.

“It’s perfect,” Johnny pecks your shoulder, pointing to a pair of earrings in the case. “I’ll take those as well.”

“Johnny please, the necklace is enough!”

“Oh, those are for your mom.” Johnny laughs, a condescending drip crescendos from his throat, fixing you with a snarky look. “Have to get her something for when she starts complaining about Jeno again.”

“Johnny?”

“What is it, princess?”

“Are you going to marry my mom?”

He scoffs, lifting a groomed brown, slowly observing your less than quizzical gaze.

“Now why would you ask me that?” His cheek twitches containing a smirk. “Marriage..”

Johnny rolls his eyes, pulling out a black credit card to pay. “Marriage is prison.”

—————————————————-

Marriage is prison. That’s what Johnny said, shushing you with a wink before leading you to another store. He spoiled you more and more, shoes, purses, perfumes, nothing you asked for.

The only thing you craved was his affection, tangling your fingers through his on the drive home only for him to dismiss your advances by changing the radio. His hand tight on the wheel for the rest of the drive home.

“I can’t believe this!” Your mother’s shouting from the kitchen, clutching her phone. “Johnny just got back! Ugh, don’t call me selfish!”

Jeno rolls his eyes, twirling a lock of your hair around his index finger. Taunting his father from across the table with a grin stretching his lips.

Your mom hangs up, dramatically falling into the seat next to Johnny she typically resides in. “I have to go see my sister this weekend,” she groans, pouting at her boyfriend. “can you come with me darling?”

Johnny sits up clearing his throat, pondering her requests. He begins to shake his head in denial, reaching a foot underneath the table to tap your leg, accidentally grazing Jeno’s as well. “No can do honey, I’m swamped with work after that conference. I have a ton of meetings with patients to catch up on this week and paperwork to sort.”

“Ugh!” Your mother whines, more of a brat than you’ve ever been. Not once wishing you a Happy Birthday or apologizing for missing it. She turns to face you, scrunching her nose up in an ugly way. “My precious daughter will have to accompany me then!”

“Oh, no way,” Jeno sits up interrupting. “you see, we have plans.”

Your mother scoffs, striking him with a fierce glare. “What plans?!”

“I’m going to fuck your daughter all weekend.” Jeno nods with a proud grin. “You’ll have to go visit your sister alone.”

“You’re going to let him speak to me like that?!” She shouts, smacking Johnny’s bicep. He mumbles something lacking interest, quickly excusing himself to deal with important business.

True to his word, Jeno intends to do exactly as he said. The second his father exits the house to drop your mom off at the train station, he drags you to his bedroom.

“I really really can’t stand your mother.” Jeno presses your back to the hallway wall only feet away from his bedroom. Licking up your throat, he sucks wet kisses up and down. “She’s such a bitch seriously, can’t believe my dad’s put up with her this long.”

“Do you think..” Jeno makes it impossible for you to even use your brain. Heavy breath tickles up your jaw, tugging your earlobe between his teeth, he swirls the tip of his tongue in a delicious mind-numbing way through your ear.

“Stop thinking.” Expanding his mouth, he swallows the entirety of your ear. Lapping like a dog in heat, he dips a hand inside your bottoms cupping your core. “You should only be thinking with this. That’s all I’m thinking about.”

He pushes the heel of his palm into your clothed heat, digging the thickest part against your clit. “Beg for it, wanna hear you beg for me first.”

“Jeno, please..” you can’t pretend these moments under his control haven’t become more necessary. Craving for his body to crush yours, craving for his lips to kiss you until your lips bruise and swell.

“Jeno, please,” he mimics, huffing with his mouth hovering yours. “Please fuck me, please ruin my pussy. Please treat me like the dumb whore I am.”

His other hand finds your throat in a familiar fashion, teasing by probing the veins throbbing along the sides. “Leaking right into my hand even with your panties on. I think you want me to fuck you more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Please, please,” you start to whine, breaking at the first tear drop that pours from your eyes. “Please ruin my pussy. Jeno, please fuck me.”

“That’s it, want me to use you don’t you?”

Jeno’s hungry for this, caged like a wild animal at all times when he can’t touch you. Even your mother’s judgemental eyes can’t stop him, he mauls your mouth with an aggressive kiss, pushing his knees into yours to walk the two of you inside of his bedroom.

Not giving a fuck who finds him 9 inches deep, he starts to remove your clothing. Tossing it behind without shutting his bedroom door. At worst your parents would find you again, he could care less.

Jeno pushes you down on your stomach, stretching your arms behind your back to hold you in place. He considers wanting to watch your face as you come undone on his cock, still angry about how your Birthday went, but pleased to see you wearing his gift instead of the overpriced shit his father bought you.

He twists you to look at him over your shoulder by fisting your hair. Licking up the side of your cheek, savoring the salty tears along the way. His forehead digs against the side of yours, gliding between your ass, thinking about fucking you there just to watch you try to endure it. Another day, the next time you piss him off.

Finally the head of his thick cock breaches lower, circling your wet entrance, nudging your fleshy folds side to side to hollow out more space between your thighs for himself.

“P-please, d-don’t tease..” you cry dryly, coughing as your throat dries up from your unforgiving thirst to get dicked down. “Don’t tease me..”

“Hah..” Jeno muses, humming, rolling his hips for you to feel him push in and out just an inch. “You can do it, don’t be so fucking lazy.”

You can’t even feel agitated anymore, taken over by your need, lifting your hips from the bed to push him in more. Biting down on your tongue when Jeno hisses between his teeth, easing his cock deeper in your milking heat. He’s groaning, dragging his lips to your forehead. With your neck held in a strained position, he pushes in the rest of the way. Hips stuttering once he’s finally wrapped in your hot tight heat.

“So fucking h-hot.” Jeno mouths against your forehead. Sounding as desperate as you for once. Enjoying the cramped tight space for a minute, he takes in a deep breath, drawing back before accelerating to a fast pace. “Ah, fuck!”

Jeno reaches his free hand around, teasing your neck just to feel you squirm under him. Lowering to grab at your chest, he tweaks your nipple, pulling as his thrusts start to hit a little harder.

“Love it s-so much! Love how—ah!” Breaking out into a scream, Jeno’s mouth covers yours, swallowing it down. Growling from his chest, filling your lungs with vibrations. He breathes harshly through his nose, sweat trickling down his face to yours creating a nastier mess with your tears.

“Y-yeah baby,” he sighs, dragging his nose up the side of your face. “so fucking good, taking it like my perfect slut.”

Jeno can’t stand the way your pussy has him in a vice grip. No matter how tightly he fists his cock, it can’t compare to your wet hole sucking around him until he cums endless streams. Deliciously sucked dry every time.

Jeno sets a spine breaking pace, going hard and fast, too good with too much experience knowing exactly how to penetrate and fill your core the way you’re going to enjoy best. Only encouraged the more you shout and call out his name.

He can’t take it anymore, planting a wet kiss on your forehead, he pushes you down grabbing a hold of your shoulders. Slamming into you with more vigor falling into a merciless pace.

Screaming at the pull he gives making your back dip only makes him thrust faster. Getting closer and closer to release, more offbeat as he breaks into a string of curses.

Jeno makes the mistake of looking down, moaning at the sight of your swollen wet hole taking and taking. Wrapped and stretched on his girth, sucking around him better than your mouth can.

“Pussy so fucking good for me baby. Little fuck hole to use and fuck over and over.” He says brokenly. Grabbing the backs of your arms for a better hold, “my fucking cock whore, nasty slut.”

“Jeno! Please!” You kick at the bed, sobbing through the powerful orgasm hitting you with his next thrust.

“Fuck! Fuck oh fuck.” Jeno pants loudly, cock pitifully twitching as your cunt sucks around him trying to milk him clean. Unable to control his next few thrusts chasing after his release, Jeno shouts out, dropping his head back. Thick throat on display covered in rippling veins, his chest concaves losing the ability to breathe as endless streams of sticky white spill from his dick.

Falling down jerks his cock out an inch, hissing and biting the back of your shoulder. He thinks he could stay inside of you forever peacefully.

Johnny starts a slow clap leaning against Jeno’s door frame interrupting your come down. Deja Vu hits hard, imagining you must be dreaming because there’s no way this could be happening again.

He struts in already removing his clothing, a shit eating grin stretching his cheeks. “My turn?”

Jeno doesn’t want to move, he wants to keep fucking you. He wants to pretend his dad’s never touched you, that he never messed up what you could have had.

But he also wants to win.

Reluctantly he pulls out, bodily shivering as your cunt sucks him on the way. Setting a kiss on your shoulder, he turns your face to the side leaving another on your cheekbone. “I’ll be here.”

It sounds more like a warning than an affirmation, removing himself from the bed to let his father do whatever it is he came here to do. Ruin his fun.

Turning you on your back, Johnny greets you, stroking his fat cock until it’s fully erect. He clicks his tongue in a disappointed way staring between your legs.

“He’s so mean to you,” he kicks your thighs apart with a knee, laying his heavy hard cock on your stomach. “but that’s how you like it huh?”

“Daddy..” your throat dries up remembering how much worse Johnny’s chokehold is than Jeno’s. Less enjoyable, completely cutting off your airflow. He kisses between your breasts, capturing your lips in a powerful kiss. Always more dominant in leading, he works your mouth open, sucking your tongue between his teeth. Licking the roof of your mouth as he pulls back.

“That’s right angel, daddy’s here.”

He takes the time to rub the fat tip of his cock between your folds. Using your wetness to coat his length with strokes in-between. Johnny dips just the tip in and out of your entrance, gushing out more and more of Jeno’s cum each time until less and less comes out. Only then does he push past your waiting hole, filling you inch by inch never wavering his gaze from yours.

He starts fucking you a little rougher than usual, having something to prove with each penetrating motion. He needs to know you want him more than anything, more than anyone, more than Jeno. Unsatisfied with the way things ended last time, thanks to your mother, he aims each thrust with more force, kissing your cervix with the tip of his length each time.

Sweats pouring down his chest in no time. Making him appear larger and stronger on top of you. Propping one of your legs onto his shoulder, his long built arms flex. The planks of his abdomen crunching and contracting each time he buries the full size of his girth inside of you.

“This is how a real man fucks you pretty baby” he groans, bending forward until your calves by your head. Pushing your hamstrings to stretch painfully. He fucks hard at this new angle, cock drenched, spilling your arousal down to his sack.

Johnny grabs your chin until your eyes stop rolling back, focusing your gaze back on his. He keeps whispering sweet praises about how good you feel, how pretty you always look, how sweet you smell and taste.

It’s always too much with Johnny, it’s always too much with Jeno, but you can never get enough. Johnny tilts your head down to watch your pussy gripped around his size, stretched past your limits with each pummeling thrust.

Licking the sweat pouring down your cheek, Johnny mewls raspily. “So fucking good for daddy. Just for me.”

“Please please please!” It’s more than too much, blabbering things you can’t even understand anymore. Your ears clog up as if you’re on a long flight, making everything foggier and cloudy.

Johnny knows what you’re begging for, reaching between your connected lower halves to find your clit. He pinches it between two fingers rubbing just how you like. Driving you over a deep end with his cock lodged deep inside your cunt. His forehead presses to yours, consuming your mind with the scent of his sweat, his heart beating against your chest, his eyes burning gold from rays of sunlight beaming through the window.

Everything feels heavy, hard to breathe, like hitting an instantaneous high for the first time. Each thrust more impactful than the last, the stimulation to your clit curls your toes. Arching up against his broad frame when your climax hits like a punch to your gut. It’s more intense and mind-numbing than any you’ve had before. Brainless as you shout, slapping and clawing at Johnny’s shoulders.

“I love you I love you I love you!” You cry, breaking down into a mess. Face in pain from the strain of your burst of tears

Johnny’s stunned, pushing his cum in with another thrust, immediately coming to a stop to grab a hold of your face. Breathing thru his nose, he stops your cries with a passionate kiss, calming you down with his soft lips, expertly working to distract you from your breakdown.

Jeno can’t stand around to watch this love fest any longer, sick to his stomach by your untimely confession. He exits his bedroom enraged that his father had to find the two of you in there out of all places. Forever ingraining the image of your ultimate submission to another man, on his fucking bed.

Johnny’s more high than any drug can induce, shot up to the sky by a batch of endorphins erupting through his veins. He coos, shushing you with light kisses all around your face. Holding your limbless body to his chest to comfort you in a way he knows Jeno can’t do for you.

“It’s okay sweet baby, nothing to be embarrassed of.” He reassures you, the same way he would talk to a patient dealing with a crisis. Tickling up your spine and laying wet kisses from your shoulder to your collar until your shaking subsides.

“Sorry..” you mumble, ashamed regardless. Knowing you got too caught up in the heat of the moment losing control of your normalcy.

Maybe this is what all those posts on tumblr about the dick being too good were about..

“Nothing to be sorry about, you did so good for daddy.” Johnny smiles, laying your bodies down on your sides to not create too much friction between your lower halves. Smiling wider at the lack of another presence in the room. “It happens.”

“Can you say it back?” You whisper, hiding your face in his chest. “Even if..you don’t mean it..”

Johnny clears his throat, stiffening up for a second. Quick to mask his initial surprise with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I do love you.” Johnny’s nose scrunches, keeping your face ducked to his chest. He sighs. “Very much.”

—————————————————-

Jeno doesn’t bother to wait for you the next day, his cars already gone by the time you make it outside. Leaving you with no choice but to run to catch the bus.

He does a great job of avoiding you at school as well. Jogging away whenever he spots you enter the same hallway, expertly dodging into a different direction. It’s not like you knew what to even say to him after yesterday.

Still you played with the letter ‘J’ dangling from your neck as you sat in class distracted by your memories of the weekend. Everything had been smooth until Jeno insisted you stop sleeping with his dad.

Why did it matter anyway? He’s not actually your boyfriend…

A sense of stupidity, ‘dumb bitch energy’ consumes your brain as you pace before Jeno’s parked car. Talking to him one on one with the possibility of Johnny interrupting wouldn’t do.

Not that he was going to make it easy for you.

Jeno unlocks his car, pivoting around your figure trying to block his way to the driver’s door. He doesn’t so much as even look your way, nearly making you trip with an ankle crossing yours. He pushes against your hip to shove you off the door.

“Jeno! Please!” You plead, weakly grabbing onto his arm to stop him from getting into his car.

You really shouldn’t poke an angry bear.

Jeno growls from his chest, grappling your body to slam against the door. He looks enraged, the slick spit on lips resembling foam like a rabid animal. “What the fu—“

He stops, lowering his gaze to find the necklace perched between your collarbones. Jeno’s fingers tremble on your shoulders, losing the tension in his spine, he slumps dropping his face to the column of your throat. “I’m so fucking stupid. I’m so so so fucking stupid.”

Picking up the letter between two fingers, Jeno shakes his head slowly. “But you, you’re hopeless. You really believe my father has some type of feelings for you beyond the gigantic ego rub you provide.”

“Jeno—“

“No,” His lips purse together, blinking away the itch behind his eyes from staying up all night. “I can’t believe I started to like you.”

Jeno backs away, dragging his hands through his unwashed hair. Part of him not even wanting to shower this morning in fear of losing the last bits of your perfume stuck to his skin.

“It’s his fault,” Jeno whispers to himself, he swallows looking at you. “he fucked me up so bad. I’ll never be good enough. Why the fuck would you compete with your own child?”

“Jeno, I’m sorry about yesterday, you don’t understand!” You stammer to explain yourself, fretting to get out your apology before he can run away again. “It was a lot for me! I’m still.. I don’t have enough experience, I still get really overwhelmed.”

“Just shut up,” Jeno groans, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes. “you’re so fucking manipulated. If only you could see what I’ve had to fucking see.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad doesn’t love you, no matter what he says. He doesn’t know how to love anything or anyone but himself, not even me. He loves himself, money, and fucking pretty young girls with no sense of self worth.” Jeno snarls, lowering his gaze down your frame. “Looks like he found the perfect toy with you. He’s kept you around too long, I’ll admit that, but I know it’s only because of me.”

“What—“

“I told you, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.” Jeno prods your chest where his necklace sits. “And he didn’t get you that, I did. I’m not like him, I wouldn’t just dress you up like my doll. I wanted to give you something with meaning.”

“I know..” you say, taking a step closer to close the divide between your bodies. Keeping the details to yourself. “I’m sorry, I should have listened to you. You really made my Birthday special..”

“You mean my dad did?” Jeno sneers, kicking at the cement. Stuffing his fist into the pockets of his uniform slacks, his shoulders slump. The tough image he upholds and carries proudly fades for a minute showing a life of damaged innocence, tired of a daily race he can never win.

“No,” hesitantly you reach for his hand, tickling the tips of your fingers down the veins that fade past his knuckles. “I mean you. I know you planned all of that for me. I’m sorry I laughed at you..”

Jeno’s eyes widen quickly, blinking away his surprise in hopes you won’t notice. “Did you just apologize?”

“I did.”

Jeno squints, intertwining his fingers with yours to fully hold your hand. He snorts, pushing your shoulder with his other, hard enough to hit the car door behind you. “If you’re going to learn anything from me, it’s how to stick up for yourself.”

“Against you? I don’t think that’s really fair, you’ve been picking on me for years.”

Jeno hides a smile at that, swinging your hands back and forth. “Exactly, no one will be able to help you defend yourself better than me.”

“You’re literally my tormentor.” You say, pushing Jeno back without so much as a tiny budge.

Pinching your chin, he starts to kiss your bottom lip softly. Eyes half-lidded to watch for your reaction, easing against him, he decides you must like it. Grazing your lips back and forth between his, Jeno licks your upper one, tapping the tip of your nose with his. He waits there just barely kissing you until you push in closer to seal your lips together. Locking lips as you begin to explore each other’s mouths.

He takes time to dip his tongue through every corner, rolling it against yours until a moan escapes from the back of your throat. Jeno grabs onto your hips pressing you firmly to his. Prodding his hardening length against your center to let you know how much he still wants you.

The kiss lasts longer than you expect, Jeno really lathering up saliva in your mouth until it drips out down his chin. He sucks on your bottom lip before taking a step back to look over your flushed face. Smirking and pecking your lips without letting go of his hold on you.

He strokes up to your waist, dipping his fingers in, rubbing his nose against yours.

“In some ways, you’re mine too.”

—————————————————-

“I don’t want to watch that.” Jeno snatches the remote away from you, complaining about how you always put on the dumbest tv shows. “What makes you think I want to watch a bunch of girls crying about their boyfriends cheating on them.”

“Jeno! I was here first!” You argue, attempting to steal back the controller.

It’s always the same with him these days, wherever you go, he ends up following, or vice versa. It’s not necessarily on purpose when you find yourself in Jeno’s bed again night after night. Most of the time you’re not even hooking up, yet for some reason his bed feels nicer than your own. The beat of his heart against your back lulls you to sleep faster than the sound of rain. He feels… right.

Whether you admit it or not, your relationship with Jeno has grown into more than just sex. He clings to you at school, asks for help studying instead of pestering you to complete his work. He’s even shown you how to play some of his favorite games, until you reached a higher score than him and had to suck him off to make him stop sulking over it.

“You can’t just barge in here and take over the tv!” You squeak out trying to reach his arm, dangling the remote further and further away from your grabby hands.

“Why not?” Jeno grins, sitting up straight to stretch out the space between your bodies further. “Isn’t that exactly what I just did? What have I told you about sticking up for yourself?”

“You do realize you’re the only person I have to fight all of the time right?!” Growling more like a newborn puppy than the fierce lion you wish to sound like, you jump up onto his lap. Scrambling to reach higher, using Jeno’s head for an extra boost.

“My eye!” Jeno bites at your hand, catching a finger to dig his teeth in. Throwing you down on the couch when you hiss and lose your balance. He lands on top of you quickly pushing your arms above your head, laying his hips flat against yours.

“This seems familiar.” He says with a coy wiggle of his brow.

Johnny clears his throat at the living room entrance, standing propped on the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. He finds your gaze with an unimpressed glare, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Oh..” you start, rushing to explain how you ended up beneath his son, again.

“I don’t want to know what’s going on here.” He mutters, tone laced with hostility. “I’m starting to believe the two of you are actually boyfriend and girlfriend at this point.

Jeno licks a fat stripe up the side of your face, smirking his dad’s direction. Pistoning his hips forward to press his erect length against your warmth.

“Then maybe you should stop fucking my girlfriend.”

“What!?!?” You grimace, startled by his response. Turning to shake your head at Johnny. “We aren’t together!”

Jeno sits up, shifting his weight down on your hips. “Yet.”

“Just keep this shit to your bedrooms.” Johnny pipes up, turning monotone. “Your mother gives me enough of a hard time as is.”

Johnny exits before you can explain yourself. Leaving you slumping against the couch disappointed, not that Jeno cares.

“You heard him, let’s go to my room.” He smirks, getting up and hauling you off the couch in his arms. He bends at his knees picking you up without much of a struggle, but wobbling enough to make you shriek.

“I can walk! Put me down!”

“What was that? Throw you over my shoulder??“ he laughs, hoisting your body. Doing a good job of placing your stomach and hips on his shoulder. Bounced as he trudge’s up the stairs carrying you.

“Jeno!”

“What was that? Fuck you until dinner time?” He says in a joking manner. Patting your ass as he steps into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind.

Whatever this routine you’ve fallen into with Jeno is not what you’ve planned for or expected at all. Still expecting for him to harass you over some ridiculous matter instead of hiding his face in your neck.

“Hey, Jeno..”

“Hmm?” He kisses up your stomach, pushing your top lower to suck on your breasts. Often spending nights in his room with your fingers dragging through his scalp as he sleeps on your chest. Becoming his new favorite pillow.

“You’re kind of cute..” you say, nervously biting your lip. His head pops up, dawning an offended and confused look.

“What do you mean kind of?!?”

Playfully growling, Jeno pounces, nipping your cheek and kissing down to your lips. “Tell me I’m extremely cute right now!”

“Ugh! Fine, fine!” You laugh, throwing your head back to give him free room to roam your neck. Kissing over the fresh marks he never lets fade away too much. “You’re super cute!”

