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hcuyk · 9 days

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OUR INFERNO | CHAPTER ONE

SYNOPSIS ✧ despite being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, haechan had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with haechan

PAIRING ✧ rival!haechan x fem!reader

GENRE ✧ high school au, enemies to fwb, angst, smut, fluff(?), humor(?) (these mfs bicker a lot), pining

WARNINGS ✧ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — cheating, profanity, mentions of physical fight/bruises, underaged drinking, obsessive/possessive haechan : NSFW TAGS : outdoor/semipublic sex, dubcon recording, spit/drool/tears, oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetration, scratching/ripping, humping, minimal praise, degradation, sub!hyuck for 0.002 seconds, petnames (princess, good girl, babe/baby, slut)

WORD COUNT ✧ 19k

≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @flwoie — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

. . . . . . OUR INFERNO M.LIST ✩ next [ TWO ]

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @nyujjan @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie (lmk if you prefer to be tagged for both, or for only hyunjae/haechan!) — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

NCT DREAM MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

AUTHOR'S NOTE : haechan's version for the original our inferno is finally here! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON) — fuel, oxygen, and heat | CHAPTER ONE

“Genuine question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who the fuck does Haechan actually think he is?”

Unphased by your up-and-coming rage rant, Jaemin resumed snacking on the protein bar he had brought with him. He tossed his free arm over the camera equipment and backpacks sitting next to him on the bench, watching you stride back and forth within one of the many hallways in the recreational center.

“Well, he is your boss.”

“No, he’s the student executive producer,” you corrected, your legs unwavering as you kept a consistent pace to release your frustrations. Jaemin shrugged and tossed one leg over the other, staying relaxed despite the hot fumes emanating from your upright and angered figure. You paused momentarily to look him in the eye.

“Emphasis on the student,” you clarified.

“Emphasis on the executive, Y/N.”

Baffled at how he was defending your greatest archnemesis (well, more like your greatest frenemy), you ignored his rebuttal and started pacing again. Your steps slowed as you envisioned the sensations you experienced just minutes before, back when you, Jaemin, and Haechan were at the indoor pool to report for your school’s broadcasting channel. Technically, you were the one reporting and filming while Haechan was the subject of interest, and Jaemin was there for physical support.

Chills latched onto your skin as you remembered what it felt like to have Haechan’s bare torso looming over you, his eyes peering over your shoulder to glance at your footage. While staring at the camera, his gentle, irregular breaths would continuously hit your skin. Water from the pool would trickle down his hair and into your shirt, reaching your backside. When it happened, you could barely comprehend Haechan’s ‘advice’ and instead focused on feeling every cold droplet travel through the crevasses created by your spine. You winced at the thought of that happening again, yet somehow you could still hear his irritating voice near your ear, telling you all the reasons why your B-roll of his lap swimming was ‘trash’ and ‘unusable.’

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway frozen, unsure of how to move, before realizing you were just reliving a moment from earlier and that Haechan was still in the locker room changing.

“I’m going to make a complaint,” you declared, turning back towards Jaemin for his encouragement. Alternatively, you were met with the sight of your best friend completely failing to conceal his judgment and disapproval towards your suggestion.

“Against Haechan? You gotta be kidding, right?”

“Yes,” you answered confidently. “Wait, I mean no, I’m not kidding, but yes, against Haechan.”

Jaemin eyed you skeptically, trying to decipher why you felt threatened enough to report someone like Haechan. You may not have spent all your previous years in high school with an affinity for Haechan, but it wasn’t like you hated him either—not in the way you truly loathed others. If that were the case, you wouldn’t spend nearly every day with him, bickering until the sun chose to set.

“Sure, maybe my B-roll was trash, I can attest to that, but that does not give his bitchass the right to, not only shit on how ‘awful’ I was doing, but also yank the camera out of my hands and delete all the footage I got because they weren’t ‘perfect enough.’ What kind of psycho is that?” You glanced over at Jaemin, trying once again to get him to back you up, but the most he gave was a slight nod. Everything you were spurting was half-mindedly being decoded because he had ended up placing more significance on inhaling protein. Regardless, you continued.

“And you would think, hey! As the student executive producer of a high school broadcasting team, he would understand that no! I indeed do not record half-naked people swimming in a pool, whether it be for a career or a hobby. He should also at least have the decency to not swim seven hundred miles per minute while I’m recording. Of course I’m not going to catch up, especially when he barely told me how he wanted things to be recorded? Isn’t he fucking insane for that? Not to mention all the goddamn splashing because of how fucking long his limbs are—”

“You’re explaining this like I didn’t witness the whole exchange,” Jaemin grumbled.

“And you would think he knows, right? That Mr. Executive-slash-Captain-of-the-Swim-Team should either be more considerate when, A, he’s kicking water in my direction when he’s swimming or, B, station me away from the edge of the pool? Just a thought, but fuck me, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but the—”

“Also! Not to mention the camera has the fucking ability to zoom in, so why was there even a need for me to stand by the pool anyway?” You scoffed at the absurdity, almost tempted to cackle like a villain because of it. “The least he could do was tell me how to record it or find a way to adjust and compromise without occasionally soaking me with water on purpose, which I know damn well he was—”

“That’s just how-”

“We have a tripod, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed. By now, Jaemin had given up on providing you with his input. He opted to rest against the wall, finishing up whatever he had left of the protein bar, and occasionally would roll his eyes.

“But even then, who the fuck wants to see him swim anyway? We’ll probably only need like…what? A minute of the footage for the B-roll? So why the hell is he treating it like it’s about to be nominated by the goddamn Oscars for Best Picture? He just loves to nitpick and control me like a fucking puppet—”

“Keep talking and you’ll potentially strain your throat,” a new voice interrupted.

You jerked around to find Haechan, the culprit of your rant, exiting the locker room with a small duffle bag that contained both his swim gear and his school clothes from earlier in the day. His brown hair was only halfway dry, some strands still stuck to his forehead as he approached where you were pacing.

You halted in your path and stared him down. Haechan immediately caught onto the mood you were in, and instead of being shocked or hurt, he grinned.

“You.”

Your attempt at threatening him with one word made Haechan laugh.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Oh here we go again,” Jaemin mumbled, tossing the wrapper of the protein bar to the side. He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok, deciding it was more worthy of his attention than listening to you two banter—something he had been experiencing for well over five years.

As a mutual friend of yours and Haechan’s since middle school, Jaemin understood the frenemy dynamic better than either of you. Eventually, over the long years he had known you both, he learned to leave you two be.

“What about me, though? Are you going to try and tattletale on me?” Haechan feigned sympathy as he gave you an exaggerated pout, tilting his head like a puppy’s. “C’mon. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sorry, but I don’t remember ‘being a dick’ being listed under the requirements for your oh-so-important position of power.” You huffed at him and crossed your arms, choosing to face elsewhere as you rooted the soles of your feet to the ground.

Haechan furrowed his brows, his eyes never leaving you, as he addressed the third party within the shared space.

“Jaemin, was I being a dick, or is Y/N exaggerating?”

Jaemin glanced up at his phone and scrunched his nose at Haechan in annoyance.

“Don’t even try to bring me into whatever…this mess is.”

“No, tell him,” you demanded, now looking at him. Your glare was enough to burn Jaemin into ashes, but it was nothing compared to Haechan’s gaze piercing into your back. Knowing that he never looked away made you shiver, hating how fixated he seemed to be—and seemingly without reason too.

“Listen, I wasn’t being a dick. I was treating you the same way I treat everyone else. I’d honestly argue that you’re just narcissistic and think everything is about you when—”

“Oh wow, thank you for admitting that you’re a dick to everyone else!” You tossed your hands up for dramatic appeal as you spun back around to look at him. He scoffed, but his demeanor was quickly shadowed by a smirk that appeared on his lips, testing you with the arch of his brow.

“Oh really? Do you see anyone else complaining?”

“I’m complaining,” Jaemin muttered.

“People don’t complain because they’re scared of you, Sherlock,” you retorted. At this point, Haechan had already caught onto your bullshit of making evidence up, and it was why this exchange ended up lasting for as long as it did. Nevertheless, his ego continued to build the more you spoke.

“You’re not scared of me?”

And you keep falling for the bait.

“Why should I? You’re nothing.” You approached him and pressed a finger into his chest, taunting him as you stared straight into his eyes.

Suddenly a competition seemed to have materialized because now you both were locking eyes, too stubborn to look away.

“One day you’ll wake up and realize your position doesn’t mean shit. You take it too seriously and make everyone’s job your job when this should be a learning experience for the rest of us.”

“And who exactly is ‘us,’ babe?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that–”

“And it’s also starting to sound like jealousy to me.” Haechan’s eyes finally shifted, but instead of looking away from you like you initially wanted him to, you trailed his line of sight down to your lips. He eyed them shamelessly—technically making you win the unspoken eye contact competition, but at what cost? “I won’t believe you until I receive firm evidence and testimonies from the other students in the club, then maybe I’ll consider your concerns. Deal?”

What you despised most was how well Haechan knew and provoked you to get under your skin. He was a raging flame, making your blood boil from both irritation and excitement. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but after nearly six years of banter with Haechan, you knew damn well you enjoyed every second of it. It was like a nonstop competition, and you were always on the edge of winning.

Maybe it was also because you were so used to him constantly being above you. He was the president of the student council, the swim team’s captain, and specifically the one who snatched the executive position away from you in the broadcasting team, yet somehow you were still able to compete at his level of arrogance and egotism.

Even though you may never be able to top him in the foreseeable future, you at least knew how to match his fury—his fire, with your own.

“You’re pathetic.” You took a few steps back to gain some distance while his eyes flickered back up to yours. He bit his lip playfully, his smile only growing even wider.

“Woah, Y/N. Exposing my degradation kink so soon?”

“I-...you- w-what?!” you sputtered, your jaw falling slack as Jaemin’s head snapped up, staring at the two of you in disgust.

“Get a room—!”

“I’m going to make sure you get degraded from your position, you freak!”

“Not exactly how that word works, princess, but I’m glad you’re at least passionate.” His cooing made you want to slap the living shit out of him, your eyes protruding from their sockets are you glared.

“Are you fucking bricked up or something right now—?”

“Hey guys,” a woman’s voice called out. Your heads turned to look at the end of the hallway, catching one of the recreational center’s workers waving in your general direction. She pressed her lips together and smiled, attempting to be as professional and understanding as possible. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is it okay if you guys turn it down a notch?”

You and Haechan both nodded and whispered apologies, feeling like kids who just got scolded for shoving paintbrushes down the drain. Fortunately, the worker’s smile radiated genuine warmth and consideration, providing you some sort of reassurance that you guys weren’t too much of a disturbance (even though you guys totally were).

“You two are the most childish fuckers I know,” Jaemin deadpanned, finally shoving his phone away as he switched between looking at you and the man by your side. His eyebrows bunched up.

“And apparently horny too.”

“I would move across the country if it meant I never had to see him again,” you grumbled, striding back to the pile of equipment to pick up your backpack and the bag with all your reporting necessities (boring script, stationary, and a couple of notebooks shared with all the broadcasting students to collect notes and inspiration in).

“Hello? I’m still here.”

“Look at that. He already misses me.”

“I’m going to hurl,” Jaemin unnecessarily announced, and Haechan’s face soured.

“Ew.”

“Exactly. That’s how you two make me feel whenever you guys are together.” Jaemin got up on his feet and grabbed the wrapper to shove into one of his pockets (no littering, kids) before outstretching his limbs dramatically.

“I swear I developed back pain from always listening to you guys bicker.”

“Or, hot take,” Haechan interjected, “maybe it’s because you’re always sitting with your back arching forward like it belongs in the Arches National Park–”

“Yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.” Jaemin waved him off with his hand and rolled his eyes. “I came here to help carry stuff, not listen to your bullshit.”

He picked up the bag that contained the camera and passed it to Haechan. He offered to hold one more thing, but with only his backpack and the tripod left, Jaemin didn’t see much need for his friend’s assistance.

Jaemin then faced you, his face stern and rid of emotion.

“You too, Y/N,” he stated seriously. “None of this ‘he said this,’ ‘he said that,’ ‘please fuck me’ bullshit from you either.”

You gaped at him, arms wrapped tightly around the crew’s bag.

“Now why the hell do you think—”

“Zip it.”

Without giving you much of an opportunity to continue, Jaemin sped off in front of you, ready to leave the building. You couldn’t even look at Haechan as heat rushed to your cheeks, struggling to trail after Jaemin’s speedy steps.

Despite carrying heavier items, Haechan caught up to you with ease. You wanted nothing more than for Haechan’s feet to either slow down or speed up tremendously, but of course he purposely chose to walk by your side, attached to you by the hip.

“He sees it,” Haechan sing-songed. “Everyone sees it.”

“Sees what?” you snorted, oblivious to what he was indicating.

“That you want me,” he replied nonchalantly.

The moment you two stepped outside the doors of the center, you stopped to face him, trying to confirm what exactly he was implying.

“You can’t be serious.”

Haechan, who also stopped with your steps, shrugged.

“You’re the one in denial.”

Realizing that he was serious, you felt every muscle in your body tense up.

“Haechan,” you stated firmly. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

Instead of receiving something witty from Haechan like normal, his relaxed facial features suddenly scrambled into one that expressed remote shock. His lips were slightly parted, eyes searching yours for any hint that indicated you were lying or messing around with him, but you were serious.

The aggressive playfulness from earlier had evaporated faster than boiling water, and you watched as he became stilled. Your heart started pounding, anxiety creeping up within you due to not being able to read Haechan like you normally do.

“Since when?” he asked. His voice was quiet, his tone firmer, and by now, Jaemin was already by his car, too far from the two of you to understand what was going on. Hell, even you could barely understand what was happening.

“Earth to Haechan?” you joked, nervously laughing in an attempt to eliminate the newfound tension looming in the atmosphere. “It’s always been Yeonjun, remember?”

For a moment, Haechan could feel his mouth drying up. All his thoughts were held captive in his throat, and his lips remained parted as if they weren’t meant to collide at all. He stared at you like you had just teleported in front of him.

“Y/N,” he stated calmly, “he cheated on you.”

Your initial response was to get defensive, claiming that you already knew that because hell, it was your relationship, but then your brain acknowledged the true elephant in the conversation.

“How-...how the hell do you know about that?”

“I- You know word just-…That doesn’t matter. What matters is why in the world—”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“A mistake?” As Haechan’s brows raised, so did his tone. “You know, people—decent people, don’t make mistakes like that.”

Seeing how Haechan was gritting his teeth, how his eyes were locked on yours, built up a foreign frustration within you. Something about the way Haechan was behaving felt like he was trying to control you.

All the rage from before had now returned, yet this time, there was no more leniency from you—not when Haechan was being more condescending than he had ever been.

“You know nothing, Haechan, so frankly, I really don’t care about what you think about my relationship with my boy-”

“You’re still with him??”

“Look,” you snapped. “Just because you have the luxury of crushing my hopes and dreams on a daily basis, it does not give you the right to dictate what’s wrong or right about my love life and my decisions. Understood?”

And just like how you always are, Haechan refused to shut up.

“How is it dictating when it’s common sense to dump a shitty person?” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and not once did he look away from you. “He’s never treated you well either, and you know that—”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you repeated. You could feel the three key elements of creating a fire stir up within you. You had the fuel, the oxygen, and the heat, and Haechan was the chemical chain reaction that would set it off. “How dense can you fucking be to not back down?”

“He cheated on you,” he reasserted, and there was a rage in his eyes that you had never once encountered. “He’s done so many shitty things, and he hasn’t changed–”

“Again, none of your fucking business–”

“And I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“I am not going to repeat myself-”

“Can’t you just listen to what I-”

“Drop it.” You were seconds away from yelling at him, ready to unleash all your anger because never once has someone threatened your love life—Yeonjun, the man you considered your soulmate. Your flame had officially engulfed his, and all Haechan could do was stare at you in disbelief and disappointment.

Turning to look away, you gazed up into the sky and scoffed, not understanding why tears had begun to pool up in your eyes. At the end of the day, Haechan meant nothing to you—you didn’t even consider him a friend.

After moments of experiencing what it was like to be suffocated by a tension so unbearable, you eventually found a way to ground yourself.

“I can’t blame him, you know,” you whispered, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears. “We were angry. He just–...he needed an outlet, and at that time, that outlet happened to not be me, okay?”

Haechan stared at you, his mouth desperate to say something, anything, to make you see what he sees—a relationship that isn’t meant to be. That you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Maybe you were no more than an acquaintance to him, but he knew you have always deserved better.

“He isn’t someone worth fighting for.”

“And that’s none of your business,” you scowled.

“It isn’t right—”

“Stay in your fucking lane, Hyuck.”

Haechan clamped his mouth shut, and the sight of you completely breaking down tore him apart. Possibly it was all the years you spent together growing up, constantly arguing, yet he knew he was always one to look out for you.

You sucked in a cheek, gnawing at it as your chest urged for you to forgive him, to apologize for lashing out without much notice, but in the end, you prioritized your pride over him.

Not only was Haechan’s persistence a stab to your heart, but you suspected that Jaemin was the one who told him. By spilling your secrets, it was as if Jaemin saw the knife that impaled you and yanked it out of your chest, causing you to bleed to your death.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you muttered, dropping the bag in your arms to the ground by his feet. Your plans had changed to you walking home alone, wanting nothing to do with the other two boys for the next hour or so.

When you turned around to walk away, you knew Haechan was going to try and say something. You knew him best whenever he was at his worst, so you spun around to face him for the last time that day to cut him off.

“Never fucking cross that line with me again, got it?”

And with that, you left.

Jaemin apologized to you the morning after.

He normally drove you to school, and you debated getting into his car when he showed up. Thankfully you chose to do otherwise because the second you stepped inside, Jaemin was apologizing profusely. He talked about how anxious he was all night when Haechan told him what happened, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if you didn’t forgive him. Obviously you did, and the rest of the car ride was spent with him explaining his side of the story.

According to Jaemin, he only told Haechan about how you got cheated on because it seemed like Haechan already knew. As Jaemin recalled the whole scene, you two assessed the signs, such as how Haechan didn’t provide any sort of reaction when Jaemin dropped the news. In fact, it had seemed like Haechan had brought it up to Jaemin instead.

Regardless, it became the last of your worries because all that mattered was that you were back to being on good terms with your best friend.

But avoiding Haechan felt like lighting a match in the rain.

It was your agonizing reality for the next two months, and although you could argue that you had gotten closer to your boyfriend during the supposed ‘Haechan Drought,’ you were still plagued with him being everywhere around you.

He was in all your classes, and you never truly processed the extent of how involved Haechan had always been throughout high school with you. You weren’t on the swim team, but you were stuck with him during meetings for both the broadcasting team and student council.

Yet it all felt so different.

Unless he was called on, Haechan would talk much less unprovoked and would never look at you during meetings. When he would address the entire team, he would glance at you for a split second before looking elsewhere, no longer watching you like a hawk.

You had also gotten quieter because without Haechan to banter with, you recognized that you barely had friends in any of those classes either.

There was no longer a fight between your flames, and you two kept as much distance as possible. You were thankful that there hadn’t been an instance that interrupted that, such as being forced to record more B-roll with him, and you could only hope that the rest of your senior year would remain the same.

Then you would never have to see him in college.

Now you were back to being the mediocre student that faded into the background. People knew your name at best, but none have ever tried to become your friend aside from Jaemin. No matter how involved you tried to get, the closest you were to anyone was a classmate.

Haechan had always overshadowed you too, and for the first time in years, you were detached from his fumes—yet somehow, some way, the smoke from his fire would remain in your lungs, continuing to suffocate you even more than it had before. It didn’t give you that breath of fresh air of new friends or a better life; instead, it helped you realize that you didn’t matter. It was a miracle that you even scored Yeonjun as your boyfriend.

But then that begged the question: why did Haechan bother spending his time ridiculing you?

From the very beginning, you had always meant something to him, and you couldn’t pinpoint how or why. When there was no competition in academics, he treated it as if there was. Every time you ranted, he would listen, whether it be about him or something else. Even when you talked about how your chicken from the cafeteria was burnt, he would give you his own before calling you stupid for not noticing until you sat down.

He never shrugged you off like you were nothing or shut you down because your emotions were invalid. He entertained you each time with ease, and most importantly, he knew when to respect your boundaries. Haechan was probably the most mindful person you knew and could often tell when you were distressed or needed another form of reaction from him.

He knew when to stop.

Yet when it came to the one instance involving Yeonjun, he crossed the line multiple times. Why?

“Haechan isn’t here today.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t show up for a single class.”

Jaemin watched you play with your food with a fork, rolling the cold, barely spherical peas around and into the stale rice.

“That’s not like him,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder too.”

After the driest possible conversation in existence, you sighed and dropped your fork into your tray.

“I need to stop forgetting to pack myself lunch. This shit makes me lose my appetite, I swear. We should call the police and tell them the food they’re serving is illegal and a disgrace to this country.”

“Keep it away before I lose my appetite too.”

You didn’t react nor respond to what Jaemin said, letting the conversation rot as you pouted at your food. The cafeteria was unusually louder today, making it easier to space out into thought.

Jaemin took out his sandwich with a wide grin and started eating, grateful he never had to deal with what the school was feeding thanks to his mom, but eventually his eyes shifted over to you. You were unmoving with your gaze locked onto an empty spot on the table, so after moments of debating between asking you what’s wrong and ignoring you to devour his lunch, he opted to set his sandwich aside and stared straight at you.

“Why are you thinking about him?”

That was enough to garner your attention, your head snapping up to stare at your best friend like he was the craziest person you knew for mentioning Haechan, much less suggesting that your mind was wrapped around him.

“What?”

“Haechan. With his perfect attendance, a day without him should be a blessing, yet you brought up how he didn’t show up today and then moped harder than anyone I’ve ever seen mope. You should be over the moon, dancing on the tables and stealing people’s food, not-...” Jaemin waved a finger at you, “whatever this is. You seem out of it.”

“Well it’s not because of Haechan, I’ll tell you that,” you snorted. Your eyes fell back down to your tray, and the more you looked at it, the more nauseous you got. You scrunched your nose. “If anything, it’s probably because of this shit food.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes before tearing his sandwich into halves. You perked at the sight and ogled the half Jaemin taunted you with. You were about to thank him and take it into your possession before Jaemin jerked back his arm, making you whine.

