#seriously considering just blocking ***** and ****** and ******* and very pointedly refusing to speak to them but . ughhhhhh

[brain-of-soup]

graduated :) yippee

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 5/6

chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

warnings: swearing

word count: 2,757

notes: okay so this update took a while because I’ve been busy with school and writers block has been kicking my ass, but I think it’s worth it :)))

---

It was established in August that at least once a month, Alex will receive a phone call informing him to be at Julie’s house in ten minutes for a mandatory slumber party. It’s endearing sure, but he would like some sort of warning other than Luke calling him and saying that if he doesn’t show up as soon as possible, he’ll paint his drumsticks neon green. So that’s how Alex ends up sitting cross legged on Julie’s bed, putting Reggie’s hair into a bunch of tiny braids and watching The Princess Diaries for what’s probably the hundredth time. 

“Lilly is definitely a lesbian,” Flynn says through a mouthful of popcorn. 

Alex hums in agreement and Julie nods. “If only this movie weren’t made in 2001,” Julie says mournfully.

“Y’know I always thought that Joe was gay,” Alex admits. “Up until he dances with the queen.”

Reggie attempts to look up at Alex, earning an offended squeak from the latter. “Really?”

“Yes, now will you please stay still, I only have one more left.”

“Ok but there is no way Mia’s mom is straight!” Flynn says.

Julie seems to mull it over for a bit. “She does live in an old fire station. And artists are never straight.”

“Yea, like Willie!” Luke pipes up, sitting up from his position hanging halfway off the bed. “Willie’s not straight.”

“We should start a betting pool on how long it takes for Luke to bring up Willie,” Alex mumbles, his cheeks flushing pink. He ties off Reggie’s final braid and pats his head approvingly. “You look like a real princess.”

“Do I?” Reggie grins up at him with a bit of a twinkle in his eye and Alex chuckles. 

“No subject changing,” Luke protests. “How’s Willie doing?”

“Still a pining idiot,” Flynn answers with a cheeky smile. 

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Alex shoves at Luke’s face and slides down off the bed to sit on the floor beside Reggie. 

“You’ve seen this movie a million times,” Luke points out. He leans down so his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and smirks mischievously at Alex, who is pointedly refusing to look at him. “Aleeeex,” Luke whines. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”

“Alice, please,” Flynn says. Alex shoots her a look seeping with betrayal and Flynn raises their hands defensively. “I haven’t seen Carrie in a few days!” They protest. “I need drama.”

“Drama?” Alex asks. “Or blackmail material?”

Flynn shrugs, which only serves to cement what Alex was thinking. “Yea, nope. It’s not like anything has even happened since-” He cuts himself off, realizing his mistake and preparing for the onslaught of questions. 

“Since!?” Luke cries. “Since what?!” He grabs Alex’s face roughly and looks at him with wide eyes. “Since what, Alex?”

“Nothing!” Alex squeaks, wrenching himself from Luke’s grasp. “Nothing! It was- let go of my fanny pack! Julie stop filming!!!” Alex swats at Luke’s hands and attempts to leap forward to grab Julie’s phone, but ultimately fails. 

“I’ll let go if you tell me,” Luke teases in a sing song voice, his grin only growing the more Alex fights. 

“Fine! If you just- sorry Reg the puppy-dog eyes only work on Luke and Bobby.” Reggie sighs in disappointment and Alex finally manages to get Luke off of him, huffing angrily and brushing nonexistent dust from his hoodie. “You’re a barbarian,” he mutters.

“Well?” 

Alex responds to Julie’s prompting with a long-suffering sigh. “You have to promise not to make fun of me,” he says. They don’t promise. The movie is long forgotten as Alex’s friends gather around him, looking all too fascinated by his latest embarrassment. “He well… don’t laugh, ok. He wore a crop top last week and I tripped on my own feet and scraped up my knees.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow. “Nuh uh, there’s more, spill.”

Alex groans, burying his face in his hands. “They got all worried and started putting bandaids on my knees and I almost fainted. Then- please don’t make me say this,” Alex pleads, looking to Julie as if she’s his last hope. She shakes her head. “When they finished lecturing me I just looked at him and said ‘nice shirt’ and ran off. Nice shirt??? What is wrong with me?”