Jeno pinches your side, chewing lightly up to your ear with a harmless growl.

“VERY cute!!”

—————————————————-

“Jeno! How many times do I have to—“ Johnny stops at the top of the stares. Eyes landing on Jeno’s figure pressed up against yours too deep in your heated kiss for either one of you to notice his presence. He cracks his neck annoyed, crushing the wooden staircase handle in his grip as he watches. Attentive to the way that not only Jeno’s hands roam your body, but yours are stuffed beneath his shirt. Your knuckles protruding through the material as you grope and feel around.

Despite your lack of honesty, Johnny could no longer deny this thing between you and his son was hardly just blackmail. The tension in the house was far too thick, especially with Jeno doing everything possible for your mother to catch the two of you in the act.

“Jeno!” You jolt at the deep growling call, jerking harshly against the door behind your head surprised.

Jeno sighs, rolling his eyes. He stands straight only to layer featherlight kisses up your cheek. He turns to fix his father with a glare, keeping a firm hold on your waist and hips.

“What?”

Johnny crosses his arms standing large and intimidating, turning his attention to your swollen lips and throat decorated in shiny drool covered bite marks. “I’ve been calling the two of you to come down for dinner for the last 5 minutes.”

He steps closer, sporting an unusual expression of anger. Much different from his typical calm gentle demeanor.

“What’s going on here?” He inquires, tilting his head to the side in a sarcastic manner. “This hardly appears like the forced punishment I was told.”

Jeno taps your chin to lift your head up, nodding with a flat look. “Why don’t you tell daddy what’s really going on here?”

“We’re just..” you mumble, avoiding Johnny’s gaze.

“Fucking around.” Jeno finishes for you, sucking in his cheeks to subdue his irritation. “At least her mom knows about us.”

He hooks your elbow, tugging you away from the wall to follow him down the staircase. Shooting his father a glare behind your head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Doubt she’d approve of your relationship. Actually dad, I doubt anyone would genuinely approve of your relationship, I’m sure your patient's parents would find this information quite shocking.”

Jeno’s not necessarily threatening his father, but he’s starting to feel fed-up. Tired of this constant competition with his own flesh and blood. Thinking it over after he had to watch his dad fuck you again, he’s started to realize enough is enough.

Nudging your back to keep moving down the stairs, Jeno turns to face his dad, continuing to wave you off until you make your way far enough down to not hear what he has to say.

“You’re going to leave her alone now.”

Johnny smirks like a pompous dick, running the end of his tongue along the space between his lip and bottom teeth. “Is that so son? You think because you’re resorting to threatening me, I’ll give up that easily?”

“No.” Jeno says, he shakes his head. “I’m telling you to leave her alone. You had your fun, but I’m not going to let you fuck this one up. I like her, like..”

Jeno sighs, cracking his neck before glaring at his father. “I really like her. For once, be a good dad and respect my wishes, just once. Just leave her the fuck alone.”

“You really like this one?“ Johnny lets out a sarcastic laugh. Rubbing his chin in thought. “Can’t imagine what a little bitch I raised to fall for my leftovers.”

Jeno expected this. Knowing his father would rather keep this going just to rub his ego until he could no longer contain it.

“Yeah dad, I am a product of your excellent parenting skills.” Jeno starts to turn to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. Stopping to look his father over one more time. “For once put me ahead of your fucking ego, just for once. If you wanted to win, you did. Let me have a normal fucking experience for once in my life.”

Jeno doesn’t wait to hear anything else his dad may have to say. Jogging down, he kisses your cheek telling you everything’s okay.

Dinner kicks off bumpy as usual. Your mother lost in her own ego spewing on about how badly she needs a vacation, all the while missing the tight lock in Johnny’s jaw. His lack of engagement and enthusiasm, acknowledging her conversation with no more than a “humm” every now and then.

“We should start planning something for summer, when the kids are out of school. We can do something as..” she pauses. Averting her gaze to where Jeno’s head lays on your shoulder showing you something on his phone. Her nose twitching up in disgust from how happy you look. “..a family.”

Johnny perks up at that, shaking his head dramatically like he can’t handle this discussion any longer. “We have to talk.”

Concern draws your mother’s brows together. Jeno pauses the video of baby kittens for the both of you to hear what his dad has to say.

“I think this would be best for us to talk about in private.” He says clearing his throat. Johnny takes a minute looking over your neck, missing sight of the necklace he gifted you with. Adorned now by nothing but love bites from his son and a chain with the letter ‘J’ dangling. Noting your now bare earlobes as well, the way Jeno’s more sat in your chair than his own. His stomach churns wondering to himself exactly when his son one upped him..

“Darling, it’s okay! We’re a family now.” Your mother comforts him, squeezing his shoulder before he shakes his head again. Johnny removes her touch, the hollows of his cheeks twitch.

“We are not a family. In fact..” he sighs, pursing his lips as he meets your gaze thoughtfully. Nodding to himself, he winks with his right eye, out of your mother’s line of sight. “I think it’s time we end this.”

Sitting up to grab his shoulder again, your mother appears even more lost now. “Do you want dessert now honey?”

Johnny swallows, turning to fully face her. “I don’t see a future for us beyond this. It’s better we move on now. Our relationship has run its course.”

“Johnny, wha—“

“Don’t feel rushed to move out.” He stands, patting your mom on the arm. “Take all the time you need, but I can’t do this anymore. I’ll stay in one of the guest rooms until you find a new place to live.”

He turns, exiting the dining room without sparing you another look. Your mother flabbergasted as she rushes after him shouting in tears, pleading for him to change his mind.

“Wow,” Jeno raises his brows, settling back into his seat fully. Impressed and shocked that his father actually listened. After years of traumatizing him and destroying his confidence, he finally listened. “I knew that was coming but..”

“Did he just..” you’re too shocked yourself, thinking out loud under your breath. Aching from your gut to the left side of your chest. “..break up with me?”

“Hey,” Jeno tweaks your chin, poking the center until you lift your eyes to meet his. “What did I tell you about my dad?”

“But..” your lip wobbles, sniffling as the first batch of tears spill down your cheeks. “But why?! What did I do?!”

Jeno lets out a long sigh, clicking his tongue to deter his annoyance. “Hey hey,” he turns to face you, cupping your cheeks to smooth away the wet tracks pouring down past your jaw. “He’s not worth your tears. Don’t give him that satisfaction, even he would agree you’re too pretty to cry over some old fuck.”

“Wha-what about..about..us..” you sniffle, too embarrassed to hold his gaze any longer.

“I’m here.” Jeno’s cheeks light up with a bright blush reaching under his eyes. He shakes his head a few times. “I told you, my dad and I aren’t the same. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?” You ask, lower than a whisper. Thankful for Jeno taking the lead as he lifts your face up again to brush the tip of his nose against yours.

“Maybe he’s done with you, but I’m not.” Jeno smirks, licking his lips before setting a soft barely there kiss on your upper lip. “I want more.”

“Really?”

“Maybe I want..” Jeno scans over your face, his eyelids weighing down on his pupils, half masking his dark eye color. Something you’ve noticed over time whenever he’s upset or frustrated. He blinks in deep thought for a moment, rubbing your bottom lip back and forth. “I want a lot more.”

“With me? Even after..” you start to trail off. Unable to admit your wrong doings.

“I must be insane,” Jeno nods, taking in your teary eyes. “No yeah, I’m definitely insane.”

Having to accept a while ago he still wanted to be with you even if his dad was too. Knowing he may never get past that, he’s willing to give it a shot. “But..”

He traces a finger down the slope of your nose, tapping the tip as he makes way to your lips. Tracing the now damp plump lining of your mouth. He also had to accept maybe this is what he always wanted. If he had reacted differently to his initial feelings, maybe his father would have never had the chance to get to you first..

“Tell me you like me.” Jeno says with a flat expression now. That worry in his eyes faded away, concentrated on your mouths small movements with each release of air.

“Jeno,” you struggle to speak a little with his finger still rubbing at your upper lip. Feeling a heated flush fill your cheeks. “I really..I like you a lot.”

“A lot..” he smiles, seeming relieved after you say it. His shoulders slump, dipping the pad of his finger down to your tongue. He follows the action with a searing kiss, rubbing his tongue across yours. Adding a gag with his finger pushing in. Pulling it out just to create a track of saliva down your chin. He tugs your bottom lip between his teeth. Sucking until a moan tickles his eardrum.

Jeno doesn’t know what feels better anymore. Knowing he beat his father for the first time, or knowing you actually like him.

“Say it again.” He says between another overpowering kiss. Pushing his tongue in and out of your mouth until strings of drool drop to your chest. You mumble, moreso babbling incoherently ‘I like you, I like you, I like you.’ between his mouth suctioning around your tongue.

He sighs breathily, chest visibly rising and falling. Pushing a thumb inside of your mouth to suck on. He knows when his cock twitches, he’s never wanted to fuck you more than now. He knows he won’t have to wonder anymore if you’re thinking about someone else while he’s buried inside of you.

He knows now he was always right, you’d end up being his one way or another.

Jeno smiles, a cockyness lifting his lips higher at the corners. An ego his father raised and groomed to be just as terrible as his own levitates higher, practically lifting him right out of his seat.

“I know.”

a/n: this monstrosity is…..1/4th edited👹💙

#jeno smut #johnny smut #johnny suh smut #lee jeno smut #nct johnny #nct jeno #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #neopuppy fics #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct 127 fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #onek #fic: chain

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liliansun · 3 months

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haechan as your bsf who has a crush on you 🫶

(pt 4)

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lebrookestore · 5 months

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sixteen | l.dh [part i]

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x reader

Word count: 21.6k

Playlist: here

Notes from brooke: hello hi, it's been literally over a year since i posted a full length fic so view this one as something of a peace offering for my inacitivity. it fully started out as a joke drabble concept i thought of out of the blue one day but as i always do, i got carried away and here we are with another angst monster 😭 i wanted to post it as a oneshot but tumblr is a bitch as usual, so here's part one. there were a lot of complications with this fic, but i'm extremely proud of how it turned out and it took a lot of hard work and time to get done so i'm really fucking nervous to put this out there lmao but i hope you guys like it and if so please leave some feedback!! (format of this fic is heavily inspired by forever, interrupted by taylor jenkins reid)

➳ read part ii here!!

prologue – then.

There was something enchanting about the boy with the headphones at the back of the class.

You didn’t think you had seen him before today, which was noteworthy considering your town's excruciatingly small geography. The students in your class were the same ones you had gone to preschool with, and you hadn’t seen a new face within the four yellowed walls of your classroom for all the sixteen years you had lived.

This begged the question - who was this foreign yet beguiling creature that took up one of the ever-sought-out back benches of the dull classroom you inhabited every day of the week? Moreover, you wondered how he had the audacity to have his listen to music while the class was in session.

“Miss L/n?”

Snapping your head back to the front, you bit the inside of your cheek to top yourself from visibly cringing at the shrill voice of your teacher, who was presently eyeing you with an extremely disapproving expression. Much to your displeasure, all eyes were on you within seconds of that unfortunate moment, making you wish you could sink further into the wooden seat you currently occupied.

“Yes?” The moment the word left your mouth, you regretted it. Faking ignorance had never been your strong point, and it wasn’t about to come through for you now.

“Would you like to tell me what you find so interesting at the back or answer the question I just asked?”

You desperately hoped no one could see the warmth infiltrating your cheeks as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, shaking your head as solemnly as possible.

“Sorry Ma’am.”

The teacher shook her head in retirement, as if she was used to picking on you, and moved on to picking on another student, leaving you to slouch in your seat and let out a sigh of relief. You had always hated being the centre of attention, especially in embarrassing situations such as this one, and recovering from them gracefully– just like your non-existent nonchalance– wasn’t in your skillset either

You looked to your side at your classmate who delivered the answer with ease, looking frankly quite bored as she did so. It was the topper of the class– Eunsook– the girl that always seemed to be ahead of everyone else in every class possible. Her words blurred together as your eyes once again wandered to a certain stranger in the back.

Except for this time, he was looking right back at you.

This was somehow much worse than being put on the spot by your teacher, because this? This meant you had been caught on a much more personal level.

And then, as if to make things even worse, the side of his mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgement of you, and he brought a hand up to your view, waving it a little in your direction.

Positively horrified, you immediately looked away and made a mental note to never glance in his direction ever again, deciding that pretending to be paying attention in class was a good enough cover-up.

However, this proved to be quite the task, partly due to the fact that economics wasn’t the most exciting subject, and because his face had been imprinted in your mind, from the intensity of his stare to the slightest of smiles that danced on his lips while he looked at you as if you had amused him in some way.

Your teacher's frown deepened upon seeing the interaction and she cleared her throat, giving you a pointed look.

Brilliant.

“Mr Lee, please stand up.”

Oh thank god, it wasn’t you this time. Maybe you had just been imagining her looking at you.

You heard the scraping of the chair legs against the wooden floors and glanced over in its direction, only to realise that it was him she had been called upon.

Well. At least this time you had a good reason to be staring.

It gave you the opportunity to truly take him in all at once, rather than in the pathetic little increments you had to previously resort to throughout the class, sneaking a peek here and there. You studied the boy– dark brown hair that fell into his eyes, which currently wore a look of mild annoyance, striking features etched into his honeyed skin and–

Oh.

He was really cute.

“Would you care to explain why you were distracting Miss L/n?”

Fuck. You had been naive to think that you would have been let off the hook so easily, especially by this particular teacher. If you had caught her attention for the wrong reason even once, you would be the one she put on the spot for the rest of the class, and this time you had the displeasure of being her guinea pig. The worst part about it was that it was absolutely your fault.

Once again, his line of sight travelled to you, before flickering back up at the oh-so-despised teacher and shaking his head.

“It won’t happen again.”

His voice cut through the expectant silence of class and right through you, deep and with a certain patronising lilt to it. It was a stupid thought, but you thought that it suited him perfectly. A pretty voice to compliment a pretty face.

“It better not,” the teacher warned sternly. “Since the opportunity has so conveniently arisen for us, I will now introduce you to the rest. Students, this is Donghyuck, and he’s new to the class.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air for a moment before she motioned for him to sit back down.

Just as she was about to resume her teaching, the bell rang and saved you from any further humiliation. The rustle of books closing and backpacks being unzipped carried through the room, and you joined in, collecting your things and getting to your feet in preparation to leave.

The light patter of footsteps closened in, followed by a voice. “Hey.”

You looked up from arranging your books, fingers digging into the material of your bag when you realised it was him who had approached you in all his glory– this time up close. It also gave you the opportunity to take note of his outfit, a graphic shirt lazily tucked into jeans, and although it was nothing special, somehow the air he held made it seem a lot more special than it was.

Like something about him made the ordinary feel extraordinary.

“Hello,” You managed to get out, putting a hold on that thought as you met his gaze for the third time. Immediately you regretted not having cleared your throat first, despising the hoarse undertone that accompanied the singular word you had uttered. You had hoped that your second impression would surpass the first, that being extremely unfavourable, but it seemed like the world was not on your side when it came to this boy.

This new, mysterious boy you had no right to be so oddly fixated on. A smile painted itself upon his mouth as he did a once over of you, causing you to feel as if the pale blue shirt you had worn that day was much too hot under the collar, and you had to resist the urge to reach up and unbutton the top to cool yourself down. You wished you could tie your hair up among other things, and tucked your hands behind your back, playing with the hair tie you always kept on your right wrist nervously, expelling some of that anxious energy that had invaded your body while keeping him in the dark about it.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Donghyuck.” His name sounded infinitely better when he pronounced it, its two syllables ringing in your ears. Nodding carelessly, you lifted your backpack off from the table and slung one strap over your shoulder.

“I heard.”

That answer earned you an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

Right. It seemed that the manners your mother had drilled into your very psyche had finally come to fruition as you realised he was waiting for you to introduce yourself back.

“I’m Y/n.” Your fingernails dug into the strap of your bag, the sweat accumulating in the palm of your hand brushing off against it. This position was one you had never been in before, nerves all over the place over an attractive stranger, but his unabashedness had unnerved you immensely, leaving you with no choice but to grasp for your words. “It’s…nice to meet you too.”

If the option of the ground opening up beneath your feet and swallowing you whole was available, you would have taken it without any hesitation. You detested the awkward pause you had inserted in the middle of your statement, it made you sound flighty and moronic, as if you couldn’t put together basic conversation phrases.

He didn’t seem to mind though, the slightest twitch of his lips being the only indication that he had noticed your scatterbrained state– an indication you had missed on your end.

“I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he sauntered off. You watched as his figure retreated through the doorway as you stood there, dumbfounded at the nature of the interaction. More importantly, a singular question lingered in your mind, the question of how he had managed to get away with using his headphones in class.

It would go unanswered.

i] now.

There was something so distinctly you about the woman that sat across Donghyuck.

He focused on the different items displayed on the menu he held in front of him, refraining from glancing at the woman for the third time in thirty seconds. He was supposed to have chosen what he wanted to order a solid five minutes ago, but his composure had been completely thrown off and decision fatigue was quickly setting in.

“I’ll have the steak.”

Her name was Kim Yeonmi, twenty-four in age just like him and very pretty. An elegant dark blue dress donned her figure, her dark, wispy hair tied up into a bun with a few strands of hair let loose at the sides to effectively frame her face. Perhaps it was a little too much to have a first date at a fancy restaurant such as this, with its ostentatious ambience, but he wasn’t too sure of how dating worked at all.

There was just one person he had experience with.

She looked like she was enjoying the extravagance though, bobbing her head to his choice as she gave the menu another once over. “Just give me another minute.”

He smiled politely. “Take as much time as you need.”

She looked nothing like you, but the way she muttered the names of each dish back to herself under her breath had thrown him back in time, reminding him of how you used to do the very same.

“It makes it easier to choose when I say them out loud”, you had explained one day to him. “The one that sounds better is the one you pick.”

A foolproof strategy according to you, one you defended with all your might no matter how many times he teased you about it being ridiculous. He recalled the way you’d glare at him, hands resting low on your hips and an exasperated look on your face, the one he had grown so fond of. It was something he’d tease you about, how he loved the pissed-off look you’d give him even though he was the culprit for its showing pretty much every time.

He missed the dish Yeonmi finally settled on, snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, gesturing the waiter over to place the order. When it came to her order, he let her speak for herself, a good save.

He had to get his act together.

“So,” he began, leaning back a little in his seat in an attempt to relax. “What do you do, Yeonmi?”

The woman took a sip of the wine that they had previously ordered before answering, “I work in finance.”

The information barely latched into his memory, an absent-minded nod from his end to make it look like he was genuinely listening. Like he wasn’t observing the delicate messiness of her hairdo– messiness that was clearly intentional, done for the illusion of being effortless. It reminded him of how your hair always seemed to be half out of your ponytail, but it shouldn’t have, because that had never been intentional.

Donghyuck didn’t like the way your memory haunted him so insistently at such an inconvenient time, and he didn’t understand why it did either.

“I’m a music producer,” he informed her, a simper making a show on his face at the mention of his occupation. It was a thing of pride for him, the amount of work he had put in to say those words in the same sentence as the word ‘successful’ was astronomical, but it had all been worth it in the end. Music had been his life's blood ever since he was a child and the fact that he now was able to work with it every day and it was the reason he could take care of his mother meant the world to him.

New York baby, it made dreams flicker to life. The move he made at merely eighteen had been the best decision he had ever made.

It hadn’t come without its sacrifices though. After all, no risk, no reward.

The food arrived, piping hot and delicious enough to act as an excuse for his distant demeanour. He was present enough to make light conversation, doing his best to store all the little bits of information about Yeonmi in the back of his mind on the off chance of this first date turning into a few more.

And maybe, hopefully, he’d be less of an ass about them. Maybe this could go somewhere.

The two walked out of the restaurant, Donghyuck holding the door open for her while she exited. A light pattering of pink dusted the woman's cheeks at his consistent shows of gentlemanliness, but it went wholly unnoticed by him, who refused to let her catch a cab from the busy streets of the city, and insisted he drop her back to her place of residence.

How could one not fall for Lee Donghyuck when he was just so charming even when he didn’t intend to be?

Pop songs played at a low volume through the radio, the typical ones that played on a Friday evening to make the daily evening commute a little easier for those coming back from their workplaces, but heightened by the fact that the weekend was at large. The ride was a pleasant one, the music allowing the silences in conversation to be comfortable. Yeonmi snuck a shy glance at Donghyuck through the rearview mirror, noticing the way his long eyelashes framed his eyes that were focused on the road before them.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel rhythmically, humming along the song that played as Yeonmi spoke about how she had been obsessed with that very one a few weeks ago. She seemed to be infinitely better at traversing the treacherous waters of conversation, seemingly not even noticing how withdrawn he seemed to be.

Her chattering also reminded him of you, though a little less interesting. It was a tad comical, how he had the audacity to compare every little thing about her to the one person he had pushed away.

“That’s my apartment complex.”

He parked the car and got out of it, circled the vehicle to get on her side, and opened the door for her, causing a pleased smile to appear on Yeonmi’s face. Then, he walked her up to the lobby of the building, exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes with a muttering of a hopeful ‘see you again’ thrown into the mix for good measure.

And with that, she was gone, and Donghyuck was alone once again. The sky was a dark blue, splattered with a few glimmering stars amidst its midnight canvas, the moon hiding behind the misty clouds. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and let out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding in, shutting his eyes and counting slowly to ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

It had been eight years.

Eight years since he had let go of you, opened the palm of his hand and watched as yours slipped right through his fingers. Sometimes, he could still feel the ghost of your skin linger on his fingertips.

Eight years was a hell of a lot of time, and time was said to heal all wounds. Time should have let him focus on his date instead of thinking of you and the little habits you had that had burned themselves into his memory.

Time was a fucking liar.

It was pathetic really. He had managed to not think of you for six of those years, save for the occasional moments when he had had one too many drinks and the alcohol had scrounged up cherished moments of the two of you from the vault of his mind.

But he was completely and utterly sober right now, almost too sober, he thought, for the wine he had consumed earlier hadn’t done much at all. The cold air nipped at the exposed skin of his face and face, grounding him to reality with its sudden harshness, another reminder that too much time had passed for him to be doing this. He had let go of the right to do so.