“Throw away your food, then I’ll give you it.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. As Jaemin returned to his delicious, most scrumptious, packed lunch you had ever seen, you picked up your tray and walked it to the nearest trash can. As you dropped the whole thing inside, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You whipped around to check to see who it was and smiled at the sight of Nagyung waving at you. You wouldn’t consider her a good friend, but you knew her well enough since she was the vice president of the student council.

She ran over to you with a stack of paper in her arms, relieved to have caught you.

“Y/N, hi! I’m so glad I found you. I was scared I wouldn’t because of how packed it is.”

She flashed you her usual glowing smile, and you noticed that she was a bit more giddy than usual, making you question why she was choosing to talk to you in the first place. All your conversations normally took place before, during, and after student council meetings, so this was slightly out of character.

“What’s up?” you asked. As you looked at her, you noticed how her outfit was slightly more put together than it normally was. She had on a cute top that suited her chest perfectly and a skirt that you had never seen her wear.

“Your outfit’s really cute today.”

“Really?!” Her bright demeanor then faded into concern. “Wait, is it too noticeable or out of the blue? Is it bad?”

“No, no. Not at all!” you reassured. “It’s just the right amount of perfect.”

“Great! God, that means the world coming from you. It’s because!...” She stopped to glance around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before taking a step closer to whisper. “It’s because I was finally asked out on a date by my crush!”

She could barely contain her excitement, holding back a squeal with her bottom lip latched between her teeth. Her sunshine-like energy made you grin.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re making progress.” Your eyebrows pinched as you tried to recall the last time Nagyung had updated you about her crush. “You’ve been pining after him for so long—whoever ‘him’ is, anyway.”

The question of who Nagyung liked had always gone unanswered. She never told anyone, not even the ones who knew her best, but she loved gushing about her mystery crush to everyone she knew. All people really knew, you included, was how down bad she was.

A part of you wondered if it was someone you knew—someone pretty like Hyunjin or well-known like…Haechan.

“Oh, I wish I could tell you, and maybe I will if things go really well and we become official!” She squealed and hopped in her spot, unable to resist giving you a half-hug with her free arm. “This is so exciting, Y/N!”

“I’m really happy for you.” Your smile was genuine until you thought about why she was looking for you, starting to doubt that she called you over just so she could tell you about her date.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, swear. But! That aside, I also have something for you.”

You knew it.

Your brows raised, and when you didn’t catch on, she gestured to the papers in her arms with guilt.

“I know this is kind of a dick move, and I’m really really sorry, but I promised to put up fliers for prom today. My date is right after my last class.” Her frown had deepened, and for a split second, you found yourself sympathizing with her because who wanted to let down such a cheerful personality, especially when this was life-changing for her?

“So you want me to do it?”

“Exactly! Please, that would be great. It shouldn’t take too long, too.”

You thought about how you would have to give up an evening of playing on your switch or extra time to study for an upcoming exam, but you knew it was your duty as secretary to help out whenever needed.

Not to mention that it would also make you a decent friend not to hold Nagyung back from her soon-to-be love life despite her poor date planning. If you were in her shoes, you would have wanted her to do the same for you too.

“Sure,” you accepted. “Why not?”

“You’re the best, seriously!” She handed you the fliers as she began to fill you in on the extra details.

“I already told Mr. Barajas that I wasn’t feeling well and that you were going to do it, so he said it all worked out and to not worry about it,” she rambled, happy to give the extra weight (both literally and metaphorically) to you. “I just printed these out, so everything should be perfect to go. Oh, and don’t worry about any extras! Just set them on Barajas’s desk when you’re finished. Haechan will also be in 142 with tape ready for you.”

The mention of the forbidden name nearly made every cell in your body halt.

“What?”

Nagyung tilted her head at you, confused, before finally realizing.

“Oh crap, I forgot! I’m so sorry, I really did forget you guys weren’t on good terms. I hope it’s okay that he’s helping you out. I mean, he’s supposed to, but it was meant for him and me to do it together, not you two, so…God, I’m really sorry Y/N.”

Before you could even react to the newfound information, she continued.

“I really have to go now. Thank you again! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” And with her rosy pink cheeks and a stunning shade of red on her lips, she basically skipped away and waved goodbye to you with a smile, so you reciprocated it with an awkward one of your own.

When she turned her back, your smile immediately dropped and you sighed heavily.

“Have fun on your date,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to fliers in your arms. As you skimmed the one on top, you noticed it was to promote going to prom while also including a big QR code to vote for who should be your school’s prom king and queen. You expected it since it was the last meeting’s topic of discussion, but what you weren’t aware of was who were listed as nominees.

There were eight names listed under ‘Prom Court,’ and while you expected Haechan’s, Nagyung’s, and your boyfriend’s names on it, your jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of your own.

With every passing class period, your anxiety would kick up a notch.

The dread of talking to the face you had been avoiding for two months engulfed you, and it caused you to develop the urge to ditch your current class to go hunt for Jisung, the student council’s historian. You wanted nothing more than to dump the stack of fliers into his arms, and knowing Jisung, he wouldn’t ask any questions. Hell, you were certain that if you asked him nicely, he would do it for you because of how naturally sweet and endearing he was.

But the guilt of ditching your secretary duties kept picking at your skin, and besides, all you had to do was treat Haechan like a colleague. That should be easy, right?

As you suffered through the last few minutes of class and your teacher’s incessant ramblings about the upcoming exam, your thoughts drifted over to what would happen the moment you stepped into room 142.

Haechan hadn’t shown up to a single class all day, yet he was expected to set up fliers after school. As your thoughts snowballed, you arrived at the baseless conclusion that maybe Nagyung wasn’t aware that Haechan was absent today, therefore someone else (like Jisung) would take over.

Suddenly, your back had straightened with feigned interest in your teacher’s last few words. Something about Jisung being there instead of Haechan had excited you; it felt like you were free and that the universe was listening to your prayers. The gamble of seeing whether it would be Haechan or Jisung (or literally anyone else) had your right leg bouncing, eyes on the clock, and when the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, backpack over your shoulders and fliers in your arms, before dashing out of the classroom.

You sped down the hallway to 142, Mrs. Zhang’s room for Chemistry, bug-eyed, before having your delusions crushed at the sight of Haechan’s stupidly large height leaning against one of the counters. Your feet stood glued to the ground by the doorway, your eyes locked onto him.

Covered from head to toe in sweats, Haechan was immersed in whatever was on his phone, scrolling through something as his brown waves peeked out from inside his hood. Without any hint of him acknowledging your presence, your shattered hopes slowly began to rebuild.

Maybe if you were quiet enough, you could sneak out with the tape and do everything on your own, avoiding him at all. Actually, scratch that. You didn’t even need the tape. All you had to do was go to another teacher’s room, steal their tape for half an hour, and then return it with ease.

The plan was effortless, and you mentally smacked your forehead for not thinking of it earlier. Right as you were about to execute it, your backpack slammed against the doorframe as you turned on your heels.

“Nice try.”

You groaned out of embarrassment (and slight pain) and forced yourself to turn around. Haechan’s phone was now face down on the counter, and his arms were crossed over his abdomen. His face remained stoic as his eyes met yours, wielding a tension you didn’t recognize.

Now that you could properly look at him, you noticed a few details that you hadn’t before, such as the small tear on his lower lip and the bandaid on his cheekbone. If you looked long enough, you could catch light patches of purple across his skin, and the sight hindered all your thoughts, your brain too occupied with piecing together how he ended up like this.

“What happened?” you blurted, your gaze shooting up from his lips to his eyes.

Haechan staggered at your suddenty, but he managed to keep himself stilled, his brows pinching.

“What do you mean?”

Even if Haechan didn’t mean to, his question became an invitation for your unfiltered thoughts to spill out of your mouth.

“You didn’t show up for any of our classes today,” you began, “but now you’re here? For some stupid fliers? You’re barely dressed properly like you normally are, your hair isn’t straightened, you look pale, Hyuck, and what’s up with the bruises or the bandaid on your cheek–”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me?” he asked with a scoff. There was no humor in his tone. Instead, it looked as if he was irritated, perhaps even more than you were.

Haechan barely met your eyes, and his arms closed himself off from you.

“What–?”

“You’re evaluating me like I’m some sort of lab project, Y/N.”

“No, no I’m not,” you rejected. “I’m just saying things are a little off.” You kept your eyes firm on his, even as he pushed himself off the counter with his phone and made his way over to you. “And you know, you really can’t blame me for being somewhat worried when one, you don’t show up, and two, you look like a whole mess—”

“Just hand over the fliers—” he interrupted, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm in your direction. You dodged him by turning your body 180 degrees and stood your ground.

“What happened?” you repeated, this time more firmly.

Haechan looked at you, a blank expression on his face, before turning back around to grab the roll of tape left on the teacher’s desk. When he returned, he shoved it into your arms while simultaneously stealing half the stack. You protested with an exclaimed ‘Hey!’ yet he didn’t bat an eye and skimmed over the contents of the flier on top.

Bothered by his lack of response, you frowned and made sure to block the doorway, refusing to let him leave until you received answers.

“Why are you acting like this? Pretending that I’m not even—”

“I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs,” he muttered.

“Did you get into a fight? Why weren’t you here today? Why are you here now—”

“You’d think you’d know,” he finally answered, pushing past you like you weighed none less than a feather.

Your brain had fully malfunctioned at that point, unable to decipher what he meant as Haechan walked off to the nearest staircase. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you thought about what he was implying yet came to no resolution. Did he assume that you were caught up in your school’s latest gossip? Or that you were the main admin for his biggest fan page on Instagram?

The idea made you snort, and you scowled bitterly at his childish attitude. It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger intruding on his personal life—hell, you felt like you deserved an explanation because of how you were forced to do this with him.

As you stormed off past the remaining lingering students to the nearest bulletin board, you questioned how you were going to do this on your own.

You had put up fliers countless times in the past few years yet never alone. Luckily, you had a general idea of where the fliers should go when it came to the school’s hallways, but as you approached your first destination, you struggled with ripping off pieces of tape while holding the stack at the same time. It would’ve been easier with a partner by your side, one who either did the tape ripping or placing of the fliers, but you weren’t desperate enough to fall into the role of a helpless princess in need of her pretty (useless) prince.

After some trial and error, you found a method that consisted of setting the stack on the ground occasionally so you could rip off pieces of tape. Then you would slap said pieces of tape onto your wrist, having them readily available as you put up a few fliers at a time.

Although slightly time-consuming, it was working well and kept you at a steady pace until you heard crashing footsteps behind you from afar. Without paying any mind to it, you bit back your curiosity in order to focus on the wall in front of you, but then you made the mistake of taking a step back, bumping into the person who was sprinting.

You lost your balance and fell forward before catching yourself shortly after. However, the fliers had already flown out of your arms, scattering across and down the long hallway.

Ready to curse out the offender for running down the hallway, you were surprised when you saw that it was Nagyung behind you, pouring out apologies while a loopy grin was smacked onto her face.

You steadied your anger and told her it was okay, getting down onto your knees to collect all the fliers. Her ‘sorry’s could only go so far with her smeared lipstick, a dazed gaze, and her hair holding the mold to someone else’s (presumably her crush’s) hands in them, but you still excused her, knowing that she was over the moon right now.

“It’s okay, Nagyung, I promise.” You forced out a chuckle as you crawled to scavenge for the ones that flew a few feet away.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she pouted, but it was shortly followed up with bubbly giggles. “God, Y/N, can you believe this? Oh, it’s going so well! I think I love him, I do.”

“Good for you,” you grumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear it as you continued to move down the hallway, hating how far the fliers had escaped from you. You also hated how she just stood there without intent on helping you at all.

“I have to really go now. Got volleyball practice soon, but I think I’m seeing him tomorrow too!” She waved you goodbye.

And just like that, she continued running off.

You stared at how you were only able to collect half the mess, hating how Nagyung had somehow managed to delay you even further from being in the comfort of your bed. You were also salty at how her date was taking place at the school, wishing she could’ve dragged him around while she taped stuff up before getting dick-downed of some sort.

Deciding that she and her business weren’t worth your time, you continued to pick everything up as quickly as you could, wanting nothing more than to go home.

When you finally finished collecting every last flier, you were prepared to get back into the groove of things before feeling your phone vibrate in the side pocket of your backpack. Wondering if it was something important, you took it out and beamed at the idea of it being a new message from Yeonjun.

Dating him felt like falling in love with him all over again whenever he texted. Your heart would pound in your chest when you thought about him and explode whenever he gave you his attention and time. You were addicted to him, especially knowing that he was yours after liking him since middle school.

So to say you were disappointed was far worse than an understatement. It was from a number you hadn’t saved yet always recognized and undoubtedly remembered by heart.

Of course it was Haechan.

You had Haechan’s phone number due to previous class projects and group chats, but you had never once saved it because you thought he was undeserving of being a contact in your phone. Nonetheless, with how the years have passed and how much his number infiltrates every group chat you were in, it was only fair that your brain had unintentionally memorized all ten digits.

The message he sent consisted of him saying that he was done with the fliers, and you rolled your eyes. Even after the way he treated you earlier, he still chose to let you know and brag about how fast he was.

You shoved your phone away vigorously, ready to return to your slapping-fliers-on-walls duty, before perking at the sound of footsteps behind you once more.

Automatically assuming it was Nagyung or another student staying after for a club or sport, you were stunned when you heard his voice.

“You’re not even halfway yet?”

In no fucking universe are you turning around; not for him.

“Go gloat somewhere else,” you snapped. The next flier you taped up was nearly slammed onto the wall, but Haechan was left unphased by your sudden outburst. He stood next to you and remained quiet, even when you left to place the next flier a few feet away on the opposite wall.

When he didn’t follow, you sighed out of relief, yet somehow you couldn’t help but peek at him, eyeing his hands that were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was staring straight at the lopsided flier you had put up, and when you decided you had enough of peering at him, he was back by your side.

“What are you doing?” you grumbled. He was the one who pushed you away, yet now here he was, glued to your side like how he was two months ago.

“You’re taking too long.”

“I had a mishap,” you explained, “but that’s none of your concern.” The lines on your forehead bunched up, and you waved him off, bending down to place the stack on the ground. Figuring it wasn’t weird at all, you continued your method of ripping off pieces of tape and slapping it onto your wrist.

And Haechan was totally judging.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just go home.”

Despite being on the ground and sitting on your heels, you could physically feel the heat on the back of your head due to his eyes burning a hole into your skull, and for a split second, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I can do it myself,” you explained.

“What are you even doing?”

“Can you just go?” You picked up the stack once again as you rose to your feet, doing your best to avoid whatever look was on Haechan’s face. He was probably stifling a laugh or keeping his expression smug, but when you did cave and peek, his face was still solemn, his eyes on your wrist with concern.

“You’re struggling.”

“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Obvious,” you retorted.

“Let me do it.”

Taken aback, you whipped your head over to his direction.

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t even want to be here,” he reasoned through gritted teeth. “Just go, and you can thank me later.”

“Thank you?!” Appalled at his audacity, you couldn’t help but laugh out of disbelief. “Seriously, Haechan? You want me to thank you for stealing my job? Again? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Because you can’t take any criticism ever, or in this case, any form of help, so just let me do it.”

Haechan was eerily calm about the whole ordeal, his energy far from matching yours.

“I do take help,” you refuted. “I just don’t take yours, and neither do I need it, too.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.” And within a blink of an eye, he had managed to snatch the stack of fliers from you.

“Hey!” you yelled, feeling as if it was deja vu from earlier (you really needed to step up your defense), and reached out to take them back, but he was quick to turn his body, shielding them from you.

“Give me the tape and go,” he urged, emotionless. The Haechan in front of you now was someone you truly didn’t recognize because the Haechan you knew would have made fun of you and held the fliers above your head, teasing you for being so weak.

Yet he stood still, creating a barrier between you and the duty that was forced upon you. You didn’t want to be here anyway, yet you were so insistent on making sure Haechan wasn’t stealing your work again. You weren’t incapable, and you hated how he always managed to be faster.

Even now, he was miles away from being playful with you, and yet he still had a way to shove it in your face.

“Haechan, I swear—”

“Give me the tape, and you can run off to your little boyfriend waiting for you by the entrance.”

Your lips parted at his words, eyes wide as you worked to comprehend his words. You questioned how he knew about Yeonjun’s whereabouts, how he knew that Yeonjun was waiting and that you didn’t, but knowing that he was serious, you reluctantly gave up and dropped the roll of tape on the ground, forcing him to pick it up.

You were sick of constantly arguing with him, and even if he was lying about Yeonjun, at least you would be away from Haechan. There was no point in fighting for your dignity anymore, not when Haechan’s narcissism was insufferable.

By walking away with heavy and quick strides, you hoped he felt humiliated by how poorly he was treating you—how he had always treated you like this.

As much as you wanted it to be true, you hoped Haechan was lying just so you had more evidence against his self-absorbed and shitty personality, but alas, you found Yeonjun standing precisely where Haechan said he was.

Regardless, all stress and frustrations had lifted from your being, and you called out to your boyfriend with a smile that would make your cheeks ache in minutes.

“Junnie!” You waved your hands with a small bounce in your steps as you rushed over to him.

Your boyfriend’s head shot up, surprised to see you. His utter shock quickly switches to one of sheer happiness, tucking his device away before opening his arms for you.

“Hey, baby!”

You tossed yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” With your face in his neck, your voice came out muffled, and it made Yeonjun laugh.

“Had to stay after to discuss my grades with a teacher, then I decided to stay back a bit for you.” He cooed and kissed the top of your head, holding you incredibly close. When you pulled back, his hands had moved from behind your backpack to your hips instead, holding them as you stared up at him.

“You were waiting for me?” you asked, eyes wide with stars in them.

“Of course I was, baby.”

You were radiating, feeling happier than ever. The last time you saw Yeonjun was a week ago, and with your clashing schedules, you two very rarely get the opportunity to make plans. Your hands rested atop his shoulders, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you smiled.

But then it fell.

Something felt off.

If someone were to inquire Haechan about who his heart belonged to, your name would be his answer—whether he intended to say it or not.

Haechan had always been considered the school’s favorite. His intelligence may not be up to par with others, but his authority was what made him a prominent member of your high school. Some blame it on his looks, but most were aware enough to know that wasn’t the case.

Haechan knew how to think on his feet, and his problem-solving skills outwitted everyone within his grade level. Reaching tranquillity had never been an issue for him, allowing him to be levelheaded while making decisions. He emitted an aura that made classmates truly listen to him and the ideas he shared, and overall, it made him a great contender to lead every group and organization he was in.

Additionally, Haechan’s heart was what won over most people. His lack of vulnerability seemed to be his only flaw, but it was an obstacle he could overlook when it came to empathizing with others. By actively being involved in the community through volunteering and holding fundraisers, everyone could recognize Haechan’s devotion to hope for humanity.

All these traits were what led Haechan up onto the pedestal and the public eye, a household name for all families in the district. Titles and awards naturally gravitated towards him throughout the years, resulting in him winning the vote as president of your school’s student council and enough scholarships to provide him a full ride at most universities.

It was safe to say that competition against Lee Haechan was sparse, and you were no different.

Your grades would teeter around his standard, hence how you two collectively ended up in the same classes, but aside from that, you had nothing else that could compare to what he was capable of.

Except for one thing; your fury.

There was an inferno inside you at all times, and instead of your body shielding off your heart with steel, people around you would come to find out that your heart was the reason for that large blaze of fire, possessing a passion unlike any other.

Haechan had never once seen a peer with as much fight as you. It was a trait only you encapsulated, one that you weren’t afraid to express. You stood up for yourself and your beliefs, and it was easy to pick fights with him when he had been troubling you from the very moment you two were assigned to sit next to each other in seventh-grade algebra.

Haechan yearned for you ever since, his only want being your attention. You gave him the drive to succeed in high school and thrive in his senior year, and he was positive that he wouldn’t be doing this well without a reason to show off in front of you. He wanted your praise, your acknowledgment, but he loved the chase the most.

Unfortunately, that was the exact reason he ended up here.

The chase was what made him fall for every part of you, wanting nothing more than your lips on his and the ability to have you by his side at all times, but it was also what landed you with your current boyfriend.

It was like his life was a video game with God giving him the hardest difficulty setting by making sure you were obsessed with someone undeserving of all that he wanted. There wasn’t even a chance of you two possibly being friends in your eyes. Meanwhile, Haechan would argue that you two had more chemistry than any other couple in your class, but that hope was crushed, shredded, and stomped on when he found out you still devoted your love to Yeonjun.

Regardless, it didn’t change who you were as a person. Your heart was still just as large and beautiful, and your drive to succeed hadn’t lessened. The bickering never faltered, and it wasn’t like Haechan was opposed whenever you expressed disgust at the thought of him being turned on because of you (and that was because he found the idea of you thinking about him hot—yes, his expectations were that low).

So it was why after two months of almost zero to no contact, you treating him as if those months didn’t exist created the largest dilemma he had ever faced. He spent the next week thinking about your intentions and why you seemed to care so much, specifically right after when Haechan had willed himself to believe that he meant jackshit to you. You effortlessly toyed with his heart, leaving him in everlasting misery, while you seemed to do completely fine.

What was a typical and ideal lifestyle for you was a nightmare and tormenting hellhole for Haechan. He didn’t just crave the warmth and comfort from your undying flames.

He wanted to burn.

Insanity engulfed him on the days spent without you, leaving him to wonder why you had to make things extensively worse by pointing out his absence or how he had put less effort into his hair. Why did it seem like the concern you expressed was genuine? Why pretend that you cared for him as much as he cared for you?

He was going insane—so insane that he drove to a college party with three other friends in his sedan on a Wednesday night.

It was being held by a fraternity he and his friends were far more than familiar with thanks to Jaehyun, an upperclassman he met in his sophomore year and remained friends with since then. The beginning of the senior year marked the origin of parties and hook-ups in weak sporadic attempts to get over you.

At this rate, Haechan could argue that he was more experienced than half of the current college freshmen class. Getting girls in bed was the easiest part; the hardest part was forgetting about you. From what was a method created to move on from you became one that prepared him for when you wanted sex with him.

But with your constant longing for Yeonjun, Haechan made sure that this party would be different.

