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shinysobi · 12 days

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pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

A/N: uhh..hi? this is the first time i've written rpf, and it makes all the more sense for it to be centred around woozi, my svt bias. this has no plot at all, and i just wrote it for fun and vibes...also unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes, no u did not :)) shout out to my twitter gc for cheering me on as i wrote this hehe u guys are the best

a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Chapter 1

Whoever said that every love story is universal, was not lying, unfortunately. Every good love story is a mix of tropes that unfortunately work well together to form a coherent plot. And the longer you read books, the easier it becomes for you to identify (or avoid) these tropes.

The enemies turn into lovers.

The friends turn into lovers.

The inn only has one available bed.

Your brother’s best friend is somehow smoking hot and doesn’t see you as an annoying little sibling anymore.

Your one-night stand is your new boss, and he is inexplicably obsessed with you.

Your parents have forced you into an arranged marriage, and your partner is a. incredibly hot and b. also obsessed with you. You get the gist, so on, and so forth.

All love stories go for a trope that becomes the central conceit of the story, no matter how unique they try to be. The small-town girl/boy falls for the hotshot city lawyer/businessman/vague marketing executive and shows them the importance of family, and of course, of love, because without it, business is notoriously low. People need romance to feel something other than hatred in their already terrible lives, and books offer escapism. Escapism and on some other level, a sense of belonging. You can identify yourself with the girl who falls in love with her brother’s best friend, or the man who has feelings for his sworn enemy, or the person who has, surprise, fallen in love, with their best friend. Or their best friend’s brother. Take your pick.

And unfortunately, as a critic, reading romance implies wading through the countless reiterations of trope-y goodness on offer at every bookstore, and trying to find something that strikes a chord. It is a given, that one has to kiss some proverbial frogs in the meantime, and of course, any professional mishap has to be accompanied with a gossip session with one’s friends, where any complaints you might have about your work, is unloaded onto the brunch table, for my friends to laugh about.

Because at the end of the day, everyone is a character in their own kind of romance novel. A victim of the tropes, if you will. In my case, I am the perpetual single childhood best friend, who puts up with every single antic of the main character. In of course, an enemies-to-lovers romance. Apparently unrequited love sells too, if its written well. If not, then it just becomes one of many repetitive marketing gimmicks that frankly, don’t sit well with anyone, let alone someone like me, who critiques books for a living.

“It’s your attitude that’s a problem.” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you’ve been writing for the newspaper for years and I have never seen you actually be satisfied with a book. There’s always something that could have been better. Maybe this is why you are so—”

“I am so?” I say, eyes narrowed, “finish that sentence, Jihoon.”

“You want me to?”

“Do you really have to fight every time we meet?”

Both Jihoon and I turn our head to the third person at the table, Joshua. Dressed impeccably in a freshly ironed pair of shirt and trousers, he looks far better than either me or Jihoon, because both of us look as though we have been through botched murder attempts. I am in a hoodie and sweatpants, and Jihoon is somehow worse than me, wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. His abandoned khaki bomber jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, but he actually looks worse when wearing the jacket. Joshua looks as though he has been seated at our table by mistake. I’m slightly annoyed by this, but it seems as though Jihoon is more annoyed than me, “what do you mean we fight every time we meet?”

Joshua makes a vague hand gesture, “really? Look at us. You both are dressed as though you’ve been through a typhoon. I feel horribly overdressed.”

“I had a long night.” I reply, “worked overtime at the desk for the Sunday paper.”

“I came here straight from the studio.” Jihoon says, “I didn’t even go home to shower.”

“See, this, this is what I am talking about.” Joshua groans, “both of you dress like homeless people, and then when you come to brunch, you fight all the time. Do you guys never get tired of fighting?”

“Never.” Both Jihoon and I say in unison.

Joshua sighs, before picking up his knife and fork, “I give up. I can never get you two to agree on anything apart from the fact that you guys, apparently, don’t fight.”

“She needs to quit complaining about her job.” Jihoon points his fork at me, “she’s got the cushiest job imaginable, and she manages to complain about it all the time. Every week, she’s here complaining about something at her job.”

“As if you don’t complain about your job all the time too,” I reply, not one to back down from a fight, “you complain about the people at your job all the time as well. And it’s not as though your job is shitty; you literally work at the biggest music corporation in the country—”

“Guys!” Joshua half-yells, and I stop. Everyone is looking at the three of us, and unlike the two of us, he looks embarrassed. “Guys, if you have to fight every time we meet, maybe I suggest we stop this weekly brunch. Jesus—”

“Oh, he swore,” Jihoon whispers, and I giggle, “we finally made him take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“—it’s like you’re kids all over again. This isn’t freshman year of university, for heaven’s sake,” he takes an elegant sip of his coffee, “and for your information, Jesus isn’t the Lord. I’m not letting you guys get the satisfaction of hearing me fucking swear.”

“Does he hear himself?” Jihoon mutters. “I don’t think he does.” I whisper in response.

“Yes, I’m aware I said ‘fuck’, thank you very much.” Joshua sits back in his chair, “I’m proposing to Eunseo tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jihoon yells, bolting upright from his chair, and everyone in the restaurant looks at us, “you’re proposing to her tonight?”

Joshua grabs his hand to drag him back onto his chair, “yes, tonight. Are you stupid? Everyone is looking at us now.” He looks at me, “what do you think about it?”

Oh. Oh.

Remember when I said that my role in a romance novel is that of the eternally-spurned childhood friend? The one who has loved the main character from a distance, never really daring to express their feelings? Well, I’ve not known Joshua since my childhood, we met at high school, and it hasn’t been that long since I discovered that I might have a tiny, the most miniscule of crushes on him. But I’m that trope. The childhood friend who gets spurned, and the main character turns away to the actual love of their life, leaving only a broken heart behind. Too little, too late.

Well, who wouldn’t?

He’s tall, good-looking, gentlemanly, with just the right amount of unhinged, has a good, stable, get-off-at-the-right-time government job, and above all, he’s unflinchingly kind to everyone. Yes, including me and Jihoon, even though we make his life a living hell on most days. Realistically, it was only a moment of time before either Jihoon or I had any feelings for him. And I was betting on Jihoon too. Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice is soft, insisting, and all I can see when I break out of my reverie is the swoop of his collarbones as they disappear under the shirt, and suddenly I feel very dirty. Not just dirty, but also simply awful. Why am I out here thinking about his collarbones when he’s thinking about how to propose to his girlfriend? His very nice, very beautiful girlfriend?

“I’m fine,” I nod my head, “have you picked out a ring for her?”

“Not yet, but I have a kind of ring in mind already.” He says, turning to Jihoon and starting to talk about the different cuts of diamonds that are present at Tiffany’s, and how they suit different kinds of people. Eunseo, I learn, is partial to a pear cut. Jihoon, the idiot, who can’t shut up when it comes to arguments with me, is unnaturally quiet, only offering comments here and there. It’s very uncharacteristic.

And then he gets that look on his face which is a signal for both me and Jihoon that we are about to hear an hour’s worth of praises of Eunseo, and I step in. Making a vague sign towards my completed plate of fish and chips (not that great, the fish was soggy) I say, “before he begins singing praises of his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé, can we get the check?”

“You keep saying it as though you don’t know how much I love her.” Joshua sounds annoyed but unfortunately, I can see through his mask of fake annoyance, “I already paid.”

“Thank goodness, I forgot my wallet.” Jihoon smiles, “for a moment, I thought I would have to use my online wallet.”

“Aren’t you ashamed?” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. Apparently, music producers these days have to be certified gym rats, or they won’t let them into the building, “you’ve mooched off of Joshua and me for the past twelve years, maybe it’s time to start paying.”

“Maybe I do pay, but I just don’t like you.” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his tone, “so I don’t want to pay for your meal.”

“You little—” I’m about to commit a murder in broad daylight, but Joshua, the sweet angel that he is, stops both of us, waving his card in between like a bullfighting matador.

“You guys just don’t stop, do you?” He grins, evidently thinking about how he’s going to propose to his loving girlfriend this evening. Nauseating. It makes me want to throw up. Because Joshua is not going to wake up one morning and decide that he wants to throw away his living relationship of five years to—to pursue his unfortunate best friend, who has nursed an unfortunate attraction towards him for the past year. That is never going to happen. So, let’s scratch that. That should not happen.

Because apart from being unfairly gorgeous and rich and beautiful and did I mention gorgeous? Eunseo is also unflinchingly nice, the kind of nice that leaves other people wondering if the person in front of them is real or not, or if they have some kind of hidden intentions that border on murderous or at the very least, fraudulent. She’s the one who took me under her wing when I was a freshman and had no friends except the two weird guys in my required sociology class, and thanks to her, at the end of four years of university, I had friends in the journalism club, people I come into contact on occasion such as weddings and the odd reunion.

Her niceness is also the reason why Joshua fell for her at first sight.

“I’m out.” Jihoon picks up the abomination of a bomber jacket from his chair, “and before you ask, no, hyung, I’m not helping you with picking out a ring for your girlfriend. You can do that yourself. Or ask her for help.”

