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strxnged · 2 years

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SKZ: # love letter

word count. 5.5k genre. comedy, platonic with a touch of f2l

overview. you find a love letter addressed to you sitting outside your dorm. by the time you realize it's not a prank, you're too caught up in finding your secret admirer to let it go. of the two plausible suspects, there's one person you'd really like it to be — and one you wouldn't. (uni!au)

warnings. 1: i thought it was hilarious. funny, even. so please read it and tell me if you laughed. and if it’s awfully unfunny, let me know that too. i guess it's bangchan x reader x changbin, but you'll have to tell me if that's an exaggeration. 2, i lost all my italics pasting this from google docs so some sentences may read not quite as intended if i missed them! 3, bangchan is addressed as chris for fun

You found the silence of the library stifling, almost exposing, and so instead it was your habit to sit on the wide front steps outside the entrance, as people occasionally walked past and supplied you with enough noise to keep you focused. You were so accustomed to the setting for studying, in fact, that you could notice from the temperature of the concrete what the weather would be like. They always had a sweaty, dewy feel on days that would be hot, and days it would rain they were cold enough to make your legs go numb.

Today, they were freezing. But you would not risk going inside. Your statistics homework would have to wait for you to read the letter you’d found outside your dorm’s door in the hall, presented carefully and clearly enough to be assumed intentional. The envelope was admirably calligraphed with no addressee but a “from your admirer” in the center that you could have sworn would have made it into a Victorian romance. You weren’t sure, at first, whether to open it.

You were suspicious of things like this, especially at a university such as yours. Romance wasn’t discreet and suitors had no style. A love letter — if indeed the envelope contained what the embellishments suggested — was rarer than a party without alcohol or an RA on floor three without a stick up their ass.

Anticipation coursed through you as your finger ran under the fold, peeling the sealing off neatly. This in itself was a unique experience for you. Sealed envelopes were never quite… the same, after they passed through your hands. Perhaps the author was experienced at this. Perhaps they wrote them as an elaborate prank.

You took the tri-folded letter into your hands. It was typed — of course it was — in a small font with little spacing. Your eyes were dazzled by the number of words, and you were at once convinced that it was either not any kind of a love letter, or was meant for another’s eyes. Nobody could have this much to write about you in the context of romance.

The letter addressed you inconveniently by your room number. All this could clarify for you was that it wasn’t accidentally placed at the wrong door, though there was still potential for a misinformed author on the resident of that dorm.

“Dear 310,

“I hope you were expecting this. I don’t mean to shock you.

“It will rain today, so I hope you remember to bring an umbrella. You’re the forgetful type. I would like to be the person to remind you of things, you know?

“I’m getting ahead of myself. I wanted you to know, in the case you hadn’t figured this out by this point, that I like you. I fancy you. I am very, very interested in you. But you aren’t in me, are you? I hope this can change. I hope you will keep your eyes off the floor and see me, someday soon. …”

A raindrop landed on the page, leaving a grey spot to distract your eyes. It would rain, and you would have forgotten your umbrella, of course. That was not indicative of the letter really being meant for you, but it did still unsettle you sufficiently.

You didn’t have a chance to resume reading. Your nerves got the best of you at the sound of a pair of heavy footsteps up the stairs, and you wasted no time restoring the letter to the envelope and shoving it between random pages of the textbook resting closed on your lap. The rain was beginning to pick up, now. You normally didn’t mind the weather unless it was wreaking havoc on your work, but the letter had made it a bit eerie.

The rain seemed to stop for a moment, and you looked up to realize a clear umbrella was being held over your head. For a whole three seconds, you froze, wondering if this was the admirer revealing theirself.

“Hey, idiot. Try looking at the forecast before you station yourself out here next time. You and Chris both, I swear.”

“Good morning to you, too, Changbin,” you said, standing up. You allowed the umbrella to cover you. You felt a sense of relief that you didn’t have to deal with awkward romanticisms of meeting the author. “How was the gym this morning?” You considered telling him about the letter. You would have to finish reading it, first. Usually you told your best friend everything, but this felt a little fresh to be chattered about.

