#nctw-cominghome

[zh-lele]

Horizon

"Just like the sea that embraces the sky, I will be waiting for your arrival at the horizon, only because I understand, hands holding on this tightly should never be let go of."

▪︎Summary: For two years after he left, you had believed you were totally over your friendship with Liu Yangyang. Nonetheless, he has decided to come back for the summer and, after your mom and his convince you to go on a trip together in compensation for the lost time, he only manages to make you start questioning your feelings all over again.

"Yangyang, there's seriously only one bed?"

"Dude, don't complain. I'm paying for all this."

▪︎Pairing: Yangyang x reader

▪︎Trope + genre: ex-best friends to lovers, road trip au, fluff

▪︎Word count: 8.3k

▪︎Warnings: mentions of food, profanity (please let me know if there's more.)

Playlist: Horizon (WayV), Ease (Troye Sivan), Sincerity is Scary (The 1975), Your Ocean (Hoppipolla), Up From Here (WayV), Coming Home (NCT U)

For @nct-writers "Coming Home" event! Also the biggest!!! thanks to @give-seconds for helping me with this last minute 🥺🧡 Please check out Olivia’s works!

Friday nights were always exciting, especially during summer. Not even working until late or family routine could ruin the fact that Fridays always had too much good energy. Actually, you couldn't complain about Fridays, even if they turned chaotic.

Running orders for 8 hours straight, attending rude customers who couldn't wait long for their food, and the people's screams when they were getting impatient couldn't bother you, not when you knew you would be free for the entire weekend after that. Plus, the pay was decent for someone who didn't have to worry about being on time for the rent or buying food for the whole month. 

Having stayed in your hometown after high school while most of your friends decided to study abroad was hard at first, but the comforts of living quietly with your parents and the good friends you made at your summer job would make you forget about it pretty quickly.

You were changing out of your McDonald's uniform when you heard your name being called from downstairs. Your mom's steps up the stairs and to your room could be sensed immediately after, so you didn't even bother screaming back at her to see what she wanted.

"Today is a special day!" She said excitedly, after you told her she was good to enter your room.

"Mom, we literally have dinner at Mrs. Liu’s every Friday."

"But Yangyang is joining us tonight! He came back from college to spend the summer here."

The happiness she carried was noticeable on her face. You knew very well your mom loved Yangyang as if he were her nephew. It had always been like that. You can't deny that when you were a little kid, it made you jealous that Yangyang was your mother's favorite. But now things had changed.

"He asked if you were coming with us. Dress nicely! I think he's pretty excited to see you."

That's strange. You thought as you saw your mother leaving your room. You and Yangyang had been best friends since kindergarten, until he left for college two years ago, and you stayed in the city you both grew up in. Naturally, it made you drift apart.

Nonetheless, that wasn't the exact reason you two stopped talking and seeing each other. The thing is, Yangyang found a girlfriend during the last year of high school; she was sweet, beautiful, and very friendly to you. That last year in school, you would hang out with them as she felt close like a sister, but that was until summer came and Yangyang decided he could only dedicate his time to his girlfriend.

You weren't the jealous type, and you were convinced you didn't like Yangyang, but you surely missed the friendship of years you two had built. You would talk to him to do something or just chill in his room like you used to do, but he was always too busy with his girlfriend. When he had a little bit of free time, he wouldn't contact you. Instead, he would sit on his computer and play games for hours. When he finally agreed to hang out with you –which turned out to be rarely– he had to leave early to see his girlfriend.

At first, it made you really sad seeing that Yangyang didn't want to put any effort into your friendship. But when summer ended, and you managed to see Yangyang only once –and considering you lived next door– sadness turned into anger. You missed your best friend so much, and you grew tired of always being the one showing interest. Friendships can't be one-sided. So you decided you weren't going to beg for affection where there wasn't any for you.

Two years passed like that, barely hearing about him and his college life, because he didn't come back once he moved to the campus. You weren't sad or angry after so much time passed; you just didn't know how you felt towards Yangyang anymore. The only thing you knew was that seeing him again after so long was going to be strange. And maybe, in the deep end, you wished he didn't have to bring his girlfriend with him, so you could at least get a little of his attention.

Standing outside the door of your neighbor’s that Friday night didn't feel as warm and welcoming as usual. The nerves in your stomach told you so. You couldn't quite decipher why you were so nervous, though. Maybe it was because you had a quite stressful week and you were able to relax. Maybe, you didn’t like the smell of food after delivering so many orders at work. Or maybe, it was because you saw it would rain that night, and you hated storms while you were out of your house. And maybe, the possibility that it was from seeing Yangyang again was quite considerable.

—

The moment Yangyang gently touched your back, to seconds after strongly wrapping his arms around your body, you felt the world stop, your knees weaken and your heart accelerate its beats.

"How are you doing?!" He asked, still hugging you tightly. It was hard to believe you were actually hugging your ex-best friend after so long. It felt right. You couldn't deny you endlessly longed to feel him so close again.

"I'm- I'm really good!" Your answer came out shaky because of a nervous laugh you couldn't quite control. The situation only became more dangerous for you when Yangyang decided to rest his lips for a good few seconds on your right cheek.

Because he loved your cheeks, and he knew you loved the affection, but maybe he wasn't aware of the effect on you. An encounter that, you assume, lasted for a couple of seconds, felt like hours until the wave of feelings was too much to handle. Gently placing one hand on his jaw and another on his shoulder, you pushed him away. The air wasn't getting uncomfortable but thicker, too charged because of the friction your rollercoaster of emotions was causing.

Maybe you have liked Yangyang since middle school. The truth was, two years weren't enough to forget the feelings that had been built and maintained for much, much longer. You still loved your old best friend endlessly. But it was also true that, no matter how much you loved him, you couldn't forget all the trouble he had caused you when he left your life. Forgiving and forgetting are two different things.

"You look really good," he acknowledged looking down at you and nodding. "We really need to hang out now that I'm here. I missed you."

His hand found yours, and he held it lovingly. The feeling was nice, and the sight of your intertwined fingers was captivating. Your heart wanted to stay like that forever, hanging from his hands. But your mind kept insisting that you shouldn't go so fast, you shouldn't fall for his charms –although you had already fallen a while ago– because coming and going was something usual to Yangyang. You, on the other hand, had a little bit of a hard time adjusting to his ways of loving and maintaining friendships.

"I missed you as well," you told the truth, with a smile inevitably taking over your face.

"Are we ready for dinner?" Mrs. Liu's voice was present, directing you to take a seat at a table where plates, cutlery and glasses were delicately placed to receive her favorite son with his favorite dinner: ravioli with pesto and so much cheese on top that it was difficult to see the pasta under it. You had always thought it was an awful combination, but your old friend was weird.

Yangyang's mom and yours got close since you moved next to their house that she almost felt like an aunt to you. For that reason, as soon as you sat on the table and intended to start digging after a tiring shift from work, the questions started. 'y/n, how is that cute coworker of you doing?’ ‘Have you made him your boyfriend yet?' And you would answer the same thing every time: 'no, Mrs. Liu, Shotaro and I are just good friends' putting the effort into bringing a polite smile on your face. But your mom surely felt the same towards Yangyang—reminding you every Friday after the Liu's how much she missed her little nephew. In that order, it didn't take long for the questions to reach your ex-best friend.

"You didn't bring your girlfriend this time?" Your mom spoke to him from across the table. It was true that the questions would get annoying when asked to you, but in that precise moment, you thanked your mom for letting you get the information you were too afraid to get on your own.

"I didn't," he replied calmly, mouth full of pasta; it was an old habit of his. "Actually, we broke up months ago."

The sided smile on his face and his calm tone made you suppose they either ended it on good terms or that he was pretty over it at that point. You observed Yangyang's mom silently nodding, hearing his son talking about the breakup of a relationship of almost three years. "I think we reached a point where we were together out of habit, and it was kinda draining me."

"It was the best thing to do. You fought a lot during the end," his mother continued. "But she was a good girl," she ran his eyes from his son to your mom and then back to you to reassure you, "we only have good memories of her."

It wasn't news to you, though, because they already fought a lot back when you were still in high school. Yangyang and you were still good friends, and he would always come to you to clear his head and help him think straight.

During their second year of dating and Yangyang's first year of college, they broke up and got together two times. You knew because he contacted you seeking solace, and you talked for hours on the phone trying to convince him to fix his relationship. These were the only two times you talked to your best friend that year. A little happy new year's text exchange, and nothing else after that.

"Yeah, yeah. It's cool now. We're totally cool," the boy finished before resuming his eating. Nonetheless, you didn't miss the little glances and smiles he sent you as his mother continued to talk about him and his relationship with the girl.

You really didn't know how to feel about the whole situation. Yangyang's behavior was strange, but what felt out of place was that you were kind of happy and relieved knowing he was no longer with someone. It's not that you didn't like the girl; you just had really missed your best friend. Even though you liked to believe you were way past your old friendship with him, no longer hurt or angry at his absence, a minuscule part of you still waited for him to come knock on your door to spend the days together, like you used to do back in school.

Mrs. Liu's living room was still full of pictures of the both of you in their backyard. Pictures of the summer afternoons at the pool where Yangyang taught you how to swim, pictures of your last trip together in the snow, your last vacation at the cabin in the woods, and pictures of the two of you dancing together at your graduation.

But you were adults now. You had a job five days a week, nice co-workers, a career to still take care of, and you had Shotaro, your best friend you met two summers ago.

In the two years you didn't see each other, Yangyang had got to look more mature, so you thought maybe he had stopped playing so many computer games and finally focused on a different thing. He definitely looked taller and more athletic than in high school, which made you wonder if maybe he was spending some of his time at the gym or if he decided to chase his dream of becoming a professional basketball player at college.

Things were different, and no matter how much you missed those old times, you needed to accept you weren't the kids who would spend all afternoon messing around with the ball in his yard anymore.

Mrs. Liu's voice, once again, snapped you out of your state, eyes no longer lost in the memories the pictures displayed all over the house held. "I asked you how work was today?"

"Oh! Uhm, it was pretty good. Busy with teens and families with their little kids, kinda annoying," you had to recognize, "But I got paid today, so I might use the money to go out for the weekend."

"Huh, where are you going?" Yangyang inquired.

"Uh, it's been a while since I've been to the island. I might go for the weekend," you explained to the boy in front of you. "Relax at a nice hotel, you know. Some self-care time."

"That's such a coincidence, isn't it, Yangyang?" Her mother asked him, confusion taking over the boy's features, "Didn't you say you wanted to go to the island too, with your friends?"

"Oh, yeah! Uh-"

"You could go together!" It was your mom's turn to speak, excitedly suggesting that you should make your weekend trip together.

Excellent time to bring such an idea, mom, really. After two years without seeing each other, seriously?

"I mean…" Yangyang tried to speak without being interrupted, his narrowed eyes jumped from your mom, to his, and finally softly landed on you, "That actually sounds like a great idea."

A smile was plastered on his face while looking for any sign of agreement or at least enthusiasm on your side. It was already weird enough having dinner together that night; how could you ever manage a trip together after so long?

But you seemed to be the only hesitant one, as your mom was quick to agree for you. "That's the best idea! Oh, my little kids are going on vacation together again, but this time alone!"

You saw her reach for Mrs. Liu's hand over the table and give it a little squeeze, adoration planted in both their faces looking at you.

"I knew this day would eventually come, but I'm not sure I was ready for it."

"Mom, we'll be gone for only two days," Yangyang said, a little irritated at the two old ladies.

"So we will be going? Like, already confirmed?" The surprise couldn't leave your tone, and you watched Yangyang shrug and smile brightly at you one more time.

If he smiled one more time like that, you thought you could easily agree to whatever he proposed.

"It doesn't sound that bad? Like, I'd really enjoy going with you, and I owe you some time together. You're my best friend."

His words threw you off, and it made you feel guilty that, while he still consider you his best friend, you had dropped that title from him a long ago.

"I'll book the hotel and everything, leave it to me." He already had pulled out his phone from his back pocket, and you assumed he was looking for accommodations at the small island close to the city but with crystalline waters from the ocean.

"Uhm, but… like, I wanted something very specific."

Yangyang looked at you from above his phone screen as you talked.

"Like… a place close to the beach, but it also has to have a pool, and breakfast included, maybe room service, and a spa would be great…"

"Hey, I got it," he flashed that damn smile again, "You trust me, right?"

"Not really."

He only chuckled at you, getting up from the table without saying a word and coming back with a tube of ice cream and two spoons. Cookies and cream ice cream was, firstly, Yangyang's ultimate favorite food; he would go crazy and buy dozens of tubes at the store until one day he got really sick, so his mother didn't let him have it more than one time a week. And secondly, your favorite flavor to share together since you had memory. It was an exclusive Yangyang-and-you thing.

—

"I'm leaving like, right now."

You struggled to get the suitcase down the stairs, phone dangerously stuck in between your shoulder and ear as you spoke to Shotaro.

"This is so crazy. Are you gonna tell me everything that happens? None of that 'what happens in x place stays in x place," you heard your friend's voice through the speaker.

"Taro, nothing's gonna happen. I'm gonna spend all day switching locations from the spa to the restaurant and vice-versa."

"Sure, honey." You knew he was rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone. "You're going on a trip with your lifelong love! All the plans you have right now, would be ruined as soon as you get there together."

"I know," you sighed, looking at your suitcase, now waiting down in the house entry. "Taro, this is so fucked up."

"Yeah… you are so fucked up," you heard him agree while laughing. "But like, are you sleeping in the same bed?"

"Fuck no. Separate beds, I made that clear."

"Good… You could still sneak in, though."

"Shotaro," you warned him, "I promise absolutely nothing will change after this ridiculous trip. I like, really even doubt we are gonna spend much time together." 

"Yeah," you heard him sigh on the line, not believing a word coming out of you, "just wait until you tell me about it when you come back."

