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stxphxn-strange · 4 years

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be glad he’s holding me back

a/n: I’ve never written a fic where Peter gets bullied, but i couldn’t stop thinking about how overprotective Stephen and Tony would be and that bloomed into this fic. I’m actually v proud of it, hope you like it too! tw for bullying

It was an innocent quip, a comment that just spiraled out of control. The same sentence Peter used to actually defend his bullies now applied to this situation, the situation being that he told his Baby Sister that he was being bullied at school. The running joke in the Stark-Strange family was that Morgan could smell fear, and everyday she proved that to be more than just a coincidence. She sensed Peter’s discomfort and just laughed in understanding.

“These Animal Crossing villagers can be so mean!” Morgan had said. “I bet it would be AWESOME live on an island with a cool friend who brought me gifts!”

Even in her youth, she was perceptive. She could see her brother relax as she dismissed his comment, but Peter didn’t know that Morgan would probably never forget what he told her that day.

“I already get bullied enough at school, the last thing I want is for my Animal Crossing villagers to be mean to me too! But at least they don’t throw things at me or...”

++++

Stephen was equally surprised and unsurprised when he emerged from the en suite and found Morgan sitting on the bed and talking to Tony. That didn’t, however, stop him from pointing out that it was well past her bedtime.

“I wanted to talk, but I had to wait until Pete went to bed so he can’t hear,” Morgan explained.

“I’m listening,” Stephen said.

Tony cleared his throat. “We.”

The sorcerer disregarded his husband’s quip. “I’m listening,” Stephen repeated, getting into bed and resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“What am I, a cushion?” Tony asked. Between Stephen laying on him and Morgan sitting on his stomach, he felt a bit like a piece of furniture. This, of course, was a role he’d always proudly play for his family. Both Morgan and Stephen ignored his grumbling anyway, as they tended to do when Tony jokingly complained about things.

“What’s going on, Morgan?” Stephen asked. His smile was always soft when he spoke to the kids, especially his youngest, but it faltered the longer she talked.

Morgan was nearly asleep by the time she finished relaying Peter’s earlier words, her head resting on Tony’s chest where the arc reactor once was. “I don’t think he wants you to know, but I don’t want him sad. So I told you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Stephen’s voice was clipped as he softly brushed through Morgan’s hair. “You did the right thing, Little One. Can you just keep playing with him and trying to make him laugh with Illyana? We’ll take care of everything else.”

“Promise?” Morgan asked. Normally she would object to Stephen calling her “Little One,” but tonight she was too worried about Peter and too tired to care.

Stephen and Tony promised their youngest they’d take care of Peter, their tones vastly different even as they said the same words. The sorcerer could hear the fierce, protective growling in his voice and ruminated on it as Tony put Morgan to bed. Once Tony returned, laying beside Stephen and holding him close, his anger gave way to despair.

“Why wouldn’t he say something?” Stephen asked quietly, burying his head in Tony’s chest.

“He gets his sense of ‘I can handle anything and everything by myself’ from us, but he’s trying to prove to himself that he can handle a bully. Maybe part of him thinks he deserves it, and if that’s unfortunately true then he’ll really want to deal with it quietly and not draw more attention to himself. It’s not a matter of whether we failed him or not,” Tony said, trying to assure himself just as much as Stephen. “We can’t choose whether or not he ever talks to us about it, you know? All we can do is support him and let him know that we love him. He does know it, but you can never hear it too much.”

Stephen nodded frantically as memories from his childhood and adolescence resurfaced.

“You know, I have to tell myself a lot that I’m not failing Peter or any of the kids when something like this happens. Any effort on our part to give them the best is already a success objectively and compared to what we knew. You’re a great parent Stephen,” Tony said firmly. “And a great husband, I might add.”

“We’re not talking about me,” Stephen replied.

“We’re not, no. But I thought you just needed a little reminder,” Tony said. He gently kissed Stephen’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stephen murmured, snuggling closer to Tony. It was quiet for a few minutes more, thoughts bouncing around the walls of their minds and the room. “What can we do?”

“Well I’d like to know how this happened, since the school has supposedly an anti-bullying policy. A meeting with the principal sounds good,” Tony said. “And we can determine whether or not pursuing legal action is necessary.”

“You’ll threaten to sue anyway,” Stephen replied knowingly.

“Of course I will, and then I’ll be shown up by your protective side,” Tony said. His tone was teasing now, but his statement was true.

Stephen wasn’t a helicopter parent, but he was protective of the kids (and Tony) in a way that he never thought he’d be protective of anyone. It was just nice to have someone to protect, and to be needed.

“Hey.” Tony cleared his throat and kissed Stephen’s hair again. “Asleep?”

“No... just thinking,” Stephen replied. “Do you think Pete was bullied last year too, before Harley left for college?”

“I’m not sure... but if Harley defended him it also makes sense why we’re just finding out, doesn’t it? He would allow Harley to handle it and hope that he could make it stop, so we wouldn’t need to know,” Tony said. “I don’t honestly know how much we can do, but we won’t know until we try.”

Stephen nodded, yawning as he did so. “Can we handle this in the morning? Or sometime tomorrow?”

“That should be fine, I’m free most of the day tomorrow except for one meeting at 10:45. In the morning I’ll see if we need an appointment with the front office, but I won’t hesitate to name drop to make something work,” Tony declared.

“Worse case scenario, we walk into the center of his office via a portal,” Stephen said, his words muffled as he closed his eyes and shifted to lay his head on Tony’s shoulder again. “Now shush, I need beauty rest for a confrontation like this.”

Tony snickered fondly. “Goodnight, you absolute drama king.”

++++

A plan fell rather easily into place. Christine and Pepper would pick up Illyana and Morgan in the early afternoon while Tony and Stephen would meet with the Midtown administration. Harley even called his parents to offer moral support, though he too was unaware of the bullying.

Stephen was shocked and saddened when he heard that, his heart breaking at the fact that Peter had been silently hurting for so long.

“When is he going to learn that he doesn’t have to go through everything alone?” He’d asked, leaning against Tony.

“He’ll probably figure it out at the same time you or I do,” Tony replied bluntly.

“Does that mean I’m a bad example? I—”

Tony shook his head, quickly cutting Stephen off. He fell into a pattern of oversimplified thinking and rambling when he was nervous, and it was no secret that the sorcerer was nervous.

“We both know that’s not what I meant,” Tony soothed. “Peter is strong and stubborn and independent, but with that comes pride. None of those things are bad, it just means the internal odds can be stacked against you when you try to go against yourself and ask for help. It’s in all of our nature, and you acting as you normally do isn’t showing him that he can’t ever be vulnerable or ask us for advice or assistance. It’s just hard to admit when you need it.”

Stephen nodded, unclenching his jaw. “Somehow this has become about my insecurities, rather than being there for our son.”