And yet, he found himself thinking of the only girl he had ever loved that windy Friday eve, her smiling face washed into the indigo skies.

The scent of a corporate office clung to your clothes, carrying itself with you as you inserted your keys into the lock of your door, twisted them, and pushed them open to reveal the solace of your apartment. You entered, slipped off your shoes and trudged into the living room where you flopped down on your couch, letting your muscles fully relax for the first time in eight hours.

“Y/n? Are you home?”

Lifting your head limply, you let your eyelids flutter open to peek over the backrest of the sofa, only to be met with your roommate standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile seemingly stuck onto her made-up face. “Oh, it is you! How was work?”

You gave yourself a second to admire her handiwork from where you were sat (read: sprawled out), wishing you had the ability to do a perfect winged liner as she could.

“Tiring,” you complained with a sigh, feeling as if your bones were going to disintegrate into dust any moment.

She tutted sympathetically, retreating back into the kitchen. You heard the water running for a few seconds, and then she emerged again, walking over to you and handing you a glass of water. “Poor thing.”

Kim Yeonmi had been your roommate for the last two years, ever since a mutual friend of yours put the two of you in contact when you had been searching for accommodation after college that fits your budget. She was a warm person, sweet and helpful whenever she could be, and the two of you had hit it off from the moment you moved in, the arrangement blossoming into a fruitful friendship for the both of you.

“Bless you,” you took a sip of the water, straightening up your position to give her space beside you. She had even remembered to add a few ice cubes, the cool liquid revived your tired senses and cleared your mind.

She sat down, tucking her legs under herself as she reached out her hand, resting it on the top of your head and rubbing it comfortingly. You leaned into her touch, closed your eyes and savoured the quiet moment of solitude– the first one you have had today.

Then you opened your eyes and turned to her.

“So how was it?”

A bashful smile decorates her crimson-painted lips as she averted her gaze from you in an attempt to hide the flush that was quickly making itself known on her face. She cleared her throat, answering in the most casual and non-committal way she could. “Good.”

You snickered at her response to your simple question, “Seems like it was more than just ‘good’.”

“Well….”

Yeonmi sighed, leaning back into the cushions properly as she got comfortable and thats how you knew you had her.

“Come on, give me the details!” You disregarded your fatigue, slapping her arm playfully to convince her to spill. She laughed at your eagerness, a laugh that was laced with girlish merriment, and rubbed the back of her neck, the smile on her face not slipping from its place even once.

“It was amazing,” she confessed, much to your delight. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a great date.”

You had witnessed her stressing over this date of hers since yesterday and had caught glimpses of her nerves this morning before you left for work. To help ease those nerves, you had helped pick out her outfit, made sure to respond to every one of her manic texts to you between work and called her back during your break. You were overjoyed that it had gone well for her.

This was the first date she had gone on in an entire year after her last relationship had come to an end. It was a messy breakup, leaving you with an extremely shaken Yeonmi who, in her grief, had vowed to never love someone again. Thankfully, that phase was one she got over quickly, and you were proud of how she had managed to heal and put herself out there once again.

God knows you had tried and failed.

She began describing her evening, starting with how her extremely charming date had already been waiting at the restaurant they had agreed upon. She had met this man on a dating app- the name of which she refused to tell you unless it turned out to be more than just a dead end, and after a few weeks of talking, they had finally decided to go on a date, something she had been anticipating for a while now. You listened, squealing and giggling along with her at the appropriate times to reciprocate her evident excitement.

“And you know what was so cute?” She continued, talking a little faster now that she had warmed up and was in the thick of describing the date. “He seemed a little distracted like he was just as nervous as I was about the entire thing, and that just put me to ease, you know? A suave guy is nice and all, and don’t get me wrong, he was confident, but that slight nervousness showed me that he liked me as well.”

Her gushing was endearing, and you nodded with a smile. “He sounds perfect.”

“Oh he’s an absolute dreamboat Y/n, seriously, I don’t know where or how I managed to stumble upon him, but I must have done something good in my past life to deserve this.”

You placed your now empty glass on the little table next to the couch, settling in closer to her. “You always do good, you had this good karma coming.”

“Oh I forgot to tell you the best part,” She looked at you with a serious look on her face, but her eyes were practically twinkling. “He likes Taylor Swift. He was singing along to her songs when he dropped me home.”

Your jaw dropped. “Now I know he really is perfect.” You grinned, the expression quickly morphing into a yawn as your exhaustion finally caught up to you again, and in good timing, considering she had finished talking about her date. She looked over at the clock and then back at you.

“You should go to bed, you’ve had a long day.”

You wholeheartedly agreed with this suggestion, stood up on your feet and stretched your arms out above your head. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna call it a night here.” Picking up your bag that had been strewn out across the floor, you walked to the doorway that led to your room, before turning around and facing her once again.

“Hey, one last thing.”

She gazed up at you in the midst of removing her earrings and hummed in acknowledgement, “Hmm?”

“What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“You never told me his name,” You shook your head in amusement. “I think you were too caught up in all your excitement.” For the past half an hour, she had just been referring to him in only pronouns, something you had just realised.

“Oh,” her lips formed an ‘o’ shape in surprise at herself. “Donghyuck. His name is Lee Donghyuck.”

And just like that, your entire world fell apart.

It's funny how a simple name can knock the air out of your lungs.

That was an understatement. That name– his name– was anything but simple. The three syllables that constituted it stood for so much, things said and left unsaid, buried in the grave of your mind.

The unadulterated shock you felt at the name she uttered caused your already aching legs to feel even more unstable than they did, and your knees nearly gave out underneath you. You steadied yourself by leaning against the doorframe, a shaky breath escaping your lips as an emotion that you hadn’t felt so strongly in a very long time ripped through you.

Despair.

No. No, it couldn’t be–

For a moment, you could almost see his eyes looking at you, one moment with such affection and the next with more sorrow than you could ever begin to describe. I’m sorry.

“Y/n?”

You gripped the doorframe, feeling as if the rug had been swept from right under your feet, and focused your eyes on Yeonmi on the couch, who was now staring at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

How many times had you lied while answering this question when it came to him? You had lost count, so there wouldn’t be any harm in doing it once more. Sucking in a harsh gulp of air that hit the back of your throat, you forced a smile. “Yep. Goodnight.”

You choked out the words, spun on your heel and stumbled to your door, grabbing and twisting the doorknob in haste, your entire body weight leaning on the door as it swung open. Practically tripping over your own feet, you shut it quickly, both hands fastened to the knob as you rested your forehead against the door, using it as support for your body that suddenly seemed several pounds heavier.

It had been eight years since you had heard another person say his name, the sound of it cutting through reality itself, digging into your skin and latching onto it. Perhaps that was the cause of excess weight that seemed to drag you down at the very moment.

Fuck.

You took a minute to wonder what God was sitting above and laughing at your sorry state.

Using the door behind your back as a guide, you slid down to the ground, pulling your knees closer to your chest and interlocking your fingers in front of them, forming your very own cocoon. You pathetically hoped that it would shield you from the torrent of your own emotions.

Rationally speaking, this was most definitely a coincidence. You were sure that there were several people around the world with the first name ‘Donghyuck’ and last name ‘Lee’ – after all, it was a pretty common last name to have. The chances of this guy, Yeonmi’s perfect dreamy date being your Donghyuck were extremely improbable.

Your Donghyuck. You almost laughed bitterly. He hadn’t been your Donghyuck for a long, long time.

You didn’t know if he had ever truly been yours to begin with.

I’m so sorry, Y/n.

You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing, only to snap them open immediately when the image of his eyes once again rippled through the forefront of your mind.

This was ridiculous, you knew, the extremity of your reaction was wholly uncalled for. It had been eight years and one would think you would have been better at controlling your emotions, especially when it came to something, someone, that was so heavily stuck in the past.

It turned out that you were also stuck in the past. The way your legs resembled those of a newborn giraffe a few minutes ago was enough proof of that.

A groan escaped you, one that was a mix of frustration and distress. You couldn’t quite place the new ache that had emerged in your chest, a dull throb that felt icy cold, yet strangely familiar. You reasoned with yourself, your thoughts waging a silent war among each other as you laid out all the reasons why it couldn’t and wouldn’t be the man that lingered in your life like a poltergeist you didn’t have the energy to exercise.

You could hear the soft padding of Yeonmi's footsteps outside your door as she made her way to her own room and the soft click of her lock as she retired for the night. Slowly, you let yourself relax and mentally gather all the strength you possessed right then to pick yourself up from the ground and carry yourself to your bed, the usually short walk feeling like a thousand steps away. The soft cotton sheets welcomed your weary body, alleviating the weight that currently sat upon your shoulders and providing you with some temporary relief.

It was late, and it never did anyone any good to think about things beyond their control in the intimidating silence of the night. Letting your eyes close for real this time, you turned onto your side and tried to quiet your mind.

But there was still a small part of you that thought back to then.

ii] then.

He liked cookies-and-cream flavoured ice cream.

You gripped the complimentary wooden spoon that came with the cup of ice cream you bought from the convenience store, staring at the slightly melted ice cream that you held with your other hand. Donghyuck was just about done with his, a triumphant smile creeping up on his face every time he glanced at you.

“I told you.”

“Don’t gloat.”

“But your reactions are so cute,” he teased, taking another spoonful of his ice cream. Your biology class had a pop quiz that day, and Donghyuck had tried to help you with an answer you weren’t too sure about. However, his answer sounded even more incorrect than yours, and he made you promise to buy him ice cream if he ended up being correct. “I told you the right answer but no, you insisted you were right and lost the mark.”

The compliment stung a little, or perhaps that was just the summer heat prickling the back of your neck.

“I’m not affected by that,” you huffed, “I’m wondering why you chose such cheap ice cream of all the ones you could have. We just got it and mine’s already melting.”

He shrugged. “It’s not the ice cream that matters, just the fact that you had to buy it for me to symbolise me being right.”

“But there's a Häagen-Dazs right down the street. Sakura and Chenle would have immediately made me buy them that.” Your protests and comparisons seemed to fall on deaf ears as he continued to enjoy his ice cream soup, leaving you to roll your eyes at his flippancy.

“I don’t want to run you dry, now do I?” That surprised you, and it was apparent to him by the bewildered look in your now-wide eyes. Whenever you offered to pay for your other friends, they always jumped at the chance to exploit you to the best of their abilities, taking full advantage of the opportunity.

There truly wasn’t anyone like Lee Donghyuck.

You weren’t quite sure how the friendship between the two of you had blossomed, for it had been such a natural thing that it completely slipped you by. The occasional hello turned into walking in the hallways to classes together, texting each other and hanging out after school while eating cheap ice cream. It was just so easy with him, activities you would find boring with others were enjoyable in his presence.

It was unfathomable, how everything about him was so captivating. He carried himself with an effortless aura, as if unaware of how magnetic and goddamn beautiful he was because he truly was one of the most stunning people you had ever set your eyes upon in your short life. Oftentimes, you would catch yourself just admiring the gentle slope of his nose and rise of his cheekbones, and how his hair fell so perfectly.

And how could you forget his eyes, ones that you had the privilege of being under the gaze of, more so than others? His eyes were your favourite part of him, they left you mesmerised with their fiery intensity and simultaneous gentleness.

“Your ice cream has completely melted,” he pointed out, nudging your side lightly with his elbow, effectively snapping you out of your self-induced reverie. You looked at your cup, the realisation that you had been aimlessly stirring its contents hitting you.

“Oh.”

“What were you daydreaming about now?” He asked, mirth lacing his voice as he looked on at you affectionately. Over the past few weeks that he had been growing closer to you in, he had started picking up on your little habits.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Nothing.”

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable,” he cocked an eyebrow. “You were staring at me weirdly.”

Warmth flooded your cheeks, you had been caught due to your carelessness, and yet you couldn’t help but feel a little offended at his choice of words. “Weirdly?”

The edge to your voice gave away how you felt at that moment, and alarmed, Donghyuck shook his head, tossing the empty plastic cup in the recycle bin next to him. “No– well yes– but not in a bad way! Good weird.” In truth, he liked taking up your attention, he would sit forever to dissect the flecks of gold that appeared in your eyes when the sun's rays fell into them, and the lingering emotion he couldn’t quite explain.

“Good weird,” you repeated softly, looking away from him and letting that sink in. The apples of his cheeks were a light rosy shade now as he fidgeted, hoping he had successfully mitigated any possible insult he had accidentally bestowed upon you. He truly hadn’t meant to, there wasn’t an ounce of weirdness about the situation in the slightest, except for the muddled feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach when you looked at him like that.

“You’re the weird one,” you deadpanned finally, and he shrugged in resignment, plucking the cup out of your hands, much to your displeasure, “Hey, I’m not done–”

“There’s no point in finishing this, it’s not ice cream anymore.”

It landed next to his cookies-and-cream cup in the bin, his matter-of-fact words flying into the wind. You didn’t bother arguing, letting your hands fall limply to your sides as you looked at him again, noting how the orange glow of the sky crept through the strands of his hair, framing his head like he was a saint of some sort.

“I’ll walk you home,” he stated, taking a few steps before stopping and turning around, waiting for you to join him. He was dependable and someone to trust, you thought briefly, biting back a smile at him. Donghyuck pushed down the fluster that was creeping up on him again.

The sunset over your little town, painting the sky in more brilliant colours as the two of you walked underneath it, knuckles silently brushing against each other as it faded to black.

Donghyuck walked into his house, a Taylor Swift song playing through the headphones that he currently had on. While he had been walking you home, the two of you had engaged in a lively conversation about the different musical artists you each enjoyed, which eventually spiralled into an entire monologue on your end about why you loved the aforementioned singer so much. He found the way you spoke so animatedly, your voice brimming with passion and insistence, extremely adorable, and clearly, you had excellent convincing abilities because there he was, listening to her.

He slipped off his shoes, placed them by the door and sighed. The hallway of his new house felt nothing like a home, but the feeling of unfamiliarity that came with it was all too customary for him.

“Donghyuck?”

His mother's lilting voice reached his ears from where she was, and he followed it. “I’m home.”

“Oh good, good,” she came into view as he made his way into the kitchen, slipping the headphones around his neck and opening a cupboard to get himself a glass. “I was thinking we could watch a movie today. I don’t have any work right now.”

He poured himself some water, thinking over her offer. He knew her intentions were good, she just wanted to spend time with her son and his answer should have been a yes, but he shook his head anyway. “I have a lot of homework to finish.”

“Oh.” She tried her best to disguise the disappointment that laced her voice for his sake, but he could hear it as clear as day. “Alright, I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

He nodded, finished his water and walked upstairs to his room, taking two steps at a time to reach there as quickly as possible. Pushing the door open, he reached a hand out to the switchboard and then hesitated.

Donghyuck didn’t know which switches corresponded with anything.

For some people, this was an inconvenience at best, but for him, it was a sentiment he was unfortunately very used to. A painful reminder of the unpredictability his life had always possessed. In his last house, he had just about figured out the pattern of which switches were for specific items, but now he was once again left feeling stranded.

And he couldn’t help but blame his mother for it.

It was the same cycle playing out before him again, the move and the new town, the new faces that he knew would probably not mean much to him in a year when he found himself in a new place, thinking about how he wished that just once, he would be allowed to enjoy the trivial luxury of knowing the switches well enough.

One would think he’d be used to all the moving, but then again, he was just a teenager.

He also knew it wasn’t truly his mother’s fault – she was simply doing what she needed to in order to support the both of them and being a single mother was no doubt hard on her – but Donghyuck was only sixteen. It was much easier to criticise and resent her than to try and understand for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had been so understanding for so long, that now even the concept of trying to be sympathetic sounded exhausting.

Every year he’d walk through life without caring much for anyone he came across. Friendships didn’t mean anything to him for they were so fleeting, and the people who promised to stay in contact with him would stop calling and texting within two weeks of him moving. He had realised that letting himself get attached to someone was a waste of time and energy he didn’t have anymore, and had slowly taught himself to isolate himself so that every move didn’t hurt as much.

So why was it that for the first time in what felt like a long time, he felt a pinch in his heart when he thought about moving again?

And why was it your face flickering through his mind that seemed to cause it?

In complete and unadulterated truth, he had never felt such a pull towards someone as he did to you. It had always been so easy for him to keep people at a distance, but with you, he forgot about having to do that. If anything, he wanted to keep you as close as possible. You were something he hadn’t accounted for.

He flicked the first switch on. The fan whirred to life.

Donghyuck would learn the pattern soon enough.

iii] now.

The days passed quickly as they usually did, you pushed any lingering doubts about the man Yeonmi was dating to the far periphery of your mind, burying yourself in your work. You were working towards a promotion you had had your eye on for a while now, and it was more important than anything else.

But it was hard not to notice the little things that had changed about Yeonmi, the way she smiled more and how you’d often catch her hiding a grin when she glanced at her phone. It was difficult to ignore how she’d dress up and go on her dates, especially when she so often asked for your opinion and help, and you were forced to swallow your pride and assist her.

You were being idiotic, you knew, which was why you reminded yourself that this could not have been the boy you once knew.

You sighed, shutting your laptop and placing your hands on the edge of your desk, pushing yourself to your feet and stretching. It was technically your day off, but you were still swarmed with online meetings and a few dozen emails that you had to send out. Letting your hands fall, you pulled at the hair tie around your wrist and gathered your hair into a ponytail, walking away from your home desk and walking to your bed.

It was getting pretty late and Yeonmi still wasn’t home. From what you knew, she had gone to a dinner party her date had invited her to, and she had warned you she would be late and to not stay up, but it was in your genes to worry. You wouldn’t get sleep until you knew she was safe and at home in one piece anyway.

But you supposed shutting your eyes for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Just as you were about to slip into a slumber, you heard the faintest clicking of the door to your apartment, and along with the unmistakable peal of Yeonmi’s laughter, it woke you up. Blinking rapidly, you forced yourself to leave the comfort of your linen sheets and get to your feet, rubbing your eyes in order to wake yourself up a little bit and grabbing the robe you hung behind your door to combat the slight chill that the midnight air possessed before making your way to the living room.

You flicked the switch on as you walked into the room, squinting in discomfort at the sudden shift of lighting, lips parting in surprise.

There at the doorway stood an extremely giggly Yeonmi, the smile on her face looking like it had been tattooed on her lips, an arm placed against the wall to make sure she didn’t fall over, the other stuck in an attempt to take off one of her heels. When she failed and almost stumbled, another giggle left her, apparently unaware of the fact she was about to fall over.

Alarm rang through you as you took a panicked step forward, instinctively reaching out to try and catch her even though you weren’t close enough to do so. “Yeon-”

“I got you”

You froze as an arm slipped around her waist, pulling her back to her previous position and steadying her, and while you were glad your roommate’s fate of faceplanting into the wooden flooring had been thwarted, it was the last thing on your mind.

The first was that voice.

You knew it like the back of your hand, and no matter long it had been, you would never forget it. Even if it had changed a little, a little deeper than it used to sound eight years ago, unfamiliar with the amount of time that had passed and yet so recognizable for you.

Faltering, you slowly shifted your line of sight up to catch a glimpse of the person, only for him to do the exact same thing, presumably as a response to you saying your roommate's name and it was like everything around you had paused just for this moment.

You knew those eyes.

Eyes that were currently filled with swirls of confusion and surprise, only to rapidly thaw into a horrified look of realisation, his arm around another girl that just happened to have been the very one you had to face every morning.

The world truly did have a cruel sense of humour. You stared back at him, unable to tear your vision away from him no matter what you did.

Lee Donghyuck, in the flesh after eight long years.

It was almost unsettling, how he looked the exact same he used to. Of course, there were differences, but they were all superficial in nature. His hair was cut slightly differently, no longer in the neater hairstyle he had kept as a teenager but a little longer at the back. He was wearing clothes you had never seen before, but that was to be expected, and he had his arm around someone that was decidedly not you.

But other than that, it was him. Those stupid, splendid eyes of his, those very features that had been burned into your memory and had stubbornly refused to leave no matter how hard you tried to evict them.

It felt as if someone was standing right on your chest, relentless in their approach and crushing your lungs, every pint of air inside it being zapped out as if it was never needed there in the first place. You briefly entertained the idea of walking back into your room and staying there for the next ten years.

“Y/n!”

The spell cast upon the two of you had successfully been broken by your intoxicated roommate, who, in her state, had absolutely no perception of social cues at the moment, and certainly not of the thick tension that had descended upon your living room. She broke out of his grasp, stumbling towards you without even a semblance of grace and threw her arms around your neck in a death grip of a hug, only succeeding in contributing towards your current breathing problems.

Taken aback by her rather abrupt display of affection, you awkwardly pat her back a couple of times, managing to choke out the words, “Thats me.” Your attempt at adding a jovial lilt to your voice royally failed because the only thing on your mind was something rather embarrassing.

It was how absolutely terrible you probably looked right then.

It was silly no doubt, for you to be pondering your appearance at that specific point in time. If you were morally a better person, perhaps you would have been thinking about how you were relieved that Yeonmi was safe, but the only thing you could think of was the fact that your hair most definitely looked like a nest and that you were dressed in a ratty old sweatshirt that you had owned since your freshman year of college and pyjama pants.

They had peppa pig on them. If not for the fact that they were the most comfortable thing you owned, you would have burned them after this.

“Oh, right,” she giggled when she pulled away and saw your eyes trained on the man she had brought with her, hands on your shoulders to make sure she didn’t fall, “This is Donghyuck!”

You glanced at her and then back at him, trying desperately to swallow the lump in your throat. “Right.”

Right? You mentally cussed yourself out for that lacklustre response and cleared your throat in order to save yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

Maybe he didn’t realise you caught the split second of confusion that passed through his eyes, but you had, catching yourself before you winced out of mild guilt for putting him in such a difficult position. Nevertheless, he played along like he was in on the plan all along, straightening up and responding.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Two strangers by choice met again that night, heartstrings that had once been intertwined and subsequently torn apart to die out, reviving with just a simple glance and a few words. He looked at you and you looked at him, forgetting for a moment that the girl standing between the two of you was the biggest obstacle of them all.