He wished you luck dealing with your ex-best friend, you exchanged goodbyes and that was pretty much it, leaving a laughing Shotaro at the end of the call.

Yangyang insisted he would pick you up even if you lived next to each other. You were already waiting outside your door, suitcase in hand, when you saw him show off his ability, moving back his car five meters to stop in front of you. Wearing sunglasses, a backwards cap smoothing his long brown hair, and a smirk on his face. It was typical Yangyang behavior.

He rolled down the passenger side window and leaned until you could see his huge smile. It was the same smile he wore the first day of preschool, the same smile that never failed to brighten your high school mornings up, and the same smile that more than once had already made you question your heart.

There were things about Liu Yangyang that, no matter how much time passed or how much you wanted to deny it, would always make you feel the same about him. Like that first day of preschool when you decided you wanted to see that beautiful smile for the rest of your days. That you coincidentally lived next door only made it easier for you to fall for his charms over time.

"Hey, shawty!" He called and motioned you to get in the car. "Get in here for once!"

"You are so extra," you told him once you were sitting in the passenger seat. "You really didn't have to do all that. I could've just walked to your car."

"But I'm good at driving backwards, aren't I?" He lowered his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose to slightly watch you over them, brows going up and down and wearing a smirk, suggesting that you better agree he's the best driver in town for going five meters on reverse.

"Alright, Schumacher. Where are we going?"

"Liberty Island, duh," he replied,an obvious tone in his voice, starting to leave the city.

"You're so funny," yet, your face didn't reflect any fun. "I mean, which hotel did you book?"

"Oh," you saw a smirk coming to light again, "It's a very good one, it has all you want, and it will take only an hour to get there. I don't know how to get there, though."

"You're kidding."

Since the moment he assured you he had "everything under control" when you started planning the trip, things felt a little odd. Trusting your gut always meant doubting Yangyang's decisions, just like right now, when neither of you knew how to get to Liberty Island. You couldn't blame him, though, because you weren't any better. The trips to the land were always made with your parents or the school. Not that you paid much attention to the way all those times, let alone Yangyang, who was always immersed in his mobile games every chance he got.

Luckily for the two of you, devices these days could get you anywhere. So after arguing for a little just for the fun of frustrating each other, a road trip playlist you had made the night before was blowing through the speakers, sometimes interrupted by the GPS lady giving indications.

In contrast to the prior night storm, during that early morning, the sky was clear blue, and the sun shined just the right amount to touch your skin and leave it warm. A summer breeze was felt running as it entered through the driver's opened window, constantly messing with Yangyang's hair while he sang to the entire music selection. 

"Stop staring, creep," the glance he gave you was quick to regain focus on the road.

You made sure you had stopped daydreaming and probably smiling like a fool while watching your friend drive. But his smile was too contagious.

"I'm sorry," he continued, "I know I've been a shitty friend."

"It's okay," and it truly was okay after so long. There was no point in faking it for him or for yourself. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

It wasn't hard to feel at ease with him again, it was easy to recall all the good times you've spent together, and that's why it had always been so easy to just love him. Platonically or not, he made love feel so boundless and timeless; it was just right to be there with him.

"Should we play a game, and the loser has to pay for the rest of the hotel stay?" You heard him propose after a while.

A confused look took over your face. Again, trusting Yangyang to take care of everything should have never been an option. "But I thought you said you were going to take care of it?"

"Technically, I only paid for the reservations. Rock, paper, scissors, and the loser pays."

You should've seen this coming seventy-five kilometers earlier.

"Hell no, I hate rock, paper, scissors. If we do this, we better play word-chain."

"That's even better," he said, a mischievous smile showing. "You start, and don't go easy on me just 'cuz I'm a foreigner."

"Don't get too excited. You're gonna lose all that confidence in a few minutes, and I'm not paying for a thing," you stated before thinking hard on the first word. "Car."

"Reunion."

"Uhhh, nap."

"Nap?" Yangyang asked, chuckling. "You tired?"

A smile inevitably formed on your lips hearing his laugh. "Yeah, kinda."

"Alright, so P?" He asked, turning his head to you momentarily, and you quickly nodded in response. "Alright, so, P… pretty."

"Dude," a protest came out of you along with a sigh, "that's such a hard letter… yesterday," you followed after a few seconds.

"Y again… yummy."

"Yummy?"

"Justin's song! That's a thing!"

You sighed one more time, not sure if it was because of your companion's questionable music taste or because you had to think of another word starting with y. Again. The morning sun had started to hit a while ago, and it was warming you as much as it was making you sleepy. Leaving with an empty stomach did not make the situation any better. You missed the breakfast your mom prepared for you because you woke up late.

"Yolk?" The next word finally presented, a big yawn escaping you in the process.

The sun coming through the car windshield kissed your skin, giving it an additional glow and reddening to your cheeks. And as he observed you getting sleepy like a baby on a morning trip, it was getting harder and harder for Yangyang to think of another thing to say besides compliments for you.

"Cute."

"That starts with C, not with K, dumbass," you told him while keeping your eyes closed, ready to go to sleep on the passenger seat.

"No, you look cute," he clarified, laughing again. "And your face is getting all red."

"It's because the eleven a.m. sun is starting to hit, and you wouldn't turn the goddamn air con on."

You got up from your seat to get to action and get the inside of the car a little bit more chilly. Yes, it was starting to feel like hell inside the vehicle. But inside your head, the blood was rushing and accumulating, raising your cheeks' temperature even more because of Yangyang's comment. But you could never admit it out loud—not after two years of not seeing each other.

"Are you sure it's not because I called you pretty and cute?"

"You ever get red from excitement because you won a game over spending a considerable amount of money?" You asked, head still resting on the car window with your eyes closed.

"You didn't win, game's not over yet."

"Yang, you know the rules. You said the wrong word, so you pay for the hotel."

A combination of whines, curses and attempts to keep fighting the fact that you already had decided he was going to pay for the hotel left Yangyang's mouth. It didn't stop you from isolating and managing to sleep for what felt like a good couple of minutes before he had to bother you again.

"Would you caress my arm?"

The question immediately brought you back to the trip you had with your class during the last year of school. Yangyang already had his girlfriend back then, but that wasn't an impediment from spending some friendly, good quality time together. It made you feel bad, but when she wasn't around, he was very different towards you. And maybe he acted differently in a platonic way; you would've never tried to cross the friendship boundaries while he was in a relationship, no matter how much you loved and wanted to be with your best friend all the time. But the week you two spent together during that trip felt really good.

He had asked you the exact same question back there. On a loud bus, busy with people too excited to be able to sleep, you still managed to find the tranquility beside him. The seats weren't the most comfortable and the interior of the old bus at night got pretty cold, but it didn't matter at all with Yangyang by your side. His big puffer jacket found place over the two of you, keeping you warm, allowing you to fall asleep holding hands under it.

It was one of the best weeks of your adolescence. The most memorable parts being the burgers after coming back from the club at three in the morning, accidentally napping together after an exhausting excursion, or that morning you broke a plate when you arrived too sleepy for breakfast, and Yangyang decided to cover you so you wouldn't have to pay for the damage.

"You're going to fall asleep."

"I won't, I swear. It's only twenty minutes until we get there," he asked once again, extending his right arm to you even more, expectantly waiting for your delicate fingers to start brushing his skin.

–

Arriving at the hotel, driving down the cobblestone streets, trees as old as the ruins of the island's first habitants adorned the roadsides. The calm and peaceful feeling came with the soft and warm summer breeze and ruffled your and Yangyang's hair, still sitting inside the car, absorbing the beauty of the place no matter how many times you have already visited it as children.

Car parked in front of an old but remodeled building, Yangyang awaited you with the passenger door open and bags in hand for you to get out. The hotel really seemed to have everything you wanted for this weekend. Bikes parked on the driveway pavement ready to explore the surrounding countryside, a nice pool peeking out from behind the building, and access to the beach. An old, covered pier by the sea awaits the residents of the ranch to create more moments in it, with its old promises of love and friendship engraved on the worn wood.

Checked in and key in hand, you followed your old friend up the wooden, thick stairs to your shared room. You always used to have sleepovers when you were kids, so you didn't understand why the idea of sleeping in the same room as Yangyang suddenly felt so weird.

However, everything became officially weird the moment Yangyang put the key in the lock to open the door and, walking down the small hallway, the first thing you saw was a king-sized bed waiting for the both of you. No sight of any single beds, nothing in the middle of that large mattress that would indicate that it was actually two small individual beds joined together.

"Yangyang," an exasperated sigh left you, eyes closed, holding the bridge of your nose, "there's seriously only one bed?"

"Dude, don't complain. I'm paying for all this."

You watched him enter the room ahead of you. There wasn't a single trace of discomfort in his voice or demeanor. Were you the only one feeling so weird about sleeping on the same bed again? Was it because, maybe, you realized you liked him way more than before?

You followed him inside to start accommodating your bags. "But there weren't, like, single beds?"

"There weren't," the look you gave him must have made him think that he should have given a better excuse than that, so he added, "single beds for single rooms. And there were rooms with like, three beds. But that's more expensive, y/n. One room with a double bed was cheaper than two singles."

You looked at him, perplexed, before closing your arms and simply stating, "that's bullshit."

"It's not!"

"You had one job, Yangyang. I knew I couldn't trust you to book the hotel."

—

After settling down and deciding on which side of the bed (separated by a good amount of pillows in the middle) you were going to get, the two of you decided to go outside and explore a little bit of the surroundings. That was when you found an old but still functioning basketball court. Yangyang was quick to grab a ball and drag you into a game of baskets.

Ever since he was little, Yangyang had been passionately playing ball. So, after a few minutes of playing holeshot, it was no surprise when the tally both of you had on the game indicated that Yangyang was outscoring you by about fifteen points.

At some point, it became a game of who was best at blocking the other from getting the ball into the basket. Laughter could be heard more than the hitting of the ball against the ground. You would weakly try and wrap your arms around Yangyang's torso to stop him from moving and getting more points. Anything, to win at least one round, even if you had to play dirty.

"You know," you stared as the ball left Yangyang's hands and went in and out the basket one more time, giving him another point, "I think I just brought the wrong shoes."

Yangyang's only response was bursting out laughing at your silly excuse. "You're just bad at this. You've always been."

He stopped his movements and got closer to you, bangs sticking to his forehead thanks to the sweat from all the playing under the midday sun. You were sure your skin would be bright red tomorrow, yet you didn't care. It felt like going back to your childhood days in Yangyang's backyard, where you would play every day under the sun, leaving you with your skin burnt by the end of the summer. The irregular tan marks you got because of constantly playing with different tops always made your mom a little mad.

Exhaustion took over the both of you, so you didn't need much words to agree that Yangyang had indisputably won the game and that you needed a deserved break after working out for the first time in months.

A small and light lunch was prepared under the shade of the old and worn dock. Some fruit Sandos, a couple of caprese sandwiches, some sodas, and a bag of chips –because your friend couldn't live without these– that Yangyang had previously packed in his house were arranged on a cute little blanket. You sat facing each other, calmly coming down from the excitement of the game and quietly enjoying each other's company. The sound of the waves was the only companion to fill a silence that wasn't uncomfortable at all.

The digestion of the food was spent between random chats catching up with your lives and a lot of laughter, remembering old times you had spent together. Towards the middle of the afternoon, after having collected the remains of the small picnic, you found yourself playing in the waves with Yangyang.

Not once did he let go of your hand, scared that the force of the troubled water would take you too far from him. And not once was the brightness of the sun as strong as the smile of the boy who stayed all the time by your side until you had to get out because its temperature was descending.

You watched the sunset together, wrapped up in your hoodies and a shared blanket. The warm tones of the sunset painted the entire landscape, along with your skin, and shined directly in your friend's eyes. The same eyes that once held the promise he would always be with you. As well as the horizon that held the promise that a big shiny star would come back to meet the sea every day.

"Stop staring, creep."

His soft yet playful tone snapped you out of your trance, making you hide your face from the embarrassment of being caught, admiring your friend's beauty under the light of the remaining rays.

"Sorry, it's that you're ugly," you tried to play it cool, but the blush in your cheeks betrayed you, even under the intense orange light hitting your skin.

That didn't go unnoticed by Yangyang, who only took the opportunity to make you blush even more. It was his favorite thing to do, giving you compliments and its after-effects. "Well, I think you're really pretty."

—

Later that night, after the two of you had a fancy dinner in beach clothes at the hotel restaurant, you went up to the room ready to sleep. All of this aside, it was almost impossible to actually get in the room because of the big elephant waiting for your friend and you.

The truth was those feelings that you had had throughout high school and towards Yangyang had managed to flourish and intensify through the day. Or maybe they had never died in the first place.

On the other hand, it was undeniable that Yangyang had been flirting with you ever since you got into his car that morning. If you were a little skeptical, you could say since you sat across the table from him the night before.

The thought alone that Yangyang possibly liked you back made you foolishly smile in the middle of your brushing of teeth. Through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, you observed him standing by your side, the corners of his lips turning up at the sight of your dreamy smile. It was a new image that you longed to get used to in your everyday life, along with all the little and domestic moments that reminded you of when you basically lived together. The lunch, the games, the endless talks about nothing and everything. If he didn't spend all day in your house, you would do it at his place.

By the time you were done with your night routine and out of the bathroom, Yangyang was already laying on top of the bed and in the middle of his essential night routine. He wore the same pajamas with his cats' faces imprinted on them that he kept since the last time you had a sleepover together. Multiple sounds and voices were coming out from his mobile, indicating that he was in the middle of a game battle. Probably a match of League of Losers with the rest of the game addicts. That was, the rest of your high school friends.

Hesitantly, you tucked yourself on the bed by his side, still leaving a good portion of space between you and him. Unconsciously, you spent all afternoon preparing yourself for that moment. You didn't want anything to feel weird, as it didn't feel the same to you sleeping in the same bed with Yangyang after realizing you still liked him. The long to be physically closer, to caress his beautiful features, or to hold him against you for a long time only grew more every minute you spent with him.