And before Joshua can look at me and before I make a fool out of myself (yet again), I turn away, rejecting his proposal for looking at pear-cut diamond rings on a Sunday morning, “I’m ideologically against the institution of marriage. Do it yourself.”

Joshua sighs, because of course he has anticipated this. The fucker. “cannot believe you’re still on your Dworkin streak. Fine,” he says, getting up from his chair and walking out of the café, “I’ll get Eunseo’s ring myself. And when she asks, I’ll tell her that none of you helped me.”

“Ooh, threatening your girlfriend on us, I’m shaking in my boots,” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice, digging through his pockets to get his car keys, “when are you planning to get the ring?”

“Later, in the afternoon,” Joshua is opening the door to his car, and looking at me, “do you want me to give you a ride? Your house is on the way.”

“She only takes buses and the subway,” Jihoon grins, “don’t you remember the time in university when she kept saying about how much she likes welfare policies and transportation benefits?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I reply, elbowing him, harder this time, and Jihoon flinches, “I’ll just go to the office. Jihoon will give me a ride.”

“When did I say that I’ll give you a ride?” Jihoon looks like he wants to begin an argument with me in front of the café, but he acquiesces, “ugh, fine. I’ll give you a ride. Your office is on the way.”

—

“I’m still not convinced that you simply wanted to ‘spend time with me’.” Jihoon grumbles an hour later, seated at his studio and fiddling with his computer. “You’ve been lying there and scrolling twitter for hours now.”

“Your couch is much better than my office chair,” I hum a non-committal reply, before making myself further comfortable into the soft plush material of his couch, “and I’m not scrolling on twitter, I’m trying to find another flat to move into.”

“Lease up?” Jihoon asks, “wasn’t your agreement still valid for at least another few months?”

“I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve,” I reply, “if I start looking from now, maybe I’ll get a better flat by the time the lease is up. My current flat is—”

“A shithole.” Jihoon finishes my sentence for me, “seriously, I don’t know how you manage to live there. And you’ve been holding onto that flat for the past seven years. everyone moved out of their university flats, but you managed to hold onto yours for so long.”

“That’s because it’s a good deal,” I mutter, “ugh, I can’t manage to find a single good deal on any of the flats.”

“Because you’re never satisfied with any deal,” Jihoon replies, “your ideal deal is if everything was free.”

“And I still maintain that housing should not be monetised.”

“Why thank you for that insight, comrade.” Jihoon puts a finger to his mouth, “shut up for a while, I’m trying to concentrate on this song.

“Who’s it for?” I sit up, intrigued, “a new artist?”

“The company’s new girl group.” Jihoon says, “I was asked to produce the title track for their debut. I only have four months on hand, and I still haven’t finished the track. The higher-ups are going to have my head for this.”

“No, they won’t,” I reply, “they like you too much. Speaking of—”

“—if you want me to give you an interview, I won’t, I’ve already told you five times,” Jihoon cuts me off, wheeling his chair away from me, “jeez, you’re tenacious.”

“Oh, but come on, it’ll be fun,” with an extra emphasis on come on, I think I’ve got Jihoon’s attention, “people keep speculating on the kind of person you are. I mean, people know Woozi, but do they know what kind of person he is, underneath all that secrecy? You’ve never given an interview, and you keep avoiding any kind of public appearance. One might think you hate the spotlight.”

“Even if I were to give an interview, I wouldn’t be giving it to you. Who knows how you’re going to spin my words.”

“I’m hurt, Lee Jihoon. This has hurt me.”

Jihoon turns around and blows me a raspberry. I roll my eyes. Is he twenty-eight, or just eight? “whatever you say won’t affect the way I think. I still won’t give you an interview.”

“Just so you know, I’m known to be an excellent interviewer.” I say, walking over to his chair, “come on, Jihoon-ah, give me an interview. Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Pwease?”

He turns around at that, fixing me with a stare, “don’t you ever fucking do aegyo in front of me. I’m going to kill you if you do that again.”

“See, if you gave me an interview like I’m asking you to, then I would not have a reason to subject you to aegyo, but as things stand, you really give me nothing else to work with.”

“Ask Joshua for an interview then, if you’re so desperate for one,” the words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have given me enough reason to walk out of the room, but Jihoon made them sound softer, almost romantic. It was funny, how he managed to change the intonations of every word, changing them to his whims. I suppose that’s what I do with words, and that’s what he does with sounds.

“Joshua is not the elusive Woozi,” I flop back onto the sofa as I counter, trying actively to not think about Joshua picking out a ring at Tiffany’s for Eunseo right at that moment, “he’s an adjunct professor. Not the most interview-friendly of all occupations.”

Jihoon looks at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ask me a very uncomfortable and difficult question, but at that moment, both our phones buzz simultaneously. I check the phone, and it’s a single message in the shared chatroom. Joshua has sent a message, a single picture of a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring (don’t ask me how I know the cut of the diamond) with an attached message;

joshuji: picked up her ring! <3

“Damn, an exclamation point, and an emoji,” Jihoon says, typing out a reply in the chatroom, “our joshuji is entirely too far gone, isn’t he?”

I don’t say anything. Its far easier to pretend that you’re typing out a reply and can’t hear anything, especially when it comes to Jihoon. He’ll take anything in stride.

hoon: wow Eunseo has you whipped

big dick (canon): hey I think it’s cute

Jihoon sets his phone down with an audible clack, and fuck, I’ve messed up. Joshua is oblivious and blissfully happy in his own little life, but Jihoon? The Jihoon that I’ve known ever since our seats were beside each other in the sociology class that made me develop an irrational fear of surveyors? He’s single-minded whenever it comes to pursuing anything. One doesn’t become the most sought-after music producer in the industry with just talent, they need to be dogged in their pursuit of success. And unfortunately, when Lee Jihoon turns his mind to something, he accomplishes it, whether it’s producing a Billboard Hot 100 hit, or, judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, getting words out of my mouth.

“Okay, spill, I’ve seen this go on for long enough,” he says, getting up from the chair and walking over to the sofa, where I am currently hiding behind a throw pillow, “you’ve been weird for months now, and we need to talk about it.”

“We, don’t need to do anything,” I reply, “I’m perfectly fine. If something happened, I would tell you. Or Joshua. Or both of you, at the same time.”

“Like you inform us after every breakup of yours?” Jihoon laughs, “you mean to say you’re going to hold another one of your ‘meetings’ to tell me and Joshua about how some poor bastard made the mistake of trying to date you?”

“I’m actually nice when I date, and I can hold down a relationship for more than two weeks, Mr I-don’t-like-commitment. Tell me, how did your last date go? Did she walk out of the date itself, or did you ghost her?”

Jihoon blinks at me, and then, a slow, catlike smile passes over his features. Fuck.

“You’re being combative today,” he grins, and fuck, its infuriating how predictable I am, and how absolutely incapable I am of not taking his bait, “so, there is something that you’re hiding.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the damn bait,” he replies, “do you want to tell me yourself, or do you want me to guess your little secret?”

“I’m not telling you anything, and its nothing you can suss out either.”

“I can just beat it out of you,” he smiles, flexing his arms, and I belatedly remember that Jihoon, to my disadvantage, had decided at the early age of twenty-one, that he was going to make up for his height by being The Broadest Man on Earth, and now carried a protein shake in his bag everywhere he went, that somehow tasted more disgusting than it looked. He could easily beat me to a pulp. And he would do it too, the little shit.

“Jihoon, remember the time I carried you home when you were drunk?” I don’t know how to do the specific variant of the thing they call ‘puppy eyes’, but I try my absolute best to emulate the little I know, “and you threw up all over my clothes? Remember? It was at Mingyu’s birthday party, and you got drunk on an empty stomach—”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he throws a pillow at me, “fuck, that’s creepy. Also, I got drunk and threw up on your clothes in my second year of university, damn, how long are you going to milk it for?”

“As long as I can,” I reply, “please, Jihoon, just this once.”

“Damn, fine, weirdo,” he stands up, going back to his chair, his back now towards me, “isn’t as though you like Joshua or something.”

I freeze, hoping that the intake of breath at that last sentence hasn’t been heard by Jihoon. I know I’m an atheist, I pray fervently, to whichever god that’s listening, God, Allah, Buddha, Jesus, if anyone’s listening, please, please, please, let Jihoon not notice—

“You like Joshua?”

Fuck.

“No.” I lie brightly, “I just—stubbed my toe on the table.”

Jihoon looks at me in a way that screams bitch, I know you’re a liar so don’t even try. “You know you’re a horrible liar, right?”

“I am?”

He nods, “its one of the many endearing things about you. But unfortunately, you’ve given yourself away now. Really, Joshua? The Joshua Hong we know?”

“Really, it isn’t like that,” I’m sweating, and praying Jihoon doesn’t notice that I’m sweating, “its nothing, and besides, I don’t even like him in that kind of way—”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

I choke on a breath and begin coughing. “What?” I manage to say, after I recover enough to breathe properly, “I don’t want to fuck anyone!”