“Wait a minute,” Julie says, gesturing for Alex to pause. “You just… ran off? Where?”

Alex doesn’t say anything. 

“I’ll paint your drumsticks if you don’t tell us,” Luke threatens. The difficulty is that Alex doesn’t doubt him one bit, and knows that Julie has a healthy supply of paint in a drawer just a few feet away from Luke. 

Alex mumbles something under his breath and Reggie pokes him. 

“Sorry what was that? Speak up.”

“Orange, I’ll paint them the ugliest shade of orange ever.”

“I went and hid in my closet!” Alex blurts. “For like an hour. I am never going to live that down.”

“That’s… incredibly ironic,” Julie laughs. 

“I’m telling that story at your wedding.”

“Reginald, don’t even think about it!” Alex kicks Reggie lightly and raises his hand to flip off the other three, who are all dying of laughter. “I hate all of you. I need new friends.”

“Good luck with that.” Flynn pats Alex’s head; he can practically hear their stupid smirk. 

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

---

Alex wakes up with his foot in Luke’s face, one arm thrown over Julie, his face in Reggie’s neck, and a very giggly Flynn perched on the end of the bed taking pictures. He sits up and murmurs sleepily, squinting in the oddly hazy room.

It’s gray and gloomy outside, quite fitting for mid-November, but far from Alex’s ideal weather. He’s always been partial to spring, when it’s not too hot and not too cold and not always cloudy and sad. 

Flynn hops off the bed and onto Julie’s chair, where she spins a couple times before turning her phone to show Alex. “This is gonna be my new lockscreen,” they giggle. Alex stares at the photo, baffled as to how his arm was bent like that. 

Breakfast is heaps of pancakes and fresh coffee (bless you, Ray) that for a moment, Alex considers just dumping over his head. Julie is curled around Luke for warmth throughout the whole morning and Flynn makes a point to gag at least once every 5 minutes. Alex knows she’s happy for them though, they finally got their act together a little over a week ago and at least this is better than the pining. Alex doesn’t say that though, because it will only get him a lecture on how he is not one to talk about pining. 

Alex almost thanks a god he doesn’t believe in anymore when the rain outside doesn’t seem to make any moves into thunderstorm territory. Willie hates thunderstorms. He stays cocooned in a blanket until noon, but eventually Tía Victoria shoos them all out, claiming that Julie will never finish her homework with them all glued to her. 

Alex is sopping wet when he finally arrives at his dorm, sadly no car can go right up to the entrance of the dorms. The first thing Alex notices when he walks in is the candles, and the second thing is the haphazardly thrown together fort in the middle of the room, which he narrowly avoids tripping over. “Willie?” He asks, lifting what he assumes to be the entrance and raising an eyebrow at Willie, who is grinning at him and shining a flashlight in his face.

“Ok, get that out of my eyes.” Alex clamps a hand over the light and Willie sticks his tongue out. “Did the power go out?” Alex asks, worry etching over his face. He can’t have all their food being ruined, with Alex living off his coffee shop job and Willie off of the occasional commission and odd check from his eccentric uncle. 

Willie shakes their head. “Nope.”

“So why the… candles?”

“It’s fun!” Willie pulls Alex into the fort, stumbling back and just barely evading them toppling over each other into a quite compromising position. Willie presses his back against the couch and pats the space next to him. “It’s like you’re a little kid again.”

“Luke used to love making forts,” Alex admits. “We would move all the furniture in his living room and make the absolute worst blanket forts you can imagine. Like seriously, it’s no wonder none of us went into architecture.”

“Really? I can totally see you as an architect”

“That’s…”

“I’m joking, hotdog,” Willie giggles, bumping their shoulder together. He has a tendency to raise his eyebrows when he’s amused; Alex finds it all too endearing. Accompanied with the way their eyes crinkle when the laugh and the soft candlelight leaking through the thin blankets and draping over his features, Alex thinks he’s having trouble breathing. 