And for just a moment there, you were sixteen.

Donghyuck left a few minutes later, once awkward goodbye’s had been exchanged and Yeonmi was safely in your care, sipping on a large glass of water in her bed.

Being around him again, even if it had only been for a few meagre minutes, had completely shattered your self-composure. Your heart was beating too quickly, your adrenaline was on an all-time high and your ability to be discreet had evaded you entirely, resulting in times when you caught yourself looking at him a beat too long.

He seemed to be having the exact opposite reaction, barely even looking at you after the initial shock of it being you standing there wore off. His eyes seemed to be glued to your tipsy roommate, talking to her in a gentle tone as he bid her farewell and promised to message her the next day.

The fact that he seemed so normal infuriated you a little bit. It shouldn’t have, you knew that very well, but you simply couldn’t understand how you were a certified mess while he seemed to be so composed, acting as if you weren’t even there. It was wholly childish to expect him to be stuck on you, but then again, you had suffered that very fate, so why couldn’t have he?

And so there you were, sitting on the edge of Yeonmi’s bed, wide awake as you watched her finish her water, just barely making out the emotion that had resurfaced within you- the green-eyed monster responsible for your churning stomach with every look at your friend.

Why?

Because the way he had taken care of her tonight was all too reminiscent of how he used to do the same for you.

“What do you think of him?”

Her words were only slightly slurred now, and you blinked, registering her question. She stared at you expectantly, eagerly awaiting your judgement over her date.

“He’s nice.”

She frowned. “That’s it? Nice?”

You shut your eyes, desperately wishing you could skip over this question somehow, but when you opened them she was evidently still waiting for you to finish. You breathed in.

Now, what did you think of Lee Donghyuck?

You had thought Donghyuck was the most wonderful person you had ever met when you were a teenager, the one person who everything seemed so natural with. He was someone you thought was home, a best friend and a lover all rolled into one. But he had eyes that tortured you, a past interlaced so intricately with yours that lingered to this very day and connections to someone unbearably close to you in the present.

Yeonmi placed her glass on her bedside table and sighed contentedly. “I really like him, Y/n.”

You hadn’t heard her say something like that about a guy since her last relationship, and she had the same simper on her face that she did back then too. There was no way you could bring yourself to even think about attempting to ruin that.

You breathed out.

“I think he’s great,” you started, fingers curling around her cotton bedsheets and squeezing, doing your utmost best to keep your voice level. “He was really good with you tonight.”

The bitter irony of it all hit you, how the guy that let Yeonmi finally move on was the very same that made it impossible for you to do so. Her smile widened while your stomach grew heavier, dragging you down as you walked to your own room later that night, your dreams tainted with images of a boy you once loved and a stranger who looked the same.

iv] then.

Being sick did not suit you.

To say that you were miserable was an understatement. If one had to accurately describe what the situation felt like to you, they would have to include a bit about you feeling as if you were losing your mind. You did not appreciate the light-headedness that you experienced everything you stood up, or the throbbing head and blocked nose.

You definitely didn’t like being stuck in your bed practically all day.

Slumped against your pillow and underneath your sheets, you sighed for what must have been the twentieth time that minute. At first, you had no problem with being able to skip a day of school, thinking that you would have a relaxing day of rest. This, of course, included catching up and binge-watching all your favourite shows and taking a well-deserved nap to catch up on sleep that your chemistry teacher had stolen from you via the dozens of assignments she gave out every week.

Your glorious plans came to a stark halt when your mother decided that you needed to rest your eyes to get better, which meant that you had been forbidden even thinking about opening your laptop or staring at your phone for too long. This had left you to your own devices, and once you had slept for two hours, the ability to do so seemed to disappear.

Staring at the ceiling grew old pretty quickly.

The soft creaking of the door to your room had you quickly drop your phone and haphazardly push it underneath the blanket, plastering on the most innocent look you could as you stared expectantly, waiting for your mother to come into your view. She did, a glimmer of satisfaction appearing in her eyes at the sight of you without any electronics around you.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” Your answer elicited a smile from her, and she continued, unaware of how you had disobeyed her orders and hidden the evidence.

“Great, because you have a guest.” She opened your door further to reveal your guest and there stood Donghyuck, his school bag slung over his shoulder as he looked into your room, offering you a smile and a small wave.

You stared back at him, relief and mild horror washing through you at the same time somehow, wholly displeased at the fact that he was looking at you while you barely resembled a human being. The Kleenex visible at the end of your bed did nothing to soothe your embarrassment. The relief stemmed from the fact that perhaps the only reason you had not been too pleased about missing a day of school was that you wouldn’t see Donghyuck.

Well, at least that was sorted.

“Sakura told me you were sick,” he explained as your mother left, walking into your room and looking around. Suddenly, you were ever so slightly embarrassed by the pictures you had stuck up on your wall in the fifth grade, knowing that you were smiling a toothy grin in each and every one of them. While you hoped he wouldn’t stare at them too intently, you noticed the small brown paper bag he was holding.

Seeing the raise of your eyebrow, he grabbed the chair next to your desk and dragged it towards your bed, sitting down and keeping the bag on your bedside table. “So I got you something to cheer you up.”

Your curiosity was piqued by that, and you sat up straighter, eyeing the bag even more intently now. Donghyuck bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too hard because of how adorable you were, your nose and cheeks tinged due to whatever sickness you had been afflicted with, but your eyes were still lively. Deciding to put you out of your misery, he took out the contents from the bag, carefully watching for your reaction.

And you did disappoint in the slightest, the sides of your mouth curling upwards in joy at the fact that he had gotten you your favourite doughnut and drink. The fact that he remembered it exactly made you grin the same grin you had plastered on your walls, taking the food from him and watching as he brought out his own favourite combination.

“I fucking love you,” you declared, overjoyed at having something with actual flavour to eat that day, before realising the words that had left your lips. Quickly, you took a bite out of the doughnut to cover it up and make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. And it shouldn’t have been because friends said those three words to each other all the time. It was normal.

Right?

Of course, most friends did not feel their hearts beating rapidly every time the other person was near.

Donghyuck caught what you said, and for a moment it felt as if there was a lump in his throat. It wasn’t a new feeling when it came to you, the hesitancy to say something came and went as did his nerves around you. Swallowing heavily, he forced out, “Oh so you love me when I get you food. Got it.”

The teasing tone of his voice helped you relax, but if you had glanced at his face you would have realised it didn’t match his expression, which was just as tense as you were due to your slight slip-up. He couldn’t help but hope there was a hint of genuine truth in the statement.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And with that, the tension dissipated. He took a bite out of his donut and you took a sip of your drink. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward by any means, but you felt the need to fill it anyway.

“It’s not just because you bought me food, okay?” You began earnestly. “You’ve also always been there for me. I appreciate that more than you know.” Then you paused, but not for long, adding to your previous statements, “But doughnuts definitely don’t hurt, so you’ve made a sick girl very happy. Thank you.”

When you finished, you found him looking at you with an inexplicable look on his visage. The softness to his gaze had a flush rapidly rise up your neck, the simper playing on his lips laced with a hint of mirth. It was then you realised you had said a lot of nothing to him in the span of five minutes, igniting embarrassment to bubble up inside of you.

God, you would never understand how he managed to do this to you without doing anything at all.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m rambling. My dad says it’s a bad habit I need to get rid of.”

You mentally chastised yourself. There you were once again, giving him even more information he definitely didn’t ask for. In fact, in the past ten minutes, Donghyuck hadn’t said a word, it had just been you speaking. Burying under your covers to hide yourself was the first thing you wanted to do, but that would have made you look like even more of an idiot.

Why did you care so much about what he thought? The two of you were friends, he was probably closer to you than your other friends you had known since the first grade, and yet you were so deathly scared of somehow weirding him out or saying something wrong.

If only you knew what was going through his mind at that second, the sheer fondness for you that had taken over his every thought. The amount of affection he held for you was something he had never felt for anyone else before and due to that, he often forced himself to not think too much about it.

Most people had their first crushes at younger ages, but not Donghyuck. At first, he thought that he was weird, but then attributed his apparent lack of feelings to not staying long enough in one place to get attached to anyone.

Then he met you, and your existence itself rebuked that entire theory. He had only known you for a little over three months, and although this was the first time he had ever thought about someone like this, he wasn’t confused in the slightest. It was never about being able to stick around for enough time, it was just that none of them were you.

“You could talk for hours and I’d never get bored.”

The silence hanging over both of your heads was broken with that singular statement of his, melting away your nerves and replacing them with a pesky, fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach. You blinked, processing what he had said and wondered if the butterflies in your stomach were a result of the seemingly noncommittal comment or nausea from your sickness.

You had been a talkative person all your life, often getting into mild trouble at school for not being able to shut up. You had been told to quiet down or that your voice was too loud so many times that you had lost count, and something you had grown increasingly afraid of was accidentally boring someone by being too obnoxious on accident, leading to you apologising every time you realised what you were doing.

But not one person had ever said something so lovely to you. Never had they managed to completely dissolve that insecurity with just a few words.

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out in response. The butterflies seemed to increase in regards to the size of their swarm. He grinned.

“Somehow that made you shut up though.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked away and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling as hard as you wanted to. “Fuck off Donghyuck,” you puffed out your cheeks slightly. “You’re so lame.”

“Oh, so you want me to leave?” He got to his feet as if challenging you, and you snapped your head back, shaking it vigorously. If you had taken notice of the coy nature of his voice, you made no motion to show it.

“No, please don’t leave me. I've been sitting here alone all day. I’m this close to going insane.” You pinched your index finger and thumb together, pursing your lips in an indignant pout to put your point across effectively. This elicited a laugh from the boy, who promptly sat back down at your request, scooting even closer than before.

And you resumed your conversation, talking late into that evening. He filled you in on the happenings of the day at school (which was followed by your complaints about how everything fun happened only on the days you were absent somehow) and you finished your doughnuts, stealing a few bites from his as well. You bickered and laughed at his stupid jokes, going off once again into one of your famous tangents with him patiently sitting through them. Your other friends hadn’t shown up to check on you, but he had, and that was enough for you.

All you did was talk, but somehow he made you feel better by just listening.

Libraries were, in your eyes at least, magical spaces where time itself seemed to take a pause while you sat within them. The atmosphere of your local one that you visited often was unmatched, whether you were there to borrow books or to sit and study for a test.

This particular library was absolutely gorgeous, with older design choices and architecture that gave it a more regal feel, something right out of Dead Poets Society. You could spend entire days there being productive, and every time you visited, you always left with a smile.

The librarian was also extremely sweet and knew you by name, but that was to be expected considering you had been going there since you were ten years old. You walked in, giving her a polite wave and smile as you found your seat, settling in and arranging your study material. You were determined to tackle a particularly arduous unit of economics today in preparation for a class test you had coming up.

Your seat was towards the back of the library, next to one of the large arching windows and the optimal distance away from a fan in a corner. It was cosy enough to keep you focused on whatever you were doing that day while also giving you the best view of the library in its entirety, making it your go-to spot.

It was due to this splendid view that you saw a certain Lee Donghyuck walk in.

He stopped in the middle, those eyes of his scanning the large room until they fell upon you. They lit up- something you could see happen even from the distance away you were and he began making his way towards your spot.

Oh, dear. It seemed like you wouldn’t be getting any work done after all.

Donghyuck slid into the seat right opposite you, and you nodded in acknowledgment, looking back at the screen of your laptop. He looked at you for a moment before opening the book he had gotten with him.

And now for some reason, even though you were in the most optimal spot in the library that always produced productivity from you, your attention was directed away from your work and towards the beguiling boy across from you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about him not glancing at you at all right then, or why you were so perturbed by it.

Shaking it off, you once again turned your attention to the wonders of Alfred Marshall. Your method of memorisation was taking notes, or rather, scribbling down whatever was on the slides your teacher had put together and hoping for the best.

And it was then you heard the distinct slapping of a shutting book. “I’m bored.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to curb the smile that always seemed to make a show around Donghyuck, and raised an eyebrow in question.

In a whisper, he continued, “This book fucking sucks. I gave it a chance because Seulgi insisted I had to read it, but I really can’t get through a page without wanting to take a nap.” The droll look on his face almost made you laugh. “Do you happen to know where it belongs? I haven’t quite figured out the library yet.”

You nodded, getting to your feet and cocking your head to signal him to do the same. He fell into step with you as you led him to the fiction section in the back, and making sure to keep your voice low, you asked, “Seulgi has been talking to you a lot lately, hasn’t she?”

Every syllable of your sentence had been laced with forced nonchalance, and you didn’t dare look at him even once, turning into where you guessed the book would have belonged. He hummed lightly, following you dutifully.

“I guess so.”

Kang Seulgi was one of the more popular girls in your grade, well known for being in the cheerleading team. You hadn’t interacted with her very much, but from the few times your paths had crossed, she had always been very polite, leaving you with the impression that she was a sweet person. To tell the truth, Donghyuck was also talked about quite a bit, but you weren’t surprised about that in the slightest. He was a sight to behold, even if he didn’t know it himself.

So naturally, Seulgi had introduced herself to him and had begun to talk to him a lot more. You remembered when he told you she had sent him a follow request and then slid into his DM's, and him asking you to help him with how to respond since he had essentially nothing in common with the girl.

Now look, it wasn’t as if you were jealous or anything, truly, there was nothing for you to be jealous over anyway considering there wasn’t anything between you and Donghyuck. He was allowed to talk to whoever he wanted and take their stupid little literary recommendations.

Okay, so maybe you were a little jealous, but you really shouldn’t have been. You knew you were his closest friend, but maybe you were jealous because while you were his friend, Seulgi had approached him with intentions that were very obviously the opposite of an innocent friendship.

“Fun,” you muttered under your breath, successfully failing your own unbothered claims, stopping in front of a shelf and holding your hand out. “Book.”

He handed you the book, immediately noticing the shift in your mood, even if it was only slight. You glanced at the cover and frowned, pushing it in the gap in between all the books and staring intently at the other title, evidently looking for another one you had just thought he would enjoy, before realising it was sitting on one of the higher shelves in mild dismay.

The silence bothered him a little. “It really is an ass book.”

Now, although this made you feel a little better, the feeling of slight stupidity that came along with it cancelled it out. The book you wanted to give him was just out of your reach, but you were much too proud to ask for his help after replying so curtly to him when it wasn’t necessary.

So you went onto your tiptoes, reaching out your hand in an attempt to get said book down, only for your fingers to barely brush against the wood of the shelf. This resulted in you almost stumbling a little, letting out a soft sound of frustration.

Donghyuck watched you in amusement, watching you try once again and still failing.

“Need some help there?”

“Nope,” you said a little too quickly, jumping a little now and just about touching the book’s spine.

He snickered to himself and moved until he was right behind you, easily finding the book and slipping it out of the shelf, making a point to hold it entirely out of your reach and asking languidly. “Are you sure about that?”

Donghyuck knew he had bested you. He was toying with that fact, enjoying having you in the palm of his hands to play with- but not in a malicious way.

You looked up at him, taking note of the way he was looking back at you. You took note of the triumphant look in his eyes, filled with amusement at your current struggle. That very amusement laced his lips as well, shaping them into an infuriating little smirk that had you catching your breath.

And subtlety had never been your strong suit, and it wasn’t about to start being so, much to your misfortune. Your eyes were trained to his lips, and this time, Donghyuck noticed.

He also noticed the minimal space between the two of you, and how if he just leaned forward ever so slightly…

It came to his attention right then and there, in the back of that library against the mahogany shelves, that he wanted to kiss you.

The thought had crossed the periphery of his mind before- the first time it did had taken him by abrupt surprise, seeing that he had never wished to kiss someone before. With you, the urge grew a little every day, and right then it was stronger than the last time. He was sixteen without the experience of his first kiss, and he had never thought too much about it before considering it was never in his list of priorities, but with you around? God.

And he had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking of it too.

You were practically trapped in his embrace at that very point, pressed up slightly against the books as you stood there, your breathing going shallow in anticipation. It was questionable, just how easily he had disarmed you without even doing anything, and there you were, decidedly losing your cool for no apparent reason other than the fact that he was so close by. What was it again that he had asked you?

Oh right.

“I’m sure,” your voice came out small-sounding and meek, averting your eyes away from his face and down to your feet, gazing intently at the stitching of your shoes. “You can keep that. I was trying to get it down for you anyway.”

The spell was broken when he took a step away from you, clearing his throat in order to cut through the heavy air that had settled in between the two of you. He brought his hand down and studied the cover of the book, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why?”

“Because it’s infinitely more interesting than whatever the fuck Seulgi made you read.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, this time definitely noticing the hostile tone that came with your uttering of the girls' name. As hard as you had tried to exude indifference to the matter of the book, you had miserably failed, this being proved by your incessant need to one-up her literary recommendation.

But he thought it was endearing, and flipped the book over, skimming the excerpt at the back. You waited patiently for his verdict, alternating between looking at him and to your side, peering out the window.

“Okay,” He murmured, “I trust you enough to give it a shot.”

Pleased with this, you nodded and began making your way back to your table. It shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, seeing that he had also seemingly trusted Seulgi enough to try the book she had mentioned, but that didn’t really matter to you.

The two of you settled back down in your seats, and he opened the book up. You scoffed slightly at his newly acquired focused state, resuming your previous work now that he was occupied. Perhaps you’d be able to focus now.

Though you knew, with him around, that would never be the case.

v] now.

“Do we really need these many snacks?”

Yeonmi waved her hand in your general direction to invalidate your question, adjusting one of the bowls that contained popcorn on the small table in the middle of your living room to accommodate the one with gummy bears.

“You can never have too many snacks,” she reasoned with you, stepping back and admiring her work. There on the table sat a selection of candy and salty-snacks, a cornucopia of unhealthy that was at the level of enjoyable. “Besides, it’s the first official time Donghyuck is coming over- any minute now, might I add- and I want it to be perfect.”

Oh right. You swallowed to avoid any sort of reaction making itself known, walking over and inspecting all that she had gotten. Gummy bears, popcorn, mini pretzels, chips- it was leaning towards being stronger on the salty side of things. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I can always sleep over at Chaewon’s.”

Much to your dismay, Yeonmi shook her head, shutting down your offer.

“It’s fine, I want you to be around. He’s going to have to get used to you being around anyway, and I would love it if you guys ended up being friends.” Her words pricked your skin, and unaware of this fact she continued on. “I have a feeling that you would really get along.”

If only she knew. You forced a smile.

“Oh, I think we should have another flavour of popcorn. Cheese?” She turned to face you, expectantly waiting on your answer. You hummed, shaking your head.

“Caramel.” Donghyuck had always gravitated towards sweets, so you knew he would enjoy that better. Yeonmi rushed into the kitchen to arrange for said popcorn, and you sat down on the couch, staring at the blank television screen in slight retirement, wondering how life had managed to corner you into such a situation.

Ever since the day he dropped your roommate home in her drunken state, you often thought about that bitter reunion between the two of you, cringing every time at the recollection of your decision to pretend that he was a stranger. You recalled the confusion stirring in those still-starry eyes of his, before it melted into a silent understanding between the two of you.

At sixteen you had sworn he had to be your soulmate. At twenty-four, you were forced strangers.

Yeonmi returned to the room with another bowl just as your doorbell rang, and you straightened up in your seat, mild panic taking over your system. Before she could even ask you to get the door, you escaped the living room, your feet carrying you quickly to the kitchen and further away from the door, where he inevitably stood.

Leaning against the counter, you let out a troubled sigh. You had no idea how you were going to survive the night without losing your mind in some respect, and you also had no idea how you were going to explain your bolting to your friend without some sort of excuse. Opening a drawer, you pulled out a bowl and began looking for something to fill it with, before coming across a packet of Sour Patch Kids.

You stared at the candy, slowly tearing open the packet and tossing some of it into the bowl. When you were younger, Donghyuck had always had a pack in his school bag, whipping it out at random occasions to snack on. It was his favourite candy back then, and although you’re not sure if he was still fond of it, it was still worth a shot bringing it out there.

Clipping it shut, you toss the packet back into the cupboard and steel yourself to face him once again.

Donghyuck stared at the screen of his phone, processing the time displayed on his lockscreen. 8:30 pm. He glanced up at the sky, taking note of the stars that decorated it in splashes, before walking into your building, calling for the elevator with a press of a button.

Truly, he knew that he was a bit of an asshole, and he had self imposed this title for a plethora of reasons. He had been dating Yeonmi for a while now, and although there were no labels to their relationship, he knew it was nearing the time where they talked about plastering on said labels, something he had been now infinitely put off by. From the moment he saw you, it was clear that going any further with the girl would be absolutely fruitless.

So he should have called things off with her, and yet here he was, walking into the elevator and signalling for your floor. When she had asked him to come over for a movie night, everything inside of him had been screaming at him to simply end it then to avoid complicating things any further, but on the outside he found himself agreeing, regretfully.

That was asshole strike number two. The first strike was committed eight years ago.

Running his fingers through his hair, he used his blurry reflection in the walls of the elevator to fix up his appearance. He donned a pair of light-wash jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt today, opting to be comfy in an attempt to soothe his enervated mental state.

Reaching your floor, he walked down the hallway and stood outside the door, sucking in a deep breath. Yeonmi had mentioned that since this was a casual affair, you would most probably be present as well, and that information had admittedly stressed him out even more than he already was.

You being her roommate suddenly made a lot of sense in regards to all those mannerisms that she possessed that reminded him of you. Living with you must have had your habits rub off on her, resulting in all the intense deja vu he had been experiencing these past few weeks. At first, he thought it was simply what it felt to fall for someone, considering he had only ever experienced it with you, but now he knew better.

The reason he had let this go on was because of how much she reminded him of you. It was like he still had you after all these years, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.

He rang the doorbell and waited.

Yeonmi answered, her elated smile at his presence spurring some guilt from his end. After a hug, she welcomed him inside, ushering him into the living room of your shared apartment and explaining the set up of snacks and blankets that she had laid out on the couch. It was clear that she had put a lot of thought into the evening, and he gave her one of those dazzling smiles of his in acknowledgement.