“Your heart is in the right place, you know? You want to do right by him. And we will,” Tony promised. “Although it might be a good idea to unpack everything that’s bothering you, if you want to tell me about it.”

“You’re right.” Stephen nodded again, an air of professionalism setting onto his face. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

Traveling by portal hardly took any time, including the short walk to the school from a nearby side street, but today wasn’t the day to be fashionably late. Tony was already fiddling with his sunglasses when the couple walked into the office, opening and closing them in his hands. To most, it seemed like a simple boredom-relieving thing to do while sitting in a waiting room, but Stephen knew that Tony was also nervous. He would present himself as invincible during their meeting, but the wait leading up to it could make Tony second guess himself.

“We’re doing the right thing,” Stephen whispered, drawing circles on the back of one of Tony’s hands.

“Peter hates when we interfere with his life,” Tony muttered absently.

“If we don’t, the bullying might not stop. I’d rather have Peter be a little angry and tell us that as opposed to not tell us that he’s hurting, or that someone is hurting him,” Stephen said. “Because he doesn’t deserve this.”

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Tony replied. “May I lean against you a little, while we wait?”

Stephen nodded. He wasn’t one for PDA in places where someone might use his affectionate nature to judge him or diminish his credibility, at least not large gestures of affection. But there was nothing harmful in Tony leaning his shoulder against Stephen’s, it looked almost like they were just having a private, whispered conversation.

Which, incidentally, they were. They talked quietly until the door to Principal Morita’s office swung open, revealing the man himself standing in the doorway.

“Gentlemen!” He greeted them warmly. “So nice to get your call, Mr. Stark, and as always it’s nice to see you.”

Stephen refrained from calling him a kissass, instead forcing a smile. “Same to you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances.”

Principal Morita closed the door to his office and ushered the couple in. “Yes, I thought I could pick up some stress on your end while we were on the phone. I trust it’s nothing too urgent?”

Tony could see that his husband’s temper was already beginning to flare. Stephen’s back stiffened and he impatiently gripped the armrests of the chair, ignoring the pain that this always caused his hands. To steady him, Tony discretely placed a hand on his back.

“That depends. How urgent is bullying to you?” Stephen asked. He relished in the discomfort he caused the man across from him, noticing Morita beginning to shift uncomfortably in his swivel chair.

“Midtown has a no tolerance policy when it comes to bullying, I assure you. It’s actually very fortunate that you’re here today, Peter has been reported to my office for bullying this past week,” Morita replied.

Tony had honestly zoned out, he was too busy trying to keep Stephen calm and trying to stay calm himself.

But that bullshit caught his attention.

He scoffed. “Peter? A bully? That doesn’t sound right.”

Stephen nodded emphatically. “Our son is not a bully, in fact we came here today to discuss the fact that he himself is the victim of such mistreatment.”

“That doesn’t match the information we have on file,” Principal Morita said skeptically. “Children can lie to their parents about acting out, can they not?”

“Is that really something you want to try to convince us?” Tony asked incredulously, pointing at himself and Stephen with the hand that wasn’t now rubbing Stephen’s back.

“How long ago was it that you adopted Peter? Perhaps he—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Stephen snarled. “We don’t know the extent of what Peter has endured because he believes he can handle everything on his own and would hate to burden another with his needs, no matter what his needs are. People who brush him aside and equivocate as you’re doing now certainly don’t make him feel like he’ll be taken seriously, do you understand?”

“It’s just that... well the evidence is rather stacked against Peter at this point, isn’t it?”

Stephen would have bolted upright if Tony wasn’t holding onto the back of his shirt. He was only grounded by the soft pressure of Tony’s hand on his back, the sorcerer didn’t even give a rat’s ass about his dignity anymore. Not where his family was involved.

“Why don’t you check your files again?” Tony suggested. “If we’re wrong, you’ll grant me the opportunity to threaten our contributions to this school’s funding. I think your statements during this meeting certainly warrant that.”

The principal left the room in a hurry, muttering about “my conduct, of all things?!”

++++

It wasn’t uncommon for Peter walk down the hallways linking arms with Ned and MJ. His friends gave him strength, empowered him to be the best he could, and made him laugh. They were truly the best friends in the world.

Peter just didn’t agree with them when they begged him to report his bullies. He always replied with a “then beg,” sending them into laughter but leaving Ned and MJ with worry for their friend.

“I hate to be a downer,” Ned began, looking to MJ for support. She nodded at him to continue, and so he did. “Peter that bruise looks like it hurts.”

“Oh, my eye?” Peter asked, well aware that he had a black eye. “It’s not as bad as the bruises you can’t see.”

“That’s the point, Peter,” MJ said, as gently as possible. “It’s really bad, and you know your parents will want to know about it.”

“They care so much and don’t want anything like this to happen to anyone, least of all you,” Ned added.

Peter sighed and nodded. “I can’t believe I accidentally told my sister.”

“If you’d told Illyana, I think she would’ve taken care of the bullies herself,” Ned said. “She’s a little scary.”

“Ned, she’s ten (10) and nothing to be scared of. She’s just chaotic and cunning in a way that Morgan isn’t,” Peter replied.

“A boss bitch at such a young age... we love to see it,” MJ added. “Now can we please go to lunch? I want to get good seats.”

The trio continued walking, Ned and Peter reminding MJ that they sat in the same seats for lunch everyday.

“Betty always steals the specific spot I want at our table,” MJ quipped. “I love Betty, but that’s honestly a pet peeve. How can I sketch Peter in disaster mode if I can’t see him?”

“You can’t,” Peter and Ned replied in unison.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Why am I friends with you losers?”

“Because we’re your losers,” Peter declared. As the group walked past the principal’s office, the start of his next sentence was interrupted by a very frantic Principal Morita.

“Peter! Sorry to interrupt, but may I see you in my office for a moment?” He asked.

Peter looked at Ned and MJ. “Go on without me.”

“Like hell we’d do that! Now I have a chance to talk to MJ about the conspiracy theories I read last night,” Ned replied, sitting down on a nearby bench.

“Oh joy!” MJ said, sarcasm flooding off of her as she sat beside Ned.

Meanwhile, Principal Morita ushered Peter into his office. “I need to check something quickly, just go sit down.”

Peter did as he was told, surprised and honestly relieved to see his dads sitting there. “Morgan told you what I said?”

Tony nodded. “She was worried about you, and what she said worried us. Sit down.”

Peter grabbed a nearby chair, sitting on Tony’s right.

“Peter, are you okay?” Stephen asked, shifting into doctor mode.

“There’s no point in not being honest, since you know,” Peter said. “Today wasn’t so bad though. I just got kicked around a bit and shoved into my locker.”

“Am I wrong to assume that you’re understating it?” Stephen asked.