You had been handling it all just fine. Until a different reality– the one of not sleeping in the comfort and security of your room– hit you.

"Oh shit."

Yangyang briefly looked at you, sheets covering you up to your neck ready to drift out, so he closed the game and left the phone on the nightstand next to the bed, joining you under the cloth. The action surprising you. "What's wrong?"

"Uhh," you tried to think of a way to make your words not sound stupid or immature, knowing that Yangyang could use the following information to tease you forever,  "you didn't bring a plushie with you or something like that, right?"

"I didn't. Why do you need a plushie, anyway?"

"The last couple of months I can't… really… I don't know why but I can't sleep alone, you know," the confession finally came out of you at the same time you dared to look in his eyes. "So I hug my cat or a plushie."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to comfort yourself, already feeling like it would be a long night just trying to fall asleep for hours. It had been a long time since your thoughts would do nothing but invade your head at night and cause you some irrational fears. You had discovered that hugging your cat or one of the big stuffed animals you had bought just for that, while some movie played in the background and filled the silence, helped you fall asleep faster.

"Dude," your friend called for you, a smirk appearing on his lips, and he said, "I'm literally right here if you wanna hug someone to sleep."

The thought had crossed your head you couldn't deny. Yet, you would never want to cross those kinds of lines after so long without sharing a sleeping space with him. On the other hand, it seemed like all the flirting and the sudden physical closeness didn't affect Yangyang at all. He had always been a natural flirt anyway. Which made you question, one more time, if you were the only one with the feelings on the surface in that room.

"We could like, hold hands or something?" You proposed, as your voice only got smaller and smaller. "I'm sure that should be enough."

It wasn't, though, but you think Yangyang sensed it as he got closer to you under the sheets and held your left hand tightly. Without letting go of him, you turned on your side to face him, and closed your eyes as some movie kept playing and illuminating your friend's profile. You could feel the warmth that radiated off him, and as the two of you were exhausted from playing all day under the sun, it didn't take much time for you to let yourself fall in Morpheus' arms.

—

The constant dripping of rain against the windows and against the floor of the room's balcony brought you out of your sleep. Waking up to a rainy day on the weekends could make you feel many different ways. Generally, you would spend them alone, with the only company of music and nostalgia, not being able to be outside distracting yourself.

Yet, the atmosphere as the water droplets kept falling and resonating in the ceiling felt very soothing. At some point of the night, your body had entangled and found refuge in your friend's arms. And the pillows and the hotel's mattress were the best quality, but you discovered that nothing compared to the comfort of Yangyang's chest under the side of your head.

You didn't dare to move or change your position even long after you woke up, as the urgent need to be in his arms hadn't ceased, but it had calmed. You knew right away that you were afraid of getting used to that sense of home –the one that was Yangyang– too quickly.

The arm under your side started to move, and the soft tips of his fingers caressed your back affectionately. At the same time, his morning voice came out to leave goosebumps on your skin in contact with his touch. "We should've checked the weather before we came."

Still drunk on sleep and his touches, only a soft laugh and a nod of your head could come out as a response.

It didn't feel unfamiliar, and it didn't feel out of place. It was just right and lovely to wake up in Yangyang's arms. The kiss he left on top of your head after you tightened your grip around him only added to that warm feeling of being home.

"We could have some breakfast."

You turned your head and rested your chin on his chest, and with his arms still holding you in his embrace, your gaze searched for him when he was already looking at you. His messy hair spread out on the pillow and the raspy voice that came out of him only indicated a good night's sleep. 

You nodded once again, returning to your initial position, a cheek pressed against the old but still soft cat pajamas. You could already hear your stomach growling and demanding to be fed.

"You think it would be weird if we kissed?"

Now, that question made you start doubting reality. Waking up wrapped in Yangyang's arms already felt a little unreal. The sense of peace and calm was so strong you would have believed it was all a dream and that you never woke up from the night before in the first place.

But as you slightly sat up on the bed to see if he was being serious, and after making sure there wasn't any expression that indicated he was joking, you only could think of:

"It could turn out weird."

He was your best friend, for goodness sake. He was the same boy who lost his swimming shorts at that same island when you were thirteen, so he had to borrow one of your floral ones and wear it until you came back from the school trip. The same boy, who once tried to fill the class' water dispenser with cola, but you ended up drinking tasteless brown colored water for weeks. And also, the one who gets confused and ends up eating cat food instead of cereal.

"But some friends kiss each other."

"Yeah, but," you tried to think of an excuse, "I have morning breath."

It's not that you never thought of kissing him, as you had the biggest crush on your best friend since you were in middle school. But somehow, something was stopping you from doing it. Maybe it was too soon, and you had too little time to process a lot of emotions. Or, maybe, it was because boys who obsessed over computer games totally turned you off.

"I don't really care," he insisted with a shrug, "I want to kiss you."

You sighed. But you could try and give it a chance?

"Not sure if this is gonna work out-"

Yet, Yangyang was determined to have a good morning kiss. "Why? You don't like me?" He inquired after interrupting you.

"No– It's definitely not tha-"

"Is it because you've never kissed someone before?" He pressed.

"What? No, it's just-"

"You gotta know," he reached for your hand and started to caress the back of it, "you don't have to be embarrassed about never being kissed before." He looked at you dead serious.

"Yangyang, I've kissed others before," your tone now carried a note of annoyance.

"So you just don't want to kiss me."

"I'll kiss you if you stop being so fucking annoying."

You saw him smirk. "Okay."

It went by pretty fast. You could feel the softness of his lips on yours and the tip of your noses touching, but it was a quick, short, dry kiss. Just the mere contact of his thin lips for a few seconds. No movement, just a lot of tension.

It felt, indeed, really weird. Maybe it was because you've spent too much time as friends, you thought. Perhaps, as much as you wanted to grow closer and closer to Yangyang and share much more with him, it wasn't what destiny had planned for you. Perhaps, not all friends could casually kiss.

"Maybe we just have to grow accustomed to it," his voice took you away from your thoughts.

"Do you… want to try again?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion while looking at him.

He took both your hands in his to bring you closer to him, the two of you still sitting in the middle of the king-sized bed. Outside it was still raining, but the subtle sun rays were sneaking through the curtains and illuminating the features of the boy in front of you. His eyes held sincerity and remained fixed on yours. There was a promise hidden there that, in reality–he hoped–, wasn't necessary to say out loud for you to know how much he actually loved you.

"y/n, I love yous between you and me don't feel friendly anymore," he confessed, "at least for me. And I want to try to kiss you again right now." 

He came a little closer and took your face in his hands, to gently caress your cheekbones and then outline your lips with his thumb. His gaze couldn't stop drifting from between them and your own eyes.

"I want to be able to keep kissing you from now on, not as just friends."

He finished the sentence in a whisper that hit your lips and got entangled with your own breath before you crashed your mouth against his, this time sharing a real kiss. None of you needed many more words. After a weekend of reunion and tension, flirty comments, gazes full of adoration, and your feelings blooming all over again, your passionate kiss was enough to give him the permission to keep doing that for as long as he pleased. The smile that he couldn't suppress in between kisses and the way he held onto you reassured you of his previous confession. Indeed, I love yous between the two of you weren't just friendly anymore.

The rest of the day was spent cuddling and eating breakfast in bed, then crashing at a pillow and blankets fort and watching movies cozied up together as the afternoon arrived.

"I missed you a lot," you turned your head to look at him squished on your side as your second movie choice came to an end. "Please, don't leave me again."

The sun was setting once again, painting the sky in lilacs and pinks, coloring the room with its light and indicating that more rain was to come later in the night. Rain could empower reunions and hasten goodbyes, so it was still a bit difficult to get rid of that uncertainty installed in your chest.

"It's inevitable that I'll have to go again, and you will stay here," he said, putting you in a hug for the millionth time that day, "but we will see each other, I promise. You can come visit anytime, seriously, and I'll also come back to you."

Through the balcony window, you could see far into the distance how the sun returned to the sea in the horizon. There was something melancholy about sunsets, but there was also a promise in them, just like in the eyes of your best friend when he was looking directly at you and the evening lights reflected in them.

"When you miss me, and I'm not here, go to the beach and look for the horizon. Know I'll be thinking about you every time I see the sky and the ocean touch each other, and hopefully, you won't feel so lonely. Even on rainy days when we can't go out, I know the raindrops connecting the sky and the sea will remind me of you."

He finished with a gentle kiss on your cheek, and drying a single tear that had escaped after hearing him talk.

"Why does this feel like it's the end of summer?" You asked in a whisper, no longer sad or doubtful but finding some calm and comfort in the promise of the horizon.

"I know, right?" He laughed softly. "But I came back for you, so I'm staying with you."

And what you loved the most about the feeling that an ending was near, is that, in fact, you knew you still had a lot of time to stay in each other's arms, to watch countless sunsets together and to keep chasing for the promise of coming back to one another no matter what.

[give-seconds]

Second Chances

Summary: Three years ago, Yuta broke your heart. He decided he was done with you and left. So you picked up the pieces and moved on. You were going to show him you didn't need him. But what happens when he shows up one day seeking forgiveness? 

Paring: soccer player!Yuta X gender neutral reader

Word count: 12.7K words

Genre: angst, fluff; exfriends to friends to future lovers

Warnings: mentions of slightly neglectful parents

This is for the Coming Home collab held by @nct-writers! Thank you to @pastelsicheng for reading some of this for me on such a short notice. That being said, a lot of this is only proof read by me. So please let me know if there are any major issues. I would love to know what you think!

“Y/n, why didn’t you tell me you know Nakamoto Yuta?” your roommate, Emika, asks as soon as you walk into the room.

You laugh, closing the door behind you. “Hi. My day was good. Almost lost my wallet on the subway, so that was pretty cool. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Now tell me why I am just finding out you know the one and only Yuta?”

You sigh, taking a seat on the couch next to her. That’s what you love about her, her directness. You were never one for social norms, so when you met her, you were thankful to finally meet someone who didn’t engage in beating around the bush. “How did you even find out?”

She shrugs. “So I got home and was excited to show you this surprise I have for you, which you will get once you tell me what I want to know. And when I unlocked the door, I saw this piece of paper on the ground that had your name on the front. Fearing for your safety, I opened it, and it was your mom saying that Yuta wanted to talk to you—and don’t worry, I didn’t read the rest of the letter. But that paired with how weird you get when I mention him. I made a calculated guess.”

You physically recoil at his name. Yuta hasn’t talked to you in three years. What could he possibly want now?

“Wait, I’m sorry, what? Where is the note?”

She blinks at you before reaching forward and grabbing a piece of folded paper off the coffee table. You squint at your name written on the front in handwriting you don’t recognize. When you unfold it, you see a sticky note with your mom’s handwriting stuck on top of a letter with the handwriting from the front.

Hello dear, this is a letter that Yuta dropped by today. He’s back in town and wants to see you.

You pull the sticky note off, setting it on the table in front of you. You choose to ignore your friend’s eyes as she follows your every move.

Hey y/n,

I know you probably want nothing to do with me, but I have been doing a lot of thinking the past few years, and I want to talk to you about some things. I’m going to be staying in town for the next few weeks, and I was hoping we could meet up and talk? Or if you don’t want to see me, maybe we could just text? My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. Please call.

You scoff, rolling your eyes and crumpling the paper. Honestly, screw him. He hasn’t been a part of your life for three years, and when he decides he wants to talk to you again, you’re supposed to bend to him? No. It may be childish, but he isn’t calling the shots in this relationship. If he wants to talk to you, he is going to have to do better than some letter dropped on your parents’ doorstep.

“Wait, why are you doing that?” your friend asks, looking at you like you just crumpled the most important thing in the universe.

“Because he says he wants to meet up. That, or he wants me to call him. Neither of which I have any interest in doing.”

“So it really is my idol Yuta?”

“Oh my god, stop,” you drop the paper on the ground, throwing your face into your hands in embarrassment. “Yes, okay, it is him. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know. It’s embarrassing.”

It isn’t often you tell people you know Yuta. If anything, you are embarrassed to say you did. Thankfully, not many people assume you know one of Japan’s most popular soccer players; hell, you only remember you know him when you see his advertisements or Emika puts a game on. Each time, Emika would comment how talented he was or how beautiful his smile is. Both are things you can’t deny. But every time you look at him, all you see is the sad high school boy who meant the world to you.

You first met a month after he moved into your apartment building. You both happened to be running late for the first day of high school, and as you were running down the stairs, you tripped over the last step. Luckily for you, you had something, well, someone, to cushion your fall. You were mortified. You, the tripper, were unharmed, while he, the tripped, had a bloody nose. But, like everything, he handled it with grace. He had laughed, nose pinched, head tipped backward, as you embarrassingly rambled apologies.

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, reaching out with his free hand for the paper towels you brought him. “Accidents happen.”

You took a seat next to him, looking awkwardly at the ground. You were certain you had met the exception to the rule “nobody’s perfect.” As you got to know him, you noticed he always knew what to say, and he never had anything bad to say about anyone. Your parents adored him, and your mom was always pushing for you to ask him out.

When he left, it killed you. You spent your high school and first two years of college thinking you two were meant to be together forever; then he left. You spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about how you thought he was perfect. Then one day, you realized how he managed to hold onto that air of perfection. He kept everyone at arm’s length, never letting them get too close. You were the closest to him, and even you didn’t know the real him.

“Embarrassing?” your friend exclaims, jarring you from your thoughts. “He is one of the best soccer players on the national team, and he has the best smile. If I were you, I would be bragging to the whole world. Plus, he wants to see you! You have the opportunity of a lifetime presented to you. Why aren’t you taking it?”