She sat down in the middle of the couch, and he followed suit, taking one of the ends as she switched the television on, starting the movie. Donghyuck glanced around the room as tactfully as possible, noticing you weren’t present.

And that's when you walked in, grasping a dark blue bowl in your hands, answering his silent question of your whereabouts before he could even ask it.

Part of him still saw the sixteen-year-old girl he had known all those years ago, the same hair and pensive expression painting your features that he had decidedly memorised. Once you had caught sight of him, you stopped in place and stared for a beat too long, looking from him to the table before him and then down at the bowl you held.

Yeonmi turned around and the sound of your soft, padded footsteps, and cocked her head to the side in mild confusion. “Did you get something else?”

“Yeah,” your voice cut through his self-induced trance sharply, terse and quick, you switched the lights off, leaving the light from the TV as the only source of it throughout the room, and walked over and sat on the other side of the girl, grabbing a couple of the items contained in the bowl before handing it over. “I thought this would be a good addition.”

He peered over, eyes widening ever so slightly when he recognized the candy to be Sour Patch Kids that you were now slowly munching on. Yeonmi offered him some, and he slowly took it, trying his level best to not look at you in silent question at the choice of it.

It seemed intentional, but that could have just been him overthinking it. By the looks of your eagerness to pretend he was a stranger to you, you probably didn’t even remember his emotional attachment to it when you were teenagers. The thought of that saddened him a little, especially when he thought back to the times you would always get him some every time you’d pass by a general store, or when he discovered you had an entire stash in the little drawer of your bedside table, ready for him every time he’d come over. The memory should have brought a smile to his face as he picked up one of the red candies.

The situation he found himself in was entirely ludicrous, sitting by a woman he had been dating for a short period of time and another who had everything to do with him in the past, but seemingly wanted nothing to do with him at present.

But he really couldn’t blame you for that.

Your behaviour towards him was more than justified, and if you hated him- well, he wouldn’t be surprised, or even blame you a little bit. No one deserved to be treated the way he had treated you, especially by someone who claimed to love you.

One and a half movies in, Yeonmi seemed to have dozed off. It was around eleven p.m., the snacks were almost all the snack bowls had been emptied- save for the pretzels, and he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the television screen anymore, wholly uninterested in whatever was happening there. Instead, his gaze drifted towards your rigid figure, a little more visible now that the girl sitting between the two of you had slouched down a little due to her sleeping state.

The light from the television gently cradled your features, illuminating your side profile in a ghostly manner that made it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from you. That was the excuse he used to justify his mildly intense staring at that moment in time because the truth was that no matter the situation, he had never been great at looking away from you.

You must have felt the weight of his imminent stare, because you swiftly turned your head to face him, eyes locking with his almost instantaneously. The air around him stilled, he was afraid to move, as if doing so would break something- or perhaps himself. He couldn’t bear to think about doing that once more, wanting to protect you and himself from that outcome.

But playing it safe would only get him so far.

“Y/n.”

Your name made it out of his mouth just slightly louder than a whisper, but it had you breaking eye contact, a breath escaping you as if you had been holding it in, eyelids fluttering shut. This was the first time he had uttered your name in what seemed like forever, but he had never forgotten how to sound it out, holding it out to the wind like some sort of peace offering. Every syllable of your name was precious to him, ingrained into his memory and locked there, incapable of even the thought of escape.

“Donghyuck.”

You weren’t even facing him anymore, vision cast down to your floorboards as you responded with his name in that melodic cadence of yours, although it was currently laced with brevity. The guarded nature of your utterance did not go unnoticed either, he knew you too well to not catch onto these things, even if it had been a while.

“I…I’m not sure what to say,” he admitted, lifting a hand up and running it through his hair- an anxious habit he had retained from his teen years. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you shifted in your seat out of discomfort at the situation at hand, glancing at your fast-asleep roommate.

“She owes me so much for this shit.” Your words were completely unexpected, but it almost brought a smile to his face to know that your way of speaking hadn’t changed much either. No matter how much time passed, the little constants of life kept him grounded- but with you it only had his head in the clouds. Finally, you spoke directly to him, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Donghyuck paused, caught a little off guard. He couldn’t have disagreed with that more, the amount of things left unsaid between the two of you was the cause of the stinging tension hanging in the air, something he was desperate to attempt to dissipate. It was unnatural, all his memories with you involved everything being exceedingly easy, this was a striking difference to what he was used to.

It was his own fault. You held his stare, and it took him back to the first time he met you, when your ability to do the same was non existent. He recollected the nervous energy that radiated off of you the first time he ever spoke to you, the way your eyes would never stay focused at his for more than a few minutes. He had found it rather adorable.

That day was a bad one for him, and he remembered it in perfect clarity. In classic teenage angst, he was pissed off at the world for the cards he had been dealt, those being another new town and another first day at a new school. More importantly, he was even angrier at the person who had put him in such a situation once again- his mother, of course. He had barely spoken to her before leaving the house that morning, ignoring her meek attempts at trying to hold out an olive branch. She had made him his favourite breakfast to console him, a silent apology of sorts, but he hadn’t commented on it at all.

He had been through the routine so many times that he was tired and so he kept to himself, ears plugged with his headphones at the back of every classroom he found himself in. There wasn’t an ounce of effort to mingle with the other students from his end, his annoyances and temper getting the best of him.

And then he felt you looking at him in one of his classes, looking at you right when you had been called out for doing so. A few minutes later, your eyes wandered right back to him, surprise and embarrassment igniting in them when you realised you had been caught. He approached you afterwards, and the interaction that followed left him with a ghost of a smile on his face despite his sour mood.

He wasn’t sure why he had decided to approach you that day. There had been others who had tried to speak to him, others that he had blown off with tight-lipped, polite responses that hinted at him being wholly uninterested, but there was just something about you that drew him in so effortlessly. It had been easy with you from the very beginning.

Which was exactly why he needed to fix whatever was happening right now, at the present. “I think we need to talk.”

You shut your eyes, but he wasn’t sure if it was out of weariness or frustration.

“No, we really don’t.” There was a tinge of denial embedded in your words, if not outright refusal.

“Yes, we do,” he gave you a mildly pointed look, trying to break through the wall you had built around yourself and open your eyes to the need to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. “You know we do-”

“I don’t.”

You cut him off before he could even finish what he had to say, the finality in your tone stopping him in his tracks. The way you snapped at him told him all he needed to know: that you had no intention or desire to continue this conversation. Even so, he would have maybe pressed a little more if not for the slight tremor that accompanied intonation.

Donghyuck pressed his lips together, knowing that he didn’t have the right to insist. A stifling silence settled between the two of you, unbroken for a few seconds too long as he sat there, stunned by your minute outburst and thus, as a result, speechless. He couldn’t think of an instance when you had ever reacted like that to him, and the realisation grounded him.

He swallowed, the dryness of his throat making the action hurt a little. “I should leave.” He spoke up, slowly getting to his feet to avoid waking up the sleeping girl next to him, “Tell Yeonmi I said thank you for tonight and…and that I had to leave because I have an early morning tomorrow.”

You nodded wordlessly.

The lack of anything from your end was unnatural for him, you had never been one to not talk. It had been one of his favourite things about you.

“And…I’m sorry.”

And with that, he left you there on your couch with the very words that had haunted you for what felt like all your life.

vi] then.

Zhong Chenle was one half of your two best friends, the other being Sakura Miyawaki, and the only male hair to his family's multimillion-dollar company. Although he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and everyone had his beck and call, he was surprisingly down-to-earth for someone who grew up with that much privilege. Even with all the wealth that his parents had still put him in public highschool, which you supposed said a lot about how he was raised. You had met him for the first time in the fourth grade when you had been paired up with the ever-smiling boy during P.E.

Everyone in town knew where he lived and it was because it was the only mansion in the town, and saying that it was in town was a little bit of a stretch as well. It was situated towards the outskirts, but travelling was never a problem for him considering he had a driver appointed to take him wherever he pleased whenever he requested him to do so in one of the four cars sitting pretty in his garage.

You had been to his mansion several times over the seven years you had known the boy, and it never failed to leave you awestruck. The garden outside was enough to have your jaw drop, and the inside wasn’t any different with pristine white walls and marbled floors that were tastefully decorated. When you learned that he also had a pool, you seriously considered asking to be adopted.

It was due to this very fact that Chenle took advantage of every time his parents were out of town on some sort of business trip, having you and Sakura, along with his cousin Renjun, stay the night.

This time, however, was different. This time, Chenle was throwing a party.

His parents were gone for five days, and this conveniently happened to line up with the weekend, resulting in the perfect opportunity. He had never thrown a party before, but they had been happening a lot more frequently now that you were in the eleventh grade, and he wanted to dabble in the fun, insisting that all three of you needed more of that in your lives.

So you told your parents you were going to stay over at Chenle’s place for the weekend, throwing some clothes and other items that you would need into a bag and let your hair loose, hoping that it would conceal the makeup you had done for the party. When you heard the horn of Sakura's car blare at eight p.m sharp just as she promised, you bid them a rushed farewell and left your house, mild excitement admittedly drumming through your veins.

You walked over to her car, raising an eyebrow at Chenle’s presence in the backseat. The party had technically started by now, but since you had to get ready and finish all your homework for the week before you were allowed to leave, Sakura had agreed to pick you up and go with you.

This also meant that the host was supposed to be there instead of here, a host that beckoned you to sit next to him. You obliged, tossing your bag in first before sliding into the seat beside him and asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to pick you up,” he answered gleefully as Sakura began to drive away, smiling in a mixture of amusement and annoyance back at the two of you. His voice was a little jittery, and once Sakura turned into a new lane, he brought out the flask that he had presumably been hiding underneath the seat until it was safe. “Drink up.”

“This fucker showed up to my house,” your driver friend filled you in, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Thankfully, he still had the sense to call instead of ringing the doorbell. Can you even imagine the lecture I would have gotten if my parents saw him in this state?”

“You’re tipsy,” you concluded aloud, earning a lazy smile from the boy accompanied by finger guns on his free hand. You took the flask from him and unscrewed the top, cautiously smelling the top to ascertain the contents within, before holding it to your lips and taking a swig.

The pure alcohol hit your throat immediately, stinging it and having your features twist into a frown, but you managed to swallow it all, subsequently coughing.

“Oops,” Chenle muttered, “Forgot to tell you it's neat. There's nothing but whiskey in there.”

“A warning would have been nice, yeah.” Your neck felt warm. “Why are we already drinking?”

“It’s called pregaming Y/n, keep up. Be grateful since ‘Kura has to wait until we reach to partake in the fun. For us lucky folks, it starts now.” He ended this with a cheeky wink, his words were a little slurred, and you could smell the hint of whatever he had been consuming before. You briefly wondered how Sakura was going to get rid of the smell before she went home.

“I believe what you mean to say is thank you,” comes from the front of the car, laced with sass.

This was by no means your first time drinking with the two, since all the sleepovers at his place had consisted of stealing his parents liquor and drinking it in his room, but you didn’t partake in the act very often, and this was your first official party. You took another sip, this time a little more gracefully than the last.

“You’re the host of the party, Chenle, you’re supposed to be there. You didn’t have to come pick me up.” To this, he huffed, waving a hand in your face as if he was shaking out the truth in your statement.

“Yeah but you’re more important, so who cares?”

You grinned, now knowing that he was definitely a little out of it due to the drinking. He had the habit of going all sweet and mushy on the two of you when he had a little too much in his system.

“As much as I appreciate that,” you furrowed your eyebrows, “Isn’t that a bad idea, like, who is in charge back there? Won’t it be a mess?”

“Messes are inevitable when it comes to this, it’ll be fine,” He assured you as Sakura switched the radio on. “But if you must know, I left Donghyuck in charge to make sure no one dies before we get there.”

You decided to not point out the underlying implication of people dying after you arrived, perking up a little at the mention of your- er- close friend. “Oh he’s already there?”

“Yeah, your little boyfriend was downing a mixture of rum and coke last I saw him.” Chenle’s words elicit an immediate reaction from you, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shook your head stubbornly.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Sakura snickered from behind the steering wheel at your defensiveness, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “Keep telling yourself that, honey.”

“He’s not,” you insisted, cheeks feeling hot from the teasing your friends were subjecting you to blaming it on the contents of the flask you held. Half of the booze was still left, and so you continued to consume it slowly, adding, “We’re friends.”

Even you had to admit that you didn’t sound convincing at all. “Sure.”

You downed the rest of the whiskey.

“Where’s your outfit?” Sakura asked once they were done tormenting you. She was already wearing hers, a dark blue sleeveless dress that cut off a little above her mid-thigh, accentuating everything she wanted it to perfectly, paired with silver jewellery and heels. Like you, she had gotten a bag of clothes for the night stay as well.

Grateful for the change in topic, you unzipped the front of the hoodie you had on, revealing the top of your dress, the bottom part of which you had tucked into your sweatpants to hide it from your parents. “I’m wearing it underneath.” You tossed your hoodie to the side as you clarified, closing the top of the flask and handing it back to your friend to keep. “I’ll fix up there.”

“I’ll help.” You smiled gratefully at this offer of hers, nodding as you brought out your phone, attempting to neaten up your hair. Your enthusiasm was building by the second as Chenle babbled on about something inconsequential, arguing with the remaining two of you as usual.

About twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the driveway, and you had to do a double take to recognize the place. People you recognized faintly were walking around the gardens, holding red solo cups and talking, their chatter and laughter blending in with the music that came from inside the house- giving you an idea of how chaotic it must have been inside.

Grabbing your bags, the three of you made your way to the front door that was half-open, something that definitely should have been a concern, but none of you comprehended that, your teenage brains ready to let loose and have fun. You barely heard Sakura's declaration to get wasted over the cacophony inside, pushing through the crowd to get to the staircase.

“Holy shit, seniors are here too,” Chenle said triumphantly, pleased at having achieved their presence at his first ever party. “That’s sick, I’m going to go try talking to Taeil hyung.”

With that, he disappeared, leaving you and your best friend to make the journey to the top floor alone. The chances of anyone being up there were minimal, and you were going to use the private bathroom in his room anyway, so it all worked out in your favour.

Walking into said bathroom, you placed your bag on the counter and slipped your sweatpants off your legs, adjusting the bottom of your short, black dress. Sakura whistled in approval at your look after helping touch up your eyeliner, and you inspected your reflection in the large, fancy mirror, pleased with what was staring back at you. The dress had a certain subtle shimmer to it, but only when the light hit it at just the right angle, and your makeup brought out the best in your features, making you feel extremely pretty.

Perfect.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you declared, leaving your bags in the bathroom and proceeding to make your way back downstairs once you put on your heels, rejoining the pandemonium you had been so looking forward to the entire week.

The music was so loud that you were sure you were going to lose your hearing in at least one of your ears, feeling the bass in your stomach and head as well- actually, scratch that, the mild buzzing in your head was definitely due to the alcohol you had consumed before finally hitting your system.

This was going to be fun.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you informed Sakura, but her eyes were following someone else- Nakamoto Yuta, you realised, one of the star footballers on the team. Smirking, you gave her an encouraging pat on the back before navigating to the kitchen, almost getting lost due to the difference in how the house looked. You were used to the bright white walls and perfect interiors, the contrast of the dark lighting and cups strewn everywhere throwing you off a little.

Finally, you emerged into the kitchen, which was a little more deserted then the rest of the mansion. You stopped in your tracks.

Because behind the kitchen island and leaning against one of the counters was none other than Lee Donghyuck.

Glass in hand, he looked even more elusive than he already was in this light. A black shirt hung effortlessly from his shoulders, the first few buttons left open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jeans and a silver chain sitting around his neck, part of you was almost offended at how good he looked at that moment.

He seemed at ease, as if he was unaware of the lawless nature of the party, taking a sip of whatever drink he had poured for himself. He looked in your direction after a few seconds, as if he had felt your stare and raised his glass up in acknowledgement, the simper that appeared on his face telling you he was pleased you had finally arrived. This broke the spell you had been under, and you walked around the island into his full view, grabbing one of the plastic cups.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his eyes drag over your figure from tip to bottom and making you feel a little self conscious. You mentally chastised yourself- mere minutes ago you had been feeling extremely confident, and now that state of mind relied on his judgement, but only his.

Donghyuck had to force himself to look at your face again, one that was very obviously awaiting his judgement, it was just too easy to read your expressions. He was taken aback by how different you looked right then. A good, no, great different even. You were beautiful, he knew this very well by now, but he had never seen you quite this dressed up, and my god did you do justice to your look.

“You look amazing,” he commented languidly, and just like that, you were back on cloud nine.

Feminism had said goodbye the moment you had set eyes on him, clearly.

“So do you.” That was the understatement of the century. You almost wished you could agree to all of Sakura and Chenle’s teasing and say that he was your boyfriend, because you sure as hell didn’t want anyone else hanging off his arm right then. You glanced at the line up of bottles against the wall, a sound of disbelief leaving you. “Fuck, Chenle really went all out, huh?”

There was possibly every type of alcohol you could ever want sitting there, just waiting to be consumed. Donghyuck chuckled, the low sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“That he did. Here for a drink, I assume?”

You nodded. “Something a little light on the alcohol taste though, Chenle had me have whiskey neat and I need a break from anything too intense.”

He hummed in consideration of this, taking your glass. “Got you. Be ready for the greatest drink of your life.” You rolled your eyes, but waited in anticipation nonetheless as he grabbed one of the bottles, pouring about two shots into it before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle and some ice, pouring the contents into your cup and gently tapping it on the counter to help mix it all.

“It’s peach ice tea and vodka,” he informed you as he handed it over, eagerly waiting for you to take a sip and assess the taste of his creation. “I’ve mixed it perfectly, so it should give you a kick without being too overpowering.” It was just as he said, the peach tea flavour being much more palatable to your taste buds, and you thanked him with a smile.

“What are you drinking?”

“Uhh…..rum I think. Yeah, it’s still rum,” he eyed his drink, before finishing the rest of it like a shot. “It’s the good, expensive shit, I’ve had around five of these- wait, no- six.”

You giggled, sipping tentatively at your drink and admiring Donghyuck, the pleasant buzz in your head growing stronger. A song you liked came on, the melody beckoning you towards the main area of the party with every beat that played.

“I’m going to go dance,” you declared, finishing your drink quickly. “I’ll find Chenle out there and join him.” This was your meek attempt at trying to get him to come along with you, not particularly wanting to leave his side or be separated from him even for just a song.

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell Donghyuck wanted to let you out of his sight either, especially not when you looked like that.

“I’ll come with you.”

You didn’t object.

After a few more hours of drinking, dancing and partaking in activities that would make your parents consider sending you to boarding school, you found yourself leaning against one of the walls of the house. You were completely unaware of which room you were in, everything happening in front of you feeling as if it was taking place in slow motion, your eyelids feeling heavy.

Doing shots with Sakura was the beginning of the end for you. You had spaced out the shots a little, and since they didn’t hit you immediately you had assumed that you were doing fine, and proceeded to consume a couple of Chenle’s concoctions- the worst possible decision you could have made. God knows what he had put into that cup of yours, but it was strong.

All this culminated in you attempting to keep yourself upright against the wall, fighting your drunken stupor to the best of your abilities. You felt good, and wanted to stay awake for the rest of the party, one that had absolutely no signs of slowing down anytime soon. It was probably around one in the morning at this point, and although you were having the time of your life, the smokey, dim lit setting and being surrounded by your fellow drunks was starting to feel stifling.

“There you are.”

You slowly looked up and registered the face that had waltzed into your view, taking your own sweet time to study the familiar spaced out expression that was plastered on Donghyucks stupidly gorgeous face. His pupils were dilated (as were yours, you were sure) and his hair messy but even that wasn’t enough to disrupt his beauty. You were about to complain about this very fact, but he beat you to it, speaking once more.

“You disappeared after the first round of beer pong, and Jaehyun made me finish the game before I left, but I couldn’t find you after that.”

His manner of speaking wasn't the sharpest either, clearly very tipsy, but in an infinitely better state then you were. You had spent most of your time at the party so far by his side, thoroughly enjoying how he would hold your hand and guide you from place to place so you wouldn’t get lost and the way he placed his hands on the small of your waist, as if having some sort of physical contact with you was important to him. You especially liked how he would dip his head down, mouth right near your earlobe so that you could hear him speak over all the noise.

As he had said, it was while some of your friends had dragged him into playing a game of beer pong was when you had slipped away, not entertained by the game in the slightest. You found Sakura and with every shot of vodka you let into your system, signed away your sobriety.

“Ah,” you mumbled dumbly in response, nodding absent-mindedly, the memory of how he had his hand on the small of your back while you were dancing to the music popping back into your mind.

Music that was currently much too loud for you.

Donghyucks features twisted into a look of confusion, clearly not having heard your sound of acknowledgement. “What?”

You groaned, “It’s too loud in here.”

He seemed to have picked up on that, somehow understanding what you needed without you even asking for it. “Do you want to go outside for a little? Take a break from this?”

“Fuck yes.”

You pushed yourself off the wall, promptly stumbling right into Donghyucks arms. He looped them around you and helped you regain your standing, a small laugh leaving him, the sound having you certain you had never heard something quite so magical. “Maybe we should get you some water first?”

“No,” You breathed out, shaking your head rapidly. “I just want some fresh air.”

This was how you ended up sitting upon the pavement of the street just outside Chenle’s mansion. The cold night air had you scooting a little closer to Donghyuck, before burying your face in your hands, which rested upon your knees, as you counted to ten in your mild, trying your best to regain your bearings once more.

Donghyuck wished he had worn a jacket so that he could give it to you, but settled for throwing an arm around you to offer some warmth. The fresh air had helped sober him up a little, offering him the slightest bit of clarity as he sat there on the asphalt.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said faintly, evoking a snicker from his end.

“You think? You barely made it out here alive.”

The music was softer outside, much more bearable. You could hear the leaves rustle gently, as if forming their own melody.

“Shut u-up.” Somehow, you managed to stutter on this very basic phrase, only inviting more laughter from his end. You didn’t think you’d be able to blame it on the cold.

“My God, you’re so fucking drunk.”