Although accustomed to having sex with various women, Haechan had never been one to drink. This was a fact about him that raised eyebrows, specifically Jaehyun’s when he first tried urging Haechan with a drink, but tonight he vowed to change that. He was normally their designated driver, but when Haechan informed Mark of his plan, the elder was more than delighted to remain sober so Haechan could get a taste of alcohol.

“Hey, man! It’s about time!” Jaehyun exclaimed the instant he found out about Haechan’s willingness to drink, pulling a fresh bottle out of the cooler specifically for his friend.

“That’s what I told him!” Mark projected his voice over the music, giving Haechan a supportive pat on the back.

Haechan rolled his eyes at his friends’ remarks and thanked Jaehyun for the beer, hanging around by the counter as the three conversed and caught up. The two laughed at the way Haechan’s face scrunched up at the taste, Mark shoving him lightly with the claim that Haechan was being overdramatic.

With his earlier mindless decision of tossing on a mesh long-sleeve shirt over his black tank top, Haechan had attracted another partygoer by his side momentarily after his first sip. She wrapped her arms around one of his and inserted herself into the conversation with hopes of getting Haechan in bed by the end of the night, and crazily enough, he considered it for a moment before feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Normally it would be something he’d ignore, but it remained persistent, signifying that he was receiving a call. He didn’t know who would be calling at this hour—well, aside from Sunwoo and his usual complaints about Haechan partying as a high schooler on a school night.

After setting the glass down on the counter to grab his phone, any urgency to intoxicate himself as quickly as possible vanished the very second he saw your name glowing on his screen. With an awkward retraction of his arm and a forced cough, Haechan excused himself and answered the call.

“Hello?”

With music pounding inside his ear canals, it was expected that he couldn’t hear anything you were saying. He navigated through various crowds to reach the entrance of the house, his heart replicating the booming vibrations from the loudspeakers as he prayed that you wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Okay, I…I should be free now,” he stammered after stepping outside. The sudden stillness of Mother Nature was a drastic change from the party scene, coercing him to focus on his racing heartbeat and the anxiety accumulating in his tightening chest. He was breathing heavily, both from pushing through people in a rush and also because of you.

You never failed to render him weak and helpless, leaving him like a puppy longing for their owner’s guidance.

There was a silence, but he could hear your gentle breaths hitting your phone.

“I need a ride.”

Haechan blinked, his body tensing up, as the many thoughts in his brain scrambled to make meaning of what you meant. However, it didn’t matter because you hung up shortly after, leaving him alone to revel in your words.

Your bluntness and suddenty made Haechan malfunction, his thoughts leading him to question if he had even heard you correctly. Rarely did you ever reach out to him, and what could you need him for? Especially after lashing out at him and ignoring him for two months? Of course, there was that one day a week ago when you two were forced to talk together, the day he was given a one-day suspension, but you two returned to treating each other like strangers like it was natural.

He stared at his phone in hopes of receiving more information, that you’d perhaps call again to reconfirm or say you had the wrong number. He felt like he was dreaming—that the person he had wanted for so long needed him for once, but he couldn’t help but also believe that this may be the beginning of another nightmare.

But it was you, and Haechan was willing to risk it.

After checking his call logs to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he rushed back into the fraternity house, thankful he didn’t proceed with drinking any more than he did.

He found everyone exactly where he had left them (the girl included) and announced his departure. The girl made sure Haechan knew how disappointed she was, but that was his last concern as he grabbed the beer bottle and handed it to Mark, giving him a pat on the back.

“Drink up and find an Uber.”

“No fucking way you’re leaving us this soon, man.” Jaehyun shook his head in disapproval, his forearms resting against the countertop.

“Another time, I promise, yeah?” Haechan started walking away, waving to them as his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

“He’s lying,” Mark snorted, taking a swig before bidding Haechan a bitter goodbye. “You owe me!"

Haechan ran out of the house, his legs making quick and long strides as he ran to his parked car down the block. His newfound adrenaline made him think about what he was sacrificing to be with you. Was leaving the party and betraying his friends worth spending even a second with you? What if you were asking him to drive you and your boyfriend somewhere? Could his heart even deal with being used like that?

But as much as Haechan hated it, he knew he was making the right choice. The self-respect he had for himself was buried six feet deep beneath the surface of the earth when it came to you.

God, he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

For a split second, Haechan truly debated what he was doing after getting into his car. He was already driving, but he didn’t know where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to send him a text with your location, and it was a place he was familiar with.

It was a park that he often frequented as a kid since it resided by his old neighborhood, and he was thankful he knew exactly where to go because he knew he would’ve definitely crashed the car while pulling up your location on his GPS. Haechan was doubtful it was the alcohol in his system making his fingers shake and his mind uneasy. He blamed you for his hysteria, one that had developed over years of endless longing.

Luckily the drive wasn’t long thanks to the roads being mainly void of other vehicles (and maybe he did speed a few times, but he considered it justified). Before pulling into the parking lot, he spotted a lone figure curled up on a nearby bench. A small weight had been lifted off of him, relieved it was just you, and he parked aimlessly while his eyes rested on you.

You seemed unphased by his added presence, your arms unmoving as they stayed wrapped around your legs. The bench you were sitting in was facing away from the parking lot, but with his headlights illuminating the view in front of you, you certainly had to know he was there.

In an ideal world, Haechan would leave his car, join you by your side, and, if he was lucky, he’d pull you into his arms and hold you close against his chest. He wanted to be there for you in whatever way he could, but he ended up being a deer in headlights, too afraid to make the wrong move and lose you again.

He sat there for a minute, watching you, and as soon as he received the confidence to reach for the handle of his door, you were up on your feet. His fingers paused midair as he traced your movements, his arm eventually falling to his side as you approach his car.

Despite how slow his mind was working, Haechan knew to unlock the car right as you opened it (he would’ve died out of embarrassment if he had forgotten), and neither of you greeted the other.

Without any explanation from you, Haechan refrained from staring at you like he normally would, but your outfit made it incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much, just an oversized long-sleeved shirt that reached your thighs, but it was far from the usual clothes he’d seen you wear, like jeans and a nice-fitting blouse. For a moment, he believed you had no pants on, but then he knocked some sense into himself, realizing that you were probably wearing shorts that were hidden.

While Haechan attempted to keep his composure and respect your boundaries, you were eyeing him shamelessly, once again analyzing every detail about him. Beads of sweat pooled up on the back of his neck, and his hair was straightened yet fuzzy. As your eyes trailed downwards, you noticed how the mesh hugged his biceps, catching every crease that defined his muscles. He was quiet, his index finger resting against his lips.

Where did he even come from?

And why was he so quick to listen?

You held back your tongue from dumping out your thoughts, knowing your questions would end up unanswered like before. Your body instinctively rested against the divot between the car door and your seat, keeping your distance from Haechan. He was meant to be a stranger, perhaps someone you loathed, yet there was an odd comfort that encased you from him just sharing the same air as you.

You cleared your throat, turning your head to look away when he flinched and snapped his gaze towards you.

“Drive.”

Your demand was no louder than a whisper, but Haechan picked it up effortlessly and was already backing out.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Haechan raised a brow at your answer, and you buried yourself further into his seat, directing your gaze out the door. “Just-...anywhere, Hyuck.”

The nickname had his throat tightening and his chest leaping, nodding in your direction as he drove on autopilot. With no destination in mind, he strolled through familiar roads, his fingers tapping against the wheel.

You stayed silent, creating a tension that was unbearably thick, yet none of you felt the need to leave; neither of you wanted to leave the other, even if it meant having to deal with the looming elephant in the room (or in this case, Haechan’s car).

After spotting the recreational center from afar and its empty parking lot, he instinctively pulled in. There wasn’t a proper explanation for why he decided it’d make a great destination, especially when it was the place that created a rift in your relationship with him, but it felt right.

It was empty, open, and serene—a perfect place to stay as the moon shined.

Haechan stepped out of the car after parking in the middle of it, and when you didn’t follow, he moved to your side and opened the door. He was hesitant but took the risk of offering his hand to you, a warm, nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to know he was there to listen, to be there for you, because, Lord, he would hand you the world if he could.

“I’m not in the mood for walking,” you mumbled, but Haechan shook his head.

“We’re not going to walk, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered up to his briefly, skeptical of what he had planned, but ultimately caved. You ignored his hand, and he pulled it back with regret. When you stood there, your eyes on the sky, he closed the door behind you and guided you to the hood of his car.

Without a second thought, he sat on top of it and gestured for you to do the same.

“I sit here all the time. Helps me think.” He leaned back against his windshield, his hands holding the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the sky. When you didn’t move, he started to feel stupid, wondering if you two were better off in the car, but then you joined him.

You copied his position, staring upwards as your hands rested over your abdomen.

Haechan opted to keep to himself, deciding that he didn’t want to make this worse for the two of you. Instead, he fixated his thoughts on the stars in the sky.

There were only a few, but it was a rare sight due to the constant air pollution in your city, so he considered it a miracle. You, on the other hand, were spacing out in thought, and Haechan could tell through his occasional peeks. Without much control, his eyes started tracing down your arms. They then landed on where the hem of your shirt rested, now looking at your bare thighs.

Feeling as if he just reverted back to being the shyest virgin in the country, he gulped and immediately looked elsewhere, trying to get you off his mind despite you being right next to him. His racing heart was all that he could hear, and now he wondered if you could hear it too—if you knew how much you affected him.

And your voice broke the silence.

“How long have you known?”

Okay, maybe his brain did fall out of his skull because Haechan had no idea what you were talking about. He turned his head and caught how you stared up at the sky. Your eyes were glossy, holding the reflections of the whole galaxy within them. They sparkled, and for a beat, Haechan had forgotten your question, too infatuated with your beauty.

His silence resulted in you turning your head, gaze meeting his, and that was when he noticed the tears.

“About Yeonjun and Nagyung.”

Your light, your flames, his burning desire; all were gone in a flash.

Your voice was delicate, and Haechan knew that with one move, he could break you.

Directing his gaze heavenward, Haechan sighed and brought his arms down to rest over his chest. Somehow he was able to feel all the pain you were experiencing, his heart twisting while his stomach churned and sloshed around in his body. He thought about how to respond as he chewed on the inside of his lip, questioning if he should answer at all to avoid hurting you.

But you asked, and as always, Haechan delivered.

“I don’t think I ever really knew until last week,” he explained, “but I could always tell.” Suddenly, the fight from a week ago had resurrected, and Haechan was forced to relive it all.

The hallways were empty when Haechan left the broadcasting room, a backpack strap slung over his shoulder while the other dangled behind him. He was in the middle of scrolling through his emails when he picked up on the sound of Yeonjun’s voice around the corner.

His footsteps halted, and Haechan caught Yeonjun’s fatal words.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Nagyung’s squeals followed after, and Haechan stood motionless.

At first, Haechan had no thoughts circulating in his brain, but after hearing their lips collide, he started coming up with solutions, such as interrupting or taking a video to send to you. Unfortunately, before he could act on either of them, he heard footsteps dashing off, practically skipping, as the two bidded one another goodbye.

Haechan couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his upcoming actions, but he knew how to describe how he felt.

Anger was the first and only emotion to surge up within him, his fingers instinctively balling up into fists. His muscles had tightened while a forest fire ran rampant through his veins, causing his blood to boil.

Then with quick strides, Haechan shoved his phone away and made a sharp turn around the corner, tossing his backpack on the ground after spotting Yeonjun against the lockers. The latter had a dazed look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk as he typed away on his phone, but that was changed once he looked up at the sound of Haechan’s backpack crashing against the ground in front of him.

There wasn’t a second in between Yeonjun’s face of surprise and Haechan’s arm being raised, and before Yeonjun could react, Haechan’s fist had slammed into his jaw.

It was a blur from there, but Haechan knew he had won even after authorities dragged him off Yeonjun’s body. He had received a few jabs in return, but it was nothing compared to the black eye Haechan gave him.

The fact that Yeonjun managed to cover it up with makeup the day after was a miracle, and no one in the school knew about the fight since it happened after school. Haechan wanted it to stay that way, but a selfish, cruel part of him wished that everyone knew how sick your boyfriend was.

Well, now he was unsure if he was still your boyfriend.

Haechan turned his head back towards you, his cheek meeting the cold metal of his car.

You pursed your lips at his response and nodded slowly. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have believed him. There was no universe where you’d choose to listen to Haechan over Yeonjun, but after a week of investigating and getting your head out of your ass, you found out on your own terms, and all the pieces made sense.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Haechan’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts, and as you adjusted to look back at him, you were surprised to still find him staring at you.

“I’m not a violent person, Y/N,” he whispered, an enduring hope lingering in his eyes. He wanted you to believe him, and for once, you did; you truly understood the man you hated most.

“I know, Hyuck.”

Haechan eased at your words, and the two of you fell back into a more comfortable yet aching silence. His fingers drummed against his abdomen, and after a while, he got sick of looking at the same four stars, so he closed his eyes, focusing on enjoying the light breeze instead. His heart was still racing, but it was less alarming. Regardless, he hated knowing that he potentially contributed to how much you were hurting right now.

Maybe if he had done something to prevent it earlier, whether it be telling you as soon as he found out or keeping completely out of your business so you could live in bliss, or, if he wasn’t so scared, he could’ve asked you to be his far before Yeonjun had. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, but Haechan would never know since he never tried, and now he was going to beat himself over it because now you’re devastated over losing your boyfriend and it was potentially his faul—

You laughed.

Haechan snapped his head towards you, his brows raised at your sudden change in mood—but it wasn’t the type of laugh he expected. Your laugh was one filled with pain, and he watched you shake your head, trying to refuse the tears that were rapidly welling up in your eyes once more. You sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of your hand, choosing to look in the opposite direction because the last thing you wanted was for Haechan to see you vulnerable.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “This entire thing is stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.”

His lips parted to interject, to tell you that you were, in fact, ‘not dumb,’ but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t help. From what he’d learned in the past, you liked it least when he tried telling you otherwise, no matter the situation.

“I should’ve known. I did know. The whole world knew. Even you knew, but it makes me think, was Nagyung just flocking around, flaunting to everyone that she had a crush on my boyfriend and managed to win him over? I just—I…I don’t know-...” You paused to catch your breath, beginning to choke on your tears as your chest shook, “I don’t know what I did wrong, you know?”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pain to engulf you. You knew fully well that your punishment was to deal with the pain, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it—that you deserved none of this. Why was this a penalty for being in love?

It was humiliating having everyone witness the reality you shielded from yourself, choosing hope and love over the truth.

“I just never felt more stupid in my life, and I feel even more stupid knowing that I still love him.”

Haechan sucked in his lips, gnawing on them as he bit back all his feelings, from his brain shredding to his heart weeping.

“I love him so much that I would let him do it to me all over again because I keep thinking he’d be better. I know he can be better, so why-...It’s just- Why do I do this to myself?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, each one leaving behind a trail for others to fall. They started pouring out of you rapidly, soon sobbing at the heart-wrenching pain of being betrayed by everyone in your life, Haechan included, because why, out of everyone, was he here for you when he should be the last person who cared?

You always wanted Haechan to be the antagonist of your life story, to have him as your biggest enemy and threat, so why was everyone else but him hurting you? Why was the villain of your fantasy taking the role of your knight in shining armor?

And yet, as much as it pained Haechan to process all your emotions, his mind wasn’t running correctly; he had you alone for the first time in months. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and whisper words of comfort in your ears, knowing you deserved it more than anyone, but he also wanted to shake you awake and slap you out of your misery, praying that you’d forget about Yeonjun; that right now, you being vulnerable was his chance to swoop in, to set whatever you wanted him to into flames, as long as if it meant you’d end up okay.

You sat up because if you lied down any longer, you would’ve started drowning in your own tears. Your sleeves were soaked, and he sat up alongside you, figuring that he should do something about it.

Haechan got back onto his feet and stood in front of you. He barely knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from replacing your sleeves with his cold, clammy hands over your cheeks. There wasn’t a time that Haechan could recall where he had been this gentle with someone, and when you didn’t push him away, he tilted your head up to look at him.

Even with tears running down your cheeks, you looked angelic as ever.

Each droplet mirrored a star from the sky, and your eyes sparkled as they stayed locked on his.

“Take me,” you whispered, and Haechan’s whole world stopped.

“...What?” Haechan had only intended to wipe your tears away with the pads of his hands, perhaps whisper something along the lines of him being here for you for the night (and the rest of his life, let’s be honest), yet your first words were—no, he had to have been hallucinating.

Your hands trembled as they reached for his wrist, and although you were severely broken, the grip your fingers created was firm.

“Please.”

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan admired how pretty you looked, your lips plump and eyes wide, and he wanted nothing more than to take you into his backseat and treat you the way he’d always wanted to, especially after hearing your pleas, but he knew better. You both knew better.

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, feeling like you had just inhaled all his oxygen and left him breathless.

You released his wrist and opted to hold onto his sleeve, tugging on it as you tried to get him to understand you.

“I want it to hurt, Donghyuck.”

Your tears were gone, and there was a hint of dominance in your tone that would’ve had him dropped to his knees in front of you. You were also one of the very few who resorted to calling him Hyuck, and now his actual name. He favored Haechan, but after hearing ‘Donghyuck’ from your lips, his preference had completely made a turnaround.

But Haechan worked to collect his thoughts, fully aware that this was wrong and he’d have to be the bigger person here. As much as he hated himself for giving up the perfect opportunity to have the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t ignore the large concern over your current mental state.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N,” he reasoned softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, and for a second, Haechan swore he felt the alcohol kicking in—or perhaps it was you instead. The thought of being able to have you right now, to touch you and press his hands over your skin, to have you as his for just this night, was so intoxicating that he was seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“I don’t need to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.”

Everything felt hotter and tighter, but he kept his composure, though with his eyes dropping to your begging lips and then your delicate fingers, he knew he was beginning to lose whatever was left of his sanity.

But he also knew you were using him; you had to be. There was no other explanation. It was only minutes ago when you professed how you continued to feel about Yeonjun—that your heart still belonged to him, and Haechan was allowed nowhere near it. He was your backup, your second option, yet that happened to be better than nothing, right?

Especially when he could have you right here, right now.

“You’re using me.”

Your expression didn’t falter.

“Then say no. Make us go back into your car and drive me home.” Your hand dropped from holding onto his sleeve but that was so you could wrap your arms around his neck, slowly bringing yourself closer to him. His cheeks were flushed as his mind flooded with possibilities of what could happen. Never had you ever wanted him, and he’d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Your tear-stained cheeks, your pouty red lips—he wanted all of you.

“But you won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes landed on his lips, now craving him as much as he craved you. You needed a release, an outlet, to justify Yeonjun being better than Haechan. Haechan was worse in every way possible, and you wanted him to prove that to you. “You’d do anything I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Little did you know Haechan was crumbling inside, completely melting as his fingers grew weak at the idea of your lips on his. His hands, although wary, traveled to your waist, feeling your curves before trailing his hands down to your hips to grip them.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His heart stuttered, all words caught up in his throat, but he knew there was no defending himself—not when he was practically drooling at every move you made; he was hyperaware of the hand playing with the hair on his nape, the way your lips nearly hovered over his, and how your tears glistened under the moonlight.

His entire existence was confirmation of your words, and you knew it.

“You’d do anything for me, Hyuck. What’s stopping you now?”

There was a stillness as you two stared at one another. He swallowed and pulled slightly back.

He knew better.

“You don’t want me.” He was brokenhearted, a part of him understanding that you’d never be his, yet he wanted you in so many ways, wishing to have your mewls fill his ears and the smell of sex staining his clothes. The bulge in his pants was forming and pressing up against the tight confinement, making him groan.

He dropped his head downwards, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, as he closed his eyes and did his best to regulate his breathing—repeating in his head and out loud, again.

He knew better.

“You’re using me.”

You both knew better.

Yet with your lips ghosting his and your eyes half-hooded, you were prepared to give into the dark side.

“And I say take advantage of it.”

Haechan dived and pressed his lips onto yours, hunger driving his every movement. There was no stopping when he felt your lips curling up into a grin, his hands shifting to wrap around your torso to drag you closer. His heart burst at how perfectly his lips molded with yours, and it seemed as if there was fire shooting up into the sky and exploding—they weren’t fireworks, and the explosion was far bigger and more dangerous. It lit the entirety of the sky, the moon and stars included, into flames, a desire unlike any other.

Your left hand pressed firm against the back of his neck while the other traveled through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands had snuck beneath your shirt and felt for your lower back. Heavy breaths left the two of you as desperation crept through your veins, dictating your every movement.

The cold touch from his hands ignited your nervous system, every sense activated and overstimulated by Haechan as you released a breathy moan into his mouth.

You didn’t want him, but fuck, you needed him.

When you would pull back, his lips would chase yours, and you two fell into an endless cycle. He couldn’t even fathom how you were pulling away for air when you were his oxygen. Maybe you weren’t oxygen itself, but the fumes you emitted had already replaced his need for air, deluding him into believing that you were what he needed to stay alive.

You were suffocating, toxic, and destructive, and he wanted more.

After retracting from the kiss for the nth time, you turned your head to hold Haechan back from continuing. You both were panting, your cunt soaking, and he stared into your eyes like a puppy awaiting their next direction.

“Good boy,” you praised, and he laughed lowly and sheepishly, dropping his head as he processed what happened and the idea of it being potentially over.

“You’re lethal,” he breathed out.

“And you’re pitiful,” you spat. There was a playful grin on your lips, but those words ignited something within Haechan. He raised his head and cocked a brow at you, questioning your genuinity.

Just minutes ago you were crying over a guy that treated you terribly, and yet here you thought you had the authority to call him weak.

Perhaps he was; he was falling deeper into your pitless trap, enticed with every movement of yours, but he knew for a fact you weren’t any better than him.

You both were sick in the head for falling for people that treated the other like shit, yet your drive, your fuel, to win over the hearts of the people you loved was so strong, and it made you two unstoppable.

Haechan would punch Yeonjun all over again if he could.

Without a second thought, Haechan ducked his head down and ruthlessly attached his lips to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He kissed your skin fervently, his fingers teasing the rim of your shorts, and your hands shifted to hold onto his shoulders for support. You found yourself tossing your head back, providing him more room to do as he pleased, that if Yeonjun were to see you with marks on your neck, then maybe he’d want you back.

“Bold of you to call me pitiful,” he grumbled, sucking onto your neck until a blot of purple began to form.