“Great, because if you wanted to fuck him, it would have become massively awkward.” Jihoon shrugs, “since it’s one of those passing feelings, you can take care of it; it happens all the time. I once had a crush on you too. It’s bound to happen.”

“You had a crush on me?” I screech, “what the fuck, Lee Jihoon, you’re supposed to wait before dropping this kind of information on me!”

“Dude, its long gone,” Jihoon places a hand on my shoulder, a touch that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only suffices to make me angrier, “it was during my military service. I remember that you came with my parents to see me off, and it was—nice. So, I had a crush on you. I got over it when I got out of the military, though. Turns out seeing your best friend live in a hovel really does wonders for your lingering feelings.”

“For eighteen months?” I hold my head in my hands, “you had a crush on me for eighteen months? What the fuck kind of information is that? And you got out of the military three years ago!”

“M-hmm, see, that’s what I mean when I say these feelings will go away.” Jihoon looks sage, as if he’s imparting the secret to life and how to be a good Buddhist, and not bombarding my mind with information I would rather not know, “wait, have you masturbated to Joshua?”

“What the fuck?” I stand up, pacing the room at a speed that would closely rival that of an Olympian, “why would I masturbate to Joshua Hong?”

Jihoon shrugs, “people masturbate. You are a person. Hence the question.”

“Of course, I haven’t masturbated to—wait did you masturbate while thinking of me?” I’m yelling now, yelling and pacing the room like a woman possessed, because of course, Jihoon has made me lose my mind, “Lee Jihoon, did you jerk off to my pictures?”

He shrugs. “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill myself,” I say, grabbing his shoulders, “you know what, Jihoon, lets do that. Let’s both die.”

“Why would I consent to a murder-suicide with you?” he sounds terribly composed, which again, does not bode well for the numerous murderous thoughts I have currently running through my head, “its just a little masturbation. I was twenty-three, I was bored to tears at the military camp, and I had a crush on you, so, I did what I did.”

“Which was apparently, masturbation.” I flop facedown on the couch, “I want to castrate you, you know that, right?”

“Figures. You’ve always been weird about sex.” Jihoon makes a face, “So, you didn’t tell me. do you want to fuck Joshua or not? Because if you do, then it just means that you want sex. If you don’t, then I can’t help you.”

“How can you help me in any way if I say I want to have sex with Joshua?” I ask, “even if I do, which I don’t, just by the way—”

“You want to jump his bones. Right.”

“—how can you even help me, short of getting me a male prostitute.” I pause, horror spreading through my features, “oh fuck. Jihoon, are you going to hire a gigolo?”

To his credit, Jihoon looks appropriately disgusted, “why would I hire a prostitute? No, I would set you up with one of my friends.”

“Who?”

He thinks for a while, then says, “Soonyoung.”

“No offence, but I’m about 90% convinced that Soonyoung is a furry.”

“Jeonghan-hyung, then.”

“He’s too similar to Joshua,” I groan, “why am I going along with this idea? This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Then do you want to help yourself?”

“Masturbate to thoughts of Joshua? Yeah, like that’s gonna work.” I hold my head in my hands, “fuck, I have to sleep with Soonyoung, don’t I? I’m half-convinced he will do a tiger impression in bed.”

“I’m fairly convinced he mimics a roar when he orgasms.” Jihoon mutters.

“Oh, fuck, now I have to talk about orgasms with you,” I say, face buried in one of the pillows, “I have to sleep with one of your weird friends and then everyone will know about my crush on Joshua and I’ll be shunned from our three-person group forever and ever—”

“Calm down, no one is going to spill your secrets,” Jihoon says, “and I have other friends too, you know. They don’t talk as much as those idiots, but they are good people.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”

Jihoon stares at me.

“Okay fine, maybe a little bit.” I concede, “but still, not enough to warrant a setting-up. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.”

“Then go fuck someone!”

“It isn’t that easy!” I snap, and Jihoon looks surprised, because its so unlike me to be incandescent over something as stupid as this, but I can’t help the shiver of anger running over me, “it isn’t so fucking easy. If it were, I would have gone and slept with a stranger from a bar. Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but I would have done it. But I’m telling you now, its difficult for me to even know if I’m attracted to Joshua, and if my attraction means I want to jump him or whatever.”

“Then what does it mean?” Jihoon, it seems, is also incapable of not reacting to my moods and temper, he gets angry easily sometimes, “What does it mean when you tell me you’re attracted to someone? We’re twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck else do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” I half-yell, half-sob, “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want to sleep with anyone, least of all Joshua. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do, and all I want is a little acceptance, not you rattling of a list of people I should sleep with in order to get over my feelings for Joshua—”

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“—and you can’t even give me that, Jihoon,” I finish lamely, looking at his concerned expression, “yeah fine, I’m leaving.”

The door is loud when I close it behind me. to his credit, Jihoon doesn’t pursue me, because even if he’s abnormally idiotic in matters like these, he’s got some sense.

—

I deeply regret befriending either of them, because both Joshua and Jihoon have apparently no sense of boundaries between people. Joshua keeps assaulting my inbox with messages along the lines of oh look how much I love my girlfriend and how much I can’t wait to see you guys and celebrate my engagement because I’ve got my life sorted out unlike YOU fuckers, and Jihoon has rewarded me with radio silence ever since I blew up in his face about his idiotic idea regarding me having sex with one of his friends.

And, as a testament to my misfortunes in life, Joshua has decided that his proposal to Eunseo must be followed up with a party thrown in her honour, or at least a dinner as per his last text message; which of course, he has to send to the shared chatroom with a variety of threatening and non-threatening messages.

joshuji: just saying if you guys aren’t here for the dinner, I’m never talking to you

hoon: aren’t proposals supposed to be an intimate thing? For couples??? Why are you asking us to be there????

joshuji: Eunseo wanted you guys to celebrate, too

joshuji: also, I’m proposing to her in the afternoon. I’m asking you guys to come over for dinner

hoon: maybe we should ask Eunseo about her feelings?

hoon: idk if she would want two others celebrating her engagement. Maybe we should stage an intervention and try to convince her to leave you. Its not too late already

big dick (canon): idk if I can make it guys

joshuji: I told u I wouldn’t be forgiving you if you don’t attend

hoon: you also tell us that every other week, I think we’ll be fine

joshuji: please?

hoon: don’t you fucking dare

big dick (canon): send us the location. Also, you’re paying

hoon: that’s the least he can do, after inflicting all this on us, and on her

joshuji: don’t worry, dinner is on me. [location attached] be there.

Fuck. Fuck my life, and fuck the two other people also in my life, and also, fuck Eunseo for good measure, because if it hadn’t been for her coming over to the mixer in third year, Joshua would never have fallen head over heels with her at first sight, and he wouldn’t have asked her out, and then I wouldn’t have had to deal with my conflicting feelings in the middle of a random Sunday. In the middle of me contemplating whether to clean my flat or not, too. If you look at it, its all her fault. Her fault for being so flawless and lovely and gorgeous that even I cannot bring myself to be jealous. The woman volunteers her free time at an animal shelter, for god’s sake. She’s the kind of person you write rambling horrible love sonnets about, and inflict them on your best friends after getting drunk and vomiting on a sidewalk at three in the morning. I should know, because that was Joshua when he was twenty-five.

Everything seems to go to shit at the same time, so of course, my landlord has to make an appearance when I’m in the middle of a neurotic episode over whether or not to do my laundry and contemplating hurling myself out of the window. His knocks are rhythmic, three seconds apart, which gives me enough time to prepare with a butcher’s knife in my hand. To ensure my safety, of course, in all my good conscience, I could never murder someone.

“Ah, yes, if it isn’t my favourite tenant,” he smiles, wide enough for me to see the gold tooth he had put in four years ago, “don’t worry, I’m only here for a routine check.”

“I bet you say that to all your tenants, Mr Kim.” I mutter, not moving from the doorway. If this man can sell me a glorified hovel posturing as a flat, I can disrespect him as much as I want. “I’ll get back to you on the renewal on my lease as soon as possible.”

The nosy bastard (man) that he is, Mr Kim cranes his neck around me to take a look inside my flat, “don’t worry, you’ve been one of my longest-running tenants for a while, you can take your time.” Then he looks at me, and the gold tooth is again on display. Ugh, I fucking hate it, “Is there a man inside? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, Mr Kim, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply, suppressing my urge to bury the knife held in my hand in his chest, “I was cooking, if you want to know that badly.”

“No boyfriend?” he tuts at me as though my dating life (or its lack thereof) is a personal slight against him, “but there are men coming over to your house all the time?”

“Those are my friends, Mr Kim,” I grit out, fake smile getting more brittle by the second, “men and women can be friends, you know.”

“Ah yes, I know, I know,” he nods, before clapping his hands like he’s received some sort of epiphany, “I forgot to tell you, but if you do decide to renew,” here he takes a deep breath, as if he’s bestowing upon me some great honour, “the rent will be raised. By twenty.”