Peter shook his head. “You’re not wrong. I’m ashamed of myself, and why shouldn’t I be?”

“Pete—”

Peter dropped his voice so low that only his parents could hear. “I’m such a good superhero, aren’t I?”

“You are. Your worth isn’t determined by what they say about you or how despicably they treat you. You’ve proven yourself and your good heart everyday, some people are just shitty,” Stephen said. “Peter, who did this?”

“It doesn’t matter, Doctor Dad. They won’t get punished. It’ll only continue and it’ll get worse since the bullies will know you know, and—”

“Take a deep breath, Petey,” Tony encouraged, noticing his son beginning to hyperventilate. “I know this is unexpected, but we’ll figure something out. And I’ll successfully make sure your dad doesn’t kill the principal in the process.”

“Is that why you’re holding him back?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded, still gently massaging Stephen’s spine.

“He’s not really holding me back, I could spring into action if I wanted to. Your father is too short to hold me back properly,” Stephen quipped.

“Okay, rude,” Tony replied.

“If the shoe fits,” Stephen snarked back at him. He looked at Peter again. “Don’t think that question will be left unanswered.”

“Doctor Dad, it doesn’t matter who’s bullying me. After this meeting it’ll just be someone else, someone who didn’t get caught,” Peter said.

“So much for anti-bullying policies,” Tony muttered. “Your principal has a suspicion that you’re the bully, but I doubt that’s true.”

“Why would I want to bully anyone? I’m not like them,” Peter replied.

“Like who?” Stephen asked.

“I found no evidence on file that lists Peter reporting a bully,” Principal Morita announced, reentering the room. “Our records indicate that at least three (3) students have reported him for violent misconduct, however.”

“I didn’t, I would never hurt anybody!” Peter fretted. “The guys who beat me up told me that they’d do that to get me into trouble, and then they shoved me into a locker.”

“Who?” Morita asked, disbelief surrounding him.

“Flash Thompson is the worst of them,” Peter confessed. He proceeded to list the names of Flash’s cronies as well as everything they’d done to him, his face burning. He just wanted to go home and hide.

Morita sighed when Peter was finished talking. His parents shared looks of rage and sadness, Tony consoling both Stephen and Peter. “Thank you for discussing this, Peter. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“Um... may I go find my friends?” Peter asked nervously.

“If that’s what you want, go ahead,” Tony replied.

“Mr. Stark, you don’t speak for me. Especially not if your child doesn’t feel comfortable talking about his wellbeing with you,” Morita said. “Peter, you may go.”

“Love you Petey!” Stephen called after him as he left.

Peter ran back into the office to hug each of his parents in turn before scurrying out again.

Stephen’s gaze hardened, his stare intense enough to bury Morita in the dirt. “If you ever speak to my husband that way again, or treat my son with such arrogant neglect if he needs to report something like this in the future, you will rue this day.”

“I see no reason to take any action thus far, Peter looks fine and the alleged ‘bullies’ families contribute heavily to Midtown’s success,” Morita said.

“As do we... for now,” Tony replied, a low protective growl in his voice. If Stephen wasn’t so angry, he’d be swooning all over his husband.

But there would be time for that later.

“Did you SEE the contusions around and under his eye?” Stephen asked, inhaling sharply. “I assume he has more, but he’s scared to say so.”

“And it’s no wonder why. With how aggressive you two (2) are, why would he discuss anything with you?” Morita replied.

“My mother didn’t raise a bitch, and we’re not raising a liar,” Stephen snapped.

Tony clicked a pen he found in his pocket. “I’m going to strongly advise that you not get him riled up. Why not check the security cameras? If the Thompson kid and his group don’t have any injuries, you’ll know Pete is telling the truth. He doesn’t like to fight and wouldn’t hit back.”

“Is this a... what I’ve heard students call a ‘flex,’ Mr. Stark? You bought the security equipment and paid for renovations to the AV room, why wouldn’t you run an experiment to see if your money is being put to good use?” The principal leaned back in his chair.

Stephen was fully ready to stand up, but Tony kept him still. All things considered, he was doing a good job of keeping the sorcerer level. To be fair, Tony couldn’t (and this didn’t) keep Stephen from yelling, “You have some nerve, you audacious idiot!”

“It’s fine babe, relax,” Tony said. This man could disparage Tony’s integrity all he wanted, it didn’t matter. “At the very least, Mr. Morita, find some way to prove that those boys are uninjured and exonerate my son. We will be withholding any additional gifts until you’ve done that and re-evaluated the anti bullying policy to our standards. As such, I expect a draft of your new policy in my work email no later than 9am Monday, so I can share it with Stephen. We’re done here.”

“Thanks for wasting our time and making our kid feel bad, asshat,” Stephen snapped. He stood up once Tony let go of his shirt, taking his husband’s hand and striding out of the room. Once they were away from the school and out of earshot, Stephen slouched. “That was exhausting.”

Tony just nodded, softly cupping Stephen’s cheek. “You busy the rest of the day?”

“No, why?”

“Because I need a coffee, and you need some kind of sweet or a pickmeup.”

Stephen smiled for the first time since before the meeting. “You know me so well.”

“How could I not? I’m your husband,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes lovingly. “What I would love more than anything, right now, is some caffeine.”

It was Stephen’s turn to roll his eyes. “We can’t have you caffeine-deprived, can we? Let’s go.”

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starryeyedkoo · 6 years

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What We Left Behind - Kim Namjoon

Genre: childhood friends!au, very minor angst, fluff

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Warnings: slightly mature implications?? it’s barely anything but i’ll list it anyway

Word Count: 8.2k

You can’t seem to admit to yourself that letting Namjoon go was the wrong choice. That is, until you were forced to have dinner with his family after you hadn’t spoken to him since senior year of high school. Maybe that was just what you needed to change your mind.

you can find my masterlist by using the link in my bio :)

You saw your father’s truck, stacked tall with your dorm furniture, came to a halt in the little rear view mirror as you stood stretching your legs and pushing the driver side door of your car closed. You stood in front of your childhood home, where you would be returning to for the duration of summer vacation from college. You took a moment to take in the surroundings. It felt like it had been ages since you’d seen your quiet little town last summer, and as much as you enjoyed college, frustrating and tiresome as it may be, you missed feeling at home like this. Your mother called you to help bring your boxes inside and snapped you out of your thoughts.

Your serene feeling was short-lived however when you saw a familiar black car turn into the driveway of the house next door you had unconsciously been avoiding acknowledging. As soon as you noticed the tall figure exiting from the passenger seat—he still must not have gotten his license, you note— you circle around to the back of the truck to avoid seeing him. As you struggled to pick up a particularly heavy box, you heard your mother call out, and you allowed a groan to escape your lips.

“Namjoon! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while!” she stopped in the middle of the driveway as you stayed where you were, watching her wait for a response from the boy in the driveway next door.