You smile at your friend, trying your best not to feel annoyed. It isn’t her fault she is blinded by her admiration for him, which you don’t want to take away by telling her that when he got drafted, his first move was to tell you he no longer needed you.

“I have my reasons. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m done talking about this. What is your surprise?”

She nods her head, biting her lip. “Well, now that I know this little bit of information, I don’t think you’re going to like it very much. But for my birthday, my dad got me two tickets to the Japan vs Saudi Arabia round in the AFC, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with? Please y/n, I know you don’t like soccer, but a) you’re my best friend, and b) you are the only one of my friends who is cool with my soccer addiction.”

You smile at her, taking a second to admire the way her eyes light up when talking about her gift. “Yeah, of course, I’ll go with you. It’s not like he’ll see me or anything.”

She squeals excitedly and hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much y/n! This is going to be the best birthday ever.”

You smile, hugging her back. It’ll be fine; what are the chances he’ll see us in the crowd?

—

“Alright, sweetie, we’ll see you when we get back,” your mom says as she and your dad pull their shoes on.

“Okay, see you then,” you respond from the couch, waving goodbye.

It was Thursday night, so your parents had their normal meeting to go to. From now until nine pm, you would have the house to yourself. It was also around the time Yuta’s dad would be getting home, which means the arguing would start soon.

When the apartment was as quiet as it is every Thursday, you could hear them arguing. You would try not to listen, which wasn’t hard considering it was mostly just loud muffled noises, but sometimes you would find yourself getting lost in the noise. You stared up at the ceiling, wishing them to stop for their son’s sake.

You hear three knocks at the door, and when you open it, it’s Yuta.

“Right on time,” you smile, opening the door for him to come in. “I was thinking miso soup tonight; I’m not feeling very fancy.”

“Sounds amazing,” he smiles, making his way to the kitchen counter to start on his homework.

You quickly turn on the study playlist you two had made, not wanting him to hear the muffled version of what he was trying to escape. You two fall into your normal silence as he does his homework and you prep the meal. You look up at him, watching as he looks between his textbook and the homework sheet in front of him.

He meets your eye, setting down his pencil. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he does something cuts him off.

You slowly open your eyes, grabbing your phone to check the time. It takes you a few seconds to remember your dream, and when you do, you feel disappointed in yourself.

You don’t know if that was a memory or just your brain creating a situation based on a thousand memories like that. You sigh, rubbing your face with your hands.

“It’s too early for this,” you groan.

Of course, the first time you think about him in months—the first time you see him in years—is the night you dream about him. You knew going to that soccer game would come with repercussions.

Throwing your blanket off, you pride yourself in coming to that decision. With the rose-colored glasses you used to see Yuta through no longer there, it is easy to treat him like you would anyone else.

However, as the day wore one, you found yourself thinking back to your high school years with him. Your best memories are cheering him on at soccer games and walking home together—stopping for french fries because neither of you had food waiting for you at home. While, for you, it is because you and your family had never done traditional sit-down dinners, and once you got old enough to cook, you all just ate whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. Sometimes you would eat the leftovers from your brother and sometimes you had to cook. You loved it.

Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky. His mom and dad were so consumed in their relationship that they forgot to cook if he wasn’t there. Since he had soccer every day after school, that was every weekday. It wasn’t that they didn’t love him—his dad is one of the most caring people you have ever met. You only had a few passing conversations with the man, but with how he spoke about Yuta, you knew he was proud of his son. His mom, though, you were never able to get a good feeling about the kind of person she was. When you did talk to her, she seemed distant and superficial. You don’t know if she was like that all the time; you hoped she wasn’t.

You never did find out what they argued about. The first time Yuta showed up at your door, it was under the ruse of not understanding a homework question. You realized pretty quickly that he knew more than you did. After that, he slowly started showing up every day.

You lightly slap your cheeks, pushing yourself up from your bed.

“Now is not the time, y/n,” you whisper to yourself. You’re not letting him distract you any more than he already has.

—

You were sitting in your dorm, ignoring the notes you had to take in favor of searching through the different resources your counselor had given you about the study abroad programs when you heard a series of fast knocks at your door.

“Coming,” you call, closing your laptop and moving to open the door.

“Y/n, I have with me the most important piece of information I will ever receive,” Yuta says in lieu of a greeting, not waiting for you to invite him in.

You tilt your head to the side, closing the door after him. He nervously paces, tapping a sealed envelope against his other hand.

“And what is that information?”

“If I am one of the finishing 23 members of the national soccer team.”

Your heart stops, and you stare at him with wide eyes. He stops pacing to meet your gaze, nodding his head as if to say: yeah, I know, right?

“You mean that envelope there,” you point to the one in his hands, “tells us if you made it?”

He nods his head vigorously. “I debated on ignoring it for at least a day, but considering the match is in two weeks, I can’t really wait that long.”

“Then what are you doing!”

“I don’t want to open it,” he whines, throwing his hands dramatically. “What if they tell me no, and then I have to go about my daily life knowing I was so close?”

You smile. “Well, then it says that. But to even be considered is an incredible honor. So yeah, you won’t be on the national team, but you will be thousands of years ahead of someone like me. So don’t think too bad about yourself, okay?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

You clap your hands excitedly before clasping them in front of your mouth, watching him open the envelope. You feel your heart pound in your chest, wishing more than anything that his letter will include the word “congratulations”.  

His eyes quickly scan the letter before he suddenly drops it, a wide smile spread across his face. “I made it. Guess who is going to be playing for the Japanese 2018 national soccer team!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” you cheer, jumping in place.

“I did it,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair, disbelief spread across his face. “I actually did it.”

“You did it,” you mirror, pulling him into a hug.

“I did it.” He holds you tight.

At that moment, you feel so loved.

—

“Y/n?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times before focusing on your coworker, Yoshi, standing in front of your desk. “Yeah?”

“We're going out for drinks after work. Would you like to come with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you rub the back of your neck, spinning your head left and right to stretch your neck. “I haven’t been sleeping that well lately, and I’m kind of tired.”

It wasn’t that you haven’t been sleeping well—it’s more that your dreams have been off-putting. Before your first Yuta dream, you never had dreams. In the three days since then, your dreams have been filled with memories with Yuta. They leave you feeling uncomfortable and exhausted—especially the one last night.

That had been the last good memory with Yuta. After that conversation, you didn’t see him a lot. You thought nothing of it, as you had been busy with your school work and he was training. The day before he went off with his team was the last time you saw him.

“Are you ready for your debut?” you asked, smiling as you took a seat at the picnic table across from him.

“Yeah.”

You tilted your head, the smile frozen on your face. His face showed no emotions of any kind. You reach out to grab his folded hands, quickly retracting as he removes his hands from the table. “Are you alright?”

He nods his head. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

“I don’t need you anymore.”

You blinked in surprise, the statement physically shocking you. “I- what?”

He sighs, seemingly annoyed that he has to explain any further. “I’m moving on to bigger and better things. I don’t need you anymore.”

“How could you say that to me?” you ask, willing the hurt to go away so you could think.  

“Because it is the truth. You’ll only slow me down.”

You scoff, looking at his still blank face. You wanted to say something, to tell him: how dare you. Instead, all you do is look at him with watery eyes. How could he feel nothing while saying this to you?

He looks at you a second longer before pushing himself up. He gives you one last cold look before walking away. The next time you see him would be through the screen.

“Oh, come on,” Yoshi whines, dragging you from your thoughts. “You’re always the life of the party.”

You laugh, choosing to think about the memory another day. “We both know that title should belong to Ko. You don’t need me tonight; I would just sit in the back. Trust me, Yosh, I wouldn’t be any fun.”

His eyes soften. “Are you okay?”

You smile at him. “Like I said, I just haven’t been sleeping well. Next time, I promise.”

He nods his head. “Well, just know I’m here if you want to talk.” He gives you one last smile before turning and returning to his desk. You watch as he goes, smile still lingering. You’re lucky to have coworkers like Yoshi who care. He—along with Ko, Miki, and Takahito—is your work family. You, Miki, Takahito, and Yoshi all started at the same time, gravitating towards each other throughout the week. The week after that, Ko somehow inserted himself into your lives. You don’t remember how it happened, but there was just a point where he was always with you guys at lunch breaks.

You rest your head on your hand, staring in the direction of Yoshi’s desk. Maybe it’s because you’ve been thinking about Yuta for the past few days, but you’re feeling sentimental. You met them a year after returning from abroad and two years after Yuta left. They made you feel loved again.

---

“Okay y/n, we’re leaving. Last chance to join us,” Ko says, leaning on your desk.

You smile up at your friends. “Sorry, but I’m tired. Next time, I promise.”

Miki pouts, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “It won’t be the same without you. Know that I’ll be missing you and your calming presence.”

“Hey,” Yoshi says, lightly elbowing her. “I am plenty calm.”

“So am I,” Takahito chimes in.

Miki rolls her eyes, giving you a knowing look. “I guess I was wrong then.” She puts her hand to her mouth, blocking the guys from seeing as she mouths: no, I’m not.

You smile at her, taking a deep breath as you look between your friends. “I’m so thankful to have you guys in my life, thank you.”

"Aw y/n, why are you being so sentimental all of a sudden. We're happy to be in the same social circle as someone like you," Takahito smiles.

Your other friends voice their agreement, and with one last curious look from Yoshi, they make their way to elevators. You smile as you watch them leave, feeling grateful once again to have them in your life.

You wait for a few minutes before packing up and leaving. You’ve gotten good at blocking out the rest of the world as you walk home. So when you see someone across the street from your office, hood pulled over his face and a mask covering the bottom half, you don’t care.

That is, however, until you hear the stranger call your name. You pause for a second before pushing forward at a slightly faster pace, not wanting to deal with this now. As soon as you turn the corner, you start running. Please, please, please.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You flinch as he places a hand on your shoulder, spinning around to face him. He quickly retracts his hand to hold them up in surrender. Stupid! Of course, you couldn’t outrun a soccer player.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you heard me.”

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, I heard you.”

Yuta laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, of course, you did.”

“How did you find me?”

“I looked you up online. I checked every y/n l/n until I found this place.” He gestures vaguely to the building behind you.

“When did you have the time to do that? Creep.” You hope your tone comes across as annoyed rather than convey the anxiety slowly building in your stomach.

You decide its mission accomplished as he looks slightly taken aback by your question.

“A little here, a little there. Can we go somewhere to talk? I have a few things I need to say.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think I want to. Good luck with the rest of your matches.” With that, you turn around and continue in the direction of your home.

“Wait, y/n, please,” he starts, jogging so he’s standing in front of you. Once he sees you’re not going to stop, he resorts to walking backward. “Did you get the note I sent?”

“Yep. I threw it out. Also, while we’re on the topic, you look ridiculous. You’re not as big of a hotshot as you’d like to think you are.”

He laughs, averting his eyes but does nothing to remove the mask. Instead, he swings around to walk next to you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Nope.”

Normally, you would feel bad using this tone of voice. But frankly, you don’t have the energy to be nice to him. As you told Yoshi, you are tired. You haven’t been able to sleep—all because of the man walking next to you, and seeing him is making you angry along with tired.

“Then I’ll talk to you until you get to where you’re going,” he says, nodding his head as he decided.

“No,” you state firmly, stopping in place. He stops a few steps in front of you, turning to face you. “I don’t care what you have to say, Yuta. Because if you were a rookie when you told me you didn’t need me, I would hate to know what you think now with your face plastered on signs.”

“Look-”

“I don’t want to look. I want you to leave me alone. And if there is one thing you should’ve learned about me over the home cooked meals I made for you, I'm good at staying angry at people who deserve it.” You poke your finger into his chest, hoping to drive home the point he messed up your relationship. This is on him, not you.

You jab him one more time in the chest before continuing down the street. Part of you feels extremely nervous. Over the years, you have spent hours thinking of how you would speak your mind to him, and imagined countless scenarios about your first meeting. This went something along the lines of your favorite scenario, the one where he has nothing important to say.

“I’m trying to apologize!” he exclaims, still not moving from his spot.

You simply wave a hand goodbye, turning another corner. Thankfully, that is the last you see of Nakomoto Yuta for the night.

—

The next time you see him is three days later. You know he is busy with soccer matches; you hear Emika scream from the living room during their games. He is waiting for you in the same place with the same ridiculous outfit on. As soon as you see him, you turn around to try to retreat into your office.

“I saw you already,” he calls, and you inwardly sigh.

“I forgot something in my office,” you inform him, not turning back around to see if he heard you. You can only hope he would take the door closing as a “go away.”  

“Let me come with you then.”

Guess not, then.

“No, sorry. Office staff only,” you turn around to flash him a synthetic smile.

“Good thing I know someone who can sneak me in,” he replies jokingly.

You stare at him in disbelief. With one sentence, he has transported you to your early college years. Back when you two were perfect. When you would give anything for him to achieve his goals and he would repay you simply with his company. Something in his eyes changes, and you know he feels it too.

It leaves an awkward silence between you two. How dare he walk in here and pretend everything is okay. Who does he think he is walking into your office and making jokes about your relationship?

Just as you’re about to let him know what you think, how angry that one comment has made you, the elevator dings and out walks Ko.

“Y/n? I thought you left already.”

You turn around to face him, forcing a smile on your face. “Yeah, I was interrupted.”

Ko’s eyes shift to look at Yuta before looking back at you. He walks toward you, grabbing you lightly by the elbow and leaning in to whisper, “Are you okay?”

You laugh loudly, shocking Ko. “Yeah, I’m fine. This is someone I used to know. He hurt me pretty badly, so the look on my face isn’t fear,” you take a half step to the side to look Yuta in the eyes, “it’s anger.”

After you finish speaking, you do feel a pang of guilt. Not for Yuta, though, for Ko. Who is now left to stand awkwardly as you and Yuta have a staring contest. Once you feel Yuta has received the message, you turn back around to face your coworker.

“I’m sorry, this is weird. Let’s go?”