“Twenty percent?” I screech, and the student in the flat next to me has probably heard it, “is that even legal?”

From the smile on his face, I don’t have to hear anything else. It probably is.

Mr Kim goes away from my line of sight (my kitchen knife’s line of attack) with another, equally insufferable, smile, and I close the door with a loud enough bang that the hinges rattle. I lied to Jihoon, because I only have two months left on my contract, and I still have had no luck in finding a new flat to move into. Everywhere I go, its either overpriced, or the facilities are too shitty, or the vibes are off.

Back in the room, I try to busy myself with laundry, when my phone rings. Its Jihoon, who’s apparently decided that making me angry is a full-time job for him. He’s making use of the private chat, which is rare for him, and somehow, equally annoying for me.

hoon: sorry about what happened in the studio this morning

hoon: offer still stands though

big dick (canon): that’s not how you apologise to someone

hoon: what? I’m trying to help my bestie get some

hoon: is that such a scandalous thing to ask for

big dick (canon): yes. Yes, it is

big dick (canon): also, fyi, I’m not sleeping with any of your friends. They’re all too weird for me

hoon: Mingyu? I remember you saying once that you’d motorboat him

big dick (canon): platonically

hoon: not sure how you’d motorboat someone platonically

big dick (canon): he’s too outgoing for me. cannot imagine I’d ever have a moment to myself if I ever dated him

hoon: Wonwoo? Everyone liked him back in university

big dick (canon): unfortunately, all he seems to talk about is gaming. I don’t mind gaming once or twice, but talking about it all the time? That bores me

hoon: Chan? He’s younger than you, but you could be a cougar, for all I know

big dick (canon): I’ve seen Jeonghan beg on his knees for him to go home after a drinking session

hoon: Minghao?

big dick (canon): He once teased me for my curtain bangs for a week straight

hoon: fine then, Cheol?

big dick (canon): Too competitive

hoon: Seungkwan?

big dick (canon): Too athletic. Also, isn’t he joining the culture desk soon?

hoon: Seokmin?

big dick (canon): Too outgoing

hoon: Vernon?

big dick (canon): Too quiet

hoon: Jun?

big dick (canon): Too weird

hoon: Jesus, fuck, woman, what kind of person do you want to date?

big dick (canon): ykw, just set me up with Mingyu. If nothing I can still get to say I motorboated some great pecs

big dick (canon): seriously, his pecs are bigger than my boobs

big dick (canon): how does he do it

big dick (canon): can I hold them

big dick (canon): respectfully

big dick (canon): in a non-sexual way

big dick (canon): please

hoon: I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that

big dick (canon): please ask him

big dick (canon): how does one get that kind of pectoral muscles

big dick (canon): wow

hoon: my pecs are bigger than his

big dick (canon): is this some new sort of dick-measuring contest idk yet

big dick (canon): if it is

big dick (canon): you’re losing

big dick (canon): I need to take a bite from his tits

big dick (canon): One

big dick (canon): Teensy tiny

big dick (canon): Munch

hoon: I’m so close to blocking u

big dick (canon): They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth

hoon: maybe you need to consider that Jesus had very bad vibes

hoon: so, you want to go on a date with Mingyu?

hoon: I feel like I should tell you that he eats the equivalent of three people

hoon: at the same time

big dick (canon): As long as he lets me motorboat him

big dick (canon): I don’t care

big dick (canon): He can eat as much as he wants

hoon: why must you be so horny over Mingyu of all people

hoon: he’s not even that attractive

hoon: and I’ve got bigger pecs than him

big dick (canon): congratulations on having bigger pecs, but I’m still gonna motorboat Mingyu

big dick (canon): going to gently hold his tits

hoon: between you going feral and Joshua badgering me about his engagement party dinner

hoon: I can’t help but feel as though both of u are out to make me go insane

big dick (canon): are you gonna go to that?

hoon: he’s already made plans at the barbecue place where we go to

hoon: even got a whole discount coupon and everything

hoon: normally I’d be upset that he’s being cheap, but after researching the price of that ring, I’m prepared to forgive him this once

hoon: next time I’m forcing him to take us out to a good dinner place

big dick (canon): are you planning to spend all his salary

big dick (canon): I’m in

big dick (canon): Ugh I haven’t eaten anything since the morning

big dick (canon): Can you ask Mingyu to bring me food

hoon: you’re incorrigible

hoon: have you been able to maintain eye contact with him?

big dick (canon): UNFAIR

big dick (canon): You know I can only do that with you

big dick (canon): Since you’re exactly my height

big dick (canon): Hehe

hoon: I’m blocking u and this number right NEOW

hoon: cannot believe I’m conversing WILLINGLY with someone who slanders my height

big dick (canon): see u at the barbecue place tonight

big dick (canon): have fun on the song

hoon: I’m trying to finish it

hoon: cannot believe I’ve gone into a slump

big dick (canon): you know how this can be cured?

big dick (canon): An INTERVIEW

big dick (canon): With yours truly

big dick (canon): Please

hoon: ask someone else

hoon: Soonyoung

big dick (canon): he’s an idol, yes but

big dick (canon): I’m terrified he’s going to do at least three tiger impressions

hoon: wrong, he’s going to do at least five

hoon: ugh gotta go

hoon: see u at the dinner

I stare at the dark phone screen for about five minutes after I’ve finished texting Jihoon. His interest in setting me up with one of his friends aside, he’s not wrong. I’m sexually frustrated, which means I’m just projecting my desires onto the closest available person, which in this case, happens to be Joshua.

Okay, fair enough, then why not anyone else? The people at my workplace aren’t that bad, and some of them are fairly good-looking, so why not them?

As soon as that thought comes into my mind, I shake it away violently. To willingly date someone in the workplace is inviting a whole host of problems, HR notwithstanding. And to imagine the fallout when I eventually break up with them, while still having to work with them in the same office—no, I’d rather take a transfer. The only option that remains are Jihoon’s friends, and while they’re all nice, they can also be terrifying, and therefore, not the best options for dating. Or sleeping around, which is what Jihoon wants me to do.

“Ugh, why do I have to have these feelings,” I moan into my pillow. It would have been great if I were born as an amoeba. Or as a plant. No need for my feelings to take centre stage, no need to maintain friendships with annoying people like Jihoon or Joshua. Just peaceful photosynthesis, and being eaten by a random goat on a random Tuesday. I wouldn’t even need to go to university. Nothing required. Just basking in the sun.

And unfortunately, because my mind is a little traitor, it focuses on the one thing that I don’t want to focus on: Jihoon’s offhand comment about his pecs being bigger than Mingyu’s; which, if I know Jihoon as well as I do, is a blatant lie, but even the thought of it is enough to send me into a downward spiral. What the hell does he mean, he has bigger pecs than Mingyu? Its not as if I want to see them, and let this be known, and made into public record, that I’ve never once wanted to see Jihoon’s pecs.

But.

Of course, its not as if I haven’t thought about it. not as far as Jihoon, who apparently masturbated to the thought of me, but of course I have idly wondered, what it would be like. When he came back from the military, its all I could think about for a couple days, before I had to physically slap myself back into reality. Unfortunately for me, his one petty comment about the size of his pectoral muscles, threatens to throw me back into the pits of desperation yet again.

Ugh. I slam my face into the pile of fresh laundry, hoping for it to soothe my nerves. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

Its at that moment that the chatroom pings again, this time with a message from Joshua.

joshuji: SHE SAID YES!!!!

hoon: congratulations!

big dick (canon): Congratulations!!!

—

The barbecue place is good enough for us, but for a dinner celebrating Joshua’s engagement to Eunseo, it seems a little too shabby. Although given the amount of money he’s spent on an engagement ring (I saw the prices, and I had to stifle a gasp) it can be forgiven. Just this once, as Jihoon said.

I’ve come here late, on purpose. Between the excited texts from Eunseo, who texted me a picture of her ring, and I had to act appropriately surprised, and Joshua’s infamous enthusiasm for a. showing the world how much he loves his girlfriend and b. to torment his friends, I’m feeling drained. I’m dressed for a night of eating greasy food and drinking cheap alcohol: a hoodie borrowed (stolen) from either Jihoon or Joshua, and jeans. I can’t even lie to myself and give myself a reason to dress up, because even I can’t delude myself into doing that. Jihoon once saw me with day-old vomit on my shirt, and Joshua has seen me dress in my sleepwear for exams week.

The place is filled with smoke, emanating from the meat being cooked on the grills, and it takes me a moment to adjust myself to it all, before I look for the other three. They have all arrived, and according to Jihoon, who’s sent a message out of his own accord on the chatroom in a long time, they’re all eating lots of beef.

“You’re late,” Jihoon grumbles as I approach the table, “I had to sit through half an hour of these two being happy and in love.”

“You’re a liar,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, “you enjoy romance movies.”

“Wow, that’s something I didn’t know about him,” Joshua says, with a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t want to decode, “how come you know everything about Jihoon?”