He flashed a dimple and clicked his tongue. “Worried Chris is gonna injure himself. My man is working the deadlift like mad, trying to catch up to my level.”

You giggled, looking Changbin in the eye as he winked at you. “Impossible. He should give up while you’re ahead.”

You processed the wink and froze, again.

No.

Oh, please, no.

As Changbin rambled — bragged? — about their push-day routine and the two of you set your course to the closest campus cafe, your head was working a mile a minute trying to make up proof that he wasn’t the author. It couldn’t be him. You had had enough bad luck with guy best friends going wrong, either from your end of theirs. It was always unreciprocated, enough times that it couldn’t possibly occur again. Changbin was the friend you told everything and complained about everything and spent your time off with. His dorm kitchen was basically yours, since neither him or Chris minded you bringing in your own ingredients and restoring their faith in oatmeal cookies.

Oatmeal truthing Computer Science Major and hip-hop truthing Sports Psyc Major, dating? You couldn’t lie. You hated the sound of that. Maybe you were both fairly introverted, and had similar senses of humour and all that. But that was perfect for you being friends. Just friends.

You realized you were clenching your teeth. You directed your attention to Changbin, trying to mentally drop the subject.

“I still don’t get why you don't study in the cafe,” Changbin was saying. “It’s never silent in there.”

The friendly door chime announced your arrival to the Java Day, and the bustle of students in and out proved his point well. But the reason you liked noise wasn’t necessarily for the noise itself, and besides, you had personal reasons for avoiding it. Ones that you would have to ignore for the eight-hundredth time, especially now.

Christopher Bang had no reason to be that adorable in an apron. Brown hair tossed over his left eyebrow, a smile glowing warmer than any drink in the venue. It nauseated you. You swore it was the adrenaline rush of him taking your order that woke you up for the day, not the coffee.

You hated that you even knew his schedule by heart, too. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. All morning shifts. He’d work out with Changbin, go shower, and then by the time you got there, he’d be there, smiling behind the counter. It’s not like you knew all this because you were a stalker. It was because you had a crush on your best friend’s roommate, and the information was freely made available to you especially when you didn’t want it to be.

You couldn’t stand going to the Java Day by yourself on those days. When Changbin and Chris broke into “bro” talk, which was really no different than watching two girls giggle and talk about their weekend plans, you could safely order and sneak a few gazes without suffering from acquainted small talk.

“Because,” you said, facing Changbin. “Every time I come in here, I buy something. I don’t have the money to buy coffee here more than three times a week, and I cannot study when we stop here together.”

“Then come without me. No, wait, I’d miss you…” He thought for a second. “Just… come in and don’t buy anything, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” He frowned. “Okay, maybe don’t do that.”

You were thinking the same thing. Bad courtesy. Could get you on the bad side of the baristas, and it would be fatal to get on the bad side of the employees of the best cafe on campus.

“Befriend Chris, and blackmail him into giving you energy bean juice for free.”

“In what world is that a better idea?”

“Come on. Is that not easier than sitting on the freezing stairs in November, accepting rain as your fate when it falls? He’s nice enough.”

“I can’t stop the rain from falling.”

“Oh yeah. And you certainly can’t change how you respond to it, can you?”

“What can I say? I’m stubborn.”

The two of you had reached the front of the line. “Why’s Bin calling you stubborn?” Chan asked with a smirk.

Changbin punched your arm. “Idiot doesn’t know what roofs are.”

“Hmm… Sounds like ignorance, not obstinance.”

“It’s a combination of both,” you defended. “Um, I’d like—”

“Coffee two cream?”

Frick him for knowing your order. You nodded, feeling a bit shy. “Yes, please.”

“And an iced mocha.” Changbin added.

You gave him a look of contempt.

“No, no, I’m paying,” he clarified.

“Yeah, I got that. But you’re getting an iced coffee in November.”