He simply nods his head, mindlessly following you as you walk past Yuta. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ko actively avoid looking at Yuta, and you send him a silent apology.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yuta calls as you push open the door.

“No, thank you.”

—

“Knock knock,” Ko greets, knocking on your desk.

You look up at him, slouching in your chair. “Is it time to go?”

He nods his head, and you throw your head back in defeat. Ko, thankfully, had been extremely understanding about being thrown into your interaction with Yuta. Being the kind-hearted man he is, he offered to buy you dinner. He went a step further, and over the next three days, he walked out with you as a form of moral support.

“I don’t want to go,” you announce, dramatically flinging yourself over your desk. “I know he’s down there today. I can feel it. I’m worried he’s going to wear me down. I’m not ready to have an honest conversation with him.”

He laughs. “You’ve said that every day for the past three days, and it's only been true one of those days. Now come on, I want to go home.”

You lift your head to glare at him. “Do you hate me?”

“Nope, I just think you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mock as you push yourself up and grab your coat. “Come one, let’s just get this over with.”

You walk to the elevator in silence, and as it dings open, you take a deep breath to try and calm your nerves. This is one more thing to dislike about Yuta. He has made leaving your work terrifying.

“But if I can say,” Ko starts, as the doors close shut. “I think you should talk to him. Because if you don’t, he’s just going to keep showing up. Face your fears, right?”

“No, not right. I’m a coward. Coward.”  

He laughs. “Okay, never said you needed to. Just my advice.”

“Well, your advice sucks.”

When the elevator doors open, Ko grabs your arm to drag you out of the elevator. You cross your fingers on your left hand, hoping that for once in your life, someone is looking out for you. Once you make it around the corner with no signs of Yuta, you throw your hands up in celebration.

"I did it!"

"You did nothing. You just got lucky."

—

As soon as you open your eyes, you know today is going to be hard. You had yet another Yuta dream last night, and despite it not being worse than the previous dreams, this one seemed to bug you more than normal. You spent thirty minutes in bed mindlessly scrolling through your phone, pushing any thoughts of the soccer player from your mind.

The only thing that breaks your spell is Emika shouting a goodbye. Once you hear the door close, you sigh before pushing yourself to sit up. You rub your face with your hands, deciding a change of scenery is what you need to improve your mood.

You set out to the kitchen, intending to cook something to try and get yourself motivated. After staring into your fridge and seeing the different ingredients, you decide to change your plans and settle for cereal.

After two hours of mindless tv watching, and your brain still hasn’t recovered, you try again to be productive. You opt to do the dishes that had accumulated since yesterday. That should be an easy enough task.

Five dishes in, and the realization that today isn't your day comes in the form of knocking a cup onto the ground. Taking a deep breath, you throw the sponge into the sink before placing your hands on the sides of the sink and leaning over it. You feel hot tears flow from your eyes, and you squeeze them shut to try and stop more tears from escaping.

Your legs give out from under you, and you find yourself kneeling next to the broken cup. This is all Yuta’s fault. First, he breaks your heart by basically comparing you to dirt, and now he is making your life hell by showing up randomly at your work.  

You turn to lean against the cupboard, head buried in your knees. Every time you saw him and exchanged harsh words, it reminded you what he thought of you. That to him, you are nothing.

You hear a knock at the door, and you throw your head back, accidentally hitting the cupboard behind you. You laugh in defeat, grabbing your head and willing the person behind the door to leave.

Another series of knocks rips the fantasy from you, and you shove yourself up. When you open it, you see none other than Yuta standing before you. When he sees your face, messy with tears, his eyes widen.

“Y/n-”

“Okay, okay, you win,” you cry, not trying to stop the tears running down your face. “Let’s have a conversation.”

You turn on your heel and walk back into your apartment, only turning around once you hear the door close behind you. You watch as Yuta takes off his mask, eyes roaming around the apartment.

“Say what you want to say.”

“Are you okay?” He asks slowly, untying his shoes and stepping further into your apartment.

You laugh, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “Am I okay? Gosh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I have someone from my past who told me I was nothing—”

“No, I didn’t—”

“—following me around.”

Feeling too anxious to stand still and talk to him, you start pacing in place, weaving your hands around as you talk. “I mean, did you even stop to consider how that might make me feel? And then there are the dreams. Ever since my mom gave me that stupid letter you wrote, I have been having dreams about you. They’re not bad dreams. No, they’re all our good times together. Which then reminds me that the reason seeing you hurts is because I used to care for you. Your pain was mine, and this is how you repay me?”

After your speech, the apartment is deafly silent. You stop pacing, starring blankly at him. Yes, you don’t look as composed as you imagined you would, but you hope your words still hurt. Right now, you want him to hurt as you do.

“Say something!” you yell after seconds pass, and he just stares at you, eyes slightly glossed over.  

“I don’t know!” he exclaims before taking a deep breath and repeating in a softer voice. “I don’t know. I just know I wanted to come to talk to you, to apologize. But now this whole thing has really gotten away from me, and I don’t know anymore.”

“So you come here, somehow track down my home, and don’t even have anything to say? God, Yuta, I am just- just so tired.” You close your eyes, feeling the sting in your eyes from crying.

“You’re right,” he sighs, ruffling his hair. “And I’m sorry. I came here with set points I wanted to tell you, but they all seem so stupid now.”

“Well, if you’re going to show up at my house, I suggest you do better than that.”

He sighs, looking over to your couch. “Want to sit?”

You shake your head. “Sitting makes me anxious, and right now, that’s not really something I want to feel.”

He nods his head, clasping and unclasping his hands. “Okay then, I guess I’ll just talk. Obviously, I need to start with that I am so sorry for what I said and how I left things.”

You scoff, refraining yourself from replying with some kind of sarcastic remark. If he notices your destain for the comment, he ignores it.

“There is no good excuse, but the best I can give you is that I was scared. I can’t explain it, but I was so scared of letting you in. Well, more than I already had,” he laughs awkwardly. “So I lashed out. I thought if you, I don’t know, if you hated me or something, then I wouldn’t be scared anymore.”

“What were you scared of?”

“I-” he shuffles awkwardly. “I’m going to say something, okay? And this might be inappropriate, and I didn’t intend to tell you this today, so just know that, okay?”

You tilt your head, a little nervous about what he has to say. Hesitantly, you nod your head.

He sighs, rocking back on his heels a few times. “One day, sometime before I got my acceptance letter, I woke up and realized I maybe didn’t think of you as just a friend.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re joking ri—”

“Please let me finish,” he interrupts, holding his hand out. “This is hard and embarrassing enough to say, so I need to say it all at once before I chicken out. Anyway, I woke up and realized you meant more to me than I ever intended. And I got scared. I was so scared, y/n you don’t even know. All I could think about was my parents and how unhappy their marriage was. I couldn’t go through that.”  

You take a step back in surprise, bringing your hand to lightly chew on your nail. You’re torn. Yes, you are still mad at him. His words still ring in your mind, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget them. But hearing him, hearing the sadness in his voice, breaks your heart.

“And I know that isn’t an acceptable reason for me saying the things I said to you. What I said...” He takes a deep breath. “What I said was horrible, and I want you to know I didn’t mean any of it. I took all the doubts I had about myself and transformed them into something ugly. Just know that I am so so sorry, y/n, I truly am.”

You nod your head. “So when you told me you were moving on to bigger things and that you didn’t need me, what kind of doubt was that? Because I can’t think of one.”

“I, uh, I’ll be honest. I don’t remember why I said that specific thing. I just know I was worried you would leave me or end up hating me. Which, I guess, mission accomplished.” He groans, rubbing his face with his hands. “Let me revise that. I was worried you would spend time with me and come to naturally hate me. So I decided if I made you hate me, I would save myself the hurt.”

You nod your head, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I am having a really bad day. I don’t know what’s wrong, and my head really hurts from crying and hitting it earlier. So you, I don’t know Yuta.”

He nods his head, a sad smile gracing his face. “I understand. Well, you have my number, and if not, I can give it to you again. Or not if you never want to talk to me again. And um, I’ll stop showing up at your work. You’re right. I never stopped to consider how me showing up might make you feel. I’m going to be in Japan for a long time, so take as long as you need to reach out.”

He gives a finalizing nod before turning his back and walking towards the door, bending down to tie on his shoes.

“I- I thought you said you were only here for a few weeks,” you ask weakly, worried if you speak too loud, you’d disrupt the mood.

He opens the door, smiling. “I lied.”

—-

It took you two days to tell Emika what happened between you and Yuta on your day off. Once she had gotten over the fact her idol was in her apartment, she asked you the hard-hitting questions like “how do you feel?” and “what now?”

You didn’t need her to help you figure out how you felt. You did that a long time ago; hurt and angry.

You did, however, need her help deciding what to do now. You have a vivid memory of one night in South Africa a week after you arrived. You felt so alone—and it had nothing to do with being “alone” in a new country. Your roommate was extremely warm and welcoming, and you knew you had someone on your side.

It was when you thought about Japan and your home university that the feelings of loneliness became overwhelming. You spent your nights replaying your last conversation with him, wondering what caused him to lash out. You tried to talk to him; you really did. He blocked you, and before you knew it, he was off to represent the nation.

Then one night, at one a.m., you decided you were never going to forgive him. He made his move, and now you’ll make yours. For the last time in your life, you were going to follow his lead. If he never wants to talk to you again, fine, have it his way. The least you can do is grant him his last wish as a friend.

After that decision, it became easier to sleep. Sure, sometimes you had relapses where you blamed yourself or thought you hated him. After about the fourth time doubting yourself, you and your roommate came to your second conclusion: Yuta is a coward.

He is a coward who had something to say but couldn’t, so he decided to lash out. He was scared of something, so he was mean. Mean is easier than scared; it's a false sense of control.

Now though, these two core beliefs that you’ve held for three years are being questioned. Now, you have the re-think your decisions because maybe, just maybe, you might be able to start over.

“I don’t think you understand,” you whine, throwing your head into your hands dramatically.

Emika laughs. “You’re right. I don’t. I can’t say anyone has ever insulted me then come back to apologize. Explain to me why you made these ‘decisions,’ as you put it.”

“Because if it wasn’t him, then it was me, and obviously, it wasn’t me. And it isn’t like I was wrong! It was him.”

“Yeah, okay, but stay on topic. Why did you make those decisions?”

You sigh, leaning back on the couch. “Because I was struggling to make sense of what happened. And those were my lifelines, you know? The first thing I did was decide I wasn’t going to forgive him. That’s how I didn’t let his words hurt me. You know I tried to talk to him after he lashed out, and he wouldn’t see me. He blocked my phone, and I assume changed his number ”

She sighs. “Yeah, okay. But look, he came here and apologized. That has to count for something, right?”

“I was just angry for so long. I,” you shrug, shaking your head. “I don’t know what to do if I’m not angry. If I forgive him, I don’t think I’ll ever get his words out of my head. I mean, he basically said I wasn’t popular enough to be associated with. Do you know how much that hurt to hear from someone who had almost the same life as me until a stupid piece of paper said otherwise? If I didn’t make up something, if I didn’t tell myself it was him, do you know what a blow that would be to my self-confidence? And like I said, if I forgive him, wouldn’t part of me always worry he’d turn his back on me again?”

She hums, joining you in leaning back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “You might have to talk to him about that. Or just figure it out yourself. But ask yourself this: do you miss him? Because if you don’t, then it isn’t worth the risk.”

Do I miss him?

“I mean, sure, there was a time in South Africa where I felt so alone that I did miss him. I didn’t have a lot of friends back home, and a lot of the friends I did have were also his friends. I felt too ashamed to see them again, so I used studying abroad as my way of starting over. After I got back, I looked for new friends and met you. But by then, I already had my decision, and I didn’t need him.”

"I think if there is a part of you that missed him at any point in time, then it would be worth hearing him out. It might give you some closure."

"Closure," you muse.

You had never thought about getting closure before. You only thought about telling him your side of the story and leaving it at that. Maybe closure would be a better option.

—--

“Thank you for reaching out to me. I can’t explain to you how much this chance means to me,” Yuta greets as soon as you sit across from him after ordering.

You smile softly. “So you are going to wear that stupid disguise the whole time, or are you worried that as soon as you take off your mask, you’ll be mobbed by crazed fans?”

He pauses, and for a second, you worry you’ve overstepped some invisible boundary. You don’t know why, but something about seeing him dress like that—like he’s the nation’s top celebrity—rubs you the wrong way. At least he doesn’t have his hood pulled up like the first day he came to my work.

Slowly, he takes off his mask, looking left and right. You roll your eyes at the action, thinking it to be ridiculous.

“See, not so bad, now is it?”

He chuckles, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I am a little paranoid. It’s not like I’m an idol or anything. I’m just a soccer player. I don’t know when that stupid habit kicked in. I just know one day I felt nervous to leave the house without a mask on.”

You hum. “So now that my mind isn’t foggy from crying let’s have a conversation. I have some things I need to tell you, so let me do that, and then we can go from there, yeah?”

He eagerly nods his head, and you try not to let the hopeful look in his eyes spread to you.

“I thought about what you said, how you said you acted out of a place of fear, and I want to tell you that I already knew that. When you left, I made two decisions: one of which was that you are a coward. So that wasn’t new to me. I just never knew why. I mean, to me, you were always this perfect man. You always knew what to say, knew how to make me feel better. I mean, everyone loved you.” You pause, shaking your head. You need to stay on track. “Anyway, um, I just don’t know how to feel now that I know why you acted the way you did. I mean, yeah, if I were in your place, I don’t think I would have acted the way you did, but I can understand it. So where does that leave me now?”

A silence settles between you two, only breaking when the waitress sets the drinks down.

“You’re wrong,” he sighs, turning the cup in its place; inspecting it. “I don’t always know what to say. I know what I want to say, but it probably isn’t what I should say.”

“And what do you want to say?”