“I was drawing you, y’know,” Willie says softly after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“The day we went stargazing, I was drawing you. You’re- you’re a good muse.”

“Oh.” Alex’s stomach flutters. “I uh… thank you.” He gives Willie a hesitant smile before turning to focus on the flickering light. His breath feels weighted, like every exhale means something, but he can’t quite pinpoint what. There’s a light breeze whistling through the crack in the door and Alex closes his eyes for a moment, pretending that it’s wrapping around him and holding him close. Alex didn’t get much affection as a child; his parents had always been very stiff. Sure, they loved him, but they weren’t that good at showing it aside from a rough shoulder squeeze and tight smiles so full of expectations. When he came out, even the snippets of affection faded; no more of his mother fixing his hair or giving him a quick kiss on the forehead when he was sick. Two months after his coming out, they just… kicked him out. He came home to find his belongings shoved carelessly into a trash bag or two and that was that. Luke more than made up for the lack of physical affection, but Alex knows that there will always be something missing. 

Wide awake, Alex lets his head fall onto Willie’s shoulder. This time with care and attention, hesitancy. He hears Willie suck in a sharp breath but then the tension melts from their shoulders and fizzles into nothingness. For a moment, there is nothing but them and the pattering of rain against the windows. 

“Lets go for a drive.”

Alex looks up expecting Willie’s usual carefree and impish grin, but he’s taken aback by his wistful expression and something bursts in Alex’s chest. Something that may be instinct and may be just an overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Okay.” His voice is barely a whisper, a single wisp of smoke snaking from a blown out candle.

The air is damp and the rain is coming down hard; Alex reaches a cautious hand out beyond the awning and winces at the downpour. But Willie is wiggling his stupid eyebrows in the way that makes Alex’s face heat and he can’t say no as Willie drags him through the wet grass, shrieking with laughter and going slower than necessary to relish in the water pouring down from the sky in torrents. They’re soaked to the bone and breathless, overflowing with mirth, by the time they reach Alex’s car and clamber into the seats. Right after a brief argument about who’s driving of course. (“You will not be touching my steering wheel with your grimy paint hands, William.” “Says you.”) So Alex is driving. 

Willie has their hands pressed to the window, breath fogging up the glass and sending them into a fit of giggles every time. Alex switches on the radio and there’s a song playing that he recognizes but couldn’t sing along to; something soft and low, like lilting waves. Willie knows it though. And they’re singing. Oh. They’re singing. Alex almost has to pull the car to a stop and put his head in his hands because Willie never told him he could sing.

Willie’s voice is low and slightly raspy, but not in a bad way. Alex knows he’s heard this song before, but he’s 100% certain that this is his first time really hearing it. And it’s beautiful. Or maybe it’s just Willie. It’s probably just Willie. 

Alex brings the car to a slow stop in the parking lot of an odd gas station that always seems to be closed. He doesn’t turn it off though, because he would rather die than have Willie stop singing. He leans his head back and breathes, certain he’s inhaling Willie’s voice. Willie’s voice which is like sparks on his skin, like smoke that crowds his lungs and opens his soul for the very first time. He feels a sense of mourning when the song stops and something else comes on, something peppier and sickeningly sweet. He switches the radio off. 

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Alex isn’t even looking at them; he’s fiddling nervously with the strap of his fanny pack.

Willie smirks proudly. “You learn something new every day.”

“Yea.”

Willie traces a heart in the fog on the window and lets it sit there. Then he unbuckles his seat belt and pokes Alex’s shoulder. “Hey ‘Lex, come on.”

“No.” Alex shakes his head vigorously. “No. We’re already soaking wet and-”

“Hot dog.”

And damn it, the nickname may be so incredibly stupid but Alex has such a weird soft spot for it. He groans dramatically, making a point to wring out his hair, which is already mostly dry at this point. “You’re the worst. What if it starts thundering?” 

Willie shrugs. “I have my noise cancelling headphones. And you can-” they cut themself off. 

“I can what?”

“Nothing,” Willie squeaks. “Please. Please.”

So Alex climbs reluctantly from the car and stands in the parking lot looking far from amused. “You owe me.”