You looked up at him, somehow momentarily unfazed by the close proximity and with a defiant look in your eyes, ready to argue back even in your inebriated element. “It’s not like you’re a saint right now either.”

He puffed out a laugh at how adorably indignant you were. “At least I’m better than you.”

“God you’re so fucking annoying,” you whined. “I really don’t know why I like you so much.”

You barely registered what you said, the words leaving your lips without much restriction. Inebriation caused you to let your guard down a little too much. He froze beside you, blinking rapidly to try and gauge how serious you were.

“You like me?”

The question somehow pulled you back to reality, but only a little bit. You opened your mouth and subsequently shut it, heavily hesitating. Even like this, you knew the weight that it carried, and the risks that came along with owning up to this accusation that you had brought upon yourself with your own carelessness.

Perhaps it was the cold, or maybe it was the faux confidence given to you by all the intoxicants in your system.

“Yeah.” Your heart hammered in your chest. “I do.”

“And you’re sure this is not just because you’re absolutely shit-faced right now?”

“Excuse me? I am not-”

You never got to finish rebuking that claim of his, because he pressed his lips to yours almost feverishly, as if he had been waiting to do so for a long time. You gasped against his lips, your body responded before your mind even understood what was happening, instantly leaning into him and resting a hand on his knee to steady yourself. His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, cupping your face ever so gently as he moved his mouth against yours slowly.

He tasted sharp almost, the remnants of whatever alcohol he had been confusing fresh upon his lips, strawberries- probably from a vape- along with a bitter undertone that you couldn’t quite place just yet, too acutely aware and focused on the fact that Lee Donghyuck was kissing you and how his thumb brushed gently against your cheekbone.

The kiss filled you with warmth and you immediately forgot about how cold you felt previously, every sound around you fading into the background, utterly unimportant to you. You felt yourself flush under his touch, your fingers reaching out and curling into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Donghyuck could hardly believe that this was happening either, acting on impulse the moment you confirmed that you did, in fact, like him. He pulled away after a few seconds, watching as your eyes fluttered open a little later, wide is slight disbelief, your pretty peach -flavoured lipgloss a tad smudged, now also on his lips.

“You just kissed me,” you said in awe, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear fondly.

“I did.”

“You kissed me,” you repeated once again, like saying it aloud would keep it real and not just a figment of your imagination, “and you taste like smoke.”

You had eventually realised what the bitterness was. He frowned lightly, trying to place why that was. “Johnny hyung taught me how to smoke a joint sometime earlier- oh fuck, did that ruin it?”

The look of genuine worry on his face made you almost laugh, and you stared at him incredulously, almost scoffing at the notion. Your fingers were definitely wrinkling his shirt with how tightly you were holding it at that moment and you shook your head firmly- well, as firmly as you could for someone who could barely stand upon her very own two feet.

“Nothing could ever ruin it.”

When you awoke, you had absolutely no clue where you were.

Tucked neatly into a bed, you blinked rapidly to regain your bearings, staring up at the ceiling in pure mystification. You came to the conclusion that this was one of Chenle’s guest bedrooms, but couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out how you got there.

You attempted to sit up but did so a little too fast, a sharp pang of pain rushing to your head and making it feel as if it split apart. A strangled sound of agony left you as you slowed your movements, opting to lean against the headboard as a compromise to sitting up straight.

And that's when it hit you.

Memories from last night rushed back to you, fractured and in hazy glimpses. You recalled holding up a stranger's hair while they puked in one of the bathrooms, awkwardly standing aside another girl who had never spoken to before as she sobbed, mascara streaming down her face, laughing drunkenly with Sakura and Chenle (that screechy laugh of his had somehow been amplified with how plastered he was) and stumbling through the many hallways of the house. You couldn’t recall anything in its entirety, having to make do with the mismash of chaotic, foggy remembrance.

But you distinctly remembered Donghyuck kissing you outside the mansion. And then once again inside, after he made you drink water, and near the staircase, and-

You placed your hands over your warming cheeks. It was quite amusing, how the only thing you remembered perfectly was making out with him.

Carefully, you got out of the bed, gritting your teeth to bear with the pounding in your head. You were still in your dress from last night, and there was no way in hell you were going downstairs looking like this. Somehow, you found your way to Chenle’s room, which was thankfully empty, and shut yourself in his bathroom, before sighing in resignation at your reflection. Your eyeliner was smudged around your eyes, makeup completely demolished- you were sure that your skin was crying because you slept in it.

Your bag was still there, and you removed the extra clothes you had brought along, freshening up as quickly as you could and changing. It felt good to get out of the tight dress and into a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, washing all your makeup off. Deeming yourself finally presentable, you began your journey downstairs.

Downstairs, as you had referred to it as, had been completely trashed. Solo cups and bottles of alcohol were strewn everywhere, along with random shoes lying about. You grimaced at the sight that somehow contributed to your migraine, walking past it all to the kitchen, where Johnny stood near the stove, flashing you a bright smile.

“Y/n! Good, you’re awake. Take a seat, my famous pancakes are almost ready.”

Chenle was slumped over the island, sitting at one of the stools around it. He glanced up at the mention of your name, and somehow, the boy looked worse than you felt. You occupied the seat beside him, cocking your head to the side and silently asking why Johnny Suh of all people was still around, when it seemed like everyone else had dispersed.

“I threw up twelve times last night,” he offered instead, a certain hoarseness in his voice. “Johnny stayed over to make sure I didn’t die, and handled almost everything after. Somehow, he doesn’t get hangovers.” The last bit of information sounded a little like your friend was complaining over how unjust it was that he had to deal with a hangover, while the senior didn’t.

“It comes with experience,” Johnny said wisely, putting the pancakes he had made onto a plate and sliding it over to the two of you. “Leave a couple for your other friend, I think she’s still sleeping.”

You nodded, grabbing a fork and immediately dug into the breakfast he had so kindly cooked for the two of you, trying to pay attention to his speech about how pancakes were the best cure to a hangover and nod where you thought it was polite to do so, but your thoughts drifted away from him and to a certain boy.

Donghyuck had also been pretty drunk by the end of it all, you were sure. Chances were he didn’t even remember kissing you, but that singular thought was enough to have your stomach plummet.

“Y/n? Are you listening?”

“Yes?” You snapped out of it, biting the inside of your cheek hard.

Chenle rolled his eyes, but grinned. “The party was a success, Johnny hyung himself just said so!” Safe to say, Chenle was on cloud nine. You, on the other hand, were a mixture of anxiety and elation, which was a most confusing combination to unpack. The older boy smiled in hilarity, somewhat seeing his younger self in your friend.

“The next will be even better.”

As Chenle began planning the hypothetical future party (with a raging hangover, mind you- he truly was shameless), you stuffed your face with another morsel of pancakes, soaked in maple syrup, hoping that it would soak up the remaining alcohol in your system and help you think clearly about your circumstance.

By the time Sakura emerged from her slumber, it was around noon, and the pancakes had long been devoured.

You arrived home in the evening to an empty house and a note from your parents saying that they had decided to go on a date night. This worked out well in your favour, considering you had no energy to deal with anything after the events of last night. Johnny, being the only one completely in his senses, had driven Sakura’s car back with the two of you, making sure you reached home safely.

Flopping down onto your couch, you shut your eyes for a few seconds, deciding that what you needed to recuperate was a calm night. Perhaps you’d watch a few movies and order pizza.

These glorious plans of yours were quickly thwarted when you heard your doorbell ring.

Suppressing an annoyed groan, you forced yourself to answer the door, your eyes widening at the sight of Donghyuck standing there. Your mind immediately scrambled on seeing him, not a single coherent thought forming, which led to a most intelligent greeting from your end.

“Uh.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing behind you and into your house. Embarrassment flared up inside of you, and you coughed awkwardly, opening the door wider and shuffling to the side. “Right, wanna come in?”

So now he was in your kitchen, and you had no idea what to talk about. “When did you leave Chenle's?”

“Early morning,” he informed you, eyes following your every move as you poured yourself a glass of water, sipping on it to curb the awkwardness in the air. He paused, studying you carefully and slowly asked. “How was the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you groaned, the insistent throbbing of your head proving this. You finished up your water and walked closer to him. “It’s still there. I’m never drinking again.”

He snickered disbelievingly, a glint in his eyes that represented an emotion you couldn’t quite place yet. “Liar.” He seemed distracted, tapping his foot rhythmically against your floor. You briefly wondered how his hangover had dissipated so quickly, envious of the fact.

“Listen buddy, I’m a quick learner, and I’ve learned that being wasted is not worth the consequences.”

You said this in a joking manner, but there wasn’t even a hint of hilarity on his face, a serious expression facing you instead. Panic seized you for a moment, wondering if he truly didn’t remember the kiss, or if he did and regretted it. Maybe he was here to tell you to forget it ever happened, that it was just a drunken mistake from his end and that it would never happen again.

Maybe, you were just a terrible kisser.

“You were supposed to laugh,” you muttered weakly, your anxiety clawing at your chest. If he was about to reject you and crush your heart, you needed there to be more space between the two of you, and instinctively took a step back, moving to take another right after, but you were stopped.

Donghyuck grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward until you were right in front of him, his determination crystal clear.

“I am not your buddy.”

He said the word with resentment almost, staring at you hard. You swallowed thickly, not quite knowing what to say, terrified at the possibility of this being him cutting off your friendship as well. Him not liking you romantically was bad enough, but him wanting nothing to do with you was even worse. You couldn’t imagine not having Lee Donghyuck as at least a friend.

Pressing his lips together, he asked. “Do-do you remember everything from last night?”

The question hit you like a train, and the stutter in his voice- the hesitation, it suddenly cleared all of the terrible outcomes you were thinking of. He definitely remembered, and it seemed like he was afraid that you didn’t. It dawned upon you right then that it was quite possible that both of you were royal idiots.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Not everything.” His grip on your wrist was gentle and warm, you could see him swallow, a flicker of dread passing through those brown eyes of his as he rephrased his question.

“Do you remember what happened between us?”

How could you possibly forget? It was the only thing you could remember, the ghost of his kiss still lingering upon your lips that yearned for the feeling once more. Your confession was fresh on your mind, being the only thing you had thought about from the moment you awoke.

“You know I do.”

Your voice was quiet, refusing to look at him properly. His other hand rose to your face a few seconds later, fingers gripping your chin and tenderly angled your face upwards so that you were forced to, your face just inches away from his. You desperately hoped he couldn’t feel the slight tremble of your hand, feeling vulnerable without the courage that alcohol supplied to you.

“You know what? I don’t think I do know.” The coy nature of his voice did not go unnoticed by you. “I think I might need something to refresh my memory.”

You gawked at the boy, completely in disbelief at the sheer audacity he displayed right then, purposely playing with your already extremely frazzled mind in such a manner. You released your hand from his, hitting his arm weakly in annoyance.

“You’re so lame,” you declared, and he frowned.

“Lame? I’m trying to be smooth over here!” He genuinely sounded kind of distressed, and you couldn’t help the smile that erupted upon your face, even if you did your best to look as annoyed as possible.

“If you want me to kiss you, just say so, you idiot.”

He hummed as if deep in thought, only putting you more on edge. Slipping the hand that held your face behind your neck, he nodded softly and followed your instructions. “Fine, I want you to kiss me.”

He pulled you closer by your waist, fingers entangling in your hair as you closed the distance between the two of you. You threw your arms around his neck, kissing him almost feverishly, more than eager to experience it while sober. He smiled against your lips, which was enough to bring forth giggles from your end.

You kissed him until you were breathless and felt flushed, dizzy from just how long you had truly been waiting for this. Pulling away, you looked at him, searching for an answer to a question that had popped to the forefront of your mind.

“We just kissed.”

“For the second time,” he added helpfully.

“Right. And you’re not my buddy?” You raised an eyebrow, almost as if you were purposely provoking him.

“Please don’t friendzone me on day one itself.”

A laugh left you, and he let his other hand fall down to your waist, interlocking his fingers right by the small of your back as if he was securing you in place, making sure you wouldn’t disappear in that moment. Not that you wanted to anyway, being quite content with where you were currently.

“I won’t.” You promised, biting the inside of your cheek as apprehension suddenly came over you. “So then…?”

“Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” He cut off the pointed silence with his question, one that had you nodding before you even verbally announced your answer. The shy yes that you pronounced earned you that marvelous smile you so loved, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hugging him tight, as if trying to memorise every detail about what had just happened.

You were only sixteen, and perhaps still hopelessly unaware of the magnitude of your feelings towards Donghyuck, but somewhere in the uncertain haze that you had to navigate, you always knew that every path would always lead you straight back into his arms. You’d figure it out with your hand safely tucked in the pocket of his jacket, intertwined with his so firmly it felt as if he would never let go.

After all, what was love, if not the sweet promise of forever?

part i fin.

374 notes · View notes

vad-hander · 1 year

Text

YOU KNOW WE'RE NOT COMPATIBLE, RIGHT?

pairing: Haechan x reader

others: Mark, Jaemin, Jeno as Haechan's friends.

warnings: reader is mean and degrading towards Haechan throughout the fic (but nothing serious), mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of stealing, Haechan gets injured (breaks his leg, no graphic descriptions), explicit description of sexual interactions between Haechan and reader, unrequited love, reader has issues with showing her feelings, scared of other people's opinion

words: 12k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

“Come with me.” Haechan barked from behind you. You jumped in your seat startled, turning around to face the boy that approached you all of a sudden, in the daytime, when you were obviously chilling with your friends between classes. You were ready to follow behind just to crush his head.

“Who…” You squinted your eyes, placing your palm over your eyes trying to act nonchalantly “What is it about?” you furrowed your eyebrows since he suddenly thought he had the right to talk to you like that in front of your friends, and to be fair - talk to you in general.

“Ugh… Haechan, right?” Eunsoo spoke to break the awkward silence.

“Right.” he kept his eyes focused on you.

“I heard about your accident, I hope your leg doesn’t hu-“

“Are you coming with me or what?” he barked again.

“I’m asking, what is it about?” you spoke calmly, you weren’t about to show your friends that you had anything to worry about when it came to him, and to be honest, you really did not have a thing to worry about. Or at least that’s the thought you had for a split second and then you just swallowed it like it never was there.

Haechan opened his mouth and didn’t even begin to speak when your heart fell down your butt and you stood up from the bench busily, allowing for your heart to wobble somewhere around your heels. You just had a sudden strike he’d say something inappropriate just because he had something up in his head once again and just because that’s what he liked to do by nature. “Whatever.” you sighed uninterested and allowed for him to walk you wherever he wanted. “So it’s you who has things up his ass now?” you chuckled when you were sure your friends couldn’t hear you anymore. ”Mood swings are kinda silly coming from you, you sure your head’s okay? I’m certain the bike accident has to do something with it.”

“Are you done now?” he asked with a visibly lighter tone, turning around to face you.

“What is it? We were together just yesterday, why are you in such an urgency to find me? Especially with that tone and right in front of my friends?”

“When did you leave?” he cut straight to the question that lingered on his mouth for way too many hours.

“I don’t remember exactly, I woke up because you were heavy on me and thought I should go back home.”

“You should’ve just pushed me to the side.”

“But I decided to leave.” you were calm when he didn’t seem like it.

“Didn’t we agree on you staying?”

“Haechan, I saved you the morning awkwardness, you should be thankful. Is that even why you’re mad? Seriously?” you cackled “Get a grip.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Why are you acting like I stole jewels from you or something? I said I’d go to bed with you, I did. Why are you even bitching about the fact I left… like, what do you want to hear?”

“I don’t know.” his face expression died, his face was as blank as white paper.

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“About?”

“Maybe my head’s messed up after the concussion I had and I see things that aren’t there.”

“See! I told you!” you clapped, smirking at him satisfied. “The old Haechan would not even acknowledge my presence unless he wanted to drag me somewhere to fuck and the new you is throwing a weird tantrum out of nowhere because I left you… alone in bed?” you laughed and then focused your eyes on Haechan. He wasn’t laughing and you had to swallow the laugh and look back at him in all seriousness.

“Okay.” he grabbed onto his crutches properly like he planned to walk away.

“Mmh?” you gulped.

“I’ll find you if I’ll need you.”

“Deal.” you bowed slightly at him as he turned around and slowly crawled away.

“What was that weird encounter about?” Eunsoo cackled.

“I think he has brain trauma.”

“What?” Sua giggled into her palm.

“He’s just been annoying me with all those questions about the classes we take, like I’m the only one who goes there besides him.” you sighed loudly, closing your eyes to seem more nonchalant while lying, pressing your back against the backrest of the bench.

“Just a thought. What if he’s the milk guy?”

“Huh?” you raised your heads in unison with Sua.

“Eunsoo, I’d rather choke.”

“Yeah me too. And I’m not even the one receiving those milks” Sua nodded.

“I’m going to ask Jeno about it, he would totally know.” she smirked. “I don’t find him that bad even, I kind of wanted to hug him after watching him struggle with those crutches.” she sighed with a pout. ”Sad thing we’re hating him, I feel bad now.”

“Wait, but why are we even hating on Haechan?” Aeri asked making your whole group jump in surprise.

“When did you come here?” you held onto your chest in shock.

“A minute ago or so.” She shrugged.

“Because Jaemin’s ex-girlfriend said Haechan was total trash to a girl that liked him and then the word spread.”

“Trash like in a really bad way?”

“Jesus, Aeri, in a bad way.” Sua sighed “I think he sells things to kids too.”

“No he doesn’t.” you said amused, only realising that you spoke in Haechan’s defence when all eyes focused on you. “I mean, he doesn’t seem like he does. I had a few encounters in class with him, as you remember.”

“He’s a trash human if he can’t respect a girls feelings, that’s enough for me. I hate him. I think she told me besides flirting with her he had three other girls. All three he ”loved”. ” Sua stated, drawing brakets in the air.

“I’m friends with Jeno, I can’t say anything bad happened when Haechan was around.” Eunsoo raised her eyebrows. “He was just… fine? I’m not so sure now he’s that bad since I have seen him a couple of times.”

“He could be a cool guy with his friends and then be an ass when it comes to women. Even the way he spoke to Y/n? Total trash.” Sua rolled her eyes. “He probably doesn’t even shower.” She found important to add and you chuckled weirdly at her assumption. He actually smelled so attractively every time you had your face tucked into his skin, you wouldn’t believe if someone told you about it.

“Okay, Sua, let’s go to philosophy.” you jumped up and clapped your hands in front of her face. “Let’s go, let’s go.” you gestured at her as if she was a dog, the girl happily following you behind.

“So…” Eunsoo placed her lunch on the table, your eyes following the movement of her fingers, as she lined up her chopsticks and spoon.

“So?” you smiled.

”Jeno is planning on renting a boat next weekend. He said we should come.”

“Why?”

“The more people the more fun. That’s a quote. Plus, they’re mostly boys and we’re girls.”

“Is he just trying to split the rent?” you squinted your eyes suspiciously “I’m not paying to spend time with him.”

“It’s not just him, all of his friends, I’m coming. Sua and Aeri I’m sure will come.”

“Why would they?”

“Sua has an endless wish to party and spend money, as a bonus she has ridiculous amounts of that money on her card, why wouldn’t she?”

“You’re right.” you cackled. “But still, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, but if you’re changing your mind then just text me.”

“Yea-a-h.” you nodded, lowering your head to get a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

from: Lee Haechan

“8 pm on friday.”

Your phone vibrated, attracting your eyes to the screen.

to: Lee Haechan

“I don’t know where I’ll be on Friday night yet”

from: Lee Haechan

“In my bed, cupcake, isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed thickly as your eyes ran over the screen multiple times.

“Is that Sua? Tell her I’m at the cafeteria.”

“Yeah.” you chewed on meat, taking another piece into your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Mmh?” you asked confused, focusing your eyes on the girl in front of you.

“Wasn’t that Sua?”

“No, that was family chat.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” you smiled.

“Punctuality is not your strong side, cupcake.” Haechan smirked as your feet walked over the threshold.

“Says a person with no strong sides at all.”

“You’re losing your time.”

“What?” You furrowed.

“You have to leave at 10.”

“Why did you even bother to ask me come here?”

“Because two hours are more than enough for you and I and now that you’re showing up late I’m going to be in a hurry.”

“I can just leave.” you pointed with your fingers at the door confused. What was going on in his head, again? Haechan pulled on your wrist to get you out of his way, closing the door to the apartment.

“You were all mad when I left last week and now you’re setting time boundaries for when I should leave. Trying to pay me back?” you squinted your eyes at him, placing fingers over his cheek to underline the shape of his lower lip with your thumb. Haechan paused and stared down at your face distracted, not biting you back. You moved your hand away, dropping carefully both of them over his shoulder. You could feel his hands hold onto your waist as you leaned back a little before placing your head in front of his.

You were thinking just a moment ago how to get the atmosphere in the room moving, since it was pretty much dead when you came in and the tension that was meant to spark the ignite and make you want each other was nowhere to be seen, but now as his hands ran lightly over your clothed skin, making you shiver in all the right places you felt for sure he could get you anywhere he wanted in no time.

As his head lowered closer to your face your fingers walked over his shoulder to lock behind his neck, trying to make him bend more to let you kiss his lips. You gasped as his head ditched your kiss right when your lips were about to connect with his.

“Let’s not break the rules we’ve set anymore.”

“What?” you asked confused as Haechan, worked his hand up your stomach to knead on your breasts suddenly. “I hate you.” you mumbled with a sigh.

Haechan flushed your body against his, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, burning the skin with his hot breath.

“I want you, we can fuck and then you go.” you opened your mouth and closed it back when he continued “Just like we’ve initially agreed on.” you pushed him off you, to take a good look at his face.

He was playing, testing you because you always kept him on edge, Haechan let his guard down when he came up to you all disappointed about your absence. He must’ve understood it now and at his first chance he wants to make you cry for him in return. Make you cry for him, ask him to break the rules you’ve set so he’d be the upper hand in this.

“Mmh, okay.” you nodded “I like that you finally came to your senses.” you took your shoes off quickly, grabbing the material of his shirt into your fist to lead him to his bedroom. He seemed to be walking much quicker on those crutches by now.