“Occupational hazard,” I reply, reaching for a piece of meat, “every time you bailed on us to go on a date with Eunseo, Jihoon and I would be forced to hang out together.”

“It was horrible,” Jihoon agrees, “she’d force me to watch all these romance movies.”

“Says the man who cried while watching Love Actually.”

Eunseo giggles at that, almost doubling over herself. I narrow my eyes at Joshua, “have you both been drinking since the afternoon?”

“No, no, I haven’t,” Eunseo wheezes, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she is while laughing, too. She’s wearing an apron to prevent grease falling on her expensive clothes, and she’s still gorgeous. I snort when I laugh, and once Jihoon saw me with mango juice coming out of my nose, “it’s just funny.”

“What is?”

She points at the two of us, “you know, the both of you keep talking about how annoying you find each other, and yet you’re both closer to each other than anyone else. It’s just so funny to me.”

“Joshua,” Jihoon says, very seriously, “I think your fiancée has been taking drugs.”

“At the very least, she’s insane,” I supply helpfully, “no one in their right minds would date Joshua. Not to mention agreeing to marry him.”

Joshua puts an arm around Eunseo, “stop slandering my fiancée.”

Jihoon puts a piece of meat into his mouth, trying to change the topic, “have I mentioned I’m helping her hook up with someone?”

I cough violently, while Eunseo and Joshua wear twin expressions of confusion. “Wait, Jihoon,” Joshua says, “I thought you—”

“I told you not to talk about that!” I wail, a noise that’s fortunately covered by all the meat-grilling around me, “no, I’m not going to hook up with any of your friends. Jihoon has terrible taste in people, not to mention that all your friends aren’t exactly hook-up material.”

“You take that back,” he gasps, “weren’t you talking about how you’d like to motorboat Mingyu?”

“That was platonically!”

“I’m sorry,” Joshua interjects, looking at me as though I’ve sprouted another head, “how can you, and I’m just going off on a limb here, motorboat someone platonically?”

“That’s what I said,” Jihoon grumbles, “she keeps asking me to set them up once.”

“That’s because he’s the hottest out of all your friends.” The soju is bitter as I drink it, “if I have to engage in a night of mindless sex, might as well do it with the hottest guy around.”

“Knew it,” Jihoon wags one of his fingers at me, “knew you only wanted Mingyu for his body. How dare you do that to my friend.”

“You once stole his socks.”

“Once.”

“For a whole semester.”

“Fair enough.”

“Both of you,” Joshua says loud enough for us to stop bickering, “explain it to us properly. What do you mean you’re helping her hook up with one of our friends? And why are you letting him hook you up with one of our friends?”

I shrug, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you heard us. It’s only going to be one time.”

“Do I need to give you the talk?”

Jihoon laughs, “you do realise she’s an adult?”

“I’m not saying she can’t do anything; I’m just saying she needs to be careful!

“If I have to be careful around the rest of the guys, then maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“What do you mean she should be careful around the people who have known her for so long?”

“All of you!” Eunseo claps her hands, and like kindergarten children, we all turn to look at her, sheepish, “Josh,” she turns to the man in question, who looks sufficiently contrite, “let me have a word.”

As they leave, Jihoon pulls a face. “asshole.”

I take another shot of the soju, “he’s just looking out for me.”

“Then he shouldn’t be so overbearing about it.” Jihoon takes a look at me downing another shot, “should you be drinking this fast?”

“Don’t you start.” I say, shaking my head, “I’m going to drink enough to wipe out Joshua’s bank account.”

Jihoon says nothing, just looks at me, and then, after ten seconds, “do you want to do it?”

“Do what?”

“The date. With Mingyu.”

Maybe its just the alcohol getting to my head, or maybe its all this smoke, but his voice seems different. Is he concerned, or is he joking, as per usual? It’s confusing. Should I blame the alcohol? That seems easier, given how it’s getting to my head. “I don’t know.”

“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good listener, and if you want him to shut up, he will. He’s great that way.”

I stare at him. Jihoon has a strange look on his face, one that I can’t really place. Alcohol. Yes. Blame it on the alcohol. I take another shot, but before I can form a reply to him, Eunseo and Joshua are walking back to the table, hand-in-hand, identical smiles on their faces. As soon as it had come, the look in Jihoon’s eyes is gone, replaced by the usual, blasé attitude he has perfected.

“Sorry for being late,” Eunseo breezes as she settles into the table, “Joshua needed to be reminded of adult boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.” Joshua offers by way of an apology, “I overstepped.”

“Damn right you did.” Jihoon mutters.

“Apology accepted,” I smile, picking up a piece of meat, “can you order some more?”

—

Mondays are, unfortunately, the worst. Especially if one spent their Sunday evening drinking enough alcohol to lose half their memories. I slide into my seat at work, yawning as I inspect the things I have to finish working on before the end of the day.

“Morning, sunbae,” a cheery voice says, placing a cup of coffee on my desk, “you look like shit.”

“Not the time, Seungkwan,” I mutter, pressing two fingers to my forehead, “too loud, too loud.”

“Heard you got shitfaced with Jihoon and the others last night,” Seungkwan says louder, “Jihoon texted the chat with the others at two in the morning, saying how he was going to take you home.”

“He did?” thankfully, I have no recollection of this happening, so I just let him fill me in on the details, “all I remember is drinking too much at the barbecue place.”

“Celebrating Joshua’s engagement, right?” Seungkwan’s smile is irritating, and I hate how cheery he is in the morning, “he texted about that, too. The pear-cut diamond was, oof, it was something to see.”

“Why do you know about diamond cuts?”

“I grew up with sisters,” he shrugs, as if growing up with sisters imbued one with all the hidden knowledge of womankind, including, but not limited to, engagement ring diamonds and their specific cuts, “you pick up stuff from listening.”

“Jihoon told you all he took me home?” I ask, “he doesn’t usually say that kind of stuff.”

“You got especially drunk last night, so he made an exception for you.” Seungkwan grins, leaning in, “what do you think about Jihoon?”

“He’s a pain in my ass.” I mutter, switching on my computer, “also, go back to work, Seungkwan. You’re not even supposed to be here until next week!”

“Yoo-min quit, so they asked me to join a week early,” he gives me a grin that again, I try not to decode (what is it with all these men and their mysterious grins?) before settling down into the seat next to me, and promptly jumping up to subject me to a ninety-degree bow, “Boo Seungkwan, at your service!”

“Ugh,” I wince, waving at him, “sit down, for the love of god, no one needs to be that loud in the mornings.”

“You are my senior, as it happens, and I’m very keen on maintaining proper relations.”

“Get me one of those hangover cures.”

“I like the American style.”

—

To no one’s surprise, Seungkwan is a very competent worker. He’s a social butterfly, which means that he quickly endears himself to everyone at work, and by the time lunch rolls around, I have to hear praises of Seungkwan from everyone. It’s terrifying, how competent he is.

Being one of the associate editors, means I have to mostly edit the articles sent in by the reporters on ground, not to mention I get to pick and choose which issue I want to cover. I maintain as much of my professionalism as I can, while having a raging headache.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan approaches me right before lunch, “will you be going out to cover an article?”

“I have an interview with an author after lunch, so not yet,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on a report sent in by one of our field staff, on some celebrity’s rash driving case, “I have some time.”

“Do you want to have lunch with the rest of us?” he asks, gesturing the group of five waiting behind him, “we’re going to have naengmyeon at the place down the block.”

“I have enough sense to not butt into the affairs of my juniors, Seungkwan,” I say, standing up from my chair, “here, have the card. Since its your first day here, the office should treat you.”

Seungkwan takes the offered card with a bow, and smiles brightly, “oh, but the editor said we’re having a company dinner tonight? Won’t you be joining us for that?”

“A group dinner?” I ask, and the group behind him nods their head, all in unison. It makes them look like little bobbleheads, for some reason. “Sure, I’ll join in.”

“Yes!” he seems unusually cheerful about the company dinner, which in my own experience is nothing but a pain that I had to accustom myself with when I joined the paper, “see you tonight, sunbae!”

“This kid,” I groan, picking up my coat. The prospect of lunch makes my stomach turn, and now I have to contend with dinner?

I text Jihoon while walking out of the offices. Joshua is busy with his new fiancée, and Jihoon’s building is far closer to mine that it is to Joshua’s place of work.

big dick (canon): Are u free

big dick (canon): For lunch

Unless Jihoon texts first, he takes an hour to respond at best, but as soon as I send the message, he’s typing a reply.

hoon: lunch?

hoon: if it isn’t lunch I’m killing u

hoon: dude I’ve never had a block this bad I think I’m going to go crazy

hoon: not to mention the hangover from last night is crazy

big dick (canon): it is for lunch, you idiot, why would I text u otherwise

big dick (canon): and I can agree on that, my head is killing me

hoon: is hangover soup cool with u

hoon: I know a good place

hoon: meet u at the front of your building in five

hoon: please tell me all the details about Seungkwan

“He took five minutes to get the editor to warm up to him?” Jihoon cackles, as the lady serves us two steaming bowls of seollongtang, “of course, it’s Seungkwan. He can make anyone warm up to him in minutes.”