“But it’s true, no?”

“You’re just as bad, Y/N.” He licked a stripe up your neck and over the mark, and the sensation made you cringe, disgust itching at your skin due to being covered in his saliva, but you wanted more of it. You wanted Haechan to treat you like you were nothing, to treat you worse than Yeonjun ever had, so you could direct your blame over to Haechan instead of your unknowing boyfriend.

You turned your head and slotted your lips with his again, already addicted to how perfect they were for you. Haechan knew the exact way to kiss you, to keep you on your toes, as your slick pooled up in your underwear at the mere thought of Haechan touching you.

The kiss was eager, a fight for control, and when Haechan didn’t surrender, you raised your knee, forcing your thigh to brush up against his crotch.

He gasped at the sensation and pulled away, bangs hanging over his eyes as he looked down at the sight. You teased him by keeping your touches gentle, but you made sure to keep your leg moving. Nothing intrigued you more than seeing Haechan beg or rut against your thigh, further proof of how pathetic he was for you. You gained a sense of ego knowing that he could have any girl in the world, that he has had every girl, and yet he would always come back to you. Now that you had him, it would be harder for him to return to a life without you under him, moaning his name.

You wanted to be his downfall.

Your nails latched onto the mesh, taking note of how easily it would be to rip the material, before pressing your thigh firmly up against his dick, making him jerk.

“You’re-...oh my god, Y/N,” he gasped, breathless. His eyes meet your devious ones, how you were basically Satan himself, and somehow, someway, he wouldn’t ask for anything different. “You’re playing a losing…a losing- game.”

“What more do I have left to lose?” There was some truth in your words as vulnerability struck you. Your leg then lowered as you regained a slight sense of reality, realizing that you were forcing Haechan into being your selfish source of relief. You hated Haechan, sure, but you knew this was the last thing he deserved—to use him when he’d been nothing but accommodating to you.

And your sick and twisted plan was that after this encounter, you’d leave him to rot.

Haechan didn’t deserve that at all.

But Haechan was already too far gone, too intoxicated, to even consider the repercussions of how he’d end up after this. The loss of contact with his crotch was what had him picking you up from his car, the tips of his fingers digging into your thighs, as he led you to the backseat.

Your eyes widened, your senses fully back, but you made him like this, and you were going to pay for it. Although scared for about what’s to come, the anticipation had you drooling, your lips pressing fierce kisses onto his skin while he opened the door with you in his arms.

He laid you down gently and crawled over you, keeping you trapped between his arms.

“This is what you wanted, right? For me to tear you apart until you can run back to Yeonjun and justify how poorly he treats you?”

Your brows bunched up at his words, your legs getting antsy being under him. There was no answering him, not when Haechan already knew how you were going to respond.

He brought one of his hands into your shorts and made the aggravating decision to slide his fingers over your underwear, depriving you of contact with his fingers.

Yet even with your underwear being a divider, he found your clit with ease and immediately started rubbing circles into the bud, making you buck your hips with a whine. The friction of the cloth was something you were unfamiliar with, and lord did it mess with you.

“You want me to treat you how he sees you? Worthless and undeserving of respect?” He flicked your clit and kissed your jaw. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what my princess is going to get.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, using your hands to push onto his shoulders and force him down. The drive to ride his tongue was strong, and if he kept teasing you, you would have lost it.

“I know you inside and out, Y/N. I know you better than him, and this is how you treat me.” He sucked in a cheek but ultimately decided to comply with what you wanted. He pulled off your shorts yet left your underwear on, and his brows raised. He wasn’t sure how his fingers had missed the texture of lace, but what you were wearing was certainly lingerie.

You looked down to see why he stopped, and when you realized why he froze, heat rose to your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel pretty,” you whispered, shutting your eyes after turning your head. It was embarrassing, now that you thought about it, but Haechan’s heart soared, and he wanted nothing more than for you to know how ethereal you looked.

But he shoved the feeling away, allowing his frustrations to get the better half of him.

When he pulled off your underwear, he cooed at how your essence oozed onto the material and raised the undergarment into the air, waiting for you to look.

“Did I do this?”

His mocking tone kept you from looking, but your curiosity got the best of you. You were met with the sight of a large wet, dark patch on your underwear, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes. If you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, or if there ever had been a time when you craved someone this badly.

He tossed it to the side and his hands massaged your thighs, keeping them spread open so he got a proper view of your core on display for him. The sight truly stunned him, reminding him that this was you he fantasized about and replicated with other girls—no one else.

“Do you normally take this long?” you rasped, tossing your head back against the seat, and Haechan rolled his eyes.

“I do you a favor, and this is how you treat me.”

“A favor is a stretch—”

Haechan plunged two fingers into your mouth, having them press firmly down against your tongue. He latched onto your jaw and pulled your head forward and up towards him, having your eyes meet his.

“Remind me, Y/N, who was begging for this?”

He dropped your head back down against the seat before you could even respond and used whatever saliva accumulated in your mouth as temporary lube, figuring that your slick would help him with stretching you out. You grunted at the impact, feeling helpless, as Haechan finally inserted his fingers inside of you.

Haechan’s fingers were enough to have your eyes rolling, but it was the ring that he wore that stimulated you the most. You weren’t aware that he was even wearing one, yet the cold band against your raging wet heat made you whimper and desperately grasp for his hair.

“Donghyuck, please,” you begged.

He chuckled and kept his movements slow, forcing you to fuck yourself onto his fingers weakly. When you did, he was in awe at how stunning you looked, how you seemed to be in your own world, and how you were enjoying him. By curling his fingers, a moan was pulled from your throat, making your eyes open as you looked at him. You continued to pool around his fingers, your voice weakly begging for so much more than his fingers and the cold air that brushed against your skin.

Never had you felt more vulnerable, but Haechan never once made you feel like you were doing something wrong, making you cling desperately to him. You forced his face down into your crotch and jerked at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your clit.

“Shameless, aren’t you?” he commented, laughing lowly, but you were too out of it to care.

“Shut the-...F-fuck, oh my god.”

Your whines had gotten more incessant the more useless he became, his fingers now completely stilled inside of you as he watched you roll your hips with a cheeky grin. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well that he could last all night.

When he took out his fingers, you were yanked out of your bliss and nearly begged for him to put them back in, but before you could get a word out, he had replaced his digits with his tongue. Your slick was dripping onto his lips, and as he dragged his wet muscle up and down your folds, he made sure to collect a small puddle of you onto his tongue to eventually swallow, wanting to savor you.

“Oh-...Oh my god, Hyuck—” Your orgasm was approaching, unsure of how it was here so soon, but you recognized the signs from the coil in your chest tightening to losing every sensation to the man beneath you. You rocked your hips continuously onto his tongue, and his thumb attached to your clit, making you see stars with how rapid his movements were.

He pulled his face back and forced his fingers back into you, and the final curl was what made you reach your peak, your hips in the air as you cried out his name.

As you came down from your high, you caught a glance of the way Haechan was looking at you; to him, you were otherworldly, and it was a sight he’d never forget. He wondered if Yeonjun ever saw you like this, if he ever made you feel this way, and suddenly his admiration had soured and contoured to something of darkness, rid of any empathy as he now looked at you with some form of disgust.

“All this for me, and you still have the fucking audacity to choose him.”

The mention of Yeonjun had your eyes wide open, tears reappearing at the mention and while being in your most vulnerable state. Your legs shook from the aftermath, feeling too weak to continue, yet Haechan seemed to have other plans.

Instead of shoving his fingers back into either of your mouths, he hovered over you and made sure you saw the way he dragged his fingers around your abdomen, drawing aimlessly over your skin with your essence before dragging a hand up to your breasts, massaging one of them as his other hand rested by your waist.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you buy this for him and never got to use it? That’s why you’re wearing it now with me? Am I your sloppy seconds?”

There was a slight growl under his tone, and while you shook your head subconsciously, he worked to remove your shirt, wanting a better look at your bra, before being met with a necklace you had been hiding; one with Yeonjun’s name.

And Haechan took no time breaking it from your neck.

Your jaw dropped, and you snapped out of your daze by sitting straight up, yet as you were about to yell at him for breaking your necklace, he shoved three fingers back into your pussy, shutting you up by having you moan at the intrusion.

“It looked cheap, anyway,” he muttered, forcing his mouth against yours momentarily to nip on your lower lip, tugging on it so your focus remained on him.

“That was—he’s mine,” you forced out, gasping at every thrust he made with his fingers, your sweet spot being abused as your hands latched onto his shoulders. You made sure your nails dug into his skin, wanting it to hurt, before pulling onto the mesh, wishing for it to tear.

“He’s not yours, princess. Tell me, how can you say that when his dick has been up other girls?” With his free hand, he grabbed your face and made sure you were staring straight at him before shoving it to the side.

“You need to fucking wake up and realize that you can dream all you want about how he’d react if he saw you hopping on my dick, but guess what? He wouldn’t care.” Haechan pulled out his fingers and left you alone in the backseat.

You sat there, a wreck and vulnerable, as you tried to catch your breath. You lay back on your forearms, curious eyes following his every movement.

“There’s a reason he hasn’t left you yet,” Haechan explained, opening the front door to his car to grab a condom and his phone. He tucked both into his back pocket before returning to you, bringing your lips to his before continuing to talk within the kiss.

“He’s stringing you along so you can boost his ego. He knows you will always be there for him, and you allow him to use you like that?”

You wrapped your fingers around Haechan’s neck, squeezing it before pushing it away to keep your distance, your frustration starting to grow.

“I’m beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite, Donghyuck,” you muttered, and with whatever strength you had left, you pushed him against the seat and got into his lap. Without hesitation, you started rocking your hips over his clothed dick, hoping your slick would seep in so he could feel you.

He hissed but allowed you to do as you pleased, his grip tight on your hips.

“I-...I think…if you asked me, you’re the one who’s projecting. I’m the one in a relationship, and you’re just a side piece.”

The speed of your hips increased, and Haechan felt ecstasy on the tip of his tongue, the confinements of his pants physically paining him the more you continued.

“You’re jealous, Hyuck. Just admit it.”

You pulled at his hair, loving the absolute control you had over him at that moment, but in one languid motion, Haechan managed to push you back down, this time with your stomach against the seats. You could feel your bodily fluids sticking to the nylon, and with how hard Haechan was pressing down into you, you were barely given a chance to move.

With one hand on your lower back, he kept you still as he took out both his phone and condom, making sure to place both on top of your bare skin.

“What’s there to be jealous of when you’re here under me? You want to be fucked stupid? Fine. Don’t fucking complain when you want me to be the villain.” You lurched at his words, refusing to let him win, but you were completely unable to do much damage as Haechan kicked off his pants and boxers while still keeping his weight on you.

He then picked up his phone and pulled up the camera, making sure to take a photo of you in his car before clicking record and tossing the phone onto the ground, hoping it was close enough to pick up on your sweet noises.

“Make sure to be loud for me, yeah? I’m sure Yeonjun would love it if I sent that video to him.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you bit back, your hand reaching out in an attempt to grab the device, but Haechan was quicker to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“I wouldn’t because I know how to appreciate what’s mine.” Haechan released his hold on you to roll on the condom, giving you the opportunity to move and take his phone as you pleased. To your dismay, there was no more effort left within you, only an ache to feel Haechan inside you.

“He appreciates me,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself otherwise as you waited.

“Does he record you? Jerk off to your moans every night? Because I would, Y/N, just for you.” His voice was now by your ear, and when you turned your head to look at him, he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his dick now grazing against your hole.

“You’re fucking insane,” you bit back into the kiss, and he grinned against your lips, guiding his dick into you as he spoke.

“Psychotic, just for my princess.”

Venom laced his voice, dripping menacingly, and the insertion of his tip had you grasping for something in front of you, anything, and it was only then that you were able to process how thick his cock was.

“Can you take it?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before. When you gave him a curt nod, he continued pushing in further. Maybe lube should’ve been an option, but you were so wet for him that it didn’t matter, knowing that the stretch probably would have hurt regardless.

“Fuck, fuck—he really doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Haechan gasped, his head resting against the back of yours. It was better than anything he’d dreamed of, better than any girl he imagined, because it was you, and your body was made for him.

“When was the last time he fucked you?” He was fully inside of you now, and when you didn’t answer, he decided to take it as a sign to move. With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled out just to slam back in, making you yell as you clawed at the seat, wishing there was something to bite on as you endured the pain that was quick to morph into pleasure.

Every glide pushed you further into the car, your forearms occasionally hitting the door, as his hips moved vigorously, working up to a pace that had you moaning without pause. Tears were flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure of being manhandled—of being Haechan’s rag doll when he was meant to be yours, and your body seized up, being worked up to your orgasm once more with how precise each thrust seemed to be.

He adjusted to raise one of your legs to his hip, giving him a new angle to pound into you as he worships you with his dick, and you shook out of pleasure, whining as you saw white and reached your second orgasm for the night. You pulsated around his cock, strangled moans ripping from your throat as tears mixed with your drool by your chin.

And Haechan showed no signs of stopping.

He made sure to press your face down against the seats, wanting every liquid to fall and stain his car, giving him something to remember you by.

Oh, and there was the recording too.

While kneeling inside of the cramped car, he slowed his movements and inclined his torso towards you. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you up, locking you inside his elbow as he forced you to look into your reflection in the car window.

“Look at you, the school’s favorite slut. What happens if the recording drops? The whole school would know you’re mine, wouldn’t they?” He pressed his chest against your back, the mesh rubbing against your skin as his lips remained near your ear, forcing you to listen to every word.

You limped against him, your flames completely burnt out, and your fingers tugged onto the mesh around his arm, successfully ripping it after some time, but Haechan seemed unphased. In fact, it turned him on even more knowing that he had you locked in, that you were his.

“Look at your pretty cunt taking me in so well. It was so wet for me, wasn’t it? It still is. And guess what? You’re in my car. You belong to me, and my good girl is only now just finding out about it, isn’t she?”

“I-I’m…I’m not-...not yours,” you retaliated, creating red angry marks into his skin with your nails as you endured being used, stifling your moans as you looked at how wrecked you were, how bare you seemed to be compared to Haechan. You were much more of a mess, from your hair to the bruises on your neck. Your pussy kept tightening up around his dick, convulsing occasionally with every hit toward your g-spot, and you held onto Haechan each time.

Your head drooped down, thinking about how your heart ached for Yeonjun, yet the rest of your body was meant for Haechan.

“Whose fucking dick is inside of you right now?” He scoffed and pulled on your hair, forcing your head back up so he could directly speak into your ear. “Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded. “You’re mine.”

He dropped you back onto the seat like you were nothing, leaving you completely helpless, your throat void of any words as your eyes closed and met the back of your skull, too fucked out to communicate. You tried reaching for the door handle, just something to hold onto, yet you couldn’t.

“You tell me I’m pitiful, that I’m basically delusional when you’re going to be the reason my car will smell like sex for weeks.”

Your face was forced back into the puddle of liquid you created earlier, being shifted back and forth against the seat as if you were made for his dick and not vice versa.

“It’s crazy how pathetic you are, how willing you are to break yourself down in front of everyone just to have him. That-...fuck…that you’re so convinced he wants you and you two are soulmates.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and grabbed your roots. “You called me, you wanted me, and I have you right now, moaning my name, and you have nothing.”

Something about his words kept bringing out your orgasms, each thrust adding to the pleasure immensely. You didn’t know how much you could handle—afraid you may pass out from how much he was using you, from his tight grip around you to his dick hitting inside of you mercilessly.

Haechan whispering ‘I won, Y/N’ was what had you losing it, your high this time ending up stronger than the rest. You were fully crying now, and yet he continued as if you were nothing.

He peppered your shoulder with kisses and had the slight decency to slow his pace, but he also took note of your sobs.

“Don’t tell me you still want him,” he began rambling, his lips still on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me after this that your heart still belongs to him, because if that were the case, I’d make you call him right now. Say you wish it was him instead of me, and that he’s the love of your life while you’re stuffed with my dick. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You could no longer think, and what you hated most was how reactive your body was—how you were just able to come for the third time, but Haechan’s dick solely being inside you snapped some other straw you weren’t aware you had, finding that your last high was incoming.

Haechan had picked up the pace by then, and by knowing your body incredibly well, he reached down to your sensitive clit to relieve you. You both knew your fourth was incoming, and you held on tight to his arm.

“D-Dongh- hyuck, I’m—”

“Mine.”

You cried out, your entire body shaking, and Haechan pulled out, immediately releasing onto your back with a guttural moan after yanking off the condom. He was forced to catch his breath, watching you float in and out of consciousness.

Your eyes were closed, struggling to breathe through your sobs, and Haechan consoled you with a kiss on the back of your shoulder.

“You’re mine, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaving to grab paper towels from his trunk. You were heaving, still shaking, and left alone as a mess in his backseat, yet with him gone, you felt even more useless, wanting him back by your side instantly. You weakly cried out for him, your nails dragging against the seat in hopes of being in his arms soon, and maybe he was right.

Maybe you were his.

OUR INFERNO [ M.LIST | TWO ]

NAVIGATION — NCT DREAM

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lowkeychenle · 4 months

Text

See My Sea [ZCL] (M)

Description: You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea.

A/N: this is inspired by Marine Turtle sort of ??? it just gave me these vibes oops. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!! I hope u take this fic with u into 2024 lol

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (College AU where Chenle is captain of the basketball team like he DESERVES)

Content Warnings: SLOW BURN! Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty, verbally abusive ex-boyfriend appearances, mentions/instances of anxiety and insecurity, a panic attack Smut warnings: This might be some of my mildest smut omg, usage of pet names 'baby' and 'sunshine,' oral (f & m receiving), slight dirty talk? there's not much rip

Word Count: 20,040

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark & Jisung, a male OC named Woojin, and three female OCs, Soobin, Jiyoon, & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous @thisisnotjacinta @soberhani @fullsunstrawberry @midmourn

“I think your answer’s wrong,” the boy next to you says, leaning over your shoulder to look.

You blink in frustration, already hating the new seating arrangement your college professor forced upon you. When you turn to give him your best glare, you hesitate for a brief moment when you see the genuine concern on his face.

His black hair is draped like a curtain over his forehead, just a bit too long. Soft brown eyes stare back at you, unblinking for several seconds as he scans over your expression. His lips are slightly parted as if he wants to continue, but isn’t sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just…if you get it wrong, it kind of affects me now, too.”

“Why would it affect you?” You recoil and slide your paper farther from him.

“This…is a lab.” He frowns. “And that makes us lab partners for the foreseeable future.”

“Ah, great.” You close your eyes and drop your head into your hands.

“I’m trying to help,” he replies.

“Well, I actually prefer to work alone.”

You don’t know exactly where your snippiness is coming from, but you don’t appreciate this random ass guy trying to correct your work. He could’ve at least introduced himself first instead of immediately selecting the douchebag category.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” He taps his fingers on top of the table. “Sorry if I pissed you off, I was just…”

He clicks his tongue, presses his lips into a thin line, and his eyebrows jolt up quickly before he turns away from you and back to his own work. You take a deep breath, your heart sinking at the idea of snapping at him when he didn’t deserve it.

It’s taken you a long time to get used to people genuinely trying to help you, and your brain sometimes doesn’t get the memo that not everything is a derogatory comment.

“Sorry,” you say softly, inhaling deeply. “You were being nice. And I’m being a bitch.”

“I wouldn’t use that word.” He snorts as he scribbles down some words on his paper.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t like using it in a bad way.” He sets his pencil down and runs his fingers through his hair to push it back.

You laugh. “Don’t men find things like that funny?”

“What kind of guys are you talking to?” The boy scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

“I…” You pause, pursing your lips. That’s a good question. “But really, I am sorry. I hope we can rewind and work together.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t hold grudges.” He grins and holds his hand out to you. “I’m Chenle. I’m a senior getting a degree in music theory and I’m the captain of the basketball team.”

You think about the information for a second—he seems like a nice person from what you’ve seen thus far, but the basketball team makes him lose a couple points. Most boys in college sports don’t have the best reputations.

Your palm meets his as you take his greeting. “I’m (Y/N). I’m also a senior, but my degree is in Fine Arts. And I’m the captain of embarrassing myself and my friends.”

He chuckles at that one before brandishing his paper over to you.

“What?” you ask.

“I’m gonna help you figure out the right answer.” Chenle beckons you closer.

You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide nothing will happen in the middle of your science lab. Scooting your chair over to his, you allow him to lean toward you. You ignore the nervousness gathering as the scent of his cologne invades your nostrils. It smells smoky, but in an artificial way. You doubt the man has ever touched anything bad for him in his entire life.

“This one is easy to fuck up,” he murmurs, his pencil scratching against the paper as he leads you through it.

You attempt to pay attention, but as much as you hate to admit it, the smell of him is intoxicating and him being near you has every single one of your senses on edge. Sweat starts to form on your skin, and you almost curse under your breath.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looks back at the paper, and then his gaze rests back on you, like whatever he saw during his first sweep caught his attention.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You blink, frowning at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Uh.” He wets his lips, his cheeks reddening slightly beneath fluorescent lighting. “You’re staring at me instead of the answer I’m giving you.”

Embarrassment rushes through you like a wildfire in a dry forest, and you immediately snatch the assignment away from him and move your chair away. Disbelief wracks your body, because you only realize at that moment that he’s right—you were much more interested in his facial features and the softness of his skin instead of the only reason you let him around you in the first place.

It’s been a long time since anyone has distracted you in that way. All it does is make you want to run away at full speed, but there’s still a few minutes of class left.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“Just…forget it.” You shake your head. “I’ll figure this out so you don’t lose points.”

“And then what?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“It’s not only this assignment.” Chenle taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s all of them. And I don’t want to be a dick, but I’m kind of used to people staring at me.”

You laugh incredulously, dropping your head into your palms. “The universe has fucked me.”

He doesn’t respond, seemingly waiting for you to continue whatever’s on your mind.

“That was kinda douchey.” You fidget with your pencil.

“It’s not douchey if it’s true.” He scoffs. “And I haven’t even done anything to you, so I don’t understand where this hostility has come from after being around me for ten minutes.”

“I just don’t like—”

“Men?” he interjects.

“You.”

“Okay, well.” He rolls his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know what your problem is. Did I breathe incorrectly in your direction? I’m trying to help you and you’re not being nice at all. You were the one staring at me, I feel like I should remind you of that.”