Haechan sat down on the bed, watching you pull all of the clothes off your body.

“Why are you not taking your clothes off?” you looked at him with drawn on your face confusion.

“Yeah, I am.” he gulped and began to move.

“When is your leg getting better?”

“Soon.”

“I hope so, I was thinking it’s better we do it from the back.” You caught onto his eyes with yours, trying to see his reaction properly. If he wants to play, you’ll play along.

“Why?”

“Less eye contact.” you watched him struggle to pull his sweats off. “Since we’re doing it this way now…” you sounded like you didn’t finish your sentence, but you did. You just wanted him to tell you he was against the idea but he didn’t, finally pulling the pants down his legs.

“Mmh?” he asked too innocently, you almost fell to your knees to kiss his body.

“Touch me.” you stood between his legs. Haechan stared at your stomach almost dumbfounded, he didn’t seem to be in his right mind. But then again, you weren’t sure which one of the states he usually was in was considered the norm.

Your fingers ran through his hair, catching Haechan’s attentive eyes on you. “Just like you always do it, a brush of your fingers through my skin and I’m moaning your name in no time. You love me like that, right?”

“For that I need to get you wasted and I don’t have the time.”

“Are you insulting me or confessing you’re unable to turn me on?” you cackled, lowering your body in front of him. Your palms put pressure on his thighs, as your knees hit the carpeting.

“Gonna blow me?” mischievous smile lit up his face, Haechan placed his fingers over your cheek, drawing a soothing circle with his thumb. Somehow this little gesture felt too emotionally attaching and you wondered if you went out of your mind too, looking for whatever sense in his actions.

You didn’t actually mean to blow him, at least not before he mentioned it. You began to lean in because you wanted to kiss him, out of habit, to start it going, not because you were attracted to him or anything, just because that was how things started. But as you began to move an internal slap brought you back to reality. You were the one not allowing kissing as fuck buddies, you just recently threw a tantrum and now be the one to brake the rule the moment you get a chance? Hell no. You sat down on your knees in front of his body almost naked and wondered if giving him head wasn’t something over the line for your arrangement.

“Do you have time for that?”

“I’ll gladly be late if that’s the reason.” Haechan’s finger moved to trail your lower lip.

“I kind of owe you one anyway.” you made sure to let him know this wasn’t your greatest desire, even if it, maybe, suddenly was, Haechan had to be reassured of the fact it wasn’t.

“If owing me one pressures you much.” he smirked too charmingly, you looked away.

“It actually weights on my shoulders a whole lot.” you decided to return his gaze from under your lashes.

“Go ahead then.” he smiled but controlled his cheekbones the next moment, making them go down. His whole face concentrated on your actions, on every mere movement of your chest, even.

Haechan rolled his hips closer to the edge of the bed, leaning back a little with arrogance all over his face.

That stupid wish to kiss him once again returned into your head. You imagined perfectly how you’d lick his lips carefully, go down his body and get in front of his cock but the plan inside your head set you to go against your own rule and it stressed you out.

Planning sexual interactions with Haechan when you were sober stressed you out, getting in front of him on your knees without having an actual plan somehow made it unbearable.

Were you really having that metaphorical stick up your ass all the time Haechan talked about? This probably wasn’t the best time to reflect on your life, so you ran your hands up his toned and tanned thighs, straightening your back to place a single kiss over his neck.

Haechan caught your head on the way back with fingers, tangling them through your hair on accident. You wondered what he intended on doing, when his hand just simply kept you in place. You looked back at him and tried to lighten the atmosphere in that closed up space between your half naked bodies, but the way Haechan was gazing back at you was of no help to make it feel not so heavy. He kind of made you want to cry just by staring and you couldn’t work out why, you just felt even more hot than before all over your body and maybe wanted him to give in and lean in. The more he held you in place the more it felt like he was losing an inner battle. You couldn’t bare it anymore, you ran a hand up his torso, wrapping it over his neck. You pulled your heads closer, almost making the two of you brush your lips.

“Are you done looking?” you wanted to sound arrogant but your lips touched for a split second and you were taken aback by the sudden connection Haechan initiated by moving his head, you being too wet already, squeezing your hips together to not burn alive. “Aren’t you wasting your time?” you moved your head a little back to not make you touch lips again. Your hand found Haechan’s crotch blindly, rubbing your palm up and down just to test the waters. He felt semi-hard and it made your heart a little more at ease, you weren’t the only one in this room getting turned on just by staring each other in the eye. Perhaps, you two were out of your right minds this very moment.

Haechan loosened his grip, letting you know you can move, not moving his hand completely away for whatever reason he had.

You tried to kill away your awkwardness. To be fair, this wasn’t even awkwardness, it’s just that things you weren’t an expert in gave you headaches and you were no expert in giving blowjobs-

Scratch that, you landed your lips on Haechan’s collarbone, quickly trailing them down his chest and stomach, squeezing your hand in a slow rhythm over his length. You skipped his lower abdomen to get to the centre of your attention quicker, pressing your lips over his length through the underwear. Haechan’s fingers left your head, going back to support his upper body to stay vertical. You raised your eyes to see if he was watching you, he probably was, but you still needed to check if you were right, for a confidence boost. You moved your lips up to where it seemed the head was, feeling him twitch as your lips touched him again. Haechan’s eyes blinked quickly, returning his hand into your hair.

“Don’t tease. I still want to fuck you.” you moved your face away, biting onto your lower lip as your hands worked to free him completely. Haechan’s cock sprang up his stomach, you raised your eyes up to see his face expression, reaching a hand to hold onto the base of his shaft, lowering your head closer to it.

Sticking your tongue out you licked a long stripe from the base up to the tip on the underside. Haechan’s chest stiffened as your hand began to move up and down around him to support your tongue. You licked over the tip before your mouth swallowed half of him, bobbing your head only once, to let go of him, stripes of saliva that still connected you two giving away your previous motion. You ran your fingers over his length with a little twist midway, allowing your tongue to explore the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, leaving quick paced licks over the skin, not forgetting to move your hand over the tip with a little squeeze, going back to rhythmical bobs of your head and hand.

Even though Haechan panted and breathed harder than before, even though there was every sign of him liking what you did it felt like it wasn’t enough, at least, to you.

You moved your face away, readjusting your posture to a more comfortable one, pumping his cock deliberately with one of your hands.

As you opened your mouth once again, Haechan’s fingers found your face, drawing simple lines. He then moved his hand over to your neck for the same purpose, squeezing his fingers over your skin as you bobbed your head down on his length, touching his pelvis with your nose as he hit the back of your throat. You moved your head then in a rhythmical motion, not taking him completely in your mouth, leaving room for your fingers to give him a little pressure every time your head lowered on him.

You smoothed out the mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum with fingers, while your lips and tongue gave full attention to his now leaking head. You wanted to make him cum and suddenly the idea of him cuming inside of your mouth sounded like something you desperately needed in upcoming minutes.

“Want to do a thing?” you blinked at him through your lashes, running your thumb over the head of his cock with pressure.

“What thing, exactly, cupcake?”

“Thrust your hips into my mouth. Make the tip of your cock abuse my throat.”

“Will you like it?” Haechan touched your cheek once again.

“It only matters if you’ll like it.”

“No, cupcake, this is not how our partnership works.”

“How does it work, I must’ve forgotten.” your hand moved determined to its job.

“If one of us is not enjoying then we’re not doing it no matter what.” you smiled a little, your free hand leaving Haechan’s eyesight without him notice.

“Does that answer your question?” you raised up a hand in front of his face, spreading your fingers to let him see the slickness from between your legs that spread over your digits now. Haechan smirked, raising your hand with his to prop it in front of his tongue, sliding it between your spread fingers to savour the taste.

“Mmh.” he then said, guiding your hands off his hips onto the mattress next to them. “Now that we don’t kiss you really wanted to put your lips to use on something else?” he spoke but it didn’t sound like teasing. “Open your mouth.” he finally said and you lowered your head to him, being caught mid action with his cock, Haechan guiding his hips against your lips. The cast on his leg and the pain weren’t allowing Haechan to use his hips properly and you tried to help him, to meet him without him raising his hips too much, but Haechan’s hips were pressing so forcefully and his hand didn’t properly hold your head in place that you always pushed your head back just a little with each thrust.

“Fuck.” he commented, sitting back down and pressing your head against him. Haechan’s fingers held you in place for not less than 30 seconds before his cock twitched at the sensation of your throat spasming. His warm and pulsing cock against the back of your throat making your gagging reflexes wake up. Haechan pushed you off him the moment he felt the twitch in his body. “Fuck, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked confused.

“Get on the bed.” he spoke in such urgency you jumped up on your now numb legs and almost fell back down, somehow getting on the mattress, not understanding why would Haechan willingly decide to not cum into your mouth.

“Are you okay?” you still were very much confused, and the way Haechan’s pupils were dilated and his brain was probably functioning only with the commands his burning cock gave him didn’t help at all. Was he in some sort of euphoria? He couldn’t even feel the pain in his leg anymore, the way his fingers quickly slid the underwear off your legs, diving in his finger between your folds in a quick motion. “Haechan, are you okay? Is your leg okay?” you asked again, as the boy spread your legs for him and almost hovered over you. You wouldn’t find it a problem if it wasn’t for the cast on his leg that supposedly hurt and didn’t mean to feel any pressure on it.

“I’m fine.” he stated and raised his eyes at you, probably reading in them you’re dissatisfied with the answer. “I didn’t want to load into your mouth. I’m about to burn alive from that orgasm I just stopped midway. If you don’t mind, I’ll get inside of you now without edging myself any more.” you wanted to ask if it was okay with his leg once again, but he already nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, lining up his cock with your entrance. Haechan pushed and you squeezed your eyes, squeezing his sides with your hands as well. “Shit.” he gasped finally filling you up completely. There was no time for a low paced start, being on the very verge yourself you were glad he just set the goal to fuck you into oblivion in the shortest period of time. “I almost let myself cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” he panted between words. “But then I remembered that I might be a little too obsessed with the way my cum drips out of your swollen pussy and I just couldn’t lose another chance to witness that.” You moaned, not at the words but at the way his fingers rubbed against your clit. “Come on, baby, clench, make me cum inside of you.” Haechan bit into your neck with an insane force. It actually felt like he bit through the skin, you cried out loudly, clenching at the same time. You didn’t understand the pet name he called you.

“Yes, yes.” Haechan egged you on. “Please don’t stop.” his lips moved from your neck lower, trying to reach your breasts, but with the way he was trying to keep balance, and not hurt his leg too much, as it seemed the senses were kind of getting back to him, there was no way he’d be able to do so.

You squeezed your insides forcefully as your entire body was about to spasm. Haechan outrun you though, at the very light clench you felt his seed spill inside of you. Haechan’s body immediately felt meek over yours, hips almost not moving as he was filling you up, your body joining him at very last, helping to squeeze him out completely. Haechan’s fingers still rubbed your overstimulated clit mindlessly to the point it hurt, you forced his hand to stop without talking.

He just panted, still heaving over your body, even though you were almost not able to yet feel his weight over you, his body was slowly pushing you more into the mattress.

Haechan slowed his breath, rolling on the side next to you, making it feel empty as his soft cock left you. You could practically feel your cum spill out onto his sheets, that seemed, in fact, new. You almost felt sorry and almost had energy to care, but it just turned out you hadn’t.

“This fucking hurt, by the way.” you turned your head at the boy laying with his eyes closed, touching the skin on your neck that he bit before spilling. To the touch you could feel the shape of his teeth on your skin and you were kind of scared to look in the mirror. Haechan turned his head at you slowly, not focusing his gaze on your neck immediately.

“Oh, fuck.” he sighed with a chuckle. “I’m sorry.” he turned on his side, squeezing his body closer to yours, to touch the skin his teeth abused. “This actually does look like it hurt. I’m sorry.” his hand turned your head to look at him. “I would kiss you sorry but we don’t kiss.”

“Just never do that again.”

“Okay.” he agreed quickly.

“So did you pull yourself from my mouth… did you just blabber bullshit?”

“About my cum dripping out of you? No, I like it. That’s the reason. Didn’t want to make you swallow since I already fucked your throat.”

“Guess I have to believe you, right?”

“I wonder what are other reasons you have in your head.”

“I don’t know. I have none, that’s why I’m asking.”

“You did good, if that’s what you worry about. Has nothing to do with you.” his words felt like you were a dog patted by its owner, you looked away.

“My fucking leg.” he broke off the silence in the room by crying. You ran your eyes over his body before he could notice and closed your eyes back. “Hey, Y/n? Are you asleep?” Haechan asked carefully.

“I wish.” you sat up, covering yourself with the duvet of his.

“Can you please give me the crutches?” his fingers pointed to the wall beside you.

“Did you fuck up your leg?” you sighed nonchalantly, taking one of the shirts that were thrown onto the chair next to the computer. “I had a feeling.” you raised your eyebrows judging him, handing the crutches.

“Take off my clothes, I didn’t allow you to touch them.” Haechan roughly took the crutches out of your hands.

“See this?” you pointed at your neck “Borrowing this shirt is just a partial payment, Haechanie.”

“Whatever.” he tried to stand up.

“Can you like walk?” you watched him bend his hurt leg completely to not put pressure on it. “I thought you can move around your room without those things.”

“Yeah, seems like not anymore.” he let out a hitched breath as his feet took him over to the computer table in the other corner of the room. It always made you incredibly sad to watch people suffer, watching Haechan barely move around his room put you on edge of sympathising him once again.

“At least you came hard, right?” you giggled to wash away any feelings towards Haechan from your body. “I’m going to shower.” you announced, taking your belongings with you to the bathroom. You quickly turned the water on, leaning over the bathtub, feeling water immediately drop onto the crown of your head. “For fucks sake, why do you not switch your shower heads?”

“What?” Haechan shouted back making you even more pissed off. Your head was wet now when you were meant to leave his place in the nearest time.

“Why did it take you so long?” he turned around to face you.

“I had to wash my hair with your freaking shampoo because you don’t know how to switch shower heads apparently.”

“Let me smell your head.” he watched you put on your socks.

“What?” question followed your furrowed eyebrows.

“I always wondered what my shampoo smells like on me.” you fished your phone out to check the time. “Come here?” did he try to flirt, you almost gaged.

“Come yourself.”

“I can’t.” he pointed out making you feel bad.

“You’re sweaty.”

“I’m not asking you to hug me, I wanted to smell your head. This does sound weird now.” he cackled.

“It’s half ten, I’m going to go.”

“You could stay.”

“Why would I if you’re leaving?”

“Since I can’t walk now I asked boys to come over, you could hang out with us.”

“Ugh, no thanks. I’d rather not.”

“But you’re fucking me and act like we’re way out of your league at the same time. Isn’t it hard to be such a hypocrite?”

“I just don’t want these people to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going on that boat trip Jeno’s arranging?”

“Yup, are you not?”

“No, I wouldn’t bare the company.”

“Of course.” Haechan’s brow raised up in sarcasm. “Sometimes I wonder when will you grow up and understand that you’re behaving like a ten year old but then I think again and realise I should just stop myself from caring about you too much, at all, to be fair.”

“Okay.” you gave him a nod, finally ordering an Uber.

“You come and I’m eager to fuck but then lust washes away and I sit here and wonder why do I even bother to fuck someone who has no respect for me whatsoever.”

“Haechan.” his eyes focused on you. “Is that what bothers you? That I don’t have any respect for you?” he kept silent. “ I do respect your existence, but I don’t have to respect your friends, your life choices and whatever. I’m not going to run in public and show everyone how much I respect you. I give you enough respect by sleeping with you, it’s my own decision, nobody forced me to. I’m not planning to go any past that and our arrangement does not require us to.”

“Are you not planning on going past that because you’re afraid to do so or because you really don’t want to?” Haechan asked tentatively, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to get an answer out of you.

“I should go now, I don’t want to run into your friends. Bye, Haechan.” you pulled your hand out of his grip forcefully.

“At least look me in the eyes.”

“What is it again?” you rolled your eyes to land them on his face. “Haechan?” your brows raised in question when he stared like he was trying to suck the life out of you.

“Okay, you go.” he suddenly just sent you on your merry way.

You were enjoying the rare moments of the pre-lunch inner peace you were gifted by having a lecture in the nearest building to the cafeteria meanwhile your friends had to walk through the whole campus. Just a soul tune in your earphones to put away all the stress that built up through previous encounters with human beings - professors at most.

You opened your eyes as the bench shifted under new weight, pulling an earphone out being completely convinced it’s Sua who quickly ran through the campus for food.

How much of a disappointment it was when you heard a male voice next to your ears.

“Hey.”

“Ugh.” you gulped trying not to give away your utter shock but failed terribly for sure. “Hey, what’s up?” getting to know what he needs and get rid of him quickly would be fantastic. He, though didn’t seem to be in a hurry and completely ignored you.

“What is that?” he reached out for the little milk sitting next to your phone. “Is that the infamous milk from your anonymous admirer?”

“Yeah.” you simply stated, Haechan ripping the foil lid off in no time to drink your beverage.

“That’s mine.” You protested when it was too late.

“Didn’t you say you don’t drink those.”

“I don’t but it’s still for me and not you. What if he’s watching us now?” you raised your brows at him, watching Haechan gulp on the milk and then look around.

”Drink then. Make us kiss through the bottle.” You rolled your eyes at him.

”Such an idiot.” You sighed and looked around for a pair of curious eyes, maybe. ”I wouldn’t want that person to see I’m giving away their gifts.”

“You don’t want to hurt feelings of a stranger but intently choose to hurt mine every day of your life.” he spoke what seemed like more to himself than to you.

“I don’t-“

“If he does watch maybe we should put up a show so he backs off.” Haechan’s hand that most likely reached out to your face was stopped midway by yours. Your eyes spoke silent curses as your hand moved his under the table, not being able to free yourself from his hold for a good second. A good second of you almost having a whiplash from a weird gesture of his.

“We’re not putting up anything. Is there something urgent you wanted, by the way?” you were really on the verge of saying something along the lines of ‘just send me time and place via message’ but held back on the last string of sanity.

“Ugh, yeah. To commemorate us being project partners I suggest we hang out.” he dashed that last bit of milk and looked at you once again.

“We literally have done nothing for that named project.” you came up with an immediate no, remembering at the same time that you had actually to do things for that project - no matter how hard you tried to forget it even existed.

“Yeah, to set us off to good work we need to bring ourselves closer in other ways than the usual one.” you felt a cold shiver run down your spine at the mere mention of that.

“It’s easier I do the thing myself and you’ll pretend you took part.”

“No!” Haechan spoke loudly. “That’s not something up for discussion. We’re going out - you and me for the projects sake, you get me? Not like the two people that sleep with each other - like classmates.”

“Can you shut up with that?” you hissed.

“Yes, cupcake. I mean, Y/n.” he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t call a classmate that name out of nowhere.”

“Good for you.” you caught yourself suddenly smiling at him and cut that off in an instance.

“Fancy meeting you two here.” Sua walked over to the table.

“Hey.” you acknowledged her presence with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“I’m confused, are we just pretending he’s not here or … what?” the girl propped her body across from you.

“Haechan’s leaving.”

“No I’m not.” you raised your eyebrows at him to look his audacity in the eye.

“Hey.” Eunsoo sat next to Sua. “Are you… meeting Jeno here?” she looked directly at Haechan.

“No, I’m here for Y/n.” you were sure the invisible droplet of sweat on your forehead was pretty visible by now.

“Oh… ugh, okay. Should we give you space?” Eunsoo suddenly looked concerned.

“Oh god, no.” you laughed her off. “We’re project partners and we’ve done nothing yet that’s why he’s here.”

“Yeah.” Haechan nodded, cooperating, surprisingly.

“Cool.” Eunsoo shrugged uninterested now that it’s not about gossip. Silence fell upon table. “Oh, you should force your project partner to go on that boat trip Jeno’s arranging. I feel like she’s really not going.”

“I’m not paying for that, Eunsoo, for real.” you rolled your eyes for the nth time in the hour.

“She’d poop the party anyway, why would I invite her.”

“What?” you hissed “shut up!” you punched his shoulder lightly, getting a high pitched fake cry out of the boy.

“Ouch.” Haechan rubbed his arms with furrowed eyebrows.

“That’s so not true.”

“You wish.” he cackled.

“Do you all agree with him?” you took a look at you friends.

“No, no. I personally don’t-“

“Maybe, a little.” Sua cringed.

“Come and prove you’re not.” Haechan challenged you.

“You wish. That’s such a childish trick you’re playing here.” you cackled.

“Okay, party pooper.”

“Yeah, I’m a party pooper and you should go - I don’t want my friends not being able to digest their food because they have to look at you.”

“Lol.” the boy stood up, making you internally sigh. The interaction lasted for too long, you felt like puking. Eunsoo’s eyes were about to eat you alive.

“Aeri’s here, I’m going to get food with her.” Sua jumped up the moment Haechan took steps from the table.

“You two seem super close.” Eunsoo dropped the facade and jumped on you immediately.

“Not really.”

“He’s appearing more and more often in front of my eyes.”

“I’m not sure, maybe you’re just paying more attention to him now?” you looked at her with the face like you honestly tried to think of what she was meaning. “Don’t you two hang out more often since Jeno been inviting you everywhere he goes?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s what it’s about.” Eunsoo moved onto the next topic without a second try and it seemed too weird. Weird to the extent you had to make an internal mark in your head on your friends behaviour.

“Hey, you.“ Haechan stretched out a crutch as a barrier in front of you, almost leaving you with a stroke.

“What the hell?“ You furrowed your eyebrows at the sitting boy. “You’re appearing too much in front of my eyes, disappear.“ You waved him off.

“You ignored my message yesterday, I was expecting to see you.“ Haechan stood up to look at you better.

“Wasn’t that a message to hang out as project partners or something?“

“You did see it! It was exactly that, yes.“

“Well I’m not obliged to run to you on the first call when you’re suddenly in need of company. If you would’ve texted me lets fuck, I would’ve showed up, but a college friend me is a real bitch, I don’t recommend.“ You shook your head.