Willie laughs loudly, grabbing both of Alex’s hands and spinning him in an aimless circle, pulling them both into a dance  to music that’s only in his head. They twirl Alex around several times, and Alex is certain that he’s going to actually fall over and faint. Willie raises his face to the sky and squints, letting the rain soak him without care. Alex is in awe and how open and free Willie is, like nothing can ever go wrong and if it does they’ll always be flying. He doesn’t realized they’ve stopped dancing until Willie turns to him with a curious expression. Their eyes rake over his face and Alex realizes he’s staring. But for once, he doesn’t look away. And for the first time, he sees the corner of Willie’s mouth quirk up and their eyes flick to his lips and even linger there for a brief second. 

The rain doesn’t seem to have plans to stop anytime soon, and they’re both shivering and wet and Willie’s hair is dangling in front of his face. Alex reaches out and tucks it behind his ear, both of them holding a breath, waiting. It’s right there, right in front of him, and Alex is inches from just grasping it and clutching it to his chest. Willie takes a step forward so their faces are just inches from each other and Alex can feel their breath against his cheeks. He exhales shakily and raises one hand to cup Willie’s cheek, his touch feather light and afraid. Willie leans into the contact and grins upwards, their nose wrinkling fondly. He gives a silent nod and for the first time in years, Alex takes the plunge. 

Their first kiss is soft and slow and Willie tastes like rain and green tea. Alex smiles against their lips, a breathy laugh escaping his own. He’d think this is a dream, but no section of his imagination could conjure something even a fragment as magical as this. They’re in the middle of a parking lot, cold and wet, and yet Alex feels the warmest he ever has. Alex is hesitant to pull away, but he does, just barely. Their foreheads stay resting against each other, like breaking apart would break them. Then it comes crashing into him. Alex just kissed Willie. He just kissed Willie. And Willie kissed him back! Holy shit!

“Wowza.” Wowza? What the fuck Alex? 

Willie breaks into joyous laughter, throwing his head back and clutching Alex’s shoulders. And Alex laughs with him; he buries his face in the crook of Willie’s neck, his heart full to bursting. Wowza indeed.

---

notes: ...I did say I was thinking about a Willex rain kiss. I actually wrote like half of chapter 6 a while ago so I might be able to post it tomorrow. 

chapter 6

taglist:  @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @stars-soph @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod @heademptynothoughts @thunderstorm-symphony @julieandthephantomsandme @i-spit-on-fire

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Stray Kids

Words: 2,137

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: I got the 20 notes, so let’s see how this goes. First fic in a long time. Pls hit up my inbox/asks to give feedback. If you guys like it, it’ll become a series. First chapter has Minho only, but I hope to bring the other boys into it soon. PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK! 

Question Masterlist

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

You swear, if one more snobby lady asked you to bargain down on the price of that brand new lace top, you were actually going to throw a something at somebody. By no means was working in retail the worst job you could have, but after dealing with haggling customers, who can more than afford these prices, you wanted to throw hands. You wouldn’t, though. Partially as it was unprofessional, and you desperately needed to keep this job, but also because you were lazy and had some form of a moral compass.

After finally shooing the last customer out of the door 5 minutes after you were due to be closing, you counted the tills, killed the lights and left, after double checking the locks.

You could use a drink. A strong one, and wasn’t it convenient that your bartender buddy happened to be working tonight a few blocks down the road

Without a care in the world, you threw open the door and settled into the closest bar stool with a huff. The smiling idiot that turned around to greet you didn’t even think twice about your demeanour, emulated from the scowl upon you face. A preciously innocent 'hi' left his mouth.

You knew Minho was taunting you. That’s because he knew you were just here to vent about how shit work was today. He was just trying not to laugh his head off at what had now become a routine, ever since he told you where he worked. Something you’d never know if you hadn’t been paired with the boy in a compulsory uni class all those months ago.