“I was not star—”

“Alright, class, your lab assignments have been finalized. You’ll be working with your partner for the rest of the semester, and if there are any issues, you’re adults. Figure it out. The first set of problems will be due tomorrow at the start of class,” the teacher interrupts your thoughts, and leaves both you and Chenle gaping.

“Professor, I have a basketball game tonight—”

“Well, then you’d better finish the worksheet early, Mr. Zhong,” she insists.

“For fuck’s sake,” Chenle murmurs under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. Stress melds through his expression as his brows pinch together, and it almost makes you feel bad for him.

You know next to nothing about basketball. In fact, you weren’t 100% aware your school even had a team.

After he takes a second to calm down, he turns to you. “What are you doing for lunch?”

“I meet my friends every day.” You shrug.

“Oh, great. I’m coming with you.” He starts shoving things into his bag, not giving you a second to comprehend what he’s saying.

“It wasn’t an invitation,” you say.

“I’m not failing because of you.” Chenle sets his bag down on the table. “I don’t know what I did to give you such a bad impression, but you haven’t done much better yourself, okay? The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can worry about getting to practice on time.”

“Practice? I thought it was a game.”

He stares at you blankly, blinking slowly. “I…I practice before my games.” His tone is sharp, as if he expects you to know that already.

“You’re the captain.”

“No shit.” Irritation sparks in his gaze. “Which means I have to be good. And prepared.”

“Now who’s being a dick?” you shoot back. “Am I supposed to just know everything about you already?”

“This…is going to be fucking impossible.” He massages his forehead and takes a deep breath. “We’ll try to finish it in the next ten minutes before class ends, then.”

Spoiler alert, you don’t finish by the end of class, which means, unfortunately for you, you drag Chenle in tow with you to lunch, where your three friends wait for you. The girls are distracted in their conversation as you approach, and you already know what their reaction will be.

“(Y/N), you’re finally here—who’s this?” Alarm flares in Jiyoon’s brown eyes as she glances back behind you at Chenle as if you don’t know he’s there.

“You don’t know him?” Heewon asks. “Pretty sure that’s Zhong Chenle, you know, the captain of the basketball team. He’s friends with your boyfriend.”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“Yeah, he’s right here.” You nudge Soobin’s arm so she’ll scoot over. “So if you could maybe not act like he’s not.”

“Why is he with you?” Soobin asks.

“It’s not by choice,” you grumble, dramatically gesturing to the seat next to you. “Did you guys eat yet?”

“I’m invading,” Chenle says. “I’ll go buy lunch, alright? Pizza good for everyone?”

“What? You don’t have to—”

“Just answer the question,” he says.

“Pizza’s good.” Jiyoon grins. “Thanks, Chenle.”

He presses his lips together, grabs his wallet out of his backpack, nods at you, and then heads in the opposite direction. You know the second he’s out of earshot, the girls won’t let this go. They apparently know more about him than you do, which isn’t all that surprising.

Jiyoon started dating Jisung a few weeks back, and while you’re happy for your friend (and the fact her boyfriend isn’t the worst man ever), you could never justify wasting your valuable time on anyone else right now.

“Yeah, just walk in with Zhong Chenle and don’t warn us first—”

“I didn’t even know he was a big deal. Or that he’d be coming for lunch,” you defend yourself. “We’re lab partners, and apparently, we’re being forced to work together.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jiyoon says. “From what I’ve heard from Jisung, he’s really passionate about basketball and stuff. So like, he takes it seriously. He’s not an ass.”

“That’s not what I’ve experienced.” You roll your eyes, wishing more than anything they would stop before they’re ahead.

“I get you’re in your ‘I hate men era’ or whatever, and I respect it, but you’re allowed to be friends with good guys. You’ll be hanging out around the team soon, anyway. Jisung wants to get our friend groups together.”

“Maybe Jisung isn’t awful, but you know how sports guys are.” You almost shiver involuntarily at the thought.

“Jisung wouldn’t hang around assholes, (Y/N),” Heewon interjects. “You haven’t met him. The kid’s an angel. You morph into the people you’re around, and if he was around dicks, he’d act like one. Or have a single red flag, at least.”

“And, to be honest, some of the team has been mentioned in some sketchy situations, but I’ve heard good things about Chenle, Jisung, and Mark. They’re not man-whores, and they—”

“Glad to hear that’s a criteria for being a good guy.” Chenle’s voice nearly sends Soobin’s soul out of her body.

Her cheeks and the tips of her ears turn bright red, and she quickly mutters out an apology.

He puts the box in the middle of the table, a small chuckle passing by his full lips as he takes a seat next to you. “No worries. I’ll pass the message to Mark. He’ll get a good laugh out of it, considering he’s probably got the highest body count on the team.”

You shift away from him slightly, this topic of conversation not entirely helping your situation with him.

“Mark?” Jiyoon snorts. “Mark Lee?”

“Surprisingly, I don’t know any other Mark.” Chenle grins. “But not every guy is vocal about how much he gets laid. Girls throw themselves at him—”

You tense, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to stop. Chenle cuts himself off, a minuscule glance in your direction making his eyebrows pinch before his poker face returns.

“Anyway, pizza.” He clears his throat, gesturing to the box.

“Wow. Mark Lee.” Heewon runs her tongue over her teeth. “And what does a girl have to do to get on that donation list?”

Jiyoon elbows her, nodding in your direction. An odd silence fills the table before Soobin opens the box and grabs the first slice. Your appetite has oddly disappeared, and none of your friends seem to realize it.

Chenle continues his conversation with Jiyoon—something about Jisung and the practice dates—but while he does that, his pen scratches across the paper on the table in front of you, and when he slides it in your direction, it’s almost unnoticeable.

you should eat

You nearly scoff, grabbing a pencil out of your bag to write your response while your friends still cluelessly converse.

not hungry

“You know, we’re having a party after the game,” Chenle mentions. “You guys should come. Assuming we win, it’ll be time for celebration.”

“Oh, you’ll win.” Jiyoon’s eyes widen. “I’ve seen clips of games online and stuff. Mostly Jisung’s. But if you’re all that good, I can’t imagine you’d lose.”

“Glad to see you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you.” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. “You should all go.”

His gaze rests on you, and Soobin laughs outwardly.

“(Y/N) doesn’t go to parties.”

“Why not?” He frowns.

“It’s a long story,” you interject before any of your friends can spill your secrets. “But maybe it’s time for a change. I’ll go. If Jiyoon is going and if she promises not to ditch me for Jisung.”

“Oh, please, you haven’t been to a party since before Wooj—” Heewon stops herself with a hand over her mouth. She cringes as your chest deflates.

Leave it to your friends to rehash old wounds. You already had a shitty day between your random argument with Chenle, him tagging along with you for lunch, and now Heewon is basically telling him your secrets buried deep.

“Um,” you say, sighing. “We have an assignment to do. Do you want to go to the library or something?” When you turn to look at Chenle, he’s already gathering his things and shoving his materials in his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes scan over the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t—”

“Not now, Heewon.” You shake your head, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading off without another word.

It’s been many, many months since Woojin was in your life. The man who essentially tore your life apart little by little until there wasn’t anything of the real you left. You were a shell of who you used to be, and it took you much too long to realize it. Hell, you’re not 100% sure if you’ve even brought yourself back from that brink. It’s hard to figure out who you are when the person who’s supposed to love you not only drags you down to the bottom of the ocean, but buries you beneath the sand.

But none of your friends get it. They see who you are now—a mask of confidence shielding the gaping open wound—and assume you’re normal again.

Healing isn’t a straight line. You don’t wake up one day and decide to be okay, and admittedly, there are some mornings that are better than others. For most, you find it hard to come up with a reason to pull yourself out of bed.

Chenle follows you silently as you walk across campus for the library. He walks side-by-side with you and stops once he sees the cafe come into view.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some coffee,” he says. “Come with?”

“Uh, yeah. We can just do the work in there, if that’s okay.”

He gives you a half smile and nods, gesturing toward the building for you to lead the way. Once you make it to the door, he opens it for you. You frown, but walk in regardless.

“I’ll get it. What do you usually order?” he asks.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” You wave him off. “I can get my own—”

“Tell me.” His tone is soft, yet firm, as if you don’t really have any other option but to tell him what coffee you want.

With a sigh, you tell him your order and he walks off with a smug smile on his face. You set all of your stuff up on one of the tables, deciding which questions you need to work on first while you wait for Chenle.

He places a cup in front of you before clasping both hands around his own. Standing there, he doesn’t move until you look up at him, wondering why the hell he isn’t sitting down.

“Can we start over?” he asks. “We clearly got off on the wrong foot, and I don’t want you to hate the entire semester if you’ve got to work with me.”

You pause, clearing your throat. “I’d prefer it that way, I think. If we started over, I mean. I was kind of a bitch, and it wasn’t even your fault, I just…have some issues with trusting people.”

“I noticed.” He chuckles, a grin plastering on his face as he takes his seat across from you. “And I still don’t like that word.”

“Sorry. I was being an ass. Is that better?”

“Yeah, it is. You were an ass.” He sips his drink.

You press your lips together to stop your laugh, but it doesn’t prevent your eyes from rolling.

“And I’m sorry, too. If I made you uncomfortable earlier. Or if I did, indeed, do something to make you hate me randomly.” His fingertips tap against the table. “It really wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not you. At all.” You scoff to yourself, flipping through the stack of papers before you. “I don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll try to remind myself people are innocent until proven guilty.”

“So…you’ll come tonight?” Chenle hesitates briefly, wetting his lips. “You could come to the game, too. I’m sure Jiyoon would like someone to sit with besides Jisung’s parents.”

“I know nothing about basketball,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah, but you could always learn. And now you have friends on the team, so it doesn’t matter if you know or not.” He grabs the first assignment to look at it, pretending as if your answer doesn’t impact him.

You think about it for a moment. After all, maybe you were wrong about him—maybe he’s not some awful guy, and you were wrong to assume that after knowing him for five minutes. The longer you spend time with him, the more genuine he seems. You could use more friends, but you can’t help but wonder if Chenle is the type of guy you should entertain.

Woojin had you fucked up. Between the sports teams and friend groups and everything that went wrong with him, it was so hard to even imagine being friends with Chenle or any of the other guys on the basketball team.

“I’ll think about it,” you mutter. “Don’t get your hopes up about the game, but I’ll be at the party for sure.”

“Party’s a strong word, by the way. It’s just the team and our close friends, so it won’t be like…a rager or anything.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Alright. We should get started before we run out of time again.”

You weren’t planning on going to the game. Not in the slightest. But when the time got closer and closer to seven, you realized there was an odd urge within you that made you want to go. You made the split second decision to text Jiyoon and tell her to pick you up.

Jiyoon brought you a shirt to wear—a simple school T-shirt that said the basketball team’s name on it—and insisted you change before the two of you left. You did as she said, and by the time you got to the gym, you were almost regretting your decision.

You and Jiyoon sat in the bottom row right in the middle. There goes the opportunity to pretend you weren’t there. Maybe he wouldn’t see you. He’ll be too focused on the game, and he won’t even give you a second glance. You’re not sure why the idea of him knowing you’re here makes you so God damn sweaty, but you choose to ignore it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jiyoon asks, nudging your arm.

“Huh? Nothing.” You shake your head. “I’m good.”

She clicks her tongue. “I’ve been your friend for years, (Y/N). You look nervous.”

“I don’t think I should really be here, I guess, like…I was an ass to him earlier, and now I’m sitting here like I know what I’m watching and like I belong here when he probably doesn’t even like me at all—”

“Dude, you’re rambling,” she cuts you off, placing her palm on your shoulder. “You said he was the one who told you to come. So I don’t think being unwelcome is your problem. Everything’s gonna be fine! I promise. I give you full permission to stare at Jisung the whole time if you have to.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Is anyone at this point?”

“I…” You purse your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

You’re surprised to see the seats fill up quickly, and despite Jiyoon only dating Jisung for a few weeks, she seems really friendly with both of his parents as they sit down in the two spots next to her. Jiyoon leans close to you.

“The couple that just sat down next to Jisung’s parents are Chenle’s parents. Ji and Chenle have been friends since they were really young, I guess,” Jiyoon explains.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and when you look at them, you try to figure out which one he resembles the most. His mother turns and meets your gaze, and you quickly avert it as your face burns. What the hell are you doing?

You wait in anxious silence with Jiyoon until the game begins, and your eyes immediately seek out Chenle. At first, you think you’re looking for Jisung so you can point him out to Jiyoon, but you’re still watching the boys enter the court long after Jisung is already out.

When Chenle makes it out on the court, the wide smile on his face takes you off-guard. There’s no denying the truth—he’s attractive. That’s the extent of what you know about him at this point, but you see plenty of attractive men every day. It’s not like they’ve ever garnered your attention in a way that made you want to watch them.

Unlike earlier, his hair is part down the middle now, probably from running around in practice and preparing for the game. He runs his fingers through it as he walks up to Jisung. The taller man was already standing with their other friend, who you can only assume is Mark. Chenle’s jersey has his last name printed in big letters on the back, along with the number 30.

You try not to study him, but somehow he’s like a damn magnet. No wonder he said he was used to people staring at him.

Jisung glances once in your direction, and then he nudges Chenle and gives him a nearly non-existent nod. He turns, and the second he sees you, his brows jump up in some sort of surprise. Then he grins at you.

“You’re being weird,” Jiyoon mentions, breaking you out of your trance.

“Huh? How am I being weird? He looked at me.”

“Yeah…because he invited you. And you’re here.” She snorts, running her fingers through her hair. “Speaking of which, I think he’s coming over here.”

Your eyes widen, and your head shoots up just in time to see Chenle jogging over to you. You have to crane your neck upward to look at him when he’s right in front of you, and you’re sure the shock on your face is what causes laughter to drop past his lips.

He pulls a simple bracelet off his wrist—one made with blue and gold thread—and holds it out to you. “Wear this for me?”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“If you wear it and we win, you’re our good luck charm,” he states simply.

Your cheeks burn (hopefully unnoticeably) as you gently take it out of his palm. Your fingertips brush against his skin despite how hard you tried to avoid touching him, and once it’s completely in your hand, he backs away from you as Jiyoon helps you tighten it around your wrist.

“Are we gonna—” Jiyoon starts.

“Say nothing,” you cut her off. “Not a single word about that.”

She giggles to herself. When the game is about to begin, Jiyoon leans forward, hyperfocused on Jisung and the way he carries himself. You want to make fun of her for it, but you know she’ll come back tenfold with jokes about Chenle.

“Also,” Jiyoon whispers, getting closer to you without removing her gaze from the court. “He was totally fucking with you. He just wanted you to wear it. They haven’t lost a game this entire season, so.”

“Why would he do that?” you ask.

This time, she does look at you. She clasps her hands together and stares expectantly.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” You scoff.

“Dude. His parents are five feet away and he just asked you to be his good luck charm. For a game everyone already knows they’re going to win.” She shakes her head. “Maybe he’ll be good for you.”

“It’s been a day. One day. And I didn’t like him at all for most of it.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t usually like any man on the first meeting, so cut him some slack.” She pats your knee. “But also, the game’s starting, so watch.”

Honestly, you’re not sure what you were expecting. It’s been a long time since you’ve been to a sporting event—especially so for a man, but you try to convince yourself you’re here to spend time with Jiyoon.

But you have to admit, watching Chenle weave around the court is intriguing. He moves with unmatched grace. It looks effortless despite the amount of work you know goes into it. You fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, chewing on your bottom lip as you concentrate on the way he blocks shots from guys much taller or how he never misses when he passes the ball.

“Told you he was good,” Jiyoon says.

“Sh.” You wave her off.

At one point, Chenle attempts a shot from the middle of the court. You’re hanging onto the details like a lifeline, afraid to even blink and miss something. Much to your surprise, your heart thuds in your chest.

And when the ball goes straight into the net, something launches you to your feet next to Jiyoon as you cheer. Thankfully, the entire section stood, so you didn’t look ridiculous by yourself, but Chenle looks over at you, almost like he’s checking if you saw the points he scored.

You didn’t realize how wide the smile on your face was until you made eye contact with him. Clearing your throat, you brush off your jeans and sit back down in your seat.

“Come on,” Jiyoon whispers. “He’s like…ugh. You should see where it goes.”

Your face burns. “I just like sports, Ji, okay?”

“You dirty liar.” She snorts. “You guys are lab partners anyway, so good luck trying to avoid him. He’s a good guy, he plays sports, he’s smart as hell, and I heard he can sing, actually—”

“I get it,” you grumble. “I’m not interested.”

“You just screamed and cheered when he made the half-court shot. You’re interested.” Jiyoon laughs. “Whatever happens…just let yourself have it, okay? Have a good time. You deserve it.”

Chenle’s team absolutely dominated the other one. They barely scored a couple points the entirety of the game. He didn’t have time to talk to you right when the game finished, as he went back to the locker rooms with the team, but you figured you’d see him at the party anyway.

Mark, Chenle, and Jisung rent a house together near the school, so that’s where their get-togethers take place. He didn’t lie when he said it was more of an intimate get together—only a handful of people were there when you arrived. As much as you would deny looking for Chenle, you spent half an hour doing so, scanning the room back and forth to find his presence, and you were completely lost. On the bright side, Jisung was also MIA, meaning Jiyoon stuck by your side in the kitchen as you made yourself a drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, the sound almost lost in the music from the living room as you brace your palm on the counter.

“You good?” Jiyoon asks.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party,” you remind her. “You know what happened last time. It just feels…out of place, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, nothing’s gonna happen like last time,” your friend reassures you. “Regardless of who it could be, the guys would never be okay with something like that.”

You tap your fingers, resuming your scan of the room. “They’re not even here.”

“(Y/N).” Jiyoon’s tone catches you off-guard, almost like it’s a bit sharp and pricking at your skin. “I know you don’t know them, but they’re good, okay? They’d never let anything happen to anyone. Let alone someone like you.”

You tilt your cup to your lips, taking a big sip of the fruit punch. When you set it back down, you make eye contact with Chenle, his back pressed against the door frame with his arms over his chest. Your breath hitches at the sight of him. His hair is damp, forehead exposed as the strands stick to the sides of his face. He wears a simple black T-shirt, but something about the way it fits him has every logical thought racing out of your head.

You hated feeling this way. Like you were intimidated by him and the softness of his presence. He made your palms sweat and your mind whirl.

“I’m gonna go find Jisung,” Jiyoon speaks up, bolting past Chenle before you can stop her.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Chenle pushes himself off the wall, walking over to the counter opposite of you, gaze soft as he looks you over. He hones in on the bracelet on your wrist before flicking his eyes back to yours.

“I probably won’t stay long.” You wet your lips and sigh. “I just feel off.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“With you?” You blink at him.

He chuckles, running his fingers through his damp hair. “Yeah, with me. There’s a swing out on the patio if you’d feel better away from people. It’s kinda stuffy in here.”

“It’s your party, though,” you remind him. “You just won a game, Captain. That’s a big deal.”

“My lucky charm was there.” He glances down at your wrist again.

Your cheeks burn, and you clasp your hands together behind your back. “The patio sounds nice.”

He gives a small, satisfied grin, and makes his way toward the door to your left. He opens it and waits. You get the hint, shuffling past him to the backyard. His scent—a graceful blend of vanilla and sandalwood—wafts toward you, fresh and strong. Once again, your face reddens at the realization of how much attention you’re giving him.

The porch is wooden, the slats beneath your feet slightly creaking as you walk to the swing. You watch Chenle closely as he follows you, equally relieved and disappointed by how much distance he leaves between the two of you.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, you crossing your legs and Chenle using his feet to propel forward and backward without ever leaving the ground.

Breathing in the night air, you relish in how fresh it feels filling your lungs. Inside, your worries swarmed you, but out here, you’re alright.

Chenle closes his eyes and leans his head back, allowing you a moment or two to appreciate more of him. Your gaze sweeps down his face and over his neck, and you wonder why you’re even paying attention to such things.

“Why don’t you like parties?” he asks.

“It’s not that I don’t like them.” You shrug and pick at the seams on your jeans. “A couple bad experiences just…makes you weary, you know?”

“Sure.” He pauses. “Thanks for coming, by the way. To the game. And the party, too. We didn’t really start off on the right foot, but I’m glad we didn’t leave it there.”

“Oh, speaking of which.” You push your wrist toward him, the blue and gold thread wrapped around it reflecting the light from the opposite side of the window. “You can have this back now.”

“What’ll I do without my good luck charm?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

You chuckle quietly and roll your eyes. “Jiyoon told me you guys don’t lose either way. I don’t think you need me.”

He tentatively wraps his fingers around your arm. Your gaze darts to his, the breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected the warmth from his touch, or the way you swore sparks just whizzed through your skin.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle tug. “I’ll take it off if that’s what you want.”

You shuffle closer, and without much thought behind it, you’re nearly pressing against him, with your feet planted on the opposite side of his lap. You’re somehow not touching him still, but you’re engulfed in the body heat radiating off of him and the smell of his cologne.

He places your hand on top of your knee and twirls the bracelet around until he finds the knot. “Was it someone I know?” he asks, concentration taking over his tone.

“Who?”

“The guy that somehow convinced you not to go to parties anymore.” Chenle doesn’t look at you when he says it, he continues working away at the thread on your wrist.

“I don’t think so,” you reply, gulping as you pull away until the bracelet is out of his reach. “Not sure you really hang out with that crowd.”

He rests his hand on your knee, his face scrunched as he debates with himself what he should say. “I don’t know the full story, but nobody should control you. Especially not some dude who clearly is a prick. Whatever habits you picked up from him, I really hope you’re able to forget them and be who you want to be.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, not expecting the surge of emotions to hit you until your eyes start welling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For class today. I’ve learned it’s always better to assume the worst.”

“I noticed.” He smiles, tapping his fingers.

His feet keep the swing moving even with you positioned over him like this. You try to pretend you don’t feel the movement of his sweats against your jeans. What the hell’s gotten into you today?

“Keep the bracelet,” he says. “Can I give you my number? In case you ever need anything?”

You grab your phone out of your back pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. “Just send yourself a text.” You lean closer while you watch his thumbs dance over the keyboard. His shoulder brushes yours, and when he finishes his text, he looks over at you.