“Hello, Mrs. (L/N). Nice to see you again. I’m doing well, and you?” Only few would be able to see through the polite facade he was using in the moment and notice the tenseness in his voice. Unfortunately, you were one of them.

“I’m doing well, thank you.” There was a beat of silence and you swore you were going to combust from the second-hand embarrassment since you probably knew exactly what Namjoon would be thinking at the moment. Luckily, your mother continued quickly ended the conversation for the good of everyone, “Alright, well, I should continue helping unpack. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

You had just lifted the box once again as you heard the conversation coming to a close but dropped it with a loud clash as she finished her statement. Tomorrow? God, you hoped Namjoon had already gone inside by then. Your mother came rushing over to you with a concerned expression on her face. “(Y/N), are you alright?” she questions looking you up and down before crouching to take a look inside the box that had fallen to the ground. “I hope there was nothing that broke in there,” she mumbled to herself.

“It’s fine, mom. There was nothing important in there,” you spoke quickly enough for her to give you a questioning look. “What did you mean we’ll see him tomorrow?”

She gives a clueless look, but then she seems to understand what you were so frantically questioning about, “Ah, I forgot to tell you earlier. Mr. and Mrs. Kim invited us over for dinner tomorrow night. We haven’t seen each other in a while since you and Namjoon have been off to college, and we thought it would be nice for you guys to meet up again as well. We noticed that last summer you guys didn’t seem to hang out much like you used to.”

Because we didn’t want to see each other at all. You were frustrated, but you also knew you couldn’t blame her. You had never told her that the two of you had grown apart due to some external reasons, unfortunately, or that you completely stopped talking in senior year of high school. After all, how could you ever bring that up? That would only result in questions of why, when, how, and truthfully, you weren’t sure you knew the answer to all of those yourself.

You had finally emptied the truck and had all of your belongings moved into the house. You dropped down onto your bed and stared at the ceiling with a deep sigh, eyes focusing on the little glow-in-the-dark star stickers you had put up there when you were eight and had never bothered to take down.

Your eyes slowly drifted and scanned the room, and eventually, you found yourself looking to your window on the side of the house that faced Namjoon’s bedroom in his own house, which unfortunately had its own window placed almost exactly across from yours. You usually kept its curtains closed ever since you and Namjoon stopped talking, but someone must have opened them back up while you were away.

You had a flashlight pointed at Namjoon’s window as you looked at the little paper Namjoon had written out for you that he had graciously entitled ‘Morse Code for Dummies (Y/N).’ Being the little genius he was, he had the alphabet memorized within about ten minutes meanwhile you still couldn’t spell a word without the cheat sheet he made for you. Even at only nine years old, he was one of the smartest people you knew and you really admired him for that.

Since neither of you had your own cell phones and it was too late at night for your parents to let you stay out, even if it was just next door, this was often how you spent your nights. You would stay up late with your flashlights at your windows talking about anything and everything. Then in the morning, when you would see each other in person, you did the same thing. You two were inseparable.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring out the window across to his until you noticed a light turn on in his room. You quickly stood from your bed and closed your curtains once again. You weren’t even sure why you still tried so hard to hide from him anymore. You were both mature adults, surely you had no reason to be playing these childish games anymore. You kept your hold on the curtains and contemplated opening them back up in hopes of making yourself the bigger person, even though it didn’t seem he was actively avoiding you, but that fact could be ignored for your own sake of your view of your own maturity.

You were in your room finishing your Physics homework. Actually, finishing was definitely not the right word. You were struggling with your Physics homework because unfortunately science had never been your strong suit, but usually Namjoon was there to talk you through it and help you understand what your actual teacher couldn’t explain well enough. However, tonight, like many other nights in these recent times, he was occupied because of her. Because of Hyunjee. You hated to think of her that way, since she was most likely a very nice girl. Namjoon really liked her, and you trusted him and his judgement, but the only thought you had when you heard her name was that she was stealing your best friend from you. After all, he was always with her, and as you glanced to your window, you could see tonight was no exception.

You saw through Namjoon’s window that he was, in fact, with her. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and he had his hands on her waist. You suddenly felt a pang in your chest and you were sick to your stomach as she leaned her face closer to his, but then you forced yourself to look away. It all felt so wrong, seeing that through the window. Through you and Namjoon’s window. Through your window.

You kept your hands in place as you recalled that night, and slowly released the harsh grip you had on the curtain, deciding to leave it closed. No being the bigger person for today. As unreasonable as it may seem, you were still hurt.

Sleeping that night had not come easily, much to your dismay as an overworked and exhausted college student. The difficulty was no doubt due to your anxiety over dinner, which you were now readying yourself for. The day went by far too fast and it was already nearing time to go over, knock on the door, and be greeted by Mrs. Kim, pretending everything was just fine and you had not completely ruined your relationship with her son. You finished applying makeup and put on some jewelry to accessorize your outfit of a casual short dress and some sandals. You hoped it didn’t look like you were trying too hard because that was definitely not what you were doing. You definitely did not agonize for almost an hour over which you would wear of the many outfits you had tried on then discarded on the floor after deeming it unworthy, so much to the point until you had almost run out of options in your closet.

So maybe you did care, just a little. After all, this was the first time you would be seeing Namjoon properly since you two had stopped talking, and you were hoping to give off the impression that this dinner wasn’t even going to phase you, that you had matured.

“Come on, (Y/N). When are you going to grow up?” Namjoon questioned with what seemed almost like contempt in his voice. Your eyes widened in disbelief at his tone.

“Excuse me?”

He laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re actually mad at me for this. (Y/N), it’s a window!”

“It’s not just a window, Namjoon. That’s our window!” you retorted, raising your voice.

You began to realize that this argument you started may have been a bit childish, and probably unnecessary, but hurt clouds judgement, and you were feeling a lot of hurt right now.

“Okay, well what do you expect me to do? Do you just want me to stay out of my room forever?”

“No! I just think you should close the curtains when you have your girlfriend over!” you whined.

“Well, you have your own curtains. Why don’t you close them?” he interrogated.

“Because I shouldn’t have to!” you subconsciously stomped your foot. Heat traveled up to your cheeks as you realize that you really did look like a toddler throwing a tantrum at the moment.

However, there was a hint of fondness that could be found in his eyes as he tried to suppress a chuckle at your behavior. “Alright, fine,” he digressed. “I’ll keep my curtains closed when Hyunjee comes over.” You breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that the argument did not last as long as you were beginning to think it would. Unfortunately you tensed up once again when he pushed the subject into a territory you were hoping to stay far away from, questioning softly, “But, (Y/N), why do you care so much?”