“You’re lucky I like you” you grumbled, letting your bag fall under your stool with a thud and a shot of vodka simultaneously appearing in front of you. You quirked your eyebrow at the guy across the bar from you, a smirk on his face and a hand towel draped over his right shoulder. “On the house” he smiled, then continued cleaning up behind the bar. taking the shot, raising it slightly in a cheers to the raven haired bartender, and throwing it down your throat. You willingly let the burn set in. you didn’t drink often, but when you did, you drank often. With Minho behind the bar, it was sure to be one of those nights. 

You clumsily slammed the shot glass back onto the table and looked up at the older kid. He was now leaning back against the opposite side of the bar, arms folded, looking your way. The black muscle tee showed off his arms, and his messy black hair giving off a heavier aura of boyish charm. You had no clue how this guy became your best friend. 

Not only was it unlikely, if it weren’t for the circumstances, that you’d naturally become close, but the age difference made it strange that you had been in the same class at all. After explaining the fact he had multiple gap years before attending uni, it clicked. You were both grateful that you’d wandered into each other’s paths. 

“What time do you clock off?” you asked pointedly, as your best friend went ahead and poured you another shot, this time joining you for some peach soju. “10. early shift tonight.” he shrugged nonchalantly. 

You looked up at the clock, slightly above his head to the left. “20 minutes. Not bad.” you nod. Glasses clinked and were soon empty. 

“Wish it was sooner. Hot chick came in before and asked for my number. Stupid manager forced me away before I could accept it. By the time I got back, she was gone.” his recount the events from earlier in the night were followed by a sigh. He looked down at his hands, spinning the glass in his fingers, still leaning towards you from across the bar. Out of nowhere, he quickly leaned back and upright, “Probably for the best, though. Have to beat the boys in a chicken and beer competition tonight, anyway. Can’t break tradition.” he beamed.

“It’s things like these that keep me up at night.” you sighed heavily, shaking your head cheekily at his behaviour.

He looked confused, eyebrows hiding in his tussled hair, and arms folded once again in question. “The fact that an eating competition with your roommates, that you could do literally any other night, was a decent reason to blow off the possibility of going on a date.” you shook your head once more, chuckling at his antics when he acted as if he couldn’t see a problem with the statement. “So?”

“So," you continued, trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips, "You always talk about wanting to get back into the dating game, but not being able to actively go out and look for it. The golden opportunity was literally right in front of you, and you’d still choose chicken and beer?” Looking at him, amused, you could practically see the cogs turning in Minho's head. 

He stood up straight, shrugged. “Yeah”, then turned back to clean the glasses on the bench behind him. At this point, you weren’t surprised anymore, but at least he couldn’t blame you for not pointing out the error of his ways. 

The boy in front of you looked up at the clock above. “I’m done.” he tactlessly announced, removing his apron and chucking it haphazardly on the bar. After grabbing another bottle of soju, he made his way over to your side of the bar, sitting across from you.

You smiled contently as he showed off the grape flavoured liquor in his clasp, like a game show host with his comical grin, and poured your drinks. He took the cap off the bottle then and twisted the loose end, ready to play a round of your flicking competition. He flicked hard and swiftly towards the ground, the twisted tail of the cap putting up no resistance to the movement.

“So," you began, as you took the soju lid from his grasp. Minho looked at you as if you were a child denying you ate the last cookie. "Since they're all home tonight... Can I finally meet the boys?” the question rolling off your tongue so innocently, eyes still trained on the bottle lid as you flicked it. You looked up at him with a cheeky smile, as you handed it over to him for his go. “Nuh-uh” he responded without hesitation, once again more focused on delivering a powerful hit.

"Seriously? Why the hell not?" You got defensive at his ridiculousness, and it was showing. Without lifting his gaze, he shrugged. "Someone is bound to get hurt. So, how about you don't meet them and nobody does. Everybody wins." He looked up from the cap in hand with a smug grin. The spiral end was only a flick or two away from breaking. You weren't happy, arms folded and staring right into his soul, courage and charisma bubbling up as the alcohol was slowly kicking in.

"Excuse me? You're so convinced that I'll hurt them that you haven't considered it's the last thing I'd ever want to do." You huffed. You snatched the cap off the boy. If you couldn't get your way, at least you could win this stupid drinking game. 