You’re much nearer to him than you anticipated, gulping once you see the swirls of brown in his irises. He wets his lips, fingers splaying out further around your knee. Shifting toward you, he turns ever-so-slightly, his face only inches away from yours.

You’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours, but somehow, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Maybe it’s from the way his full lips are parted, fresh mint on his breath, or perhaps it’s that odd craving of intimacy you’ve missed since you left Woojin in the first place.

“If you need anything,” he whispers. “Anything at all. Call me, okay?”

You nod, entranced by the little details of him that come together to make him who he is. The cologne. His finally-dried hair parted in the middle. The softness of his touch. His sympathetic stare that doesn’t feel at all like pity, but you can’t place how someone you just met could actually care about you.

“Sorry, for some reason, I just really, really want to—” He’s interrupted by the door opening, the music loud enough to make both of you freeze as if you’re doing something wrong.

“(Y/N), are you out here? Jiyoon said she left you alo—oh.” Soobin halts as soon as she sees you and Chenle. She blinks a few times, like that’ll change the sight in front of her.

“Where’s Heewon?” you ask.

“She went upstairs with Mark.”

Chenle snorts, scratching his forehead. “Girl knows what she wants, huh?”

“She’s not shy,” you reply.

“Are you ready to go?” Soobin asks. “Pretty sure Jiyoon plans on staying with Jisung, so I’m ready if you are.”

Disappointment floods your chest at the thought of cutting your conversation with Chenle short. You look at him to ask what he’d prefer.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

He smiles softly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

You not-so-gracefully swing your legs over his lap to reach the ground, stopping once you’re on your feet to glance back at him. “You sure you don’t want the bracelet back?”

“I like how it looks on you,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all yours.”

You give him one last smile, and then you walk past Soobin inside. She leads you through the house to the front door, and it’s only when you’re in her car that she looks at you expectantly.

“What was that?” she asks you.

“What was what?”

She glares at you. “Oh, come on. You were on top of him. Your faces were so close I thought I was about to witness you kissing a man.”

“I was not about to kiss Chenle.” You give her a pointed look.

“Oh, my God, and now the man has a name?” Soobin’s face scrunches up. “First, Jiyoon starts dating Jisung, second, Heewon is hopping on Mark’s dick, and I really thought I’d be safe with you, but Chenle?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you remind her. “He’s my lab partner. And I’m allowed to have friends.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but your phone dings obnoxiously in your lap. You look at it, and when you see the contact name Chenle gave himself, you chuckle.

“Who is it?” Soobin asks.

“Oh, it’s…” you trail off, annoyance creeping in when you realize the reaction you just had to him. “It’s Chenle.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She lets out an exasperated groan. “I’ve already lost the war.”

The next few weeks pass by. You see Chenle in class every day, and he somehow convinced you to go to the games he had over that span of time. Jiyoon hadn’t lied to you—they simply do win every game they have.

It became normal for not only Chenle to eat lunch with you, Heewon, Jiyoon, and Soobin, but Mark and Jisung, too. Seeing Mark actively talking to and hanging out with Heewon shocked you, but you were pleasantly surprised.

You’d grown quite accustomed to Chenle and his friendship, to the point where he always sat next to you, so close that your legs touched. His bracelet was still latched around your wrist. You rarely took it off, and when you did, the second you were able to put it back on, you did.

Jiyoon rests her head on Jisung’s shoulder, and his arm loops around her waist and pulls her tight. Mark whispers something to Heewon, who giggles and pushes his shoulder gently. Soobin sits next to you and Heewon, but the more the latter giggles, the closer to you Soobin scoots.

“(Y/N), you’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Mark asks from across the table.

“Unfortunately, you’ll be without me tonight,” you tell him, bumping your knee against Chenle’s. “I have a big test on Friday. But I’ll be at the party.”

Mark salutes you and gives you an apparent nod of approval. “Don’t know what Chenle will do without his good luck charm.”

“He’ll do just as well as he did before he knew I existed.” You laugh and run your fingers through your hair.

Chenle grabs your hand to look at the thread, gaze darting over to yours as a tiny smirk forms on his lips. “As long as you don’t take this off, I’ll be fine.”

“Right, because if I do, you’ll be so sad you can’t play.” You fake a pout, and his smirk turns into a full-blown grin.

“Broken hearts kill people, (Y/N). Be considerate.”

“Wow, they’re flirting in real time,” Jiyoon says, nodding.

“Weird, because Chenle doesn’t do that in front of us usually,” Jisung mutters back to her.

You crumple up one of the papers in front of you and throw it at your friends, and it bounces right off Jiyoon’s forehead.

“Nice.” Chenle high fives you, and you laugh at Jiyoon’s narrowed eyes.

Neither of you deny what’s happening, and it makes your stomach twist and turn with something you can’t recognize. Whatever’s happening to you, you don’t hate it, but it makes you nervous. Your heart races in his presence, and any time you’re alone with him, you want to kiss him.

Soobin and Heewon have another class to attend, so Mark offers to walk them there. The three of them stand and say their goodbyes. Mark loops his arm through Heewon’s and watches her fondly as he walks away with her.

“I thought he was a player,” you muse. “Now he’s all over her.”

“No, no,” Chenle replies. “I said he has the highest body count. But when he likes someone, he takes it seriously. He’s not a player or anything, he just happens to like sex.”

You nod in understanding and shrug. “I guess I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I mean, no offense to Heewon at all, but we were surprised he wanted more. Not anything to do with her, but he was just planning on going with the flow for the last couple semesters,” Jisung adds, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Surprised on behalf of Mark, I get it.” You hold your hands up before dropping them back in your lap. Grabbing your bottle of water, you sip from it.

“And what about you two? You seem awfully close lately. Anything happening behind closed doors?” Jiyoon wiggles her eyebrows, and you full-on choke on your drink.

“Classy,” Chenle says to her, putting his hand on your lower back. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” You try to clear your throat, your face burning at the realization he hasn’t vehemently denied or confirmed anything. Like he’s not going to answer until you’ve made yours clear.

“It’s a pretty simple question,” Jiyoon replies. “And you guys have been hanging out a lot. And I don’t really think he can say he doesn’t want to—”

His touch is now burning a hole right through the small of your back, and when you tense up, he’s quick to remove it.

“I don’t think we should talk about this,” Chenle interjects, resting his elbows on the table.

“See? That wasn’t a denial.” Jiyoon grins widely as if she’s proud of herself.

Your friend seems acutely aware you haven’t said anything either, and you know this is her way of trying to push you out of your shell. Chenle’s not denying his attraction to you, and you almost prefer it this way. Most people would jump to the ‘no, we’re just friends’ much too quickly for comfort, but it’s clear he’s not going to do anything to confuse you.

“I’ll see you after the game, right?” he asks, gaze soft despite the topic Jiyoon brought up.

You smile at him. “Yeah, of course. If I finish my homework at a decent time, I’ll try to make the game.”

“Cool.” He nods and stands up. “Jisung and I have a class, so I’ll see you later.”

Jisung kisses Jiyoon, placing his hand on the back of her neck. It lasts too long for comfort, which leaves you and Chenle to exchange awkward looks. Jisung pulls away first, pressing another quick peck to her cheek before he stands up and walks away with Chenle.

“I feel like that wasn’t really necessary.” You scrunch your face at her.

“The second you kiss Chenle, you’ll realize how necessary it really is.” Jiyoon grins, reaching into her backpack for a bag of chips. “It’s been a while for you. Live a little. Not that you’ve ever really…had a good experience with that kind of stuff.”

“Ah yes, thank you for the reminder.” You snort, looking over your shoulder to see Chenle and Jisung in the distance. “I will not be kissing Chenle.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I?” you counter.

“Uh, because you like him?”

“Kissing requires both parties wanting it, Ji.” You shuffle through your notebook, absentmindedly looking at your notes.

She frowns at you in silence.

“What?”

“You think that man doesn’t want to kiss you? Or get you undressed?”

“Okay, maybe. But just because we want to doesn’t mean we should. Or that we will.” You close your book and sigh as you look at your friend. “I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Not ready? That’s such a sad excuse and you know it. He’d never treat you like Woojin did.”

“It’s really only been a few months, okay? If he really likes me, he’ll give me time. If not, he’ll move on, and we’ll be the same way we have been for the past few weeks. We’re friends, Ji.” You gather your things to put them in your bag.

“I think you’re just scared he doesn’t want you.” Jiyoon narrows her eyes at you. “Try it. Literally try to kiss him tonight and see what happens.”

“You’re crazy. I will see you at the party.” But as you finally move away from your friend, images of kissing Chenle flash in front of your brain, and you realize how much that really is everything you want.

You were gonna kiss him. After the rest of the afternoon debating with yourself, you decided that was the best course of action. The past be damned, you deserve good things—and if Chenle is one of those things, then so be it.

You’ve been at his house for an hour, hanging out with him, Jisung, Mark, and a handful of other people you didn’t really know. You sat next to him on the couch, his arm loosely thrown over the cushion behind you.

Shifting closer to him, you rest your head on his shoulder, and his grip tightens naturally, his fingertips brushing the skin of your forearm. There’s no way you’ll kiss him in front of a group of people, but you’re not sure how to pull him away. He talks animatedly with his friends, laughing and celebrating their most recent win.

After a few moments, he leans close to whisper in your ear. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You blink at him, turning and nearly forgetting how to breathe when you see how easy it would be to press your lips to his. “Yeah, I’m good.” You lift your drink, but as soon as you do, someone hits Chenle’s arm behind you, and it makes you jolt as well, half of your alcohol pouring down your front. You gasp at the chill, gaping as you stand up.

“What the fuck?” Chenle sits up to put his drink down, throwing a glare over his shoulder to whoever ran into him.

Before you say anything, he’s right next to you with his hand on the small of your back. You allow him to lead you to the stairs, your face hot with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Chenle, I should go home and change—”

“You can just put something of mine on,” he says, opening the first door on the right and allowing you to walk in first.

The room is somewhat bare, beige walls and dark flooring. There’s nothing really showing someone lives here despite the sweatshirt haphazardly thrown over the desk chair. His bed isn’t made, the gray comforter bunched in the middle.

The music fades to background noise when he closes the door behind him. He goes into his dresser and pulls out a black T-shirt. When he hands it to you, you timidly take it from him.

“You can change, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he tells you, already turning.

“Chenle, wait,” you call out, cringing at how quickly you said it. “Stay. Just…close your eyes or something.”

“Okay.” He frowns in confusion, but nods, facing the opposite direction.

Without wasting any more time, you pull your ruined shirt over your head and exchange it for his. It’s the school’s logo on the front, and even though you don’t look, you know his jersey number and last name are on the back.

Nerves eat away at your stomach as you approach him. Logically, you know he won’t reject you. He likes you just as much as you like him, but something still has you choking on the thought.

You put a hand on one of his shoulders. “Chenle.”

He gulps as he turns back to face you, but you don’t give him the time to say anything. Your hands move from his shoulders up to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him toward you. He allows it, gaze meeting yours once before his eyes flutter shut and your mouths meet.

His lips fit so perfectly with yours, it has you sighing against him. He wraps his arms around you, fisting your shirt as if he needs to ground himself. The pace is slow, his body flush to yours as your touch slides into his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be, and you just can’t get enough of him.

“Fuck, wait.” Chenle pulls away. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, face on fire as you turn away from him without an answer.

“Don’t go,” he says, reaching out for you. “Look at me and tell me you’re sober so I can kiss you again.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you allow him to pull you back until your chest bumps into his. You put your hands flat on his chest, surprised to find his heart thumping just as hard as your own beneath your palm.

“I think you forgot you made me the one drink I had…half of.” You peer at him through your lashes, the shine of your lip gloss reflecting off his lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groans, his hand finding the back of your neck.

As soon as his mouth is on yours, your body arches into his, molding into him like you’re an extension of him. You’re not sure exactly what you’re doing, but you know you’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else before. You move him backward until the backs of his knees press against his bed.

“(Y/N),” he whispers as you push him down until he sits on the mattress.

“Is this okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling at you. “C’mere, Sunshine.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you climb onto his lap, staring right into his eyes while you crave his kiss. You reach up and swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, entranced. “Call me that again.”

“Sunshine.” He presses you as close as possible by the small of your back. “My Sunshine.”

You kiss him, and when you shift on top of him, you gasp at the feeling of him hardening beneath his sweatpants.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. “We can stop—”

“Is that what you want?” you ask him, leaning back to look at his face.

He shakes his head, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous. For the most part, Chenle’s a confident man, so seeing him with even the slightest bit of hesitation warms your heart. His vulnerable side is on full display for you, and you’ll be damned if you’re the one who stops this moment.

“But, (Y/N), I need you to know that—”

“Chenle, can you come help? This fucking guy won’t—Oh, shit. My bad.” Mark stands in the doorway, and instead of flying off Chenle’s lap, you bury your head in his neck. He cradles the back of your head as he looks at his friend.

“What’s going on?” Chenle asks.

“Some dude is refusing to leave but he’s been making a couple girls uncomfortable, and I have no idea where Jisung is.”

“Probably in his room with his girlfriend.” His chest rumbles as he narrows his eyes at Mark. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

You move off his lap and sit next to him on his bed. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone, following Mark downstairs.

You lie flat on his bed, patting your cheeks and fighting off a smile at the thought of what you just did. Amidst your happiness cloud, you don’t realize your phone is vibrating in your pocket until it’s on the last ring. You grab for it, unsure of who would be calling you at a time like this when all of your friends are downstairs.

When you see the screen, you immediately shrink in on yourself. The contact name has been labeled as “don’t answer,” and by that logic, you already know who it is. As soon as you see it, the call stops, and it turns into a notification instead. You anxiously wait for the second call, knowing Woojin better than you’d like to.

Your breath catches in your throat and anxiety sprouts at the base of your spine, and sudden guilt smashes into you when you process what you’ve done with Chenle. Your hands shake as you get a second notification, one that notifies you that you’ve received a voicemail.

You unlock your phone and immediately play the message.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am? Like I haven’t heard what’s going on with you and Chenle. Seriously, (Y/N)? You gonna let the whole basketball team get in your pants, too? He’s not as good as me. I bet every time you’re on his dick, you wish you were with me. You’ll come back when you realize he doesn’t really want you. The second you stop putting out, he’ll drop you so fast, just wait. The thought of you with him makes me so fucking—wait ‘til I fucking see him, and you’ll see. Do you know what you’ve done? You’re such a bitch, you’re pitting people against each other. I’ll get you back.”

The voicemail ends abruptly, and bile rises in your throat. Your eyes well with tears, and you cradle your knees up to your chest, your phone falling onto Chenle’s mattress. You become acutely aware of the way his shirt feels on your skin, and your guilt rages on. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there before Chenle comes back.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re hysterical—you can’t understand a word of what he’s saying, and you fight against his grasp like he’s suddenly not the same man you know.

“Hey.” He cups your cheeks, stopping your abrupt movements and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Breathe, talk to me. What the hell just happened?”

Your chest heaves and you stare at him in shock. You’re sure anyone else would have sent you away at the sight of the mess you became in seconds.

“Was it me? Did I do this?” he asks, thumbs stroking your skin.

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you quickly shake your head, unable to open your mouth to explain. Chenle’s face scrunches in relief as his chest deflates.

“Come here.” He tugs at you until you practically fall into his lap. You curl into him, and he lets you cry on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you choke out, gripping onto his sleeve. “I wanted tonight to—”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Can you…please tell me what happened?”

You’re almost too embarrassed to tell him about the message. He’d find out things about your past, and it might change his opinion of you. Although, the concern in his gaze as he wipes your tears away becomes enough convincing. This is Chenle. You trust him, inexplicably.

“Voicemail,” you whisper, jaw quivering all over again.

Chenle kisses your forehead and reaches for your phone. You feel queasy as he finds what he’s looking for and puts the device up to his ear. Faintly, you hear it play. You watch Chenle’s face closely, waiting for the disgust to show like you expect.

Instead, as the recording finishes, his jaw clenches, fire raging in his brown eyes. He tosses your phone to the side and tugs you closer to his chest. You sniffle, and his grip tightens on you. He’s rigid, unmoving except for his hand that runs through your hair.

“Chenle, I haven’t said anything about you to anyone.” You look up at him. “I don’t know where he heard any of that from, ‘cause I’d never spread rumors.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he says, tone soft. “I don’t think any part of that is your fault.”

“You’re not mad?”

“At you?” he asks incredulously. “Of course, I’m not mad at you. His actions can’t be blamed on you.”

For the first time since you received that call, your heart calms. You stare at him, lips parted in shock, and wait for the other shoe to drop. Wiping the rest of your tears, you clear your throat. Fear creeps up your spine, and the only thing on your mind is not scaring him off. Not doing anything to rock the boat so you can keep him, because you’ve already unknowingly fallen for him.

You sniffle, readjusting yourself on his lap so you’re straddling him again. He looks at you in confusion, but his hands find purchase on your hips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, swallowing the reproach you feel toward this situation, and kiss him like the past half an hour doesn’t exist. He returns the gesture, but it’s not like it was earlier. The passion has all but drained, and his touches are tentative.

He pulls away, eyes scanning over your face. “What are you doing?”

“What we were supposed to do in the first place,” you mention, grinding down on him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a quiet curse comes out instead. Your hands shake as you reach down to the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head. Like Woojin said, as long as you’re giving Chenle what he wants, he won’t leave you.

“Stop,” Chenle breathes out, making you freeze above him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this right now.” He drops his head into his palms. “Is this about the voicemail? You think you have to do this for me?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs.

“God, what the hell?” He removes you from his lap and stands up, tugging his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Don’t go. Please.” Your voice is so small, you barely recognize it. “I’ll do better. Whatever you—”

“No.” He strides over to you and helps you to your feet, hands cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “No, baby, I’m not going anywhere, promise. I just need a second, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s get your shirt back on.” He leans down to grab the black fabric off the floor and helps you pull it back on.

“Chenle,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows pinch together as he looks at you.

“Did you…want to?” You cringe at how small you sound. “Earlier, at least. You wanted me?”

“I did. I do. But I want you to want it, too,” he explains. “You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to do something you don’t want to, especially not things like that. No real man would ever ask you for that.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Can I stay with you tonight? Please?”

“I’d prefer it that way, actually.” He chuckles. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? Gonna tell Mark to end the party now, and I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

You nod, and surprisingly, you actually mean it.

“If you don’t want to sleep in your jeans, you can get a pair of sweats from my dresser.” He kisses your cheek before heading downstairs.

While he’s gone, you change out of your jeans, a dull ache in your head from the sobbing. After you have his sweats on, you climb into bed and slide beneath his comforter. You’re surrounded by his scent like this. You want to melt into the sheets and never leave, surrounded by everything he has to offer all the time.

When he comes back, he locks his door behind him and lays down next to you. He doesn’t make any moves to pull you close, so you take the initiative and bury your head in his chest, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Get some rest,” he whispers. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that piece of shit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you tell him, sighing. “I have you now.”

His grip is firm on you when you wake up, the steady rising and falling of his chest telling you he’s fast asleep. You sigh in content. You’d never really understood what people meant before, when they said things about not being able to get close enough. He’s pressed flush against you, but you feel as if it’s not enough.

You have no idea if your friends are here, but you carefully crawl out of bed so as to not disturb Chenle. Rubbing your eyes, you grab your phone to check your notifications. Jiyoon texted you a few times to ask if you’d gotten home okay. She’d been upstairs long before you, so it doesn’t surprise you she has no idea you stayed with Chenle.

He stirs with a short groan, but doesn’t open his eyes. You bite back a smile at the softness of his face. His cheek is smooshed into the pillow, and you’re surprised by the odd urge to kiss all over him. Instead, you opt to go into the kitchen for some water.

When you walk in the room, you’re met with Jisung, Jiyoon, and Heewon. Your friends blink at you in surprise, and Jisung laughs to himself.

“Think we found her.” He nudges Jiyoon.

“You could’ve just responded to my text and told me you got dick last night.” Jiyoon throws her hands up in exasperation.

“Nothing happened.” You shrug. “Jisung, water bottles?”

He points to the fridge, you give him a thumbs up, and then you grab one, twisting the cap off and sipping from it.

“You dirty liar, you’re in his clothes.” Heewon narrows her eyes at you. “His last name is on your back.”

“I spilled alcohol on my clothes,” you reply. “Mark was there, ask him.”

“Nothing happened?” Jiyoon asks. “Nothing at all? Not even some light petting or you know, head?”

You glare at her. “You’re such a perv.”

“Mark said he saw something last night,” Heewon blurts out. “And then I said, what? My sweet, innocent (Y/N) would never do something like that. But then I thought about it, and it obviously had to be you because Chenle wouldn’t randomly take another girl in his room.”

“Oh, my God.” Your face heats up. “Yeah, we kissed, but that’s it. Let me breathe before you start interrogating me.”

Jiyoon exclaims in excitement, shaking Jisung’s arm. “They finally fucking kissed!”

You grab a second bottle for Chenle, and then you make your way back toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Jiyoon calls. “You have to give me the details. You can’t just drop that on us and then leave!”

You turn toward her, giving her a pointed look. “Not telling you anything. I’m going back upstairs.”

“Yeah, go kiss Chenle again.” Jiyoon snickers.

“Maybe I will.” You whirl around, gasping mid-laugh when you smack right into Chenle’s chest. Embarrassment shoots through you as one of the water bottles tumbles from your hand. “Oh, I was just about to—”

“Kiss me again?” His lips form the tiniest smirk.

“Water. For you. But—”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” His palm finds the back of your neck, pushing you closer to him so he can connect your lips. You immediately melt into him, the other bottle falling as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The only thing that pulls you away from him in that moment is the obnoxious sound of Jiyoon and Heewon cheering behind the two of you. Your face burns, and you put your palms flat on his chest.

“Good morning.” You clear your throat.

“Would’ve been better with you in my bed instead of the kitchen,” he whispers in your ear.

“Hey, hey! No secrets.” Jiyoon pouts.

“Sorry, she’s very convinced we’re…you know.” You purse your lips. “Did you want to stay down here?”

“Came to see if you were still here,” he admits. “I’d much rather be upstairs with you right now.”

You glance over your shoulder at your friends and Jisung, glaring at them before returning your attention back to Chenle. “My peaceful attempt to get water was thwarted by my loser friends assuming we had sex.”

“You’ve got some nosy friends.” He grabs the water bottles from the floor and gestures back up the stairs. “Exactly why we lock doors in this house.”