“I want to say all you’re left with is forgiveness. That you put aside any doubts you have about me, and we start over. But that’s selfish. You have every right to still be cautious? Is that the right word? Never mind, you still have a right to be anxious or whatever about trusting me. I would too. And I know this is hard, but believe me, I regret it. I regretted it as soon as the world cup was done, and I actually had the time to think. But I convinced myself it was for the best. That I was helping you in the long run.”

You nod your head, not knowing what to do with the new information. “Okay, I’m going to say something. And I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by saying this—frankly, I wouldn’t normally say something like this. But I already have a low opinion of you, so it’s not like it can get any worse right?”

He snorts, nodding his head. He doesn’t look hurt by your words, which does offer you some relief.

“Okay. I want to forgive you. There is some part of me that misses you and wants to see the boy I was proud to call my friend. Because now, I’m embarrassed to say I know you. I mean, I only told my best friend about you when you left that dumb note. But if I let you back into my life, what then? Yuta, I can’t take you backstabbing me again. And now that you’re an established soccer player, what is stopping you from changing your mind again? You thought you were too good for me before your success. I can’t imagine what you think of me now that I’m just a normal office worker. My question to you, what is stopping you from turning on me again?”

“As cliche as it sounds, I’ve changed. I never thought I was too good for you, not even when I said I was.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and averting his eyes. “I hate the me who said that to you. I don’t like to think of that time. It was supposed to be the best time of my life, and I hate it because you weren’t there. My best friend, the one who helped me when my parents couldn’t seem to put me first, wasn’t there because of me. You were meant to be there whenever we won because, without you, I know I wouldn’t have made it this far. I never said this to you y/n, and I should have said it a long time ago, but thank you. You kept me going in high school, kept me grounded. Soccer was always my dream not because I loved it like other players. Don’t get me wrong, I love the spot, and I love what I do. But I’m here,” he makes a vague gesture with his hands, “because I needed a way out. Soccer was my out. But then you gave me that bloody nose, and suddenly I didn’t need that out as much as I used to. I was able to love the sport again because you gave me something else to live for. I was miserable, and then there was you.”

He takes a deep breath, stopping to take a drink. You take this moment to study his face, his speech distracting you from actually looking at him. When you look at him, you’re reminded of the boy you met in high school. Things had changed when you got to college—he had perfected the art of being perfect. But right now, he is the same sad boy you met that morning while running late for school.

“And when I got that letter, I thought everything was going to change. Our lives were changed forever. I mean, I had my out. I didn’t need my mom and dad, and I could be my own person. I had received my chance to start over.” he smiles sadly, letting a few seconds of silence pass. “All that was left was you. You were the last reminder of who I used to be. The last reminder of the pathetic little boy who was stuck. But you were also the person I came to care the most about. I mean, I loved you. Part of me always will.”

The words suck the air out of you. When he came to your apartment, he told you he liked you. Once you had been able to process that, you had spent five minutes curled in a ball on the couch in shock. It had seemed impossible.

Now he was saying he loved you?

“You’re joking, right? Because I swear to god Yuta if this is just some sick joke-”

“It’s not,” he responds sternly. “You matter more to me than anyone I have ever met, and it’s about time I told you. But back on track. I looked at you, and I was struck with fear that all you would ever see me as was the sad boy who had nothing. And as much as I cared for you, that fear was too overwhelming. So I lashed out and told you whatever I needed to get you to leave. I was being selfish and, like you said, a coward. Long story short, you don’t have to worry about me backstabbing you because I’ve realized how much I missed you.”  

You lock your eyes onto your cup. He spoke so surely about loving you it made you uneasy. In all your time knowing him, he had never spoken like this to you. The only thing that came close was when he first told you about becoming a soccer player. He had said so with such confidence like it was an obvious fact.

This is a different kind of confidence. It isn’t confidence that comes from being right, but confidence in himself. He sounded so sure of himself.

“Do you expect me to believe you?” you whisper.

His sad smile graces his face once again. “No.”

You clear your throat, leaning on the table. “I need some time, okay? I’ve thought about this conversion many times. And every time, I never expected you to still be perfect. I thought maybe you’d be angry, repeat the same things you said last time, or some mix. But you’ve proved me wrong, and I need time to adjust.”

He nods his head, the hopeful look returning to his eyes.

----

That night, you went against your better judgment and decided to eat the last of Emika’s ice cream. She would kill you tomorrow. Or whenever she found out, but you figured it is worth it. To put it simply, you are stressed.

Ever since you got home from meeting Yuta five hours ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told you. When you decided to never forgive him, it had been because you thought his cowardness steamed from a place of selfishness. Now though, he is telling you his cowardness stemmed from a place of genuine fear.

You couldn’t—and you don’t—fault him for that. You’re lucky to have two parents who showered you and your brother with love. You had seen other parents, ones that didn’t put their children first, through tv and movie portrayals, but you never thought they existed around you.

Until you met Yuta, you never thought about what it would be like to belong to parents like that. One night, sometime during your sophomore year, tried to imagine what it would be like to have one or both of your parents not devote themselves to you.

As you mindlessly spoon ice cream into your mouth, you try to think back to that feeling. You’ve never had the best imagination, but even with what you imagined for yourself that night, it had been lonely. It left you feeling hollow, and the first thing you did when you woke up was to hug your mom and dad. You couldn’t imagine growing up like that, something hollow feeling always lurking around the corner.  

Sighing, you drop your spoon into the now empty container, reaching forward to grab your phone off the coffee table. You open your phone icon, scrolling until you find your brother’s contact. You check the time before pressing the call button, placing it on speaker as you move to lay across the couch.

“Hello?”

“Hey Hiromu, you’re off work, yeah?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I’m having a bit of a dilemma and was hoping you could give me some advice?”

You hear him let out a soft oof, and you imagine he just fell onto his couch. “I’m all ears.”

“Remember Yuta?”

He snorts. “The jerk who left you once he made it to the big leagues? Yeah, what about him?”

You smile at your brother’s words, finding some comfort in them. “He left a note for me at mom and dad’s, and when I didn’t answer, he started showing up at my office. Then he even managed to find my apartment.”

“What does he want?”

“He said he wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize! Did you tell him he’s about, what, three years too late?”

You chuckle. “No, but, eventually, I did hear him out. He said he was scared of ending up like his parents.”

“Why was that even something he was worried about?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. “Don’t make me say it. Tell me you’re smarter than that, Hiro.”

“I don’t know, man. I’m pretty dumb.”

“Fine, fine, but don’t make fun of me, okay? He said he liked me back then and was scared of turning into his parents, so he tried to push me away.”

“Why would I make fun of you for that?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Because you’re a bully? Now stop distracting me! But you remember how his parents were?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and the line goes silent for a second before he clears his throat. “Yeah, I remember. Practically all your freshman year he ate dinner at our house because his parents were either arguing or ignoring each other to make him dinner. Mom told me that lasted the three years after I left. I can’t imagine what it was like to live like that. But that doesn’t excuse what he said to you, y/n. What he said was horrible.”

“And I know,” you agree, nodding your head in agreement. You sigh, picking up your phone to absent-mindedly check how long the call had been going for. “But doesn’t that count for something? And you should have heard him, Hiro. He sounded so sincere. Even when we were younger, I had never heard him talk like that. I think he really has changed. And the more I think about it, the more I don’t know how set I was on my whole ‘never forgiving’ him thing. I think- I think I was just really hurt that my best friend wanted to leave me.”

Again, the line falls silent. For a second, you’re worried you’ve said something to make him disappointed. When you told your brother what had happened, he had been just as upset as you. You looked out for each other, and him disliking Yuta was him looking out for you.

“As your brother, I don’t know how much unbiased advice I can give you. Frankly, I think you should never talk to him again because he doesn’t deserve you. But if this were one of my friends, I would say listen to what you want without being foolish. If you want to forgive him, but he hasn’t done anything to earn that forgiveness, then don’t do it. But if he has done enough to be forgiven, then you should. Do you think he has done enough to earn your forgiveness?”

You staring up at the ceiling. Has he done enough? “I don’t know. I mean, he sounded so sincere when he was talking to me. He was never pushy he even said he doesn’t expect me to forgive him. That means he means it, right? Plus, it’s not like he gains anything by apologizing to me. I would’ve been perfectly fine pretending I never knew him.”

He chuckles. “You know you’re doing the thing where you asked for my advice, but you secretly have an answer you want me to say.“

“I’m not doing that! There are plenty of reasons why I should never talk to him again.”

“Then how did you know I was talking about forgiving him?”

“Do you think you just did something cool don’t you?” You huff.

“But I am right, aren’t I?”

“No, no, you’re not. Because yes, I like the idea of forgiving him, but I feel like I shouldn’t. Feel like I’m making a fool of myself.”

He sighs. “As much as I dislike the guy, forgiving him won’t be making a fool of yourself. If anything, it would show that you’re better than him. More mature. But of course, you shouldn’t force yourself to forgive him. “

“You’re so unhelpful.”

“See! You wanted me to say you should forgive him!”

You let him continue bragging as his words sink in. Was that really why you called him? You had asked Emika earlier, and she more or less came to the same conclusion as your brother. That if he had done enough to apologize and you felt okay about it, you should forgive him.

“Ro,” you whine, rubbing your face with your hands. This is taking more effort out of you than you wanted to. “Yes, I want you to say I should forgive him, but I don’t know how that answer makes me feel. Because yeah, you can say it makes me more mature, but that doesn’t stop the fact that I feel like I’m betraying myself. I feel like if I forgive him, then I’m just telling him it’s okay for him to speak to me like that. But at the same time, I miss my friend. I miss the guy I spent countless nights with just talking. He made me feel, I don’t know, important.”

“I’ve already told you everything you need to know. If you think he has done enough, then you should apologize. You can even tell him that if he does anything to break that trust then you’re done. Do whatever makes you comfortable y/n. I trust your judgment. You’re smart.”

You smile softly. “Why do I feel like you’re making fun of me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re stupid?”

“Why did I even call you? I can think of a dozen other people who would talk nicer to me than you are right now.”

He laughs, and you smile at the sound. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard his laugh.

“Oh, I miss you, kid. Promise you’ll call again soon?”

You nod your head. “Only if you promise to visit sometime. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“You got yourself a deal. Good night y/n, everything will work out, I promise.”

“Night, Hiromu.”

You smile to yourself, holding your phone to look at your brother’s contact. You truly have the best family anyone could ask for.

Your moment is cut short when you hear the front door open. You look towards the empty ice cream container, and as you hear Emika’s footsteps get closer, you feel your heart stop.

“What the hell is that?”

—

The first time you call, Yuta doesn’t answer. You leave a voice mail, mentally banging your head at how awkward you sound. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling this was all a big trick. To get you to forgive him and then never talk to you again. Turn you into a laughing stock.

You spent the next hour bouncing between your puzzle and checking your phone. You would never admit it, but when the phone did finally ring, you practically jump to answer it.

“Hello?” You ask, despite knowing exactly who it was.

“Hey y/n, it’s Yuta. Sorry about that, there was a team meeting. You said you had something you wanted to say?”

You nervously bite your lip, suddenly second-guessing your choice. “Um yeah. Yeah, I do. Did you mean what you said to me in the coffee shop?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “All of it. And if you’re here to tell me that you don’t want to forgive me, then I respect your decision. Just know I wish you the best.”

“And- and if I say I want to forgive you, where do we go from there?”

After your question, your breath catches in your throat. Stupid! There are a thousand better wats you could have worded that and you chose-

“Well, and of course, we would go as fast or as slow as you want, but I’m thinking we meet up when we’re both in Japan? Which I will be for a long time, so there’s that. And maybe do what we used to do? Oh, but I guess that might be hard since we don’t live so close anymore. I don’t know, but I’ll do anything to make this work. I promise you won’t regret this y/n. I promise we can be happy.”

Something about the way he spoke made you feel fuzzy. Fuzzy feeling or not, you promised yourself you would lay down some ground rules. “Okay, okay, just wait. Because a lot has changed in these three years, so just hear me out.”

You wait for him to give you some sign of hearing you, in his case a small hum, before continuing.

“I still feel like I’m making a mistake by doing this. I mean, maybe this is just a reaction to the stress I’ve been under the past two weeks, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and kick myself for this. But I’m going to pretend that won’t happen and assume this won't backfire. Anyway, the point of saying that was so you know I'm still iffy about this and one wrong move on your part, and we're done for good. You got that?"

"Yeah, totally. Thank you again for giving me a second chance. This means more to me than you will ever know."

You hum, not sure how to respond. "So, is there something specific you think we should do? I mean, there is a lot to catch up on."

"Oh, I know! I have two tickets to the final match in like two weeks. Would you and a friend like to come? After you can come over to my place, and we can catch up."

"You guys made it to the finals?" You feel bad about the amount of shock in your voice, but you can't help it. With your newly fixed bond, it feels surreal to say you know a world cup finalist.

"Yes!" he laughs. "Do you really not pay attention to these kinds of things?"

"No, my roommate normally tells me about it, though, so I'm not sure why this is news to me. Maybe she forgot? Anyways, congratulations! You must be excited."

"Oh, I am. And knowing you're going to be there is even better. I-"

A voice in the background cuts him off, and you take the opportunity to get up and check your fridge. You don't make it far before Yuta is talking to you again.

"Hey, I have to go, but I'll text you? Let me know if I'm moving too fast or something. I'm just really excited to have you back."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your body. "Okay, have a nice day."

"You too."

---

“Have I mentioned how much I love your new friend?” Emika asks, shaking your arm excitedly before hugging it and sighing dreamily.

You laugh, prying her off your arm. “Yes, yes, you have. And you only like him because you got to see the match for free.”

“No, not just that. Have you seen him? He brightens the place up! You could do with some brightness.”

"Hey! I have plenty of bright in my life. Have you met Ko?"