“I fear he takes it as a challenge.” I say, spooning the milky broth into my mouth, “ah! Its hot!”

“Why can’t you just wait for a while, before eating your food?” Jihoon pours me a glass of water, “did you die of starvation in your previous life?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Atheist. Tell me what else our little dongsaeng get up to in the meantime.”

“He’s not been given a lot of work, given that it’s his first day,” I take another, more tentative sip of the broth, “but unfortunately, I’ve to attend another company dinner tomorrow morning.”

“Another company dinner? Haven’t you gone through enough pain to consider drinking again, what, barely twenty-four hours later?”

“Twenty-fours is pushing it,” I say, wincing at the sound of my own voice, “ugh, this damn hangover. I can’t even function. Let’s just eat in silence.”

“You want a cider?” Jihoon asks, looking around for the owner to ask for two cans of cider, but the owner is faster than him, setting down two cans of soda in front of us with a smile on her face.

“Your boyfriend is very caring.” She tells me, “its so nice to see someone taking care of their girlfriend so well. The sodas are on the house, okay?”

“Oh, but he’s not—” even before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s gone again, tending to her other customers. Jihoon opens one of the cans for me without saying a word.

“We should stop coming here.” I say, accepting the can from him, “why would anyone think that we’re a couple?”

“They can’t accept that men and women can just be friends, that’s why.”

“Too bad the food is great.”

Jihoon pauses for a moment, then a slow, sly smile spreads all over his face. I know that look. That look does not bode well for me, or for anyone else involved. The first time I saw Jihoon have that look on his face, Seungcheol embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of first-year students, he refused to come out to any events where Jihoon was invited, for almost a month. This look means that he’s got some sort of evil plan in his mind, one that involves another person and their total embarrassment. He takes a look around the restaurant, and sits up straight. The words that come out of his mouth next, however—

“Babe,” Jihoon says, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, “don’t you think this place is great?”

What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what are you doing?” my voice is a whisper, “they’re all looking at us!”

“That’s the point.” He whispers, before smiling, “you should say something too, you know. Make the whole thing more believable.”

“I don’t want to!”

“They gave us free sodas; they deserve a special performance at least.” He points to the owner, who looks like she’s about to break her face from smiling so damn broad, “sorry, my girlfriend is a very shy.”

“Oh,” the lady waves it away, “anyone can see you are in love!”

In the end, when Jihoon is paying for our lunches, she takes a final look at the two of us, and croons, “you two make a lovely couple!”

“What the fuck was that?” I turn on Jihoon as soon as we are safely out of the restaurant and far enough for anyone to eavesdrop, “Why the hell would you tell her that we’re dating?”

“Thought you needed a pick-me-up,” Jihoon grins, “at least I got you to stop worrying about things so much.”

“There are better ways of going about that than telling unsuspecting diner owners that we are dating!”

“It was funny, you have to admit,” he smiles, and I have to begrudgingly agree, “see, told you we’d make a cute couple.”

I would rather die than tell Jihoon that I agree with him on anything, so I keep quiet. Thing is; it was rather funny. Especially with how the owner reacted to us.

“And later on,” Jihoon says, holding on to my arm as we cross the road, “when you come to this place with someone else, you can just tell her that we broke up.”

“You need to stop talking about how I’m going to start dating other people.” I mutter, “just because I’ve got some frustrations I need to work out, doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into the arms of whoever it is who offers first.”

“Careful with that,” he says, standing at the crossroads where he’s supposed to walk towards his building, “you might end up regretting it.”

And with a single wave, he’s gone. I stand for about five minutes, like an idiot, while the busy crowd walks past me, trying to decode his words. Why would I regret my decision to not date someone just because I need to get over myself? Not to mention Jihoon has been behaving strangely since the previous night.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan materialises next to me, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Jesus!” I narrowly escape jumping three feet into the air, “give a girl a warning!”

“I did call out,” he pouts. Its disconcerting how adorable he is. “You were pretty engrossed in looking into the distance to even notice my presence.”

“Are you upset?”

Seungkwan smiles, “if you agree to a badminton match with me over the weekend, I’ll overlook this slight.”

I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, making my way into the building, “see you at the dinner, then.”

—

197 notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 7 months

Text

star couple | jude bellingham x fem! mclaren f1 driver! reader

summary; the current golden boy of real madrid dating the princess of the paddock has the internet going crazy

fc; jihoon kim

warnings; ? suggestive comment i think maybe cursing i dont rlly know lol

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! i wish real madrid admins and social media managers were as funny and entertaining as f1 🕊️ but alas, they are a serious institution 🕊️🕊️

masterlist !

liked by judebellingham, landonorris, and others !

yourusername: little date night ft almave , tysm lewishamilton 💫🫶

tagged; almave

username: WHAT ??? night

username: she’s dating someone ? 😀😀😀

username: mother is slaying this winter break

username: the outfit EATSSS

username: wdym ur on a date i wasn’t there ?? 🤣🤣

lewishamilton: glad you enjoyed! let me know if you guys need more 😁

yourusername: oh WE LOVED, he definitely did too and is already demanding more!

username: HE?????

username: why is jude bellingham in my gf’s likes….. he needs to focus on getting that pichichi🙄🙄🙄

username: why did jude bellingham like lol

username: guys what if jude and y/n are dating ..

username: LMFAOO😂😂🤣🤣

landonorris: tell him i say hi

yourusername: no u stink ( he says hi back )

mclaren: y/n slaying as always 😎

yourusername: why thank u admin

judebellingham uploaded to his story !

[caption 1; fuck it, hard launch because i love my girl so matcha] [caption 2; 😍😍]

yourusername replied to your story !

yourusername fuck it i wanna hard launch too

yourusername the girlies ( lando ) are gonna go crazyyy

judebellingham screw soft launches i wanna show u off 🕊️🕊️

judebellingham are u on ur way tho

yourusername mina n i are nearrrrrr w fede jr and fede jr jr

judebellingham love those kids

judebellingham how abt a bellingham jr???

yourusername i love u babe but we’re barley adults ourselves …. we’re barley 20😀

judebellingham who says we can’t be going parents 😒😒😒

yourusername our careers !!

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; omw to support my favorite boy🤍] [caption 2; the face of a man who scored a brace today and is todays ucl motm 🤭]

landonorris replied to your story !

landonorris gross

yourusername stfu ur jealous

landonorris don’t u have a game to watch

yourusername don’t u have a race to win 🤓🤓

landonorris YOU DIDNT WIN ALL LAST SEASON EITHER

yourusername red bull and max verstappen dominance 😞 fortunately i do love a team that wins the most championships tho🤭

landonorris can u get me a signed jersey plzzzz

yourusername maybe if u behave liked by landonorris !

judebellingham replied to your story !

judebellingham have you seen twitter yet🤣

yourusername omg no

judebellingham everyone’s shocked 🥸 why are they shocked that i pulled you😞

yourusername: idk babe, maybe bc i’m a cool f1 driver n ur not🤓🤓

judebellingham ok but i play for real madrid ??

yourusername white is such a good color on u btw lando wants a signed jersey

judebellingham on it 🫡🫡

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and others !

yourusername: little madrid photo dump ft the ucl motm😁😁🤍

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: did u see me score for u, my star girl, they were for u☺️☺️😊🌹🌹

yourusername: yes i did see my starboy 🤍🤍

username: starboy n stargirl = star couple 😫

username: he’s fine asf tho icl

username: HE SCORED A BRACE FOR HER😫😫

username: now she gotta win a race for him

username: yeah but max🥸

vinijr: wow and i didn’t make the photo dump?😒

camavinga: it’s like that w them 🙄

rodrygogoes:🙄🙄

yourusername: next time i promise 😞

judebellingham: drama queens, all of you !

aurelientchm: leave him out next photo dump camavinga

username: the players interacting w her is so😭😭

username: the denim lv bag is everything tbh

landonorris: tysm for the signed jersey 😁judebellingham

judebellingham: anything for y/n’s friends 🫡

yourusername: lando is NOT my friend

landonorris: she’s a liar we r bffs😒

mclaren: stargirl and starboy of the paddock and the field !🤩🧡🤍 liked by yourusername and judebellingham !

#football smau #footballer x y/n #football player x reader #footballer x reader #football imagine #football imagines #football scenarios #football one shot #f1 x reader #f1 smau #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smau

977 notes · View notes

wooziorgans · 2 months

Text

a pretty boy and a happy birthday || ljh

summary: it’s y/n’s first birthday in korea with jihoon. he’s somehow managed to keep his plans for their birthday a secret. despite both jihoon and y/n not being big fans of pda, today is different. it’s hard to keep the love you feel for someone on their day hidden.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: saying ily sooo much like almost too much. crying on your birthday (happy tears tho). mentions of a previous ldr. long distance friendship n missing your best friend. reader doesn’t like seaweed. mentions of drinking. pussy drunk jihoon. sweet ol’ love making. missionary. riding. overstimulation (both). edging (m.). unprotected sex. jihoon also cries. riding jihoon until he cries. popping the question while being balls deep inside ur partner. surprises.

a/n: happy birthday to ME. this is super self indulgent cus it was my birthday so i wrote this for me and me only. but u can also read it too. also sorry it’s uhhh late. i got into the re-editing mood so uh I rewrote half of this. anyways. enjoy!!!