You couldn’t say. You never could. If you did, things would fall apart even faster than they already were, and yes, you were most definitely aware that things were going downhill for the two of you. Slowly but surely. However, you wouldn’t dare ever tell him what you yourself were trying to deny: that you had feelings for your best friend of your whole life, and that was the reason why it hurt so much to see another girl with Namjoon, because you wished you could be in her place.

“(Y/N), are you ready to go?” your mother questioned from your doorway, watching questionably after you just escaped from your daze while staring blankly in the mirror.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you mumbled and followed her out the front door.

The walk from your front door to theirs was simultaneously the most excruciatingly long and most terrifyingly fast walk you had taken in your life. Your mother rang the doorbell and you stood quietly, shrinking behind your father as you could see Mrs. Kim through the window, coming to open the gates of hell. “Hello!” she exclaimed, welcoming the three of you into her home, a place you knew all too well for your own liking. “Dinner is almost prepared. Have a seat at the table,” she gestured towards the kitchen, even though there was no need to. This place had been your second home only a few years ago.

You sat at one of the seats at the table next to your father and waited quietly. You were suddenly surprised by Namjoon’s younger sister, Kyungmin. You would often greet her when you came over to visit Namjoon, but since you hadn’t seen her in a while nor did she make efforts to contact you, she most likely knew at least a little bit about what happened between you and her older brother. “(Y/N)! It’s been so long!” she bubbled, extending her arms, forcing you to plaster a smile on your face and stand to give her a hug. If she was aware, she gave no hint of it. She suddenly scoffed. “What is Namjoon doing?” she murmured to herself. “I’ll make sure he knows you’re here,” she informed you, making her way up the stairs to Namjoon’s room where he was most likely hiding away for the same reasons as you.

After a few minutes, Namjoon reluctantly descended the stairs behind his sister. There were two seats left at the table, one of which was directly across from you. Kyungmin hurriedly sat in the other seat and you couldn’t help but notice the twitch of her lips as she restrained a smirk from appearing on her face. Namjoon began to protest, but with his father and your parents present, decided instead to just quietly take a seat across from you. You still hadn’t met his eyes.

As dinner went on, the younger ones at the table respectfully listened to the parents converse, or at least that’s what you tried to make it look like. Inreality, it was just too tense to say a word to each other. You noticed Kyungmin had been looking between you and Namjoon practically the entire time, and once the conversation became quiet, she took her turn to speak. “So, (Y/N), how’s college?” she questioned innocently, prompting you to speak for the first time of the evening. You felt all eyes on you, waiting for a response, even the brown irises that sat across from you.

“It’s going well. I’m studying psychology right now, although I’m still not sure if I will major in that or something else. I’m a bit uncertain at the moment, but for now, I am happy with how things are going.” Your lips pulled into a small smile as you finished. There was a beat of silence until your parents began speaking on behalf of you, knowing that you personally had nothing else you wanted to say.

It wasn’t that you really had no other comments to make. After all, you had once treated the Kim’s as your second family, so you could speak fairly easily with them. It was the horrible burning stare you sensed from the other side of the table that you felt every time you made a move or said a word. Namjoon, ever-observant, analyzed and most likely criticized everything you did.

All night, Namjoon stayed silent, or only gave unnecessarily shortened answers when directly addressed, and for some reason it drove you insane not knowing exactly what was going on inside his mind at the moment. This thought especially bothered you when you had a feeling he could still read you like an open book while you were simply left clueless.

You grabbed the books you needed for your next few classes from your locker, which just so happened to be far too many that weighed far too much. You swore high school would be your demise in one way or another at some point. As you held your tower of books in your hands and struggled to push your locker door closed with your foot, you were met on the other side by Namjoon leaning against the neighboring locker. You let out a sound somewhere in between a gasp and a shout, nearly dropping your lead-like pile of books. “You scared me!” you reprimanded him, letting out a deep sigh to finally regain your composure despite your embarrassment from your outburst in front of those judgmental seniors walking by.

“Sorry about that, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “I thought it might be funny—which it was—and also I’ve been meaning to stop by and check up on you recently, anyways.”

You hummed in response. “And why is that?”

He pushed himself off of the locker he leaned on and readjusted the strap of his book bag on his shoulder. “I don’t know. Something’s been off with you recently.”

Maybe because it was almost the end of Wednesday and this was the first time he had spoken to you personally all week, which is absolutely absurd in both of your best friend standards. “I don’t know why you think that,” you brushed him off, but you were unable to keep yourself from looking away.

“Aha! See? You’re lying.” He waved a finger at you and continued on with his spiel. “Unfortunately for you, (Y/N), you can’t fool me. I know you too well. I know you like the back of my hand.” He waved his hand in front of your face for emphasis. “So, tell me. What is it?”

You chose to say nothing. Your problems as of now weren’t exactly something you could discuss with him, considering he was one of the root causes of them. “Ah,” he said when he came to a realization, snapping his fingers at his brilliant breakthrough. “You must be really stressed from school, right? Midterms are coming up, after all. If you need help studying for something, then just let me know.”

Although he couldn’t be more wrong, you were relieved that he wouldn’t linger on the subject any longer. You gave a half-hearted fake chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yep, you got me. I haven’t stopped worrying about midterms.”

“See, (Y/N)? I’ll always know exactly what you’re thinking, no matter if you try to hide it or not,” he smiled smugly, putting his dimples on full display. His eyes travelled downward to where you were now uncomfortably shifting your books in your tired arms. “Oh,” his mouth forming an ‘o’ to imitate the sound, “do you want me to carry those for you?”

“No, you really don’t need—” Without even letting you answer, he slipped the books from your hands into his own hold. He looked back up to you with a warm smile and a quick nod, and told you to lead the way to your next class. This was the boy you missed: the boy who went out of his way for you, who, despite it sometimes being bothersome, worried incessantly about you, who simply made time for you. Now, he did all of that for someone else. He put someone else above you, and it hurt. A lot. And just as you thought you were finally accepting things for the way they were and moving on, he once again had you wrapped around his finger in a mere three minutes.

Quite abruptly, you stood and asked to be excused from the table to use the restroom. You needed some air. You definitely needed some space away from the harsh reality of the boy sitting before you. You left the dining room and went up the stairs, the walk through the house practically part of your muscle-memory.

The bathroom is the third door on the left, you thought to yourself. Even though you were well aware of this fact, you couldn’t stop your feet from coming to a halt in front of the second door on the left. Namjoon’s room. You weren’t looking to pry, of course, but your insatiable curiosity was peaked when you spotted a familiar photograph sitting on top of his desk through the small opening of his door. You bit your lip and looked down the hallway in apprehension knowing full well you shouldn’t do what you were about to do, but of course, you pushed open the door and crossed the threshold to get a closer look anyway.

Nostalgia overwhelmed your senses for a moment as you entered the familiar space. You scanned the walls to see posters of his favorite musicians still hung in their spots and numerous academic trophies and medals displayed across several shelves. On these same shelves, you noted his collection of albums had only continued to grow.