"Yes, yes, I have met him. But you know what I mean."

You smile at her, shaking your head. "I'll see you when I get home?"

She nods her head. "Have fun! Tell him congratulations from me. Don't feel bad leaving if you get uncomfortable."

You nod your head, waving goodbye as you turn down a different street than your roommate. Looking down at your phone, you see that you'll be at his house in one train ride and a five-minute walk.

The time seemed too short. All that stands between you and the person you spent days avoiding are these two things? Just yesterday, you had been excited to see him again. Now, the excitement is split with anxiety. Anxiety about seeing him for an extended period of time, anxiety about running out of conversation, and anxiety about not meeting his expectations.

Before you know it, you're knocking on his apartment door. As soon as the door opens, Yuta pulls you into a tight hug, smiling widely.

“This has been the best day of my life. Thank you so much.”

You laugh, giving him a soft squeeze. The anxious feeling in your chest lessons, and you find it easier to breathe. “Yeah, world champs. Not too shabby of a day.”

He laughs. “I know, right! It’s everything I ever wanted. Thank you for being there today. It felt right winning with you there. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

You smile awkwardly, not knowing what to do with all his attention on you. “Come on. You did all the work. Don’t sell yourself so short. Anyway, are you going to let me in?”

He laughs, taking a step back to let you in.

“So, how did you get those tickets so last minute?” you ask, pulling off your shoes.

“Every player gets some for family. Since I only have my parents listed, I only got the two.”

“Oh. Did your parents not want to come?”

His smile changes to a sad one, and you feel your heart drop. You just made up with the guy, and you’re asking about his parents? You open your mouth, filtering through different possibilities that could make it okay.

“No,” he clears his throat. “I don’t think they even know I get tickets for free. I just don’t want them there. Makes me feel sluggish.”

He talks about it in such a nonchalant way that your heart breaks. Thinking back to all his high school games, you can only think of a handful of times you saw both his parents there and a few occasions of just his dad.

“Yuta,” you start but quickly swallow the words as he waves a hand to dismiss it.

“It’s fine. They chose this a long time ago. I’d rather you and your friend be there.”

“Oh, believe me, she loves you for that. She says congratulations by the way,” you say, changing the topic. He visibly relaxes by the topic change and leads you to the couch.

“Yesterday, she gave me a crash course on all the players on your team. This morning, she even woke me up at five am! Five! Can you believe that? The match didn’t start until two pm,” you shake your head, ignoring his laughs.

“What did she say about me?”

“To be honest, it all went in one ear and out the other, but I do remember her saying you’re resilient. Did you really play with a mild concussion?”

He averts his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was something.”

“Are you dumb! That is serious. You shouldn’t do that.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “I lived, so it’s okay. I took a break from practice and did nothing for two days. Perfectly fine now, see?”

He lightly knocks his fist against his head, and you lunge forward to grab his hand.

“Two days is not enough time to recover. What is wrong with you?” You throw his hand back at him.

“It’s been a year! I think my head is fine.”

“I don’t know. Heads are a big deal.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. A silence falls between you two, and you lean back into the couch, looking around the room.

“This is a nice place you got here, Yuta.”

“Oh!” You jump from the sudden outburst, and he jumps up from the couch. “I got something even better. Close your eyes.”

You give him a questioning look before closing your eyes. You hear him walk somewhere into his apartment accompanied by some other noises, one of which you identify as a drawer opening.

“Ta-da!”

You open your eyes, looking up at him, before clasping your hands to your mouth. In his hands, he held a tub of green tea ice cream and two spoons.

“Dude.”

He nods his head before taking his place back on the couch. “I know, right.”

“I haven’t had this in so long.”

“Me either,” he says, handing you a spoon before pulling off the lid and plastic covering.

“Is this,” you hesitate, turning the spoon around in your hands nervously. “Is this your first time eating it since the last time we were together.”

“Duh,” he says, holding out the bucket to you.

You laugh, dipping your spoon into the ice cream.

Before you met Yuta, you had never tried the flavor of ice cream. When you told him this, he had been horrified. He declared it was his favorite flavor of ice cream, and you needed to try some. So he dragged you to the nearest convenience store and bought you a pint.

After that, you kept a tub of it in your freezer for him. It became part of the routine; every Sunday night, you two would sit down and eat the ice cream while watching a movie. When you guys left for college and realized you wouldn’t be around each other as much, you made a pact that you couldn't eat green tea ice cream without the other. Even when he left, you kept to that promise. You tried once, thought it would help you get over the loss of a friend. In the end, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

“Me too.”

"So tell me about South Africa."

You look at him, your spoon frozen in midair. "How did you know?"

"You talked about it all the time. Did you end up going somewhere else?"

His answer paired with the genuine way he looked at you caught you off guard. You had come here with the expectation of starting over, of having to inform each other of the events missed. You even thought you would have the advantage given his major accomplishments were a simple web search away.

"Um, no, I went," you answer, still not over the surprise. "It was beautiful."

You spend the next few hours trading stories and reminiscing about your high school years. You learned about his teammates and the weird things they did between matches to pass the time. In turn, you told him about your work family and the crazy things Yoshi and Takahito would do if left alone for extended periods of time unchecked.

"Are you hungry?" Yuta asks, changing the topic for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, sure. Do you want to get take out?"

He sakes his head. "No, I have another surprise for you."

"Oh," you smile, pushing yourself up from the couch and following him to the kitchen. He gestures for you to take a seat at the small dining table as he walks over to the fridge. You smile as you see he already set out the chopsticks.

"You're not ready for this," Yuat says, opening the fridge and pulling out two soup bowls and two smaller bowls.

"I'll be the judge of that," you joke, watching as he first brings over the smaller bowls, placing one in front of you.

"It's hiyashi chuka!" He exclaims, placing one of the soup bowls in front of you.

"You made this?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Yep," he beams proudly, taking the seat across from you. "It's way overdue."

You stare down at the food, taking in how neatly the toppings are arranged on the noodles. Slowly, you grab the smaller bowl with the sauce and pour it over the contents.

"Do you not like hiyashi chuka anymore?" he questions softly.

"No, not at all. I'm just so happy."

He smiles, lightly clapping his hands. "Let's eat."

The dinner, like the previous hours, was spent with comfortable conversation. All the anxiety from before has completely disappeared, and you find yourself wishing for the night to never end.  

Sadly, the night is over before you know it, and if you don't want Emika yelling at you for "breaking curfew," you have to leave.

"Well, Yuta, this has been really great. We have to do this again soon," you say, pulling your coat on.

“Definitely! I really can’t thank you enough for coming today. Do you want me to walk you home?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Well, text me when you get back, so I know you’re safe.”

You smile, taking one last minute to take in the moment. Every part of you wants to stay and talk to him all night. With a heavy sigh, you say your goodbye and turn to open the door.

Before you're able to leave, Yuta grabs your wrist. You blink at him a few times instead of voicing your confusion.

“Thank you.”

You smile at the sincerity in his voice. “I should be saying that to you! You cooked me a lovely meal.”

“Not for that,” he laughs, dropping your wrist. “Well, yes for that, but because you forgave me. I have big plans for us.”

You fail to stifle the wide smile that spreads across your face, feeling the same warmth as before spread through you. “I was hesitant at first, but I’m glad we’re talking too. This day has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

He looks at you a moment longer; a soft smile spreads across his face.

"I promise you I'll work to be someone you're proud of."

You pull him into a hug, putting as much love into it as possible. "I'm already proud."

He pulls you in tighter, softly nuzzling his head into your neck. "Not as proud as me."

[kdyism]

SINCERITY IS SCARY

pairing. jungwoo x reader

genre. reunion!au, long-time crushes!au, fluff, slice of life

wc. 1,640 k /warn. mention of food. non.

synopsis. it had always been jungwoo's abitliy to be sincere and open to you with his words and soul that had you hooked.

for @nct-writers coming home event

yunan's note. ugh i had it ready but not edited and then swamped with work and now two days late. 14.03.22 was the released that okay. reblog + comments are appreciated!

Like an arrow straight to your heart, you felt your chest collapse as soon as he walked into your view.

“What the hell is Kim Jungwoo doing at your grand opening?” you gap, crossing your arms defensively as soon as your eye met with his innocently wide ones.

Even within the crowd of a good hundred, your eyes find him so easily. His casual clothes look branded, unkempt hair that is probably styled and his lips that curve upwards and your name tumbling from his mouth makes your toe curl because shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Out of the many people who you have crushed on, Kim Jungwoo is at the number one spot because he became the blueprint to everyone who came after him. Not an ex but he had his grip on you the way an ex would leave you with memories of affection, heartbreak and a list of hypotheses on how things would be different if you did something differently. Jungwoo, well, he might be someone you will never be over because distance makes the heart fonder and out of sight, out of mind were too real in his case.

i. DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

“Oh god! You’re here too!” he gushes, eyes on you and his arms immediately pulling you into a hug. Automatically you too pat him the way you did all those years ago and grin, because well, no time to make enemies with someone you would rather snag him and take him home with you.

“I thought you moved away.” you roll your eyes emphasising the word you and jabbing his arm with your finger. “Don't tell me you came back just for this?”

Shaking his head, your eyes find the little scar on the back of his nape; the one you were the cause of when you were about ten. Before you even liked him, he was a boy who frequently played around in the local playground and you might've pushed him off the slide in a hurry and not been accountable for it but post that day, he kind of became attached to you and made it his mission to befriend you.

Well, that would mean, mission accomplished—you didn't expect him to be so adamant about it all.

“I am moving back…” Jungwoo replies, stuffing his hand in his pockets and skimming around the venue hall, leaning closer to you. “I got scouted by the CEO,”

“Of here?” you blink, your jaw agape.

Smirking at you proudly, Jungwoo places his hands on his hips and huffs, “I think he heard about my all year strike at my previous company,” he explains, his eyes softening at you when you nod at him and clapping your hands still in awe.

To Jungwoo, your existence was one of a fragrant flower that always seemed out of sight.

Your scent pulls him in, he wanders and waits around until it's his turn but it never arrives and he should've cut in line and just grabbed ahold of you back then. You were always nice to him, yeah you did have one or two fights where you swore to never see him again but they passed by okay because you came crying to him and spluttering out sorry or else it was him doing the apologizing.

Moving away from here, away from you just made him crave your attention more. You stopped sending him pictures after five months, stopped texting him after two years and changed your social media account after four years. He couldn't find you even when he wanted to until he moved back for the final year of high school.

“It's been so long right,” you sigh, smiling at him stiffly and swinging your arms at your sides.

It is something you did a lot when she was nervous, the swinging hands have always been adorable to him because so many people complain that you hit them with your hands but it was just too cute for him to even mind.

Jungwoo decided at that moment he would take his chance with you this time.

It must've been fate.

You standing in front of him, with your cheeks flushed and nervous eyes that can't meet his for too long and him right now—he was sure he could outdo everyone else if you were on the line this time because the time you were a faint memory roller-coasters his emotions every time you make an appearance in his thoughts.

Jungwoo kicks the ground shyly, peering at you through his bangs and asks, “Did you miss me?” his eyes locking with yours curiously and you scoff.

ii. OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND

“As if,” you nudged his side, you heard everything that went on with him until you couldn't take it anymore.

Pursuing your lips, you shake your head. “Everyone talks about you—Mr MVP—”

“That's not true at all,” he interrupts you, throwing his hand over your mouth and you yelp, “You still do this,” you laugh, pulling his hand down.

“I haven't changed that much,” he whines, pushing his hair back with a pout and you narrow your eyes, eyeing him down with a look that asks really.

He felt too different.

When he wasn't around, you could forget him but as soon as someone speaks or shows you something about him everything comes rushing back. His strawberry-scented freshener, the thin black wristwatch he wore whenever you saw him at school, the way his smiles could make you weak in the knee and also create a burn in your chest.

Kim Jungwoo was better for you out of sight because you didn't think a lot about him when you didn't see him.

You created a sort of mechanism where it was either all about him or he didn't exist at all. It worked for you. It did for so many years except the times you would fall into your pattern of searching his name on social media and try to find out his one because you didn't want to ask your friends or go through their mutuals to find him.

He was better out of your sight after all because it also meant he was out of your mind.

Feeling like a small growl erupts from your tummy, you tilt your head asking “Did you have dinner yet?”

It had been ages since you had dinner with Kim Jungwoo. “Do you want to go have dinner with me? Uh—I know a great Italian place that sells reasonably,” you splutter, locking your arms with him the moment his head inclined towards a nod.

Jungwoo giggles, your arms felt like a perfect match with his. You always loved to walk around with interlocked arms and he was frankly a very affectionate person as well—around you a little less so because but still, you couldn't take your hands off of him when he starts being clingy after you start it.

“I thought you preferred fast food?” Jungwoo asks, letting you guide him through the crowd and out of the hall that opening was taking place at.

Rolling your eyes, you explain, “The buffet food isn't working for me. I crave something pasta,” whipping your hair to the side and you pout.

“Fast food was me six years ago. Nowadays I am super healthy—trust me when I say you can't win me in arm wrestle anymore,” you brag, flexing your arm and Jungwoo rolls his eyes now, “You think you're the only one hitting the gym?” he challenges.

Taking off his suit's coat, he flexed his defined bicep and you smirk, “That was what I wanted to see all along,”

Jungwoo flushes red in his cheeks, you always did this to him but he also always got red when you did that. None of his other colleagues would be working in this setting, it's the best. It's calm and relaxing and you look extremely pretty surrounded by everything that looks like you. “What the hell are you on ?” you pant, struggling to your leg up the stairs to the restaurant and Jungwoo stopped you.

“Hey,”

Blinking at him, you repeat the same. “Hey?” in a more questioning way.

“Since I am moving back,” he starts, taking subtle steps upwards to you and you glare at him. He was sappy, yes but this is on another level because you couldn't hear a sound of deceit and he felt so raw, eyes red and bleary. You know what he meant.