Chris was shaking his head behind the counter. “I think you’re both crazy. That’s eight fifty-five.”

As Changbin paid, Chris offered you a friendly smile, as if to say, Lucky!

You gave him a blank smile and averted your eyes. The way your ears flamed was irrelevant, now. Because why was Changbin paying for your drink today, right after that letter?

You still had to finish reading it. You would be able to figure it out, you were sure, once you finished reading it. You would have enough information to go off of, then.

As you took a seat with your friend at a table, you could hear the titters of girls who had been standing behind you in line. You couldn't quite make out what was being said but it shoved your head back into reality once again. Chris was a flirt on the job, whether it was intentional or not. A great business strategy. You had heard him a few weeks ago talking humbly about his earnings to Changbin in an attempt to convince him to apply to the Java Day.

“All you gotta do is make coffee the best part of their day, man. And you’re handsome, you’d win all their hearts in no time.”

“No way. Shut up.”

“Think about it.”

He hadn’t been successful, but it had made you imagine for about a week what it would be like to work alongside Chris. You might not have the charm capabilities to earn tips, but you could definitely make a cup of coffee. Reality hit you with your course load; your class schedule clashed with Chris’s work schedule, and there was no room for side jobs on top of what you already did. And with that, you also came to realize there was no room to chase someone way out of your league, too.

You were a realist. Romance was hopeless, if not impossible, for you. And that was why, no matter who it was from, you would read the letter and then forget about it.

—

The rest of the letter was, unfortunately for you, a great deal of meaningless romantic statements — about your eyes, your smile, your devotion to studying. Things that could really apply to anyone who studied in public. Some general statements about being too shy to ask you out in person — as any person writing a love letter might say. And a strange reiteration of something you must have said to this person, something that was vague enough that you had no way to believe it wasn’t you. The part that got you worried, though, was when suddenly went down a more uncomfortable route.

“I know you don’t have any roommates. That must be terribly lonely and quiet. I want to change that for you.”

The level of overall detail in the letter was both confusing and uncomfortable for you. It was more stalkerish than flattering. How did they know about your aversions to silence? And why did that remark have to come across so suggestively? You were also disturbed by the closing request to meet in person.

“I would like to talk to you in person, to apologize for this method of getting in contact with you and answer your questions. And then maybe you can answer mine. Would you fall in love with me too?

“If you’ll meet me, put this letter outside your door where you found it. Let’s meet tomorrow (Saturday) evening at eight, at your favourite place — the Java Day. It’s usually quiet by then, isn’t it?”

You hated it.

However, contrary to your conviction to simply forget about it, you did just as the instructions were asking. You knew curiosity would get the best of you. And, honestly, you were a bit invested in whatever was going on.

You had to have backup, though. You called Changbin, asked him if he was busy Saturday night.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your voice sounds weird. And you’re calling me almost midnight.”

“I’m fine. Just gotta talk to you about something.”

“I’m coming over if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

You considered this. “I’ll come to you and explain.” It would be easier if you both knew what was up.

—

“A what?”

“Changbin, please,” you said, trying not to laugh. “You heard me. So, will you do it?”

“You got a what?” he asked again, eyes wide and jaw dropped comically.

“Come on, Changbin, you gotta do this for me. Otherwise I’ll think it was you who sent it.”

“Ain’t no way…” he said. He was sitting backwards in a chair from the communal area’s table, and he leaned away from the chair back while holding onto it. “No way.”

“I’m hurt. You don’t think anyone’s capable of falling for me?”

He crooked his eyebrows at you. “No, I don’t think anyone on the entire campus is capable of that kind of class.”

He had a point. Still. “I wouldn’t call it class. It was kind of creepy.”

“It could be worse. You wouldn’t believe what happens to Chris when we go to floor four.”

You didn’t want to know what happened to Chris when they went to floor four. “I still don’t get why they put the partiers on the floor above the quiet floor.”

“I think it’s a scheme to make the students feel helpless. And set them against each other.”