Jihoon’s arm wraps around Y/N as he watches the second hand tick on his watch. “Three… two… one.” He presses a soft kiss to their lips. “Happy birthday, my love.” His hand carefully holds the side of their face as he pulls the covers further over both of them. He places another tender kiss on their lips, thumb brushing over the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you, pretty.” Y/N’s voice is soft and Jihoon sees his partner's lip start to quiver softly, as their eyes start to get glassy.

“Wait, baby, fuck. Don't cry.” Jihoon chuckles lightheartedly, thumb moving to catch the small tear that starts to run down their cheek. “Please don't cry, my love. It’s okay, you’re okay. I love you, so so so much.” He reassures, kissing their forehead, as his thumb continues to stroke their cheek in the familiar way it always does.

This doesn’t seem to help Y/N at all. More small tears escape their eyes, wetting the fabric of Jihoon’s shirt and his thumb.

“I know,” Y/N’s voice breaks softly as they cry, a small smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m just so… I love you Jihoon. I’m so happy to be here and finally spend things like this with you. Thank you for waiting for me.” They puff out their bottom lip in a pout. Jihoon laughs quietly, despite the tears he’s now also pushing back.

The moment is dissolved as Y/N’s phone starts to vibrate against Jihoon’s chest. Y/N picks it up, swiping to answer, already knowing who it is.

“Happy birthday, stupid. I miss you.” Their best friend, now countries away smiling through the facetime call at them, greets.

“Thanks. I miss you too. You should come visit when you can.” Y/N pouts softly, and the feeling of almost crying is back. Through the screen, Y/N sees their friends face shift.

“Please don’t cry. I’ll see what I can do with my vacation hours next month and we’ll figure something out. I love you, y’know?” She speaks softly, and Y/N only pouts more. She had this ability to read Y/N like no other, only rivaled by Jihoon and Seungkwan. But even then, the near decade of friendship had its benefits.

“I love you too. I really want you to see Korea; it’s so beautiful here.” Y/N smiles softly after finally keeping their tears at bay.

“Any big plans for today?” She asks, head tilting to the side.

“Mm… probably not. I think I’ll just spend the day with Jihoon. He took it off work, and you know how he is, so we have to make the most out of his day off.” A wide smile spreads over Y/N’s entire face as they talk about their partner.

“You got him to take a day off? God, you’re so lovesick it makes me want to throw up.” She laughs softly, no clear indication of actually wanting to hurl. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Hm? Oh. I’m laying on him right now.” Y/N pans the camera up to Jihoon, who waves the best he can with his arm caged under Y/N.

“Ah, well, I’ll let you two get to sleep. It’s late for you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. We’ll talk later. Have fun on your day off.” She waves to the camera, wiggling her fingers. Y/N reciprocates the action.

“Okay. I love you.” Y/N smiles.

“I love you too. Goodnight.” She drags out the last syllable in a sing-song tone. Y/N echoes her, before her face is gone from the screen.

Y/N pouts softly again, and Jihoon runs a hand through their hair. “You’re okay, baby. No more crying, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to cry on your birthday.” Jihoon coos. Y/N laughs softly.

“I cry every year on my birthday.” Jihoon wipes their eyes with his thumb, a fond smile on his lips.

“You’re such a big baby.” He jokes, lips pressing against the top of their head.

“Yeah, but I’m your baby.” Y/N giggles, leaning up into his touch.

“Yeah,” Jihoon whispers softly, “you are.” They’re far past the point of being shy around each other, but for some reason Jihoon feels especially bashful.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first birthday they’re able to spend with each other, in their house; the one Jihoon finalized three months after Y/N made it to Korea to be with him. They had outgrown his apartment, and with Y/N moving so far to be with him, he was ready to justify the purchase as a way to provide for Y/N, and for the future when both of them were ready to properly settle down.

His heart swells loudly in his chest, all of the air in his lungs suddenly feels thick. “Let's go to sleep, okay? You’re getting tired, I can feel it. You can spoil me in the morning.” Y/N, ever observant of Jihoon, whispers. Jihoon hadn’t even registered his own fatigue until Y/N had mentioned it. His arm feels heavy around Y/N, and not from them laying on it.

Jihoon cranes his neck down for a kiss, which Y/N returns languidly. Their brief crying session made their fatigue set in much faster.

“M’kay. I love you. Happy birthday.” Jihoon runs his fingers through their hair again. Y/N’s hand brushes over Jihoon’s chest, nail catching softly on his nipple. He shudders softly. “Not right now, honey. I promise I’ll spoil you so good tonight. Gonna buy you whatever you want today.” Jihoon’s speech starts to meld into itself as he starts to drift off. His hand settles on their back as he rubs soft circles on the bottom of their shoulder blades. Y/N leans into his side further, face nuzzling into his chest.

“Okay. I love you.” Is all they offer, before they close their eyes, hand gripping the fabric of his shirt softly.

An unfamiliar smell spreading through the house is what wakes Y/N up. They groan softly, rolling over, expecting Jihoon to be there. His side of the bed is still warm, and once sounds start to register, they hear a soft sizzling sound from the kitchen. Taking a few seconds to sit up and adjust to the new position, they place their feet on the heated linoleum floor. What a perk of dating a millionaire.

Rubbing their eyes as they stand, they slowly make their way out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen.

Jihoon stands over the stovetop, spatula in hand as he focuses on monitoring the pan and a small pot. Y/N approaches him carefully, arms wrapping around his bare waist. His sweatpants hang off his hips, v-line exposed to the open air.

Jihoon jumps slightly, before he relaxes against Y/N. “Good morning. You weren’t supposed to be up yet. I was supposed to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Y/N leans over his shoulder, chin resting on it. They can hear the slight pout in his voice, which is gravely in the same way it is every morning.

“‘M sorry. My pillow was gone, and so is your shirt, apparently.” Y/N laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss to Jihoon’s cheek.

“Stove’s hot. Go and sit, it’s almost ready.” Y/N nods, kissing his neck softly before they ruffle his hair in the same way that used to make him grimace in the early days of their relationship. Now, he smiles softly at the gesture, hand placed over the one they have wrapped around his front.

Y/N slips away from Jihoon to take a seat on the couch. They turn on the television, getting comfortable in the mountain of blankets on the couch. A few minutes later, Jihoon comes into the living room, balancing a tray on his hands.

A steaming plate of bacon and waffles is placed in front of them, alongside a bowl of an unfamiliar soup and two sets of utensils. “I, uh, I made you seaweed soup. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I know you’re very specific about the kinds of seaweed you’ll eat. I only made a small pot.” The small gesture, one of Jihoon’s culture, makes Y/N emotional for some reason.

They pout softly, leaning over the coffee table to pick up the spoon on the tray. They swirl it around the bowl, taking in the steaming aroma. “Thank you, Jihoon.” They blow softly on the spoon, bringing it to their lips. Jihoon watches intently as they take their first sip. Y/N’s face is hard to read as they swallow the broth.

“Thoughts?” Jihoon asks simply.

“I don’t know how I feel about it, right now. It’s a little too early for me to process something new.” Y/N laughs softly, unsure if rejecting the soup completely would be offensive. It wasn’t bad, just new, and it was a little too early for new things to not overwhelm Y/N.

“That’s okay. I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” Jihoon leans against Y/N on the couch, arm wrapping around their waist. “Let’s just eat.” The single plate of food was heaping. Most of it would be eaten by Jihoon anyways. Both of them dig in, and once the food is gone, Jihoon takes the tray back to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Go get ready. I’m taking you shopping today, and then I'm thinking we hit up your favourite restaurant and call it a day? I have a cake for delivery later tonight.” Y/N hums, pressing a kiss to Jihoon’s cheek before they head to get ready. Jihoon slips into the bedroom to get changed.

On the way out of the door, he shoots off a quick text.

Jihoon [11:58] Leaving now. Soonyoung has the spare key. Wake him up if you need to, this has to be perfect.

The door clicks open. Y/N steps back into the house, juggling multiple bags. All of the lights in the main foyer are off, which immediately has them on high alert. “Ji? Baby, did you turn the lights off when we left?”

“N-yeah. Don’t you remember?” If there’s one thing Jihoon is bad at, it’s lying. Still, Y/N seems too busy juggling the bags they insisted on carrying as they slip off their shoes. Jihoon sets down his bags at the door, carefully pulling the bags out of Y/N’s hands. “We’ll unpack all of this later okay? Come with me.” Jihoon leads Y/N into the living room, before he flips the light on.