“Tomorrow.“

“What’s tomorrow?“

“You and me we’re going somewhere it’s not up for discussion, for real this time. As project mates, so please look better than when you usually come to fuck.“

“Excuse me?!“

“Don’t take offence.“

“I will, you loser.“

“I know where you live.“

“Yeah?“

“Yeah, I’ll come pick you up around 8.“

“If I’ll be home then yes, maybe, deal.“

“You WILL be home.“

“Haechan-ah, college friend me is a real bitch, you don’t want to hang out with her I promise.“

“It’s not like a fuck buddy you is any easier on me.” he crooked a brow, you trying to hit him as he walks away.

“You picked up, I’m flattered.” Haechan murmured into the phone, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the tone of his voice.

“Oh, ugh, Haechan? I thought it said someone else’s name, bye.” you spoke quickly, moving your finger to end the call but obviously paused for a reaction.

“I appreciate your joke.” You could hear the click of his tongue through the phone. “I’m outside and I hope you’re about to put your shoes on and come out.”

“Mm… maybe?” you said sheepishly not knowing what you actually wanted to say. If only you could see Haechan shiver at your stutter you would shiver too. He nodded his head to himself, hanging up on you.

Your eyes ran over your reflection in the mirror, taking a good look once again at what you were wearing. A denim skirt you haven’t worn in a terribly long while, a cute top to match, you were about to put on a jacket to keep you warm in case Haechan wanted to hang out outside. Did you look like you were trying to dress up? Were you overthinking your appearance all of a sudden or did you have an actual thing to worry about? Dressing up, for Lee Haechan of all people? He wish, you cackled to yourself.

“No way in hell I’m going to let even the thought crawl into his head.” you mumbled, storming down to your bedroom. “Now, that’s better.” you smoothed out the hoodie with the logo of your school you threw over your pretty top to bring more casualty into the outfit. Looking like a simple college girl sounded better.

“Your leg?” you ran up to him for no particular reason, you suddenly realised it probably felt like you ran to him because you wanted to greet him quicker and slowed down only when you were already terribly close.

“It healed.” he smiled in a weird way, staring down into your soul for the briefest moment and you felt your cheeks turn red, imagining him finally being able to fuck you in many different ways. His eyes seemed to travel down that road too and you blinked.

“Congrats, I guess? You were so nosy with those crutches.” you smiled and ran your eyes over his appearance - black tight jeans, a shirt or a long sleeve, you couldn’t work out which one it was, under a zip up hoodie with a leather bomber jacket crossed by a cross-body bag. A perfect all black outfit you haven’t seen him sport before.

“Thank you.”

“So… do you have something planned or we’re just gonna walk where our eyes take us?” you felt awkward staring at him for too long. The two of you were sober and were meant to act like college friends, not the fuck buddies, but the more you stared at his face, perfectly shaped plump lips and the jaw line that got visibly sharper in the past few months all you could think about is how dumb of a bitch you were when you told him kissing was off limits. Okay, it was off limits and you knew that for sure, but his obviously freshly washed hair and the outfit that for your dislike made him look sexy and inevitably attractive to the lower parts of your body still made you frustrated with your own self. It wasn’t even that long since you last had sex, but suddenly you were burning and nothing could put out that fire because you would not beg him to kiss you. You would not admit that to him because you could already see Haechan’s smirk once he hears you say it. But, at least, you could be honest to yourself, so you finally admitted - fuck it, I do really want to kiss him. You gulped because it felt like he was reading your thoughts silently for hours, standing there outside your apartment building.

“I actually drove here.” you properly focused on what he said.

“With a bike?”

“With a car, cupc-, I mean Y/n, I’m sorry.” he made a face like he really rehearsed calling you by the name and messed the very first chance given “I drove here with a car because we’re going somewhere to ease us a little? I can’t work with someone I’m not on good terms, I wanna be good with this project. Are you?”

“Of course, I want to do good.” you giggled awkwardly with your words.

“Then, let’s go.” he turned around on his heels and walked towards a car that seemed… expensive? Did he borrow that from Jeno? You quickly followed behind, getting yourself onto the passenger seat.

“I didn’t even know you had a car. Is it yours for real?”

“Ugh, yes.” He nodded pressing the button to start the engine.

“I thought you had no money?”

“I obviously do, have you seen the amount we have to pay for studying at our school?” the numbers were big for sure but somehow it never crossed your mind.

“Okay, secretly rich guy.”

“Does that play matters to you or what? Are you more comfortable with walking? Or me saying I stole the car from a stranger like those stupid bikes?”

“No, no. It’s just… nice. I like it. And I’ve never seen you drive, I’m surprised, that’s it.”

“When we’re together I’m either high or drunk or bout to be, I’d like to point out I’m not to that extent reckless to drive in those states.”

“I know, I know, I didn’t think of you like that.”

“Cool.” he nodded and then you two stopped talking for the rest of the drive. “We’re here.” Haechan caught your attention, parking the car next to a small pier. Did he try to take you on a boat…? Like a date type of thing? Your insides flipped.

“What for?” you didn’t move an inch while Haechan was half way out, dropping back into his seat.

“Come out I’ll show you.”

A moment later you were next to him, catching up to his feet walk down the steps.

“Hey, I thought you’ll explain?”

“Yeah, right, see there?” His finger pointed on the other side of the river. You tried to work out what he was pointing at but your not that good vision worked even more terribly during night time.

“I guess.” you turned your head back to take a look at Haechan.

“You obviously don’t.” he sighed and pulled you by your elbow to where he stood, hooking one of his arms over yours, and pointing once again.

“Haechan, I have poor vision, I won’t work out what you’re showing no matter what you do.” Haechan’s chest was approximately 1 cm away from your back, making you jump scared when his forehead dropped onto your shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled “you’re hopelessly blind.” he cackled.

“Hey! It’s night.”

“Yeah, dude, sure.” you smiled at the nickname. “We gotta hurry though or we’re waiting for the next ferry for 20 minutes.” Haechan tugged onto your fingers now, dragging you down the stairs.

“Why the river transportation?” you asked as he paid for the tickets and you walked inside. The ferry was small and still almost empty.

“It helps me relax.”

“And why are we going to the other side of the river?”

“Because the restaurant there serves the best food in the whole city.”

“Okay?” you were a little confused with him. “Can you let go of my hand now?”

“No, I was thinking of dragging you outside.” he grinned mischievously, pulling on your hand once again to take up some stairs. He let go of you when you climbed up the last stair, walking forward to look around. Besides this simply being a way to go to Haechan’s favourite place the view was beautiful, Seoul on both sides of you, a bridge right across where you were looking lit up with lights. This was a pretty fancy way to go eat with a friend, you thought. Haechan walked forward, away from you and you sat down on one of the benches, crossing your legs.

“This is cool.”

“I told you, it’s really relaxing.”

“And beautiful.” you added, watching Haechan walk back to you.

“You’re about to get the full experience.” he smiled, reaching out to his bag hanging on his back.

“Hm?” Haechan propped his body next to yours, holding out an airpod for you. You took it quickly without a question. The other airpod went into his ear and Haechan began to scroll through his phone focused. Finally, the music filled your right ear, a slow r’n’b tune you weren’t sure you’ve heard before. It fit the bright lights above the river perfectly and you took a deep breath in, sinking in the moment, closing your eyes to have a little time at peace with yourself. You couldn’t believe Haechan was sharing his peace with you as a friendly gesture. You felt his shuffling on your side, not paying much attention to what he was doing until the warm material hit your knees, you saw his bomber laying atop of your bare knees. You wanted to tell him something, maybe a thank you? Or that you weren’t cold? But you were outrun by Haechan, by his next gesture, to be completely accurate.

With a completely straight face he switched positions and suddenly his head was laying atop of your thighs. He crossed his arms on the chest, closing eyes immediately. Your arms raised in defence the moment you felt him lie down. Haechan probably sensed you didn’t lower your hands back, opening his eyes and dragging your palm to lay next to his head, the other dragged onto his chest, caged under his fingers. He didn’t act out of friendliness, he was onto something you were convinced now for sure.

But for no reason at all you didn’t want to fight whatever was going on in his head?

“I won’t mind if your fingers would run a little through my hair.” you tried to keep your heart at bay, your legs were burning, your face was burning, your body was burning, everything in you burned, you weren’t sure your underwear wasn’t turning damp. He was fucking with you out of nowhere at all. You didn’t really want to play along, his actions just made you want him more, but you were not bound to get him inside of you tonight anyway. Maybe, that’s why he did that? He just wanted to get you frustrated and not give you the rest. The thought made it easier for you to breathe, it was an acceptable explanation. “Will you not?” Haechan suddenly wined, squeezing your hand.

You dug your nails into his scalp, running them a little further. He almost purred like a satisfied cat. “Maybe that’s what’s been missing on these relaxing trips to put me in pure ecstasy.”

“A hand in your hair?” you chuckled and brushed past his fringe.

“Your hand in my hair.” Haechan stared back at you, moving his eyes behind you. “Oh, we’re here, let’s go.” he jumped up as unexpectedly as he lain down, tugging on your hand once again. For god’s sake, what is up with him tonight, you thought.

“I just realised how much of a stupid idea it was to drive here.”

“Why?” you asked curiously, finally walking with your own pace, still holding on to Haechan’s jacket because he forgot to take it from you when you were running and now it worked like a nice hand warmer for you.

“I can’t drink, and nothing goes better with a kimchi stew and grilled pork belly than somaek.”

“We’re having kimchi stew?” you laughed. You didn’t think he’d take you to eat kimchi stew for a date, that’s not very roma-. Shut up, you told yourself and stopped dead in your tracks. You did not just stupidly confuse this with a date. Haechan was doing the right thing, except for the ferry behaviour, which is besides the point, he took you to a place friends visit. It was a cool thing, you actually loved the idea of his. It did really mean he tried to make you comfortable with each other besides fucking, he wanted to make your project work successfully.

“Are you okay?” Haechan noticed you completely falling behind.

“Yes, I realised I haven’t given your jacket back. Put it back on, it’s cold.”

“Your legs are all out and I’m wearing three layers of clothing, you should keep it to not get sick.”

“I’m fine though.” you pushed the jacket against his chest and he didn’t go any further with trying to make you keep it. He simply put it back on and you loved it, loved it when people weren’t making you do things you clearly didn’t want to.

“I love how this place has a view.” You smiled lookeing at the river. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a traditional place like that. Like it’s proper restaurant but apparently the food’s here good too. That’s amazing.” you smiled sincerely, putting a whole spoonful of stew in your mouth. “How did you find this place?”

“I got lost in the city and was hungry and came here without any expectations but it turned into my favourite place out of nowhere. They have great menu, there’s everything I love.”

“I like it here.”

“We could come here together whenever you’d want to.” he suggested, you looked him in the eyes and nodded. It can be a good thing to visit this place once in a while with Haechan.

You talked and laughed and didn’t even biker once. He was noisy by nature, smart mouthed, quick witted when he needed it for his own good. He could make people around him smile, laugh hysterically even, listen to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted to do and most likely would in return get whatever the hell he wanted people to do for him. Haechan had a way with his words and every action, he made you feel at ease when he spoke. You didn’t talk much, you just watched him talk, laugh, show each and every emotion through the stories he told. Haechan was made to make people feel alive, besides frustration, anger, rage maybe and a whole other list of things he usually made you feel. But here tonight, sitting at the table with him you could finally imagine in a bigger picture why his friends loved him, why he was the centre of everyone’s attention - because he was a fluff ball of liveliness and happiness. And you couldn’t deny the feeling that bubbled in your chest anymore - Haechan made you feel alive. You looked away from him to stop the feeling because it wasn’t a great realisation. It was a sad ass thing to know because immediately you locked down on yourself for feeling anything towards him - it was wrong. The metaphorical stick up your ass stirred a little to remind you it was still there.

“You’re so-o lucky you met me.” he chuckled, dropping his back against the seat.

“Why is that?” you leaned in more to him intrigued. You chuckled to swallow a lump because if he read in your eyes you were having fun right now he’d never let you live.

“I’m the greatest in anything with academic studies involved so you’re safe in that project.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yup.” he popped the p with his insanely attractive lips.

“Cool then, we should start soon.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Library? Or my place?”

“Your place?” Haechan raised eyebrows. Yes, your roommate is going to be a thin wall away, she’ll be a reason not to be triggered by your temptations.

“Your place kind of have memories that are not great for studying.” Haechan smirked.

“True.” he gave you a nod. “My classes tomorrow finish around 5 I believe.”

“Cool, mine too. We could go straight to my place after class.”

“Deal.”

“Hey, partner.” Haechan found you round lunch time and for the first time since you’ve known him, him talking to you in public space didn’t feel like you were punished.

“Hey.” you turned around to look at his frame, squinting your eyes as the sun behind him beamed too brightly through the window. You swallowed a smile that unexpectedly began to crawl onto your face when you watched his mouth stretch out in a smile. “You’re done?”

“No, no. I just found you here and thought I’ll come up and check on you .” Haechan motioned with his hands for you to move in your seat to free up space for him.

“Check on me why?” you cackled clueless as to why you need to be checked on.

“Hm… I don’t know, just check on you. If we’re still going to yours?”

“Yea, yes.” you smiled “I’m still into idea of getting a good grade.”

“Cool.” he nodded, focusing his eyes on the paper laying in front of you.

“You’re going to have lunch here?” you took in his frame.

“No, I won’t bother you.” he smiled crookedly.

“Thanks.” you shrugged, watching Haechan stand up and turn away.

“Actually.” he paused and your head snapped back to his body. “Here, take it.” he moved his hands swiftly, reaching into his pocket and then back in front of you, placing a bottle on the table.

“What is it?” You didn’t really need an answer, you could see very clearly with your eyes.

“A grape soda, I thought you said you like those.”

“Yeah, I do.” you half laughed half coughed in response. “But why-?”

“I-huh.” Haechan sighed loudly, finally meeting your gaze. “I took your milk before so it’s my pay back. You’re welcome.” he winked at you smirking, getting out of the trans he was in and back to his normal self.

“Yeah.” you simply nodded, as he turned on his heels and walked away.

“So,” you sang, facing Haechan as your feet passed the threshold. “Welcome to my crib!” you cackled, holding out your hands welcoming him in.

“That’s a spacious living room.” Haechan immediately commented, running his eyes over the room he was able to see right from the entrance.

“Yeah, sort of. We’re girls, we need space for different stuff.” you shrugged.

“Ugh, who’s your roommate by the way? Is she home?” Haechan asked curiously, lowering his attention to the laces of his shoe.

“It’s me.” Eunsoo made him startled, by appearing against the closest wall, the boy raising his head back up in a flash. “And I’m home.” she chuckled.

“Hi.” Haechan swallowed.

“Do you mind taking him to your room?” Eunsoo directed her gaze at you.

“I mind.” you nodded vigorously at her question. “I don’t take boys to my room on our first studying session, Eunsoo-ya, you know the rules I live by.” you bat your eyelashes at your friend, walking further into the apartment. “Especially if the boy’s someone like him, beware.”

“What nonsense are you saying?” Haechan grunted as his body dropped onto the couch. He took out his laptop, placing the device over his lap, leaning more against the backrest.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were good with these things?”

“I meant it.” Haechan nodded, typing in the password blindly, his eyes trained on you.

“Maybe you don’t need me then?” you turned your head to the side a little like a puppy and smiled.

“No,” he shook his head “every megamind need a little helper to take up little tasks every now and then.” you rolled your eyes at his words.

“I had a feeling you’d say something dumb.” you stood up, catching Haechan’s concerned eyes on you. “I’ll go get my laptop and everything I wrote down during lectures.”

“Yup.” he nodded and turned back away. Haechan acted like he didn’t need you here, like he was only focused on studying and working, you couldn’t remember him being that focused during class, usually his eyes were trained on his smartphone that was turned horizontally and definitely was not used for writing down whatever professors were saying.

“Since when are you all about studying?“ You broke off the silence that hung above your heads as Haechan read through an article you barely took a glance at while you blankly stared at your laptop for the time being. For the past twenty minutes, to be exact. He doesn’t even get up to pee, he just taps away, asking lecture related questions and some advise on adding certain sentences into the text he was working on so smoothly. You couldn’t stop yourself from appreciating his working passion, or the view he was giving you. You were working hard on not being obvious that maybe like every ten minutes you made sure to check him out. The way his fingers were pressing the buttons on the laptop, his thumb fidgeting the nail shaped ring on his finger whenever he paused typing or scrolling to read. His plush lower lip at most times being teased by his teeth while he was thinking. The way he pressed teeth into his thumb while listening to you answering his questions regarding lectures. Haechan forming his lips into a pucker two rear times in the past three and a half hours as he felt terribly sore in his neck, resting his back against the couch, brushing back the hair off his forehead with elbows up in the air. You could list many more random things he did randomly while he was working and you partially procrastinating- feeding onto your new sudden obsession with everything Haechan does but he replied and you had to at least try and focus on whatever left his lips.

“Trying to keep up with you, be a good boy for you and all that shit.“ he spoke distantly, you almost didn’t catch whatever left his mouth until you did and stared at him shocked, Haechan already looking at you with a smirk.

“Stop being weird.“ You chuckle in a weak attempt to not feel so… weird yourself? You were pretty sure your face was burning red, it felt like you got exposed and it made you even more weird and nervous.

“Don’t you like it?“ He teased and reached out his hand to squeeze your leg above your knee. “Shit, are you shivering?“ He laughed, dropping his back against the couch, as you lowered your eyes onto your exposed legs as if in shock, as if you couldn’t feel it yourself. You were glad at least there was a hoodie over your upper body, hiding away from his eyes the fact your entire being shivered to his touch like you were never touched by him before.

“Can we go back to our project.“ You huffed.

“No.“ Haechan straightened his back with a serious face expression. “Not when you shiver to my touch. Come here.“ He reached out a hand to you and you put all of your energy to not give away with your face or other body parts that you considered giving him your hand without a doubt for a good second.

“No.“

“Come on, cupcake. I want you now.“ Haechan licked his lips and you shivered once again thinking how you would like to get heavily drunk to just kiss him and pretend afterwards you didn’t remember a single thing.

“Shut up.“ Eunsoo had great hearing, that you learned through the two years you lived with her, shushing the boy.

“I though we had an agreement.“ he pouted and stirred his body closer to yours.

“Haechan.“ You sighed not knowing what exactly the fuck was going on inside your head, not moving away when he crawled even more closer, trying to pretend you were focusing on your web-page when in fact you were shivering all over once again at the mere feeling of him next to your skin.

“Mmh, cupcake.“ He mumbled into your hair, wrapping a hand over your waist. It helped him to pull you more against his back, allowing his lips to find the skin on your neck. “Why are you shivering?“ he chuckled against you, making a new wave of shivers run down your body. “It’s like the hundredth time I’m touching you, I’ve never gotten such a vivid reaction.“ Haechan left an open mouthed kiss where your jaw met your ear.

“I don’t like it, shivers are the form of my body saying put your hands away.“ You blabbered the first thing that came to your mind.

“Are you sure?“ Haechan giggled against your skin, rubbing his face against your throat. “Can we ask your roomie to take a walk?“

“Haechan, what are you trying to do.“ you clicked your tongue to get back to your senses and not drop your head back onto his shoulder.

“Make you wet. I’m actually sure you’re already, right?“ Haechan’s hand that’s been hugging your waist went a little up to cup your clothed breast.

“I wouldn’t get wet just because you breathed for three second into my neck like a creep.“

“Okay.“ He chuckled and moved his head away, not letting go of you with his hands a single bit.

“It’s not very comforting when you’re holding onto my boob like that.“ you craned your neck to be able see his face a little.

“Did anyone ask you what happened to your neck?“ Haechan’s attention jumped onto the side of your neck he bit onto, keeping his hand exactly where it was and ignoring you completely. “Mmh?“ he ran a finger over the bruise, making you shiver once again. You sighed internally at your stupid reaction to his touch.

“Yeah, unfortunately.“

“Did you lie?“ You sighed dramatically.

“Had to tell everyone I was attacked by a wild dog on my way back to the apartment.“ Haechan burst into laughter once again, letting go of you as his body fell against the couch once again.

“Maybe the truth would’ve sounded better?“

“That I was bit by a dog inside of an apartment?“

“Ha-ha.“ Haechan teased. “You should’ve told them you were bit by a very passionate male that came so hard inside of you after you sucked him off so good he just couldn’t hold back from marking you.“ His hands once again pressed your body against him. “I wouldn’t mind cuming inside of you now too.“ He let you know once again and even though you liked the felling of his body pressed against you, you liked how his hot breath fanned over your skin, made you all hot with want, but it made you feel so conflicted at the same time you were about to get a headache. You knew if he’d get his hands on you for real you’d want to kiss him so badly you won’t hold back and would want the feeling of his lips on yours regularly. Your insides were doing backflips because unlike your brain organs were actually realising you were having other feelings for Haechan in addition to those you were already meant to have. Knowing him better as a person was doing things to your intimate relationship, at least, on your side.

“We’re here why?“ You spoke louder than you intended to, taking his hands in yours for him to let go, but he just held onto your fingers instead like he had claws.

“I’m not sure anymore now that my cock’s stirring in my pants.“ he kept his voice as low as he possibly could.

“For studying, Haechan.“ You tried not to lower your eyes to see for yourself if he was as hard as you were wet.

“Okay, do you want me to jerk off in the bathroom to the thought of you and come back for studying?“ Maybe, yes? You bit your tongue before the words could actually spill.

“Maybe we should be done for today.“ You stood up, turning to face Haechan, feeling his arms wrap around your calves, lips above your knees. “I will kick your teeth with my knee, I mean it.“ You practically barked at him, sounding much harsher than you intended to. You didn’t see a point in consuming his teasing when you knew for sure fucking wasn’t an option for the both of you while Eunsoo’s at home, and she’s practically always at home. Being frustrated alone in your room, longing for the pressure of his body against yours with amount of his mouth and fingers you already felt on your body already was almost inevitable by now, if only he could stop right this minute, you thought, and watched him get up and close his computer.

“Next session’s at my place.“ He pointed a finger at you making you swallow your smile.

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