“You know, you could be right. Back to the letter…”

Changbin smiled and looked you straight in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“Here, I’ll show you. I will literally go get it, I just had it outside my dorm.”

You went into the hallway and scanned the carpet in front of your door. To make proving any point to Changbin harder, it was gone. It was very much gone. The carpet was devoid of any calligraphed envelopes and romantic notes. Damn, you should have at least taken a picture. You pursed your lips, looking the other way down the hall.

“Hey, Oatmeal.”

Chris. He was approaching his and Changbin’s door with a weird expression on his face.

“Hi,” you said.

“It’s pretty late. Why are you wandering the halls?”

“I… can’t explain.”

“You’re mysterious. Studying on the library steps, majoring in computer science, wandering up and down the hall late at night….”

“What’s the matter with computer science?”

“Mental torture?”

“Fair point. Listen, just get inside the dorm and I’ll explain. I was just… well…”

He unlocked the door, raising an eyebrow at you. “You were just…?”

“You found your love letter?” Changbin asked from inside.

Chris opened the door the rest of the way. “My what?”

“Oh, Chris! You won’t believe this.”

“My what, Bin?”

You followed him inside, made eye contact with Changbin who was on the verge of bursting into laughter, and looked sulkily at the floor as he started to chuckle.

“The hell’s goin’ on?”

“I can explain,” you said. “Just give me a chance.”

Changbin recovered and invited Chris to come and sit. “Where’ve you been, Chris?”

He sucked in his teeth, dragging over a chair to imitate his roommate’s position. “I was in the library studying for a Bio quiz on monday. They had to come over and tell me they were closing up.”

“Nerd.”

“Yeah, whatever. At least I’m doing my homework.”

Changbin pressed his lips together, unable to respond.

“So,” you said. “This morning, I was about to leave my dorm and head to the library—”

“Library steps, you mean,” Chris said.

“Oh, don’t start,” you said with an annoyed smile. “I was leaving my dorm when I found something on the ground. An envelope. So I went and I read it, and it was a love letter. And boy it was long—”

“Are you bragging?” Changbin asked.

“No! I just—”

“It sort of sounds like you’re bragging.” Chris said.

Your ears went red and you put the heel of your hands on your forehead to combat the response. “You guys are useless. Let me finish.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

“I’d love to hear more, but I had actually better get to bed,” Chris said. “Keep me updated.”

“Goodnight, Chris.”

“‘Night, pal.”

He bid you both goodnight and disappeared into his dorm. You took the chair he’d pulled out and sat on it like a normal person. “I was going to ask if you sent it. But you’ve made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t you.”

“No. I’d never ask you out like that.”

“Would you ever ask me out?”

“Debatable.”

You paused. “Would Chris?”

Changbin’s face turned serious. “Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t think that’s his style.”

You eyed his door. “Seemed a bit weird how he just left once he realized what this was about.”

He thought about it, matching your gaze. “Mmm. I think he’s just tired.”

You didn’t know whether you wanted it to be Chris. On one hand, it would make a little sense. He knew you well enough in comparison to most of your classmates, and if it wasn’t Changbin… But, no, it would be horrendous to find out it was him. That letter was hardly as glamorous as it aspired to be. You liked to think that Chris was incapable of writing such a monstrosity.

He’d had such a weird expression in the hallway. Did you dare suspect him of being the author, of being the one to take it?

“Either way. I guess I’m going on a date tomorrow.”

“I thought you said it was a—”

“That’s why I want you to come. Just show up, after, like, half an hour. If I’m being stood up, we can have coffee together and laugh at the person who wrote it for being a coward.”

He thought about this. “Fine. 8:30?”

You got up, flashing him a thumbs-up. “Just know that if nobody shows up I’m going to keep suspecting you and Chris.”

“Chill. I really, really don’t think that’s the case.”

He sounded almost too certain. As you approached the door, you looked back at him. “Chris doesn’t have a — a love interest of his own, does he?”

“Nah. He’s the king letting people down gently.”