You lined up your fingers towards the top of the spiral's end. Your flick had strength behind it, but your strategic placement meant there wasn't a huge effect. The end was still attached to the cap, but no where near as secure. Pleased, you went to hand it back to Minho, only then noticing the look on his face. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to suppress a smirk from taking over his face, but the glint in his eye couldn't hide his amusement from you. 

"What?" You said sharply, attempting to fold your arms, but looking awkward in the process. The end of the cap poked into your skin as you hooked your hand around your opposite arm. You tried to play it off, but no way did Minho miss it, and the thought of hiding his amusement was long forgotten. He giggled at you, especially more so when you tried not to do the same. You hit him playfully, and waited for him to speak his mind.

"Nothing, it's just..." He looked but up at you with an adoring smile. "You immediately assumed you'd be the one to hurt them. You didn't even consider that I was worrying about you, dummy." He wrapped his arm around you, as you smiled softly back. He was the best big brother figure you could ask for.

"I think I can handle myself, thank you very much." You teased the boy after the tender moment passed. He retracted his arm and leant back in feigned shock, hand on his chest, mouth and eyes wide. "You sure are sassy aren't you?"

Your shared laughter rang out in the empty bar, replying to the boy as you poured the next round of shots. "What I lack in height, I make up for in attitude." You shot him a wink as you both downed the soju. You were starting to feel a slight buzz by now. "Seriously, though. It's sweet to worry about me, but how can you be certain it'll end badly? Why not just give it a shot?"

He didn't seem uncomfortable under your inquisitive gaze. Rather, he didn't seem to notice. He just stared at the glass on the bench top, pushing it between his fingers while he was mulling it all over. After a while, he sighed and tilted his head up slightly towards me, looking like a shy little boy. There's no doubt this kid was charming, flaunting his looks as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

"What would you do if I say no?" There was no hint of teasing in his voice. It was just a straight forward question. "Easy. Just sit here and drink away my sorrows about not meeting your friends 'til 3am." He snickered and you just smiled.

"You can't just stay here." Minho laughed at you, eyes creasing into crescents. "Why the hell not? You've dragged me into this hellhole, but you can't make me leave!" You both continued to double over in laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. That one simple question took such a barely philosophical discussion.

"I'll just get them to ban you. I work here remember?" taunting you with a raise of his eyebrows. You retorted with a roll of your eyes after a snicker. "Please. You can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, isn't it illegal or something to kick me out without a decent reason? That's unfair dismissal or something-or-rather."

He was almost crying at his point, clutching his stomach from the pain of laughing so much. You were struggling to breathe, too. "Y/n, that only applies when you get fired from a job for no reason." You had a Minho-like moment of realisation, with an 'oh' trailing behind it from your lips. Then you were both back at it laughing.

"Yeah, I'm cutting you off. Sober Y/n wouldn't have said that... Probably." You playfully hit him again as you both climbed off the stools, making your way to the door. Minho had grabbed your bag while you slightly stumbled on ahead. The drinking game and half empty soju bottle long gone from your thoughts by this point in the night.

You stopped abruptly, spinning around and barely keeping your balance in the process. "Wait." He quirked an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue. "You never answered. Yes or no to me meeting the boys. Tonight. Like, now." You were serious but neutral, making Minho smirk at your drunk mannerism. He looked at you, "One last question. How are you getting home tonight?"

You answered without hesitation. "Public transport. Parking is way too expensive, plus I'm drunk, so." He nodded. "Okay, yeah, that's out of the question at this time of night. You're coming back to mine."

You nodded, turned around, and heading to the door once again. Then it hit you. You spun back around immediately, with no almost slips, which surprised you both. "I GET TO MEET THE BOYS!" You squealed and flung yourself at the older boy, and he let out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get going before I change my mind." You smiled, turning back around. You marched through the door with Minho in toe, heading towards his apartment. At least, you thought so.

"Uh, Y/n..." He sounded unsure but you could see the smirk on his face when you span around. "My apartment's this way." He lazily gestured in the opposite direction in which you had been walking.

"I knew that."

>>