As you took a few steps closer to his desk, you could now clearly make out the two teenagers in the photo that lay on top of it. It was a picture of you and Namjoon standing together and smiling widely at your middle school graduation, his arm draped carelessly over your shoulder as you leaned your head on his. With that, you recalled the night after the ceremony.

You laid flat on your back on the floor of his bedroom and stared at the ceiling, eyebrows lacing together. Your summer had finally begun, but the only thought on your mind was the start of school again in a few months. This time, however, it was different. You were entering the world of high school, a place you had always feared. At least you would have Namjoon at your side through it all, and you knew that for a fact, but something still compelled you to ask him about it. “Namjoon,” you spoke softly. He hummed in acknowledgement before you continued. “Can you believe we’re going to be high school students soon?”

He quickly sat up from his sprawled out position on his bed with a look of pure excitement adorning his features. “I know! It’s about time, right?”

“You’re excited?” you questioned meekly, not understanding where in the world his enthusiasm could stem from.

“You’re not?”

You puffed out your cheeks in thought before slowly lifting yourself into a sitting position matching his. “Well, no,” you answered bluntly. “Aren’t you scared? Or at least worried?”

He slid from his place on the bed and rested his back against the post as he now sat level with you on his floor. “Maybe I should be, but I’m just not. After all, I know we have each other’s backs. We’ll always be there for each other, right?” he mused and let a reassuring grin spread across his face.

Contrasting to the hesitant nod you had given him when he asked you that all those years ago, you now shook your head, acknowledging the fact that just the opposite had happened. You two had left each other.

You carefully placed the picture back where you had found it as you noticed there was a shoe box full of pictures just like the one you had just seen. You carefully flipped through some of the pictures and you were reminded of so many vivid memories you had made no effort to keep in mind. The memories had just simply never gone away. As you were reminiscing over a picture of you and Namjoon dressed up as pirates one year for Halloween, you missed the creak of the floorboards just outside of Namjoon’s bedroom.

“What are you doing in here?” You were snapped out of your reflection at the boom of Namjoon’s unhappy voice. “Get out!” His lips were turned downward and his eyebrows laced together in anger. This was definitely not what you were expecting from the first actually spoken words between the two of you of the night.

You let the photograph slip from your fingers back onto the desk as you stared at him with wide eyes and opened your mouth to speak only to close it again. Both of you were at a standstill, but you eventually gained enough composure to form some words. “Namjoon, I—” You cut yourself off once again, however, since you truly did not know how to explain yourself to him. “I just... saw the pictures, and I guess I just wanted to get a closer look,” you reluctantly spoke.

He let out a deep and peeved sigh as he pushed his hair back from his face. “Why were these out?” you asked sheepishly, wondering if he really had been thinking about things of the past as much as you had in the last 24 hours, prompting him to reminisce with moments captured in a camera.

“It doesn’t matter,” he spoke quickly with frustration, shaking his head rapidly. “Please, just leave,” he yelled. Back in high school, you would never let him get away with shouting at you like that, even if you were best friends. Now that you’ve both grown, that fact has still not changed.

“Why are you being like this?” you snapped at him. “I’ve tried to be peaceful tonight, but you’re making it really hard to do that so far.” You crossed your arms over your chest and blamed him for the both of your behaviors tonight.

“Me? I haven’t done anything!” he spat in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t completely wrong. Neither of you had done anything to each other all night, actually. “If anything, you’re the one that’s making everything hard considering that you’re the one that started everything back in high school.” Your understanding quickly turned into offense as he now turned the blame back to you.

“How was I the one to start everything?”

“You were the one that left! What happened to being there for each other? I was always there for you, but then you just decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore!” he exclaimed, revealing a plethora of hidden emotions while pointing an accusing finger at you.

“I left because you were with Hyunjee!” you confessed before you could even stop yourself. The room was left in complete silence, all noise from the others downstairs completely vanished along with your confidence. After you had both registered the words that you had just spoken, your faces morphed into that of surprise and confusion.

“What did me being with Hyunjee have to do with anything?” he questioned, voice considerably softer than it had been before. As soon as he says the words aloud, you finally realize that maybe all of this wasn’t his fault, at least not fully like you had always so ignorantly claimed to yourself. “(Y/N)?” he pushed his question once more out of curiosity. You really wished you hadn’t said what you did because now you weren’t sure how you would give him a proper answer without revealing the embarrassing truth that you had so hopelessly fallen for your best friend.

“It’s nothing,” you spewed quickly, unable to stop yourself from stuttering. You began to nervously wring your fingers as you felt his gaze still intently settled upon you. When he still said nothing to brush the topic aside, you finally cracked under the pressure and tried your best to give an explanation. “I just felt like she was stealing my best friend away from me, that’s all. You were always with her, and I didn’t want to be around while she was, so I just... stopped.”

Namjoon’s lips turned downwards. “Why would you do that? I said from the very beginning that I wouldn’t let her or anything else get between us.” Namjoon’s voice broke almost unnoticeably, but you had caught it and felt your heart sink a thousand miles a minute. “Did you not trust me?”

For the first time, you gained the courage to bring your eyes up to his where you immediately felt as if you were drowning within them. “Of course I trusted you!” you exclaimed hastily as you abruptly took a step forward, nearly tripping and falling flat on the desk chair. “It just hurt... to see you two together.”

You bit your lip in fearful anticipation as he slowly questioned, “Why?”

This was the moment the youthful version of yourself had always dreamed of. You would finally let your feelings be known to Namjoon. Except, this moment was not nearly as butterfly-inducing, spark-flying of a confession as you had envisioned. Instead, you were caught red-handed looking at his pictures in his bedroom, when all you ever wanted was to be each other’s.

“It hurt because I couldn’t be in her place,” you admitted weakly with a small shrug. You finally dragged your pupils from where they were focused on a loose thread of the old rug on his bedroom floor up to his deep, wonderful, and terrifying eyes. In that moment, with puzzlement etched across his entire face, you wanted sink into the floor, into the depths of the earth to never be seen again by him or anyone else. The same warm cocoa color of his eyes became dark and constricting as you began to panic, realizing the actual consequences of the words you had let leave your mouth. Your mouth opened and closed, silently and dumbly. Suddenly, your feet freed themselves from where they were glued to the ground and you hurriedly pushed past him, through his bedroom doorway.

You flew down the stairs, almost losing your footing just before reaching the final step. Already grabbing your coat and opening the front door, you gave a rushed and half-hearted goodbye to Namjoon’s parents and sister as you could hear Namjoon calling out for you and approaching from behind. Politeness be damned, you had to get out of there.