“That’s a wonderful trait. We should all be more like Chris.”

“Are you excited?” Changbin asked you.

“Why would I be excited?”

“First date in, like, a year.”

You sighed. “Oh, shut up. No.”

“I’m curious, though.”

You turned the doorknob. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

You had somehow managed to forget about it by the next morning, so the little paper reading “See you tonight!” with a smiley face drawn at the end was a very effective jumpscare. You knew in that moment, peering into the eyes of the crude expression, that you were doomed to have concentration issues for the rest of the day.

Minutes crawled past, probably due to both anticipation and dread. You were useless; you were cursed. What was the purpose of love letters, anyways? Why couldn’t people just say how they felt to each other’s faces? But then… you were hardly one to talk.

You couldn’t get Chris’s face out of your head all day. Either he knew something, he was the something, or your imagination was far too active. One thing you were sure of, though, was that you really didn’t have the time to think about it. Piles of assignments were due Monday, and a group project Wednesday.

Oh, you hadn’t thought of that. What if it was someone from your group?

But after quick deliberation, you were pretty sure the guy in your group, Minho, was dating someone. You even asked him to make sure, and he confirmed a steady five-week relationship. The girls in the group didn’t swing the right way. Besides, it was unlikely that a Computer Science Major would have anything to do with this.

What if it was Chris?

The question kept coming back. You finally came to a conclusion that such images that were floating into your head at the prospect needed to be shut down properly, so in any case, you would have to give him an opportunity to “let you down gently” to save yourself to heartache later on. This could not continue. And you needed to be able to go to the coffee shop without sweating out your very being.

You traveled to the coffee shop at 7:45. It wasn’t that you were afraid of being late. You were afraid of being alone with your own thoughts for those last fifteen minutes.

When you got the Java Day, you did the biggest double take of your life.

No, this wasn’t right. He only worked three days a week!

Did you know this for sure? It’s not like you’d ever gone here at eight o’clock on a Saturday, so…

Whatever the case was, there was no doubt that Chris was standing behind the counter in a fairly empty coffee shop and he was waving at you as you stepped through the door. This did not make sense, and you could feel yourself malfunctioning and forgetting how to walk.

“Chris?”

“Yes?” he said.

You made your way to the counter, unable to form any sentences.

“You know, you shouldn’t drink caffeine late at night.” He looked at you earnestly. “Cramming for something?”

“No, I’m…” You paused, squinting at him. “Yeah. Got a lot of work to do.”

“Gotcha. What’ll it be, then?”

“Espresso, please.”

“You're crazy. Two ninety.”

He didn't know. Thank the heavens, he had no clue what was going on. He thought you were cramming.

Honestly, you should be cramming. A different kind of horror set in, though, realizing that Christopher Bang was going to have a front row seat to whatever would be going down.

You embraced it, taking the window seat closest to the counter. On one hand, yeah, he might witness some things you wished he wouldn't. But on the other, the whole situation was making you nervous and rather alright with sitting closer to someone who wasn't writing you creepy letters.

Chris set your espresso in front of you. “You alright? You look kinda spaced out.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just dreading the work I’ve gotta do tonight.”

Chris leaned on the counter, tilting his head. “Do you study with anyone?”

“Nope. In case you haven’t figured it out, Changbin’s study habits aren’t exactly…”

“Consistent. Yeah.”

“So I just do it by myself.”

“I hope you don’t plan to go and sit on the steps in the dark.”

You sipped the espresso, making a bit of a scowl at the potency. “No. It’s not busy enough at night.”

“Oh, I see. You like blending in.”

He got it. “Yeah. For some reason, actually being inside the library sure doesn’t do that for me.”

“Almost too quiet, eh?”

“Almost?” you said. “It’s deafening.”

“Well, um…” Chris glanced at the door for a second. He seemed almost… shy. What the hell? “If you need someone to, you know. Help you feel less alone while you’re studying. I can help you out. I’ve got stacks of notes to write up, I wouldn’t be distracting…” He held his palms up and his fingers danced, almost like a tiny jazz hands gesture. “I mean, only if you want.”