“I think it'll be a good thing for us to take a chance—Uh, we both keep missing each other. I thought that I should ask you out before I don't know… I don't see you for another month until we both get invited somewhere again,”

“You mean like romantic?” you ask, taken aback with a smile growing on your face.

You adored him. Shuffling in his spot with his almost teary eyes and you laugh, how could he ask you something so bold while being so shy.

“Your sincerity is scary,” you smile, swinging your arm around his neck.

“And that's exactly why I have liked you for so long, Kim Jungwoo—I'll be in your care from now,”

“Sincerity? Scary? You are just always scared of others,” he points, rolling his eyes and pushing open the restaurant's doors now and you smile.

“Thanks for asking me,” you quietly said, loud enough only for him to hear.

"After meeting and still being like him after years—Kim Jungwoo you still have the same effect on me with the way you speak your words like oaths and hold me like a gem,”

“Hey don't go being poetic on me,” he laughs, plopping into a chair and you sit in front of him.

“The only thing I can do is tell you I like you a million times over,”

©KDYISM, 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[neonun-au]

pairing: moon taeil x reader genre: fluff, angst (?), more of the usual contemplative nonsense warnings: severely unedited but that's it word count: 2.1k for @nct-writers Coming Home event

The old house comes into view over the horizon. The weathered whites of the boards that make up the exterior are bathed in the soft pink-gold of dusk as it sits proud on the hill–overlooking fields and orchards. A silent sentinel, erected to keep watch over the land through generation after generation.

It looked the same as it did the day you left, all those years ago. Watching in the quiet of the morning as you walked forward into the unknown. And now it sat, unchanged if a little more weatherbeaten, watching as you step back into view–worn suitcase clutched tightly in your grip.

Gravel crunches underfoot as you make your way down the path towards the house–nervous anticipation fluttering in your chest. Hope and fear intermingling, dancing together like two birds on a wire. You hadn’t planned your return, not really. When you set out to find yourself in the world, you left without a plan. Simply answering a call to your soul. But you knew the day would come–whether it be the next day, year, or decade–when you would hear a similar call to return. Back to the fields, back to the house, back to the boy you left behind.

The worn boards of the veranda creak under your weight as you walk to the front door–an audible sign of your approach. For a brief moment you pause, hand poised over the doorknob, and inhale deeply. The air smells as crisp with the scent of the morning air and the apple orchard nearby as you remember it. The faint scent of spring lilac and inherited dust.

Suddenly you feel out of place. An intruder at the threshold of someone else's home. Someone else's life. It was easy to convince yourself as you explored the world that Taeil was always going to be there–waiting–as he said he would be.

With a shaking breath you retract your hand from the knob, opting instead to rap your knuckles against the door.

You sent no word ahead about your return. No letters or postcards. Just hopped on a train and all of a sudden, here you were. So you weren’t sure what the welcome would be like. Whether or not you would even be welcome back. Was he even home?

Footfalls on the staircase inside answer your question soon after and you wait–body coiled with a tight rope of tension, ready to snap at any moment. You take a small step backwards as the door swings open to reveal Taeil–sleep still crowding his eyes as he blinks at you.

“You’re back,” he whispers, eyes widening slightly as your form comes into view before him–coated in the soft morning glow of the sunrise.

“I am,” you nod slowly, adjusting the suitcase in your grip. Time stretches between you for a moment–thousands of unspoken words flitting in and out with the speckles of dust in the air–and you stand across from each other; the closest you have been in years, but still miles apart.

Taeil clears his throat and steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the house and you let out a shaky exhale before stepping fully across the threshold.

The interior of the old farmhouse, much like the exterior, is virtually unaltered from your memories. The same generations of Moon family portraits hang along the staircase, the same light blue eggshell paint adorns the crown molding, and the same floral wallpaper covers the bare boards of the walls. You take a cursory glance around, heart beating with the pulse of a thousand memories, and breathe in the past.

Taeil takes your suitcase from you as you glance around and hauls it upstairs without a word. In his absence you take a moment to walk around the ground floor of the house, running your finger along furniture and tabletops. Curious as to how he has filled his time and his home while you’ve been away. The vase of fresh flowers you always insisted he kept in the kitchen window are still there–slightly withered and in need of replacement soon. A small stack of books you had left unread on the side table still sits stacked in the same order. Carefully dusted and maintained, but unchanged. You briefly wonder if he had picked them up at some point–seeking some answers, some connection to you in the wake of your departure.

“Have you eaten?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen behind you, hand ghosting over your back as he passes you towards the fridge.

“No,” you shake your head, slipping your coat off and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair before taking a seat. With a soft smile you watch as he busies himself gathering a last minute breakfast of assorted fruits and breads. His back is turned to you but you can see the change in him even through the fabric of his sweater. His muscles are more hewn with seasons of work–formed in careful dedication over time. The Taeil of your memory is fresh faced with the kiss of youth. Rounded and soft. But the Taeil before you now has grown into himself; his jaw has sharpened slightly, his mouth is set in a straighter line. Seriousness creases itself around the skin of his eyes. You try to adjust your image of him to match the current reality but the boy you remember stealing kisses from in the orchards outside remains.

“If I had known you were coming, I would have gotten some more groceries,” he says by way of apology as he sets the platter of food down in the center of the old kitchen table.

You shake your head in dismissal and reach for a slice of green apple. Crisp and fresh–no doubt plucked from one of the trees just outside the windows of the house. “It’s fine. This is perfect.”

You make no move to speak further and he follows suit. Instead you settle into a rhythm of eating in comfortable silence. Allowing yourself to slip back into space together–atom by atom getting used to the proximity once more. Birds chirp outside the window, passing the time in chatter and short flights to and from their nests as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky.

Taeil heads into the fields after breakfast.

You watch as he disappears over the horizon, tools slung over his shoulder, and gets to work tending the crops and plants. There isn’t much to be done this time of year, you recall. Just simple trimming and harvesting a few ripened fruits before they fall to the earth and belong to the insects and critters below. But even what little there is to do takes time, so you take the opportunity to head upstairs and finish recollecting your memories of the old house.

He had set your suitcase down in the guest room immediately at the top of the stairs. The blankets were pulled taut over the mattress–clean with lack of use–and he had set out your favourite pair of slippers on the floor next to the nightstand. You drift out of the guest room and venture further down the hallway, sparing a passing glance into the reading room and the bathroom as you make your way to the bedroom at the end of the stretch.

A similar feeling of not belonging settles back over you as you lift a hand to push open the door but you brush it aside–curiosity overwhelming any desire to tread lightly.

The whole house felt like a time capsule. You had the feeling as you walked through it earlier that you had stepped back in time. That all of those years you spent chasing some unknown aspect of yourself across the other side of the world ceased to exist the moment you crossed the threshold into this old wood-framed home. No where was that feeling more potent than inside the master bedroom.

You felt twenty again. Standing on the precipice of your new life. Kissing your first love goodbye and making promises that you didn’t know you if you would even be able to keep. The comforter on the bed, slightly messed still from sleep, is the same as all those years ago when you tangled yourself up in them with Taeil–skin against skin. The only indication of time that makes itself known in the room is the collection of postcards on the nightstand.

Dozens of them. More from the first few years of your journeys, when you still dotted your ‘i’s with hearts and ended each letter with ‘xoxo’.

With a swelling heart and shaking hands you pick up the stack of letters, flipping through each one and noting the smudges of ink and indentations of fingerprints on each of them. Some are more worn than others; all clearly read over a hundred times.

You absorb yourself in the postcards–trying to place yourself in Taeil’s shoes as he received them. Monthly at first, as consistent as you could be considering the trials and tribulations that come along with travel. Then every few months, every six months, and finally almost no word for a year and a half until you showed up out of the blue.

He was always difficult to read. His thoughts and feelings were kept close to his chest, unvocalized unless they had to be. Felt, rather than spoken. Aside from the small alarm bell you saw ringing behind his eyes this morning, you weren’t sure where you stood with him currently. Whether he felt you as much of an intruder in his space now as you did.

You lose yourself in the world of thoughts and don’t notice Taeil’s arrival in the room behind you until his arm snakes around and plucks the stack of postcards from your grasp. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back at all,” he says, dropping the cards into the nightstand drawer.

“I said I would,” you respond softly, voice on the edge of cracking. “I didn’t think you would still be waiting.”

“I said I would,” he says before slipping past you and heading back down the hall, leaving you with your swirling thoughts.

The day dissolves into night. The thread of the unknown is pulled taut between you as the hours drag onwards and you get ready for bed down the hallway from Taeil. Owls hoot in the distance–the only sound breaking up the running of water from the shower in the master bathroom.

You slip under the covers, curling up on your side, and close your eyes. It had been years since you had been somewhere so quiet. It was almost disconcerting. No sirens, no people, no traffic. Only an owl and the quiet footsteps of one man as he slips into bed two rooms away from you. You lay awake for what feels like hours–blinking into the darkness of the guest room. The silence, unlike that of the daytime, was almost suffocating. It had been so natural when you were younger. Darkness descended and along with it, the world went to sleep. Sound disappeared. But now, after so many years of noise and colour, it was difficult to readjust. It felt like at any moment the long arms of darkness would reach out and grab hold of you where you lay.

Without thought you push yourself out from under the covers, slipping your bare feet into the prepared slippers, and pad down the hallway towards Taeil’s room. The door creaks slightly on its hinges as you push it open–a hallmark of its age–and you wince, but Taeil makes no indication of waking as you step further into the room.

Taeil lets out a soft sigh as you climb into his bed next to him–eschewing all thoughts of propriety and hesitation that flood your brain as you do. “Is this okay?” you ask, and as soon as he hums his approval you sink into the mattress beside him.

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice quiet–reverent. He shifts his body next to you, adjusting so that your head falls onto his shoulder and his arm is tucked up underneath you, hand coming around to rest against your back. Finally, you think.

“All over,” you answer, afraid that if you give too many details you might break the spell that has fallen over the moment.

“Well,” he sighs, shifting once more. His breath fans out of the skin of your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss against it, “welcome home.”

“Happy to be back,” you smile, feeling the warmth of tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you do so. The final remnants of the lingering energy of intrusion melt away in his arms. You do feel at home–finally after so many years of trying to find it elsewhere.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, words broken halfway by a yawn.

“Yeah,” you nod, sinking further into him as he drifts off to sleep, “I think I did.”

© 2022, neonun-au, all rights reserved

[nct-writers]

NCT-WRITERS PRESENTS: “Coming Home”

“You are my warming home, who I was yesterday and who I am now and who we will be tomorrow, it all starts from home.” - NCT U

With the return of this network, we welcome our beloved members with open arms and invite you to participate in our welcome back event. As we reestablish this network, we hope to revive the sense of community and present the creative skills of our writers, while also working to catch the eye of potential new members.

For the entirety of March, it’s all about reconciliation and restoration where “Coming Home” will follow the theme of reunion and second chances.

✧ In your fic, you and your chosen member will work to make sure that love and/or friendship is sweeter the second time around; that the relationship that was once lost can be found once more.

✧ This event is exclusive to the members of this network.

✧ It will take place throughout the entirety of March, where each day has a designated member of NCT, listed in age order from oldest to youngest.

✧ Minimum word count is 1,500, no maximum.

✧ Member repetition is allowed. Writers may choose up to two members, supplying only one fic per member that they choose.

✧ The themes can range from ex best friends to best friends, ex best friends to lovers, exes to lovers, etc.

✧ Works may only be gender neutral, female, or male reader. No member x member or oc x member.

✧ All genres are allowed, even smut!

✧ No smut is permitted for Jisung. (keyword: Watermelon CT)

✧ We do not condone underaged smut and will not tolerate minors who write smut. Members who are minors caught publishing smut shall be removed from the network.

How to Join:

✧ Fill out the form here.

✧ Reblog this post to signify you have read the rules.

✧ As this event is member-exclusive, you cannot participate if you are not apart of the network. If you’d like to become a member and participate in events like this in the future, please fill out an application form once applications are open!

✧ Wait for the confirmation message and for you to be tagged in the official post

Gentle Reminder:

✧ Please make sure you can adhere to the deadlines before filling out the form.

✧ If you have further questions, don’t hesitate to send an ask through the network or contact Admin Nikki (@lunena) or Admin Ysa (@sibehpoor)

✧ We will be tracking #nct-writers and #nctw-cominghome. If you don’t use the tracking tags, your work might not be included in the official masterlist.

Events planned by: Admin Ysa and Admin Nikki Graphics by: Admin Fei

FEBRUARY 5, 2022

[nct-writers]

NCT-WRITERS PRESENTS: “Coming Home”

“You are my warming home, who I was yesterday and who I am now and who we will be tomorrow, it all starts from home.” - NCT U

With the return of this network, we welcome our beloved members with open arms and invite you to participate in our welcome back event. As we reestablish this network, we hope to revive the sense of community and present the creative skills of our writers, while also working to catch the eye of potential new members.

For the entirety of March, it’s all about reconciliation and restoration where “Coming Home” will follow the theme of reunion and second chances. Below you will find the members participating and who they’re writing for.

If you’d like to join, please refer to the official post on how to do so.

PARTICIPANTS

Taeil:

✧ @neonun-au​

✧ @taeyongs-star-earring

Yuta: 

✧ @sichengtual​

✧ @give-seconds​

✧ @doiefy​

✧ @nikis-mum

Jaehyun: 

✧ @sichengtual​

✧ @nikis-mum

Jungwoo:

✧ @kdyism​

Mark:

✧ @sibehpoor​

✧ @kkaebsongtypo

Xiaojun:

✧ @naptaemed​

Jeno:

✧ @lunena​

Haechan:

✧ @neonun-au​

Chenle:

✧ @taem-min

Jisung: 

✧ @pinkypark

LAST UPDATED:  February 28, 2022