When you get to class the next day, you’re surprised that Chenle’s nowhere to be found. He hadn’t mentioned anything to you, so you grab your phone and send him a quick text. Half of the class passes by before you start to worry. He hasn’t messaged you back, and he’s still not here.

You walk up to your professor, fidgeting with your hands. “Excuse me, sorry if this is weird, but did Chenle email or anything about not being here?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replies. “But I do think the basketball team had something planned for today. If you’re looking for him, he may be in the gym.”

You nod at her to thank her, and then you do exactly as she says. It’s unlike him to be MIA all day, and you’re sure he wouldn’t be upset seeing you, so why not?

You’re not expecting the room to be so full when you walk in. You don’t see him immediately, but you see Jiyoon and Jisung, so you approach them.

Jiyoon spots you first, confusion sprouting on her features. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

“Um.” You blush, suddenly embarrassed that you came all this way to find Chenle. “Have you heard from Chenle? He wasn’t in class and he wasn’t responding, so…”

“You’re so cute when you worry,” Jiyoon says, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, the captains of the sports teams do this once a year or whatever. He’s been here all day.”

“Oh, okay, well, I’m gonna head to lunch. Are you coming?” You tilt your head and adjust your bag.

“Heewon’s here, too. You didn’t know about this?”

You frown, taken aback by everyone knowing what’s going on but you. It gives you an uneasy feeling, your stomach twisting.

The door on the far end opens, and Chenle walks through, clearly frustrated at whatever he just witnessed back there. His anger melts the second he sees you, and he makes his way over.

He pulls you into a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I…” You pause, throwing one of your arms around him. “You weren’t in class, and our professor said you might be here. I’m a little confused.”

Chenle glances around before he gestures toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll explain.”

You let him lead you away from Jiyoon and Jisung. Once you’re far enough from the crowd, he grabs your hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this,” he tells you. “I just…I figured you knew, but this is a schoolwide event. Which means everyone on a sports team is here, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured to come knowing—”

“Zhong, not inviting your girlfriend to things? Isn’t that frowned upon?”

You freeze at the sound of that voice, and suddenly, everything makes sense. Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, immediate irritation sparking on his face.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about you being around her, Woojin?” His body tenses as he turns toward the other man. “Don’t make me get us both in trouble before such an important week.”

He stands directly in front of you, blocking your view of the man. You hold onto the back of his T-shirt and tug gently to tell him it’s not worth it.

“Well, if she’s over me, what does it matter if she sees me? Are you scared you’ll lose out to a better man?” Woojin’s tone seeps with misplaced confidence. “C’mon, she’s not that good to where you have to get so defensive.”

Chenle quickly moves forward, making you lose your grip on him. Fortunately, Jisung and Mark jump in, hands on his shoulders to push him back.

“Hey, calm down,” Mark says in his ear. “We can’t play without our captain.”

Jiyoon and Heewon shuffle past the boys over to you, but you’re focused more on Chenle than yourself at this point.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Jiyoon says, tugging at your arm. “Let Chenle handle it.”

“What? No, he’s clearly not handling it. I’m okay.” You move around Mark to stand in front of Chenle, not sparing Woojin a glance. Despite the uneasiness you feel, you care more about calming him down than giving Woojin the satisfaction of a response from you.

You put your hand on his chest, and his anger all but dissipates when he looks at you. His eyes soften, and he nods at his friends so they’ll let him go.

“I’ll be back,” Chenle says. “I’m gonna take her home.”

“You don’t have to leave for me.” You grin up at him. “I’ll make it fine by myself. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Trust me, I need a walk.” He brushes his pants off and puts his arm around you, guiding you in the opposite direction. The glare he throws at Woojin would be enough to send chills down your spine if it was directed at you.

Once you’re out in the fresh air, you finally feel like you can breathe. Chenle’s still tense as he walks you through the courtyard.

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve just waited to hear from you, but I was worried.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re not the one who’s an asshole.” He pulls you tighter and kisses the side of your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod, looking down at your feet as you walk.

He pauses, fingers tapping against your skin. “I’m really not mad at you. I wanted you there, but I didn’t want you to be in a situation like that. So, if anything, I should’ve told you about what I was doing today. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You stop, frowning at him. He tilts his head at you and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“You did that for me?”

He gives you a small smile. “It definitely wasn’t for me. If I was being selfish, I would’ve brought you.”

Instead of responding, you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him. He finally relaxes and rests his hand on the small of your back.

He drops his head on your shoulder, sighing. “Don’t wanna go back. Do you care if I just stay with you for the day?”

“Well, you missed our assignment directions, so I think you probably should.” You intertwine your fingers with his and resume your journey.

You and Chenle end up in your room, and he sits next to you on your bed while you shuffle through your papers from today. He shifts, spreading his legs to pull you between them, his arms squeezing around your middle.

“He makes me want to commit murder. I can only imagine how you feel.” He breathes you in.

You chuckle, leaning back on his chest. “Honestly? I just wanted you. I didn’t care about him or whatever he was saying. Plus, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He sucks.”

“Oh, that’s working,” he murmurs. “Tell me all about how he sucks, please.”

“He never let me go to parties. Couldn’t have a simple conversation with any man that wasn’t him. Always hung out with his friends instead of me. I had to ask permission if I wanted to do anything. Even if it was with Jiyoon or Heewon.” Your face heats up, and you’re glad he can’t see you. “He talks about being this great man but he never actually…took care of me.”

Chenle tenses all over again. “What?”

“Uh.” You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing.”

“No, no, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I’m just…I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised, huh? Any man that talks like that probably doesn’t even know how to use his parts.”

“Yeah, he kinda sucks.”

“I’m stuck between wanting to kick his ass or showing you what it feels like.” He kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. “Is he the only guy you’ve been with?”

Your thighs clench together at the sudden heat you feel, and you gulp, nodding. “I mean, I’ve…done things to myself. But yeah. He’s the only one.”

“I…” His eyelashes flutter against your skin. “God, I could kill him.”

You turn your head until you meet his gaze, heart pounding in your chest as you work up the courage to say what you want. His eyes dart down to your mouth before he wets his lips.

You trace your finger over his cheekbone, shifting back against him. “Why don’t you stop thinking about him and show me?”

He kisses you hard, hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt. You try to move so you can straddle his lap, but he tightens his grip instead.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back and let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Chenle’s hand slides down to the button of your jeans, and your breath catches in your throat.

“If you want—”

“Do you want me to touch you?” he repeats. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want it.”

“Yes.” You look into his eyes. “Please.”

“There you go.” He gives you a small smile as he pops the button and unzips the zipper. “Lift up for me for a second? Wanna get these off of you.”

You do as he asks, and he pushes the fabric down to your knees. With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed to be seen this way, but Chenle’s lips against your neck and fingertips exploring your bare thighs has you forgetting all about it.

You lean back on him, already panting at the thought of him so close to where you want him. He traces along the hem of your panties before tracing down to your core, ghosting from your entrance to your clit. You bite your lip to stop yourself from making a sound.

“You can stop me whenever if you want to, okay? Don’t think you have to do this because you already said yes.” He rubs tentative circles on you with just enough pressure to have you squirming.

“I want it,” you tell him. “I want you.”

“I know, baby. I’m letting you know it’s okay if you change your mind.” His cock is hard already, digging into you back as he presses a little harder.

This time, you can’t hold back the moan fluttering past your lips. You put your hand over your mouth, and he uses his other hand to pull at your wrist.

“Let me hear you.” His voice is deeper than you’re used to, thick with want for you. “Tells me if I’m doing a good job.”

He stops his movements to slide his hand beneath your panties. His fingers move to your entrance, and he curses under his breath and the feeling of your wetness. You cry out when he slips them inside you, not sure what to do with your hands as your eyes roll.

“Good?” he asks, kissing along your neck. His body radiates heat. It pours into you, your chest heaving while you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him hard.

“More,” you whimper.

His tongue enters your mouth, delicately wrestling with yours. He pumps his hand faster, his palm finding your clit with every thrust. You’re embarrassed by the way your legs shake, but you don’t break the kiss. Your hips buck up, a knot forming in your stomach that you’ve only ever felt by yourself. It’s more intense when it’s Chenle, the butterflies swarming around the closer you get.

He curls his fingers, finding your spot. You squirm and moan as your high takes you, your grip on his hair tightens while you grind down. While you float on the cloud he created for you, he moves slowly to bring you back down to earth, and he kisses all over your face. He gently removes his fingers and wipes them on his shirt.

“God, I wanna fucking eat you out so bad,” he pants. “Fuck.”

You push your jeans off the rest of the way and turn around to straddle his lap. His hands find your hips, holding you away from the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You frown. “What about you?”

“Baby, I’m good. I’m just gonna go take care of it in the bathroom.”

“You don’t want me to—” Your chest deflates.

“That’s not it.” He chuckles breathlessly. “I promise you, the only thing I want more than being inside you right now is making sure you know that me doing things for you doesn’t mean you have to for me, too.”

You’re silent for a moment, blinking at him as he traces shapes on your hips.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I—I think I’m in love with you,” you say it so quietly, you barely hear the words yourself.

His eyes widen, and within seconds, he’s pulling you in for another kiss. He cradles the back of your head as he flips you over. Resting between your legs, his lips work on yours like he’s never kissed you before.

When he pulls away, your face is still on fire from your confession.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I don’t know why I’d say something like that, and you don’t have to—”

“I love you, too,” he cuts you off, smiling. “Give me, like, five minutes, Sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

Before you protest, he’s jumping away from you and heading into the bathroom. You splay out on your bed, giggling to yourself as you replay what happened in your head. The thought of him taking care of himself in there has your imagination wandering dangerously. You start to wonder what would happen if you offered to help him.

You finally decide to get up and grab a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. As soon as you have them secured on you, Chenle comes out of the bathroom. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest.

“Sorry you had to do that,” you murmur, taking a deep breath.

“It’s not the first time,” he admits, chuckling.

Your jaw drops and you turn to look at him. “Seriously?”

“The world will fall to its knees when you finally accept how fucking perfect you are.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Come lay down with me. We’ll worry about homework later, yeah?”

You curl into his chest when you join him on your bed, legs tangling with his. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head. A giddy feeling runs rampant in your chest, and all you want is to stay here forever with him.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, squeezing his waist.

“You don’t have to do that.” His reply makes his chest rumble. “I promise I’ll always treat you the way you deserve.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you hum, closing your eyes.

His heart thrums in his chest, the sound filling your ears and calming you despite how fast it is. You make him as nervous as he makes you, and that thought alone puts a smile on your face.

He gives you a sense of calm you haven’t felt in a long time—you’re safe.

For a week, you don’t see Chenle except in class. It disappoints you, but as his championships approach, he’s been practicing nonstop. He offered to come over after his practices, but he’d be stumbling in past midnight, so you declined.

You’re getting ready for bed when you hear a knock on your door. Hesitating, you’re not sure who would be at your place, let alone knocking. You check your phone to make sure you didn’t miss any texts, and then you look out the peephole.

You recoil at the sight of Woojin, stumbling back until you bump into your table. What the hell was he doing at your house.

“(Y/N), open the door.” He has to be shouting. His voice is much too clear. “I just wanna talk to you. I know Chenle’s not here, babe, let me in.”

Your first instinct is to grab your phone out of your pocket, but you’re not sure what you plan on doing.

“Let me in or I’ll find a way in without your help,” Woojin warns.

You turn away and bolt back to your room, closing it and locking it before your first instinct is to dial Chenle’s number.

“I was just about to call you,” he answers. “We got out early so I was gonna see if—”

“Woojin’s outside.” Your voice warbles as you try to stand steady, tugging your fingers through your hair. “He said he’s gonna find a way in, and I don’t remember if all the windows are locked or—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, okay? I’m on my way. Go to your room and lock the door. I’ll be before you know it. He’s not going to get to you.” His tone switches from lighthearted to dead serious, but somehow still comforting despite the situation.

“Chenle—”

“I know, baby. Make sure your door is locked.”

Woojin pounds on the front door more, and you drop your phone.

“If you think he’ll make it before I get to you, you’re wrong. This could’ve been fucking easy, (Y/N)!” A cold edge takes over Woojin, and tears well in your eyes.

This man was forcing his way into your house, and fear paralyzes you from head to toe. You can’t move, no matter how much you try. At least the noise alerts you to where he is, but when the silence sets in, you feel bile in your throat.

You sit on the floor, cradling your knees to your chest as you rock back and forth as your only option for response. Nothing changes, and suddenly, you hear a familiar voice through your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)? It’s Mark, are you okay? Chenle’s outside.”

It’s not enough. You can’t speak or move to unlock the door, and you don’t want Mark.

“He’s taking care of it,” Mark continues.

After more silence, he seems to get that you’re not going to respond to anyone but Chenle.

A few more minutes pass, and a light knock sounds.

“(Y/N), open the door,” Chenle says softly. “I’m here, Sunshine. Come see me.”

You pick yourself up off the floor and make your way over to the door, unlocking it but not having enough energy to open it. As soon as he hears it, he’s in your room and wrapping you up in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He kisses the top of your head, his heart pounding in his chest. Pulling back, he grabs your face, wiping away the tears you don’t recall shedding.

“He tried to—” You choke on your words, opting to bury yourself in his grasp instead.

And then you see his hands, some of his knuckles split and bleeding. You gasp and grab his wrists, gaping at his injuries.

“Chenle, what did you do?”

“Just taught him a lesson is all,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I want you to come stay with us for a little while, okay?”

“Huh?”

“I want you to pack a bag and come stay with me, Sungs, and Mark for a while.”

“I can’t do that.” You put your hands on his shoulders. “You said you handled it, right?”

“Please?” He cups both your cheeks. “It’ll make me feel better. I know he won’t try anything there.”

Reluctantly, you agree, and he helps you gather your things. He insists on carrying it for you, and he leads you through your house. When you make it outside, you see a handful of people you don’t know and Mark and Jisung. You turn to look at Chenle.

“Is…is this the whole basketball team?” you ask.

“We were all leaving when you called. They offered to help.” He shrugs.

You’re exhausted by the time you make it to Chenle’s. Jiyoon and Heewon are already there, and when they see you, the looks on their faces tell you everything you need to know. Chenle guides you upstairs without a word.

“Chenle,” you mutter after he closes the door.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” You fight your tears and grab his hands. “Let me help you clean up, and then I just want to go to bed.”

“Anything you need.” He kisses your forehead.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” You sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He leads you into his bathroom and grabs a plastic case from under the sink and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Sliding onto his counter, you spread your legs to allow him room close to you. You don’t say another word, you just get to work. He flinches when you wipe his wounds, and you sigh at the amount of damage done. All of it for you? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, staring down at your movements. “It just makes me…so mad that he thinks he can get away with trying to hurt you. So, I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that, but I’m not sorry for protecting you.”

“You brought the whole team.” You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“You’re important to me, and by definition, that makes you important to them, too.” He shrugs and pulls his hands away from you to grip the edge of the counter. “You’re safe with them.”

“I wasn’t done,” you scold him, but you enjoy his warmth anyway.

Chenle shakes his head. “Just let me look at you for a sec.”

You’re sure your face is puffy, eyes bloodshot from tears you barely remember, but he stares at you so fondly you forget all about it. He gives you the faintest smile.

“Come to bed with me?” His voice is so soft, like he’s afraid of any louder octave breaking you into pieces.

You cup his cheeks, stroking his skin with your thumbs. “What if it gets infected?”

“It won’t,” Chenle reassures you. “I’m exhausted. And I have class in the morning.”

You nod, and he takes a step back to allow you to get down. Following him into his bedroom, you feel how heavily sleep tugs on you, too. You sit on the edge of his bed as he moves his comforter so he can get under it. Watching him over your shoulder, you appreciate how soft he looks. All you want is to be close to him at all times. Whenever he’s away from you, the air is so much colder.

Chenle wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest so you can curl into him. “I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“I love you, too. And you got to me in time, that’s all that matters.” Your mouth brushes his gently at first, and then you allow him to part your lips with his tongue.

Despite that and the way he holds you so tightly, there’s no real heat behind this. You wrap your leg around his waist, and his hand moves down to your ass. Sighing, you shuffle again, getting lost in his kiss and the feeling of his hands all over you.

He squeezes you, making a short moan escape your lips. Resting his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes.

“We should stop.”

“You’re the one touching me,” you point out, tracing your thumb along his bottom lip. “We can stop if you want to, but I want it. So, don’t stop on my behalf.”

He rolls his hips toward you, pressing his hardening cock against your clothed entrance. “Does it feel like I want to stop?”

“I want you so bad.” You sigh as you grind on him. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since—” Your face heats up at your confession, but he smiles.

“I let you cum one time, and now this,” he teases you, biting back a wider grin.

You smack his shoulder. “It felt good.”

“It’s supposed to,” he retorts. “And if you’re ever with me and you don’t finish, you’d better tell me. Because I’ll make it happen.”

“I haven’t finished yet.” You continue grinding on him, his hardness sliding perfectly against you.

He massages your ass, the pressure of it slotting him firmly between your legs. You kiss him hard and let out a shuddering breath at the stimulation of your clit through your pants and underwear. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and he tugs until you let out a short whine.

“God, I don’t wanna have you for the first time while Mark and Jisung can hear,” he groans, burying his head in your neck. “Need to hear how I’m making you feel.”

“So let me just take care of you.” You move your hand down his body until you squeeze his bulge.

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice strained.

“If I want to?” you ask.

He inhales sharply, but doesn’t exhale. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

“Close your eyes and relax.” You kiss him gently before moving beneath the blanket.

He shifts onto his back, and you pull his pants down enough to palm him over his boxers. A short gasp leaves his lips. That’s enough for you to decide to slide your hand inside and grip his length. He throbs as your thumb rubs over the tip.

You're more nervous than you’d care to admit, but when you put the head in your mouth and suck, his low curse is all you need. You sink down further, attempting to relax your throat to take him deeper. He struggles to keep quiet, his moans sending bursts of wetness to your core.

You grab his hand, finding it fisted into the sheets, and bring it to your hair, hoping he’ll get the message. He immediately starts guiding your head up and down on his cock, and the slight sting from his movements has you moaning around him.

“Gonna cum,” he warns you. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good.”

You dig your nails into his thigh, sinking all the way down until your eyes water from gagging on him. With one last groan, he spills down your throat. You swallow what you can, climbing out from under the blanket while he readjusts himself in his pants.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans, reaching up to wipe the corner of your mouth. Before he moves away from you, you take his thumb in your mouth and suck.

“Feel better?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shifts, laying you on your back so he can settle between your legs. You’re a little surprised when he kisses you hard, tongue and all, considering you swallowed his load, but he doesn’t seem to care about that.

“Your turn,” he mutters, kissing and nipping along your neck.

“You shouldn’t.” You run your fingers through his hair. “Your hands are—”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles. “I don’t need my hands for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What happened to not having to do things just because the other person did?” You chuckle as he plays with the hem of your pants.

“You fucking earned it.” He nips your collarbone. “Plus I’ve wanted to taste you for so long. So, really, this is for me, too.”

“That feels backwards.”

He lifts your shirt up so his lips can graze your skin on the way down, tongue dancing along. Your breathing becomes uneven from the anticipation. With him between your legs, you can’t move to create the friction you crave.

“Is this okay?” he asks you.

You nod, helping him remove your panties. His gaze darkens as he sees your core, surely slick with your arousal. The pause he takes is minimal, and within seconds, he’s licking a broad stripe up your core. Your hand flies to his hair, whining as your back arches. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking it fast. His arms wrap around your thighs to stop them from clenching around his head, and his nails digging into your skin amplifies your pleasure.

You squirm beneath him, moaning as he dips into your entrance. His nose nudges your sensitive bud, and you wonder how you’ve gone this long without feeling this kind of pleasure. Lewd sounds emanate from where he’s attached to you as he works your entrance like he’s done it a hundred times.

You look at him, at the sight between your legs, and feel a whole new burst of heat between your legs. It feels like a rubber band is being pulled tight in your stomach, and you know damn well how soon it’ll snap.

The second his gaze flicks up to yours while his mouth is attached to your core, your orgasm hits you hard. Your back arches as your hips buck, and you tug hard on his hair until he’s moaning against you.

He doesn’t let up, helping you ride out your high before he starts to slow his pace. When you’ve come down from it, he separates from you, sitting up on his knees to get a good look. His lips glisten with your arousal, and you wet your lips at the thought of the evident bulge in his pants.

“Not tonight, baby.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Not with them in the house, and not after everything.”

He grabs you a clean pair of panties, sliding them up your legs before he kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of yourself.

Once you nod, he practically collapses on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You like feeling the weight of him and his warmth, so you wrap your arms around him and hold him while you will your heart to calm down.

In the morning, Chenle kisses all over your face to wake you. You groan, pushing at him despite only wanting him closer.

“I have to get to class,” he tells you. “And I have practice later, but I’m gonna leave a little early.” His lips trail to a sensitive spot below your ear.

“Leave practice early?” You fake disappointment. “Why would the captain leave early?”

“Because the captain is tired of his roommates being home when all he wants is alone time with his girlfriend. So, he’s gonna take some time to do the things he’s been dreaming of the past few weeks.” He drops his weight on top of you, resting his head on your chest. “If that’s okay with her, of course.”

“Oh? What things?”

He smirks up at you. “I’m gonna take you on a date, and then, if you’re up for it, I really, really wanna be inside you all fucking night.”

Your face heats up at the bluntness of his confession, but you nod.

“Just for bonus points, I’ll tell Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight, yeah?” He lifts himself up on his palms until he’s hovering over you.

“Why don’t you stay here, and we can be without them all day?”

“I have a test.” He sighs, placing one last kiss on your collarbone. “If that were an option, I’d’ve already picked it.”

Chenle pats your hip before rolling out of bed. He’s already changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but you admire him anyway. You turn to your side and curl into the blanket, planning on staying in that very spot until he comes back.

“I’ll see you later.” He grabs his backpack and heads for the door, glancing once more over his shoulder before he disappears. Even though he closes the door behind him, it doesn’t take long for it to open again, Jiyoon poking her head through.

“Hey.” She gives you a nervous smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” you reply, sitting up. Pursing your lips, you remember your pants are on the other side of the room. Jiyoon notices at the same time you do.