You were absolutely sure now that this could not be the same person who wrote the sentence “I am very, very interested in you” and certainly not the kind to make a suggestive comment about the silence in your dorm. All the same, he was inviting you, rather shyly, to hang out. To study together. Did he ask just anyone to study with him? And this was all three— no, two minutes from when you were supposed to meet someone confessing their love for you.

The answer you would give him was obvious.

But before you had the chance, you heard the Java Day’s entrance bell. Was this it? You wouldn’t dare look away from Chris, you could feel panic rising in your chest. It would be half an hour still before Changbin showed up. You should have told him to just come with you in the first place, really.

Chris looked away from you at the new customer.

“Chrisssss!”

You felt your panic sink back to where it came from, replaced by a sort of uncomfortable disgust.

“Hi?”

“Heyyyy!”

Either this girl was drunk or very, very air-headed. The cafe had been moderately quiet before her grand entrance.

“Do we know each other!”

“Of course we do! It’s me.”

You watched this interaction with interest.

“Who’s ‘me’?” He seemed to be attempting to hold a smile on his face and be friendly, but he was clearly confused.

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

Even you were confused at this point.

“C’monnnn… three-ten!”

You almost shot out of your chair, asserting yourself into the conversation. “Three-ten?!”

The girl eyed you for a moment. Half of her bubbliness dissolved. “Stay out of it, sweetheart.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head.

“I’m sorry, do you want something?”

“Yes, please, Chris.”

No way.

Your attention from the conversation next to you was stolen by the chime ringing again. Changbin spotted you and took the chair across from you. “Where’s the person? It’s 8:10.”

“You’re early. Um…” You didn’t know what to say.

You looked between him and the conversation happening a few feet away, not sure whether to laugh or cry. You settled on drinking your espresso with a distressed expression. Changbin was watching Chris and the girl.

She was the author. You figured that much out, now. And he was the — he was the intended recipient.

You set down the espresso shot glass, aware your hands were shaking. You covered your mouth with one hand. It was all too much.

You got even the attention of the girl. Really, you hated being the center of attention and so it was hardly on purpose to laugh as loudly as you were. It was ridiculous. You made eye contact with Changbin and he suddenly understood, somehow. He began to chuckle, too, shaking his head.

Chris was watching you two, and then studied the girl carefully. “You were at that party last weekend…” he said. “Right?” Both you and Changbin shut up, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Yes! And then I asked you for your number, ‘n’ you wouldn’t give it to me, so I… Chris, I didn’t know you worked here. But you’re here. So, do you have an answer?”

You were so tempted to say something. But you were also incredibly interested in how he might respond.

“Remind me your name again?”

“Adilene! I was in your Biology class.”

You and Changbin made eye contact and he mouthed “was.” You made a face of despairing efforts not to laugh. You failed.

“Listen, Chris,” she said, “I’m sorry about the letter. It was a bit of a dare, but I also had no other way to contact you. But do you think…” Adilene looked very obviously at you and Changbin, and you both stared right back at her. “... We could go to your dorm to continue discussing this after your shift? I thought it would be emptier here.”

“This— this late on a Saturday night? I don’t think my roommate would appreciate that,” he said.

“You said you didn’t have any roommates.”

“Did I?” He frowned, and then gasped in realization. “I did. Oh, well, I’m sorry. That wasn’t true. I, um…”

“He says that to reel you in,” Changbin volunteered. “It’s a fun game of his. He likes to pretend I don’t exist.”

“You—huh?”

“That’s… that’s my roommate,” Chris admitted. He looked like he was done with the conversation. While Adilene’s attention was in your direction, you took the opportunity to introduce yourself. You stood up and offered her your hand.

“Hi,” you said. “I’m their neighbour. One and only resident of three-ten. I got your letter. I really didn’t like the part where you said you had the hots for me.”