You slammed the door shut just before your old friend was able to reach you and you jogged through both of your yards to find sanctuary in your own home. You were almost positive that Namjoon had even tried to follow you outside, but you would never know; you didn’t even glance back to check. Instead, you immediately locked yourself in your bedroom, dreading the thought of getting scolded for your behavior towards the Kim’s, but even more so horrified at what you had just done and said in your old best friend’s bedroom.

The next morning, you had not even bothered to wake up at a reasonable time. Instead, you wanted to sleep for hours on end to hide away from the cruel world that you were forced to function in with parents downstairs who were most definitely ready to rake you over the coals for your horrible manners and a certain intimidatingly attractive boy that you knew so well, yet who felt like a stranger, just next door.

You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas, so you made your way sluggishly down the stairs and made yourself a lazy bowl of cereal, hoping to avoid your parents for as a long as possible.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side as your mother came into the living room just as you sat down on the couch in front of the TV. “Well, look who’s finally awake. Is this how you live at college with those morning classes you’ve got?” she questioned in an almost joking way, much to your surprise.

You allowed a moment of silence, secretly fearing she would suddenly attack you with ‘why’s and ‘how could you’s about your behavior last night. When none of those questions came, only more silence, you decided to address it yourself. “You’re not mad?” you asked, letting yourself become hopeful. “I thought that you would be angry with how I acted last night.”

Your mother sighed and sat down beside you, resting her arm on the back of the couch to turn towards you. “You know, I was... But then I realized that something must have happened.” She spoke carefully as if she were walking on thin ice. “I know that’s not like you. Namjoon was acting the same way, and that’s not like him either. He went and disappeared into his room for the rest of the night, too.”

You bit your lip, wondering what Namjoon could have been thinking of you last night, or even what he could be thinking now. You hoped dearly that she wouldn’t want to know why all of this had happened, but of course, a mother always knows when something is wrong. “Is there something that happened last night that I should know about?” she questioned in the soft, caring way a mother does, but also with a hint of mischief, leaving you to assume she had the wrong idea.

You only shook your head and let out an exasperated chuckle. “No,” you assured her, completely lying through your teeth, “it’s not important.” Your hugged your knees to your chest and set your now empty cereal bowl onto the coffee table in front of you. Just as you picked up the TV remote and were about to turn it on, the doorbell of your front door had rung. Your mother quickly stood up and volunteered to answer it.

You placed the remote back down and instead listened to your mother greet the person on the other side of the door. The sound of the door creaking open was soon followed by your mother’s hospitable voice, “Namjoon! Hello!”

You quickly threw the blanket you were wrapped in across the room as you got up to peek your head around the wall to see your mother, but luckily you were blocked from Namjoon’s vision by the solid wood of the front door.

“Hello, Mrs. (L/N). I was wondering if I could speak with (Y/N) if she is available,” you heard him speak in his sweet, polite voice of honey that melted every bit of ice in your body. You still didn’t want to see him, though. Nope. Not at all.

Your mother casually peeked around the door to see you violently shaking your head to tell her that you were definitely not available to talk. She played it off as if you hadn’t been there by looking in the other direction as if looking around for you. She then turned back to him and gave an apologetic smile as she lied to him for you, “No, I’m sorry, Namjoon. I think she went to see some old friends from high school this morning. Maybe try coming back later, yeah?”

“Oh, I see.” Would it be too hopeful to think that you heard disappointment in his voice? Surely, there was absolutely no way he actually cared. “Well, thank you anyway.” They exchanged goodbyes and your mother shut the door as he began retreating back to his house.

She stopped and looked at you, placing a hand on her hip as you could only give a guilty smile. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” she interrogated with a knowing look. You only gave her another violent shake of your head as you disappeared back around the corner and onto the cushions of the couch.

You were really hoping Namjoon wouldn’t take the offer to come back later to see you. If this was how it was going to be until it’s time to go back to college, it was going to be a long summer.

“Have you started packing yet?” your mothers asks above the clinking of the silverware against glass plates, previously the only sound while you and your parents ate dinner in silence. There had been some underlying tension there the whole summer that you weren’t sure of the cause of, but for some reason, it was especially apparent tonight.

“No, I’m going to do that now actually,” you stated as you wiped your mouth with a napkin and picked up your dinner plate to wash it off in the sink. It was Wednesday and you were going back to college on Saturday. You heard your mother speak from behind you as you placed it in the dishwasher.

“Please try to finish up by Friday. You have some goodbyes to say.” You furrowed your eyebrows at her as you turned to face her, but she said nothing else as she still had her back to you, finishing her dinner. You decided not to question her and instead ascended the stairs the great feat of packing all your things for another year of college.

After you got comfortable and put on some pajamas, you began by taking all of your clothes you wished to take from your closet off of their hangers and folding them up before putting them away in a bag. From the corner of your eye, you could see a light flashing through your window behind your curtains. You slowly made your way through the piles of shirts and pants and everything of the like scattered across your bedroom floor. You hesitantly pulled your curtains open to see a bright light shining straight back at you from the window across from yours. Suddenly the light went out and when your eyes finally got accustomed to the darkness in front of you, you saw Namjoon standing behind his bedroom window, holding a flashlight.

As soon as he knew he had your attention, which he assumed he did by the fact that you didn’t immediately close your curtains in his face, he began turning the flashlight on and off in different patterns. You, of course, recalled that it was Morse code. You recognized a little bit, however, you were definitely rusty, and the cheat sheet Namjoon made for you all those years ago was thrown away in the move before the first year of college. There were some letters you recognized, others you didn’t but you thought you understood enough to infer that he spelled out: Can we talk?

You grabbed a piece of paper and a marker from your desk and quickly scribbled down before raising it and letting him read, Why all of a sudden?

You saw a frown form upon his lips at your written message. He also grabbed a sheet and a marker to respond, holding it up against his window. No Morse code?

No. It was inefficient. You quickly wrote back.

You could see him let out a chuckle in the grin on his face and the shake of his shoulders as he wrote something on the other side of his paper.

But I thought that was our thing, he teased. He even drew a little frowny face to get his message across.

Despite how much you didn’t want to, you gave a weak laugh and slightly shook your head. He grabbed another piece of paper and began scrawling a new message for you and held it up for you to see.

Please come over. I wanna talk.

You hesitated for a moment, looking between him and any other possible place to look in your room. Suddenly you looked down at yourself, already dressed in your pajamas, ready to call it a night. Part of you was tempted to give him a ‘no’ by simply shutting your curtains and turning your light off. However, the rational side of you knew that things couldn’t be left like this as the both of you went back to college. So, without even bothering to change, you slipped on a sweatshirt and slid on a pair of sandals and braved the excruciatingly short walk to his house.

He was there, opening the front door for you before you even made it up the first porch step. “I’m glad you’re here,” he sighed. “I didn’t think you would actually come.”

“What, you thought I’d just pretend we didn’t have that cheesy cliche paper-at-the-windows conversation?” you attempted to joke.