“Y’know, I thought I heard something last night,” Jiyoon jokes, sitting at the foot of the bed. “But then I was like, no way. (Y/N) is celibate.”

“Oh, come on. Celibate?” You glare at her.

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me the second it happened.”

“It hasn’t. That’s why you haven’t heard about it.” You shrug.

“That explains why it’s only your pants.” She frowns. “Why’s it taking so long?”

“It’s only been a couple months, Ji.”

“Yeah. That’s like six years in guy time.”

“We’ve done…stuff. Just not that.”

“Oh, my God, wait! I have to get Heewon before you spill.” Jiyoon squeals in excitement and runs out of the room.

You fall back against the pillow and sigh. As much as you want to tell them, you also want to keep it to yourself. It feels…private. Magical. Something only shared between you and Chenle.

They’ll ask you questions about him—and you’ll only ever be able to answer in one way. He’s perfect, and every second you spend with him makes you want more.

You end up in the living room with them after changing your clothes for the day. Jiyoon ordered pizza, and shortly after Chenle left, Mark and Jisung head out for practice.

But Chenle comes back a lot earlier than you expected. You, Jiyoon, and Heewon share an awkward glance. It must be right after his class, considering it’s only been an hour and a half.

“I thought he said he was still going to practice?” Jiyoon whispers.

You shrug. “Yeah, he did.”

He exchanges a look with you, and you realize immediately that he’s not happy. Shaking his head, he turns and immediately heads upstairs.

“Did he look upset to you guys?” you whisper.

“I think he wants you to go with him,” Jiyoon replies, pushing your arm.

“I’ll be right back.” You wipe your hands off on your napkin before following him to his bedroom. He’s on his way back out when you make it up there.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Checking on you,” you tell him. “You’re back early and you don’t seem happy, so I wanted to make sure you’re good. Why aren’t you going to practice?”

“Why would I practice if I can’t play in the game?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“What do you mean you can’t play?” you shoot back, eyes widening. “Is this because of me?”

“No, it’s not your fault.” He wets his lips. “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. Let’s just go downstairs, yeah? If I don’t get to hold you, I might go crazy after everything today.”

You nod and intertwine your fingers with his. “Yeah, of course.”

When the two of you take your seats, you motion at Jiyoon to tell her not to ask him any questions. You sit next to him with your legs over his lap, and his thumb rubs your thigh through your jeans.

You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to whatever story Heewon is telling. When you look over at him, he’s relaxed back on the cushion, eyes closed. You know something’s bothering him, but you don’t want to push or make him feel uncomfortable by prying. Instead, you shuffle closer to him.

He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing his arms around you and letting out a long sigh. It worries you more than you’ll admit, and when you glance over at your friends, they’re talking to each other in hushed voices.

“We’ve got a class,” Jiyoon says, standing up with Heewon. “We’re gonna head out. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile at her, and then quickly mouth ‘sorry’ before she waves you off like it’s no big deal.

Once they’re out of the door, you look back at Chenle, shifting so you’re straddling his lap to allow you a good view of him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, gaze traveling over you. “Would you hate me if we took a rain check on the date day?”

“I could never hate you.” You frown at him. “Whatever you need. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

“Come take a nap with me?” he whispers, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “All I want is to hold you and forget today exists.”

You give him a soft smile. “Of course.”

You’re not sure what it is exactly that has him so upset, but he said he didn’t want to talk about it. He guides you upstairs, fingers intertwined, and closes his bedroom door behind you once you’re both in.

Rummaging through his drawers, he grabs a shirt and hands it to you. You take it without question before going to your bag to get a pair of shorts. Without a second thought, you take your own shirt off and drop it on his floor, glancing over your shoulder at him to see him changing into a pair of sweatpants. You secure his shirt on before unbuttoning your jeans, pushing them down your legs until you can kick them off.

His arms snake around your waist, pressing his chest to your back. He kisses your cheek. “This was supposed to be a good night. I’m sorry, Sunshine, I’ll figure it out soon, okay?”

“Hey,” you murmur, turning to him. “You don’t have to apologize to me. We have all the time in the world for dates.”

“Thank you. I’m fucking exhausted.” Chenle moves toward his bed, and you follow without hesitation. When you’re both settled beneath the comforter, you curl into him like you can’t get close enough.

You’re not sure who falls asleep first, but you wake up before him. The dim lamp in the corner is now the only lighting, the sun no longer illuminating the walls in orange. A door opening and closing downstairs followed by Mark and Jisung laughing together is what stirs you.

Reluctantly pulling yourself away from Chenle, you grab your shorts from the edge of the bed and slide them on before heading toward Chenle’s friends. You rub your eyes to help you adjust to the brightness of the kitchen, and Jisung and Mark stop their conversation as they notice you.

“Hey,” Jisung says, fingers tapping on the counter.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” You chuckle, your voice still heavy with sleep. “I just wanted to ask you guys something if that’s okay.”

Mark nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Why wasn’t he at practice today? He said something about not being able to play?”

The two boys share a look, and for some reason, that makes you feel as if you already know the answer.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“Not you,” Jisung replies. “But…”

“But what?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Come on, if there’s something I can do, I want to help.”

“Woojin reported Chenle for kicking his ass. And Coach asked him why he’d do something like that, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t want to air your business or whatever, and he’s pretty much banned the rest of us from defending him. Honestly, he didn’t even want us to tell you. But we’re gonna lose without him, and this is the last championship before graduation.” Jisung pauses, pressing his lips together. “Not that we blame you, because what happened wasn’t your fault at all, but it’s just…”

“No, I get it,” you tell him. “Don’t tell him I know. I’ll fix it.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant by that, either.”

“I’m not letting myself be an inconvenience to him, Jisung.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating your next move. “Where is the coach at after mine and Chenle’s lab?”

Jisung and Mark explain to you where to find him, and then you make a mental note of it before you thank them and go back upstairs to Chenle. He’s fast asleep when you make it back, and you already know after all of the things he’s done for you, telling the truth is the least you can do for him.

Like nothing happened, you climb back into bed and resume your place against his chest.

After your lab, you make an excuse as to why you won’t be at lunch that day. You kiss Chenle’s cheek quickly, and then you’re off in the opposite direction to find his coach. Luckily for you, Jisung’s directions were foolproof, and you made your way to the office easily.

You told the truth—everything about your past with Woojin, how he’d been harassing both you and Chenle, and how he was attempting to break into your house when Chenle came to help you. It was hard to get through the story, but you knew he deserved to play in the championships. There wasn’t anything that could convince you otherwise.

You told the coach to verify the story with any of the rest of the team, and they’d corroborate it. Once you left, a weight felt like it’d been lifted from your shoulders, but you could only hope it was enough to get him his spot back.

Soon enough, you're back in Chenle’s room, sitting at his desk doing your part of the assignment from the lab. Practice starts an hour after lunch, which means you weren’t expecting him for a while yet, but when the front door opens downstairs, you’re sure it’s him.

“(Y/N)?” Chenle calls up to you.

“Homework,” you respond, nervous for his reaction.

You stand up as you hear him approaching. He opens the door, and within seconds, he’s right in front of you, tangling his fingers in your hair and smashing his lips to yours. Your surprised gasp gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, his other hand finding the small of your back to keep you pressed firmly to him.

He rests his forehead on yours, panting. “As much as I should kill Mark and Jisung for opening their big fucking mouths, I can’t believe you did that.”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble and lose out on your games because of me, and when I—”

“No, baby, I’m not mad at you. I’m just so fucking in love with you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “Are you playing next week?”

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, but I told Coach I’d come back next practice. And I also told Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight.”

You don’t respond, instead kissing him once again. He moves softer this time, his hands moving down to grip your ass. Mind whirling, you sigh into his mouth.

“I like this better than the idea of finishing homework.” You chuckle, gripping his shoulders.

“I want you so bad,” he continues, kissing up your neck. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Your body heats at his words, images of the ways he’s made you feel before flash across your mind. “I’d do anything for you.”

His lips are on yours again, walking you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You tug on his hair, and the groan he lets out sends shivers down your spine. This is what you’ve been waiting for—and when he pulls away to ask you if it’s okay, you take your shirt off in response. Both of you pause for a moment, him to look you over and you to gain the courage to keep your confidence up.

Turning the two of you around, you gently push him until he sits on the mattress, and then you climb onto his lap. He immediately grips your hips, fingers digging in hard.

His touch ghosts along your skin, making a shuddering breath escape you as every brief second of contact has you on fire.

“I love you,” he says. “Absolutely fucking everything about you.”

“Lucky me,” you murmur, reaching down for the hem of his shirt. He helps you take it off of him, pulling you closer. You gasp at the feeling of his hardening length against your core, and you start to grind down on him.

His eyes darken as he leans forward until his lips brush yours. “No. I’m the lucky one.”

You lift yourself up to push your shorts down, trying your best not to be too awkward with getting them off your legs in your current position. Chenle uses it to his advantage, kissing along your chest and nipping until marks form on your collarbone.

You pull at his pants, the way you need him so desperately making him chuckle as he moves to assist you. After he kicks them off, you continue moving your hips, his bulge rubbing right on your clit through your thin panties.

“Are you sure?” he asks, palms sliding down to your ass so he can squeeze it. “We can wait, Sunshine.”

“If I wait any longer, I might implode,” you tell him breathlessly. “I need you.”

He watches you closely as he reaches the clasp of your bra. You give him an encouraging nod, and he quickly removes it from you. He guides you on top of him, but he wets his lips before putting his hand on your back and lowering his mouth to your nipple. You groan, feeling the knot forming in your stomach at the stimulation on your clit. Whining, you move faster to reach your high, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you get closer.

His gaze meets yours briefly, and then he kisses you hard. Your pleasure becomes so overwhelming that you can’t focus on kissing him, instead a moan escapes you, and he swallows it. He holds you tightly as you practically spasm on top of him, euphoria spreading through every inch of your body.

“I can already feel how wet you are,” he mutters, inhaling sharply. “Let me make you mine, baby. Let me have you.”

“I’m yours. You’ve had me since day one.” You cup his cheeks and kiss him, heart racing.

You’ve never wanted someone as badly as you want him, but it’s only at this point that nerves start to sweep you up in their whirlwind. Like he can read your mind, he pauses, blinking up at you.

“Just relax,” he says. “Whatever you need, tell me.”

“You.” Sitting up again, you try to push your panties down. He takes the opportunity to lift up as well to take his boxers off.

“Do I need a condom?” Chenle asks, cursing under his breath when you wrap your fingers around his length.

You shake your head. “I’m on birth control.”

He gulps, lining himself up with your entrance. You sigh at the feeling, preparing yourself to sink down on him. As he slides inside, you throw your head back. The moment the two of you really connect, you realize you must’ve never been in love with someone before. There’s something about the way your heart beats for him that increases your pleasure. You’ve never felt this good before.

“Good fucking God,” he groans, grip tightening on you.

Once he’s fully in, you pause to look at him, finding his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. He kisses you gently and wraps his arm around you. You don’t waste anymore time and opt to set a steady pace, unafraid to let your sounds escape as his length drags slowly against your walls.

“That’s it.” His voice is strained, like he’s holding something back. He works his hips up gently every time you sink down. “You’re so fucking tight, Sunshine. You feel so good.”

You whimper at his words. The only thing you want is to pleasure him—so you pick up your speed, rolling your hips as you sink back down. When he squeezes your ass, your body jolts.

“How you feeling, baby?” he asks, massaging your butt as you work on top of him.

“Good.” Actually, like you’re on a cloud of pleasure, and every time you take him deep, you think how you want him to be inside you forever. “So good.”

He secures his grasp on you before flipping you over onto your back. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together. He moves faster, thrusting at a steady but mind blowing pace. Your eyes roll, and you can barely think coherently with his cock throbbing inside you. His chest presses against yours, the closeness making your body so much hotter.

Sweat forms on your skin, and you tangle your fingers in his hair to lead him down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth when his tip kisses your spot. Every vein in your body is on fire, every thrust brings you closer to Chenle. Sounds of your arousal sound with each movement, joined in harmony with both yours and Chenle’s moans.

He snakes his hand between the two of you, his finger connecting with your sensitive clit. Your pleasured cry is louder than you anticipated, but it pulls a similar sound from Chenle.

“You gonna cum for me?” he mumbles against your mouth. “C’mon, Sunshine, squeeze my cock.”

Your back arches into him, nails digging into his shoulders as your walls clamp down on him like a vice. Euphoria bursts throughout you, and you swear your vision blacks out for a second as Chenle’s thrusts pick up in pace. He fucks you through your orgasm until he lets out a string of curse words.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” he asks, voice tinged with desperation. “I’m so close.”

“Inside. Cum in me.” You lift your hips to match his thrusts, dazed from your own orgasm. All you want is to feel him fill you up.

He drops his head on your shoulder, thrusting one last time before his warm cum coats your walls. Both of you lay there, unmoving. He kisses the base of your neck, panting as he tries to regain his breath.

You pull him up to kiss him, lips working gently on his. He hums against your mouth, nails scratching up and down your thigh.

“Was that worth missing practice?” You grin up at him.

“I’d miss a whole lot more than practice for this.” He smiles, shaking his head as he slowly pulls out of you. “Take a bath with me?”

“Only if you carry me there.” You push his shoulder. “My legs are a little…”

“Just the way they should be.” Chenle winks at you before he gets up to head into the bathroom to start the water.

Once it’s filled, he scoops you up in his arms and places you in the tub, somehow the perfect temperature, and climbs in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to him.

As you relax with him, allowing him to wash your body ever-so-delicately, you realize this is how it always should’ve been. You feel free, like you’ve been unshackled from your past just by loving Chenle and being loved by him.

It’s as if you’ve made it to your destination—like the journey matters just as much as the end. You look at him over your shoulder, and he kisses you so softly, you let out a sigh of content.

The teams were tied—Chenle was visibly irritated by the way the scoreboard had yet to change with minimal time left on the countdown. This has been the closest game all season—most of the others had been clean sweeps—yet here he is, during the last one of his college career, and he’s close to losing for the first time.

You and Jiyoon sit with Jisung’s parents and Chenle’s parents, leaning forward in deep concentration. Playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist, you watch in earnest as you see the time ticking down. Chenle blocks the ball from going into the net, effectively taking it and running across the court til he gets to the middle. The other team basically bombards him, but as he lines up to take his shot, you grab Jiyoon’s arm and squeeze it. The countdown hits three seconds when he throws it, and it’s like the ball moves in slow motion.

Your jaw hangs open, and right as the clock hits zero, the ball sinks into the net, putting Chenle’s team one point over the other. You and Jiyoon both launch up, shouting and cheering. He turns to you, as if to make sure you saw that, and when he finds you grinning at him, he moves toward you like it’s a reflex.

You leave your spot in the bleachers and meet him in the middle. He picks you up as you wrap your arms around him, and you laugh as you hold on tightly. His smile is wide as he sets you back on your feet, kissing you hard. You giggle against his mouth, and an overwhelming sense of pride settles in your chest.

“You did so well,” you praise him and press your lips to his cheek.

“It’s all ‘cause I had my good luck charm.” He squeezes you tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you reply.

The words had never left your mouth so easily, nor have you ever meant them as much as you do now. You’ve only just hatched into the person you’re supposed to be, and with Chenle by your side, you know it’s only going to get better from here.

But you love here, too, because in the distance, finally you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, you see your sea.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct imagines #nct dream smut #chenle smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #chenle fluff #chenle angst #nct college au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #chenle imagines

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philly-interlude · 10 months

Text

[11:21 PM]

it has been 5 years, you're 21 now. the nostalgic past of your first touch, first dance, first love. you remembered every little coincidence from the color of the clothes, the lights, the night, the music that got your soul eating you alive.

thus, your eyes were trained to him somehow. brief glances, that's what you two were experiencing right that moment. in chenle's eyes, you only see desperation—desperate to speak to you but he holds himself back—scared.

he was wearing the maroon suit he wore on your prom when you were seniors, back when he hurt you the most. back when he did the unspeakable. back when you unmasked the lies. back when he became your first heartbreak.

a girl stuck by his waist, his hands were too. intimacy of their faces, sparkling gazes, your heart was shattered, head in haywire, skin felt cold and your insides were jagged. you remembered leaving the prom with your tears staining your dirty-white full-skirt gown without nobody running after you.

you took a sip on the fresh orange juice you served yourself earlier before taking a bite on the matcha macaroon your colleague baked. "you like matcha?" speaking of the devil, he voiced out behind you only staring anywhere but you.

the world seemed to stop. a lump formed on your throat. yet you continued eating. knowing that behavior, chenle walked out, thought he was leaving you but he came back with another stool chair placing it beside you.

"chenle..." his name seems foreign to your tongue now, he hummed, not avoiding eye contact- more like burning love holes to your side. he cracked out, "funny you still remember me-" but you didn't mean cutting him off, you weren't one to do that.

you took a soft exhale, "it's delicious and just right for me that's why, i'd eat all of it if it was mine or me rather who baked it" you implied(?). somehow, in your words, he remembered 5 years ago between you and him.

he could have been the right guy if he was actually yours. yet he wasn't, he cheated on his girlfriend with you knowing you liked him before. but to be honest, it was the best summer of your life.

#zhong chenle #chenle angst #ex boyfriend!chenle #chenle x reader #nct dream chenle angst #nct chenle angst #nct dream chenle #nct chenle #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps #was listening to 'august' for an hour to finish this one lol

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ghostofhyuck · 2 months

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NCT Dream and second chances with them.

AN: this is a mixture of fluff and angst, depending on the members! :> that's why it's color purple!

Also this is part two of NCT Dream and why you two broke up. Can still be a standalone tho.

Mark Lee ; reaches out for you.

It didn't take weeks for Mark to pursue you once again. He had it hard to the point that he blames himself for not being there for you. He'll contact you, but you completely ignored all his attempts. It went to the point that his members has reached out for you, "help, Mark-hyung is going insane, pls reply." You decided to put a stop on it and talks to Mark in person. You agreed to give him a second chance but it is still up to you whether you two should be in a relationship again. Mark would be in relief, thinking that he shouldn't let this second chance go to waste.

Huang Renjun ; meeting coincidentally.

You bumped to Renjun at a friend's party. It was awkward, seeing the man you loved for years and breaking up with him because you two fall out of love. It was Renjun who greeted you first, and there you could only greet him back, that's when you realized that you still have feelings for Renjun. The two of you talked throughout the whole party and when it's time to go home, you were the first one to ask Renjun if he wants to come over to your place, and to your surprise, he said yes. Maybe this was a second chance for the both of you.

Lee Jeno ; goes to your place to fix everything.

A knock on the door disturbed your Saturday night, and as you open it, it was Jeno. You were about to close the door when he was quick to open it and enter inside. You wanted to scream at him but the last time it happened, it didn't go well. So you two stood there in silence until Jeno reached out first, apologizing to you and asking for another chance. He wanted to fix everything and he still loves you. In the end, you are still longing for Jeno. You could only hug him, apologizing to him too, and telling him that you still love him too.

Lee Donghyuck ; waits for you until you reach out first.

Haechan was devastated when he learned the reason why you want to break up with him. He lets you go but tells you that he'll be there waiting for you. He gave you space, and it was also a time for him to ponder about himself. He realized his mistakes and swore that he won't be that suffocating anymore. Haechan swore to his promise and waited for you, that's why he was in relief when you reach out after months of waiting for you. He'll make sure that this is a brand new start for the two of you.

Na Jaemin ; accidentally drunk calls you.

A random call from your ex-boyfriend, made your heart beat fast. You don't know whether to answer it or not after months of not hearing from you. But because it's you, you answered and you felt your heart breaking into thousand pieces because Jaemin's drunk, calling for your name, and even crying. It was far from the Jaemin that you know, you asked him where he was, it was your luck that he was able to answer even though his words were slurry. As you went to the bar, you could only pity his drunk state. You brought Jaemin home and took care of him. You let out a sigh, thinking that you two had a lot to talk about the next morning.

Zhong Chenle ; small talk that led to "what if?"

After breaking up with Chenle, you two became friends who casually hangs out. Tonight, you two went out for a cup of ramen at Han river and as you two sat at the bench near the convenience store, you two couldn't help but bring up your relationship. At first, it was a laughing matter until Chenle popped the question, "what if we're still together?" you pondered about it at the moment. I mean, you still hangout with Chenle and you two are still close, you two are just in the friends label but it didn't feel any difference. "do you want to be together?" you asked. "maybe, do you?" you became quiet for a moment. "I do."

Park Jisung ; meeting again after a few years.

Your friend decided to set you up for a blind date, you told them that you don't want to because you don't have time but they insist, even bribing you food. It made you agreed and to your surprised, your blind date was none other than your ex-boyfriend Jisung. You saw how much he has changed, he looked more mature than the last time you saw him. He was surprised to see you too, but offers you to seat at the table. It was awkward at first but Jisung asked you how have you been, you could only reply that a lot of things has changed. The conversation went on and at the end of the date, Jisung asked you if you two can meet again. Thinking that it's a second chance for the two of you, you said yes.

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fullsunstrawberry · 6 months

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can i request nct dream with the who did this to you trope :)

NCT Dream

who did this to you trope

requested?: yes <3

[nct dream masterlist]

warnings: mentions of bruises, bullying, toxic relationships

a/n: the day started off terribly but my second class cancelled sooo i think it’s going a little better

nct dream taglist: @vvsmydiamonds127 @loveforred @rmslover @rmslover

#nct dream #nct dream fake texts #nct dream text reactions #nct dream reactions #mark #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #jisung #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst

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rrxnjun · 1 year

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potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do.

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because.

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight.

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair.

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place.

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space.

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed.

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…?

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea.

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station.

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did.

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory.

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront.

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again.

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase.

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18.

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court.

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend.

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way.

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game.

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years.

“What about you?”

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before.

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much.

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac.

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob.

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road.

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck.

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect.

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next…

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again.

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech.

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun.

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport.

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago.

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression.

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips.

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it.

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety.

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know.

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him.

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals.

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?”

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?”

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms.

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction.

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off.

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead.

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all.

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips.

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side.

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time.

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid.

But for a second, he acts like he is.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.”

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair.

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?”

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused.

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding, “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie.

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair.

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness.

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion.

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?”

��Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future.

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal.

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would.

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it.

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out.

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

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