Really, it was a fairly innocent letter, although wrong. You felt a bit of sympathy for her. Except, no, you didn’t. You could feel sympathy for her later, right now you were in stitches over her terrified expression.

Chris’s expression was one very large “oh.”

“Your dorm… isn’t three-ten?” Adilene turned to him. She seemed to be receding into herself, somehow. Her overarching “charms” were retracting.

“Nope. Three-twelve.”

The three of you watched her take a whole step back, look at the door, and make a dash for it as if one of you were planning on chasing her. The cafe sat in silence for a few seconds before you and Changbin exploded into laughter. Chris leaned over the counter, head in hands.

“Chris,” Changbin said, catching his breath, “do you want to come over here and explain yourself?”

He made eye contact with you, a bewildered smile on his face, and ran his hand through his hair. “Not sure how much of what just happened I understood, unfortunately.”

“Really?” you interjected. “Not even the part where she said…” You pitched your voice up, “‘Chrisssss’?”

“Is this what goes on at parties when I don’t show? You tell girls I don’t exist and give them the wrong room number?”

“Bin.” He was physically cringing, utter distress on his face. He looked at you and the looked away. You had never seen Chris blush. He looked humiliated.

“I feel like I’m watching you go through the five stages of grief. I think Kubler Ross got ‘em right. Look, here comes anger.”

“Bin, shut up!” he wailed. “I… I just…”

You spoke up. “Why my room number? I’ve been so confused…”

“I didn’t tell anyone my room number!” He pulled his phone out of his apron’s pocket. “Look! She must have seen this… It’s my birthday…” Sure enough, the back of his phone said 0-3-1-0.

You squinted at it. “You sociopath. Why on earth do you use day before month?”

“Because it matches my room number. You know. Three-ten, three eleven… Why does it matter, anyways…”

“Why are you so embarrassed?” Changbin asked Chris.

“Because that was uncomfortable! You’d feel the same.”

“However many girls throw themselves at you, and you get embarrassed…” Changbin tsked and shook his head. “Is it because you feel competition with me that you don’t tell girls I’m your roommate?”

He sighed. “You would think that. No, it’s because it usually makes girls wonder what I must have done so wrong that my roommate moved out.”

“What are you implying about living alone?” you asked.

He threw his hands up. “Look, it works.”

“Yeah, on the smart ones,” Changbin pointed out.

The three of you gave Adilene a moment of silence for implicitly not being one of that demographic.

“I have so many questions left,” you said. “Most of them would be directed at her. And most of them, I wouldn’t like to know the answer to.”

“What was in that letter?” Chris asked.

You looked him dead in the eye. “I think it’s better you didn’t know.” You recalled how he acted about it last night, and you had to ask: “How come you didn’t want to know last night?”

He glanced at Changbin and then at the table. “I was just tired.”

“He was jealous, man.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were.”

“Don’t be weird.”

Chris finally looked you in the eye and you knew Changbin was telling the truth.

“I saw her last night, I think,” he finally said. “I saw her rounding the corner, and then I saw you in the hall. I could have sworn she giggled at me.”

“That’s why you were…”

But you didn’t have a chance to dwell on it, as someone walked into the cafe. It was Minho, from your group that met earlier over the project.

“Hey, guys. Chris, have you seen my girlfriend? She said she was meeting someone in here — we just had a fight…”

“Who’s your girlfriend?”

“Adilene Kauffer.”

At this, you picked up your espresso and downed the rest of it in one shot.

Chris cleared his throat. “Minho, my friend. I think… I think you should sit down.”

note. ok so that happened. i ummmm. i lost my mind writing this. i was cackling. so i hope you laughed too lmao. lowkey thinking of writing more for this, these four could be pretty chaotic........... anyways. weird writing fanfics for real people. or at all. it’s been like 8 months since i did that. also there are so many loose ends i still haven’t gotten a chance to tie together and realized i cannot do that in a short fic lmao. tagging @aunty-tiger-potato for the barista!chan (not that there’s much of that actually happening here).

reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you for reading!

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