“Well, you did avoid me all summer, so I didn’t think it was impossible,” he spoke bluntly causing you to clear your throat uncomfortably, the grin falling from your face. Although you had hoped it wouldn’t be as painfully obvious as he made it seem, you had a feeling he would see right through your efforts to “accidentally” never have any time to spare for him. You should have lost hope long before the many other strange scenarios you were forced into to avoid talking with him from the very beginning when you pretended to take a call, but ended up looking like an idiot and exposing yourself as a liar when you were visibly holding your cell phone upside down.

You could only give an awkward hum as a response since you had no actual planned out excuse for avoiding him like the plague for the past two months. Namjoon opened the door wider and awkwardly shuffled back a few steps, motioning with his head for you to come in. You reluctantly accepted his offer and took a few steps to join him inside his house, him closing the front door behind you. You took a look around you and noticed the house was completely silent except for the sound of he stairs creaking beneath Namjoon’s feet as he began to lead you to the second floor. “Are your parents here?” you questioned him, shoving your hands in your pockets while still searching the area of the house you could see.

Namjoon shook his head, “No, it’s just me at home tonight.” You hated yourself for how much your heart rate sped up after hearing this. It shouldn’t matter to you that it was only the two of you in the building. It doesn’t matter to you.

You gave a hum in response just as the two of you reached Namjoon’s bedroom. You looked around for a moment, completely at a loss for what to do next, but you soon opted for hesitantly taking a seat on the end of his neatly made-up bed. Namjoon coughed and scratched at the back of his neck. “You know, I leave for college again tomorrow.” You simply looked between him and the wall to the side of you, unsure of what type of response he was looking for, so he continued onto his main point. “I just wanted to talk before I left to, you know, clear some things up.”

You didn’t even bother trying to hide your dread for the conversation he was trying to start. “Look, I won’t make you explain exactly what you meant that night when you said… what you said, but I just wanted to have you here to talk. To make sure things are okay between us. I guess.”

“Why now? It’s not like things were okay before,” you countered, crossing your arms and looking away from him while letting out half of an awkward chuckle.

“I know,” he sighed. “Maybe we could just start over. I want my best friend back.” He looked around the room for a new topic of conversation while drying his anxiously clammy palms on his jeans. He finally finds his words and uses his voice while motioning all around him, “Look! It’s just like old times! It’s just the two of us here.” He made his way over to his bed and sat beside you, but he kept looking ahead instead of facing you. “Remember how good we had it then? We didn’t have to care about… basically anything, and we told each other everything here.”

The nostalgia laced in his voice made you reminisce without even realizing you were doing so. “Yeah. I’ll never forget that day you told me you wanted to make music instead of studying. I was completely shocked to say the least.”

He turned to you with a chuckle. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know. You were just Kim Namjoon, the perfect student. I was sure you had it all figured out.” You huffed out a breath of air, remembering all of the turmoil and decision-making you faced yourself when you were that age.

“No. I definitely did not have it all figured out. I still don’t,” he reflected out loud. “I’ll never forget that time you told me you still had to sleep with your teddy bear.”

You elbowed him in the ribcage, but still let a smile grow on your face. “Come on, I was like twelve.”

He stayed silent for a moment before slowly turning his head to you, a smug grin playing on his face. “Are you still the same way?”

“It doesn’t matter!” you shouted, even though you weren’t able to contain your giggles. Being here in this room with Namjoon teasing you and making you laugh, it really did feel like old times.

“Come on, there’s no need to be shy,” he continued to provoke you. “We used to tell each other all our secrets here after all,” he continued, his words suddenly softening.

You got a sudden and overwhelmingly terrifying burst of courage to finally tell him what you had been so afraid to say for so many years. “Can I tell you a secret now?” you requested so quietly, it could barely be considered even a whisper. Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows but nodded attentively to coax you to continue. “I never realized it until after you started dating Hyunjee, but I think every time we came up here, I always really wanted to kiss you.” You couldn’t even believe the words that came out of your mouth. In fact, you had just endured the slowest most painful embarrassment as the words spilled from your mouth, but for whatever reason, you didn’t stop yourself. You guessed it had something to do with the feeling of lightness on your shoulders once you finally breathed in after your horrifying yet relieving confession.

You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes and your face felt like it was much too hot to be healthy, but you had no idea of what to do next, so you simply sat, staring at your hands resting in your lap while pursing your lips in fear and anticipation. The deafening silence in the room was finally put to an end when Namjoon spoke just as quietly as you had before. “Can I tell you a secret, too?” You mustered up the courage to lift your eyes to see his face, only to be met with his profile adorned with a small smile and that dimple that you loved oh-so-much. “I think I wanted to do the same.”

Your lips parted in shock as he slowly shifted to look you in the eye. This was the most intense feeling you had ever experienced, trapped within his gaze, wanting nothing more than to make a move to ensure that all of this is real, not just another hopeless dream from when you had those moments as best friends that made you question if you were really something more.

Without any warning, both of you were within centimeters of each other and your heart was beating wildly because you had never seen yourself actually getting into this situation you had contemplated for so many years now. Your lips finally connected after an agonizing moment of hesitance coming from the both of you. Despite how you had always imagined before, there were no fireworks. Instead, it gave you a warm and light-headed feeling like everything in the world was right again and so much weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You weren’t even sure where your sudden confidence came from, but, still staying connected in the kiss, you pushed him back onto his bed and took your place on his lap. His hands began to wander to your hips and you could feel a smirk growing on his lips still pressed against yours. “Namjoon! We’re home!” you could hear coming from the first floor followed by the slam of a door. You quickly leaned away and broke the kiss, causing Namjoon to groan in annoyance.

“Sorry, looks like we’ll have to wait until fall break to finish this.” You gave a smug grin while sympathetically patting his chest.

He rested his hands on your thighs as you still sat on his lap. He looked up to you giving a disheartened expression, sighing, “Ah, (Y/N), that’s so far away.”

“I can survive. Can’t you?” you mocked.

He was still visibly and audibly beyond frustrated. “Well, I guess I’ve already waited his long.” he concluded. You let out a small giggle, one that he eventually returned, before you let the smile disappear from your face.

You leaned down to lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. “I really am gonna miss you.” You spoke in the direction of the wall beside him.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before you felt Namjoon leave a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I always missed you.”

“Me too,” you whispered. “I never should have left us behind,” you said, letting a long-neglected tear threaten to run down your cheek, tightening your grip around his waist. You squeezed your eyes shut, terrified that once you opened them again, everything would be gone.

When you finally did open them again, however, you were still in each other’s arms, still laying on the bed of your special place, the place where you told each other everything, and on that night, it had finally fulfilled its purpose. He was still holding you, and you were still crying, though you weren’t sure why. You were still together, and you were happy.

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