Twelve men and their partners pop out from behind the massive couch. A collective shout of “Happy birthday!” sounds the entire room. Y/N jumps back, right into Jihoon’s arms. They bury their face into his chest.

Jihoon laughs softly, rubbing their back. “Sorry for surprising you like this. It was Seungkwan’s idea.” Y/N laughs, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently.

“It’s okay. I’m just shocked.” Y/N pulls away from Jihoon to go greet the twenty-odd guests inside their house.

“Y/N! Happy birthday!” Seungkwan pulls them into a warm hug, smile from ear to ear.

“Why did you do this? I would’ve been more than happy to just spend the day with you if you wanted. You didn’t have to go all out.” Y/N laughs softly, flicking Seungkwan’s forehead. He pouts.

“You deserve the best. C’mon, we have gifts. And alcohol.” Seungkwan pulls Y/N further into the living room. Jihoon stands with his arms crossed and a fond smile on his face. Soonyoung bumps into his shoulder.

“You’re so whipped. So incredibly whipped.” Jihoon swears at him, before telling him to fuck off, smile never leaving his face. “God, what have they done to you?” Soonyoung asks, faux shock on his features, but he’s smiling as well.

“I’m in love, Soonyoung.” Is all Jihoon offers.

When it’s time to get out the cake, Seungkwan carries it carefully, swearing at Seokmin to get away from him so he can focus on not dropping it. Everyone starts singing happy birthday, as Mingyu guides Y/N to sit at the table. They cover their face as all eyes are focused directly on them, sitting reluctantly. Seungkwan places the cake in front of them as the song ends.

Jihoon wraps his arms around Y/N’s neck loosely. He places a soft kiss to their cheek, before he whispers softly into their ear. “Make a wish, my love.” Y/N giggles softly, hand clamping over his forearm as they lean forward to blow out the candles. They close their eyes, taking a deep breath before they blow out every candle.

“What’d you wish for?” Soonyoung asks. Y/N shoots a faux glare at him.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” He whines softly, going back to his drink. Jihoon kisses the side of Y/N’s face again, and somewhere in the room, Chan makes a gagging sound.

“I will seriously never get used to him being affectionate with Y/N, ever.” Jihoon picks one of the candles out of the cake to throw at his younger brother. It hits his white shirt, staining it bright blue. He whines, and that makes Y/N laugh.

Jihoon decides then that Y/N’s laughter is equivalent to light, and that light is Y/N, and maybe that is the secret of the universe. It’s hard to be silent when the whole world is right at your fingertips.

Cake eaten, drinks consumed, hours spent in the living room and the backyard, Jihoon and Y/N kick their guests out at eleven at night. It takes fifteen minutes for Soonyoung to get into the car, not yet wanting to stop the party. They still see him off, promising to party even harder next time. Jihoon wraps his arm around Y/N as they wave from the steps. The cool breeze of the summer nights sends a chill up Y/N’s spine.

Jihoon pulls them into the house, locking the door behind him before he leads them to the bedroom. Y/N eagerly lays down, bones sore from socializing all day.

“Ah, fuck.” Jihoon climbs onto the bed, legs straddling Y/N. He rests his weight on their thighs, caging them down. “I’ve only got forty-five minutes for birthday sex.” He laughs softly, leaning over Y/N to brush their hair out of their face.

“Then you better get to work, love.” Y/N smiles softly, placing their hand over his. Their face burns as they start to feel their core throb.

“What’d you want me to do baby? Whatever you want right now, I’m your man.” Jihoon places a soft kiss to their lips.

“Whatever you feel like doing. I’m not picky, but this is nice. Just kiss me for a bit, but go slow. Want you to go slow.” Y/N’s speech starts to slur softly in the way it always does when they get aroused. Jihoon kisses them again, letting it linger for a second longer than normal.

“Then I’m gonna take my time with you, ‘n show you how much I love you,” Jihoon rolls his hips down slightly onto Y/N, “Gonna make love to you tonight– fuck.” His words die in his throat as he sees the way Y/N is looking up at him. There's so much trust in their gaze. It makes Jihoon’s heart swell.

Y/N seems to preen like a cat at the promise of making love. That was something they haven’t really had the chance to do since they started dating, almost four years into a relationship. “Please, Jihoon. Need you.” Y/N whispers, head falling back against the pillows as Jihoon brushes his hand over their neck. Their hands find the edge of his shirt, tugging at it softly. “Need this thing off too.” Jihoon removes his hand from the back of Y/N’s neck to grab his shirt and throw it off.

He sits back up, weight pinning Y/N’s legs to the bed as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head. Y/N runs a hand over his chest, trailing a single finger down the pit of his abs. Jihoon shivers softly. “One last present for you to unwrap tonight.” He leans back over Y/N, hands sliding under their shirt. “What was that thing you wanted to try? I was thinking maybe we could try it tonight, as a gift.” Jihoon places a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead, brushing the hair away from the area.

“Edging? You want me to edge you?” Y/N asks, sitting up as best they can with Jihoon’s weight on their legs. Their eyes are wide with slight shock. “You said you probably wouldn’t like it. We really don’t have to, Ji.” Jihoon smiles softly at the concern in their voice.

“If it’s too much or we’re not feeling it we’ll stop. Stoplight system okay?” He places another soft kiss on Y/N’s cheek, fingers threading through their hair.

“Mm, that’s fine.” Y/N sits up slightly to throw their shirt off. “No foreplay tonight. I’m really wet right now and I really need you inside.” Jihoon sighs dramatically.

“I don’t even get to eat you out?” Y/N laughs softly, hand running over his hair.

“I promise you can eat me out next time.” Y/N kisses his face, hands moving down to the button on his jeans. “You wanna get on the bed for me? It’ll be easier to do this if I ride you.” Jihoon groans, swearing. He never lasts long when Y/N’s on top.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He uses his legs to flip both of them over, rolling onto his back. They both take a few seconds to quickly strip out of the remainder of their clothing.

Jihoon’s cock throbs against his stomach. Y/N grabs it, giving him a few pumps before they straddle his lap. He can feel the heat from their core as they line him up to their entrance.

Y/N sinks down slowly, exhaling a shallow moan as they clench around Jihoon’s cock. “Oh, fuck. Shit, maybe I should’ve let you eat me out.” Jihoon’s fairing no better, head thrown back against the pillows as his hands grip Y/N’s hips in a vice.

“Maybe I still could.” He suggests, a breathy laugh falling past his big, pillowy lips. Y/N leans down to kiss him softly.

“Next time. We’re already here.” Jihoon begins to pant softly, already verging on close as Y/N begins to speed up. “Fuck, I’m already close. The stretch is so… my god.” The small burn at Y/N’s entrance accentuates the pleasure building in their stomach.

“Yeah, god, you’re so tight like this. Fuck, I think I might die if we do more than two rounds.” And while Jihoon isn’t posing a challenge, Y/N takes it as one.

“Yeah? Then we’ll do four. Tell me when you're about to cum.” Y/N clenches around Jihoon, and he moans lowly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip tightens.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m right there.” Y/N pulls off Jihoon’s cock, hovering above it with their hands flattened to his chest. Jihoon whines softly, biting his lip to silence the louder sounds that threaten to escape his throat. “Holy shit.” He hisses.

Y/N begins their ministries again, and it doesn’t take long for Jihoon to whine out that he’s close, before they pull off again. He whimpers softly, causing Y/N to brush the hair from his face in adoration. “‘M so sensitive, baby. Please let me cum.” He begs, and something about his tone has Y/N sitting back on his cock, moving faster, hitting deeper, before they cum around him, hips barely faulting their pace.

The added lubricant only adds to the experience and Jihoon whines out his plea again, only to be denied once more. Y/N gives him a few seconds, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. Then they’re right back on him, ass slapping against his thighs, wet squelching noises filling the room and it’s too much, it’s so crude it makes Jihoon’s head hurt (both of them).

“Fuck, please, no more. Can’t– can’t take any more,” Jihoon whines, head falling back into the pillows. “Need to cum, fuck, wanna cum so bad baby. Fuck, I’m gonna–” Y/N pulls themself off his cock, hovering over his tip. He whimpers softly, before it's followed by an exasperated sigh of horny frustration. His grip on the sheets has his knuckles turning white.

“That's the last time, I promise baby.” Y/N carefully holds the side of his face, thumb stroking over his cheek to ground him. “Just breathe for me. C’mon, in and out.” Jihoon does as they say, forcing the promise of his orgasm away from his mind for the time being.

Once he’s settled back down, he gives a small nod, craning his neck to look back up at Y/N. “Okay,” He exhales deeply, blowing the breath out through his lips, “I think I’m good.” That’s all Y/N needs before they sink back down onto his cock, walls fluttering as they suck him in.

Once again, it’s almost too intense. Jihoon’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as he whines softly. “Fuck, Y/N, god.” He pants, hands slipping from the sheets to grip their hips. “Love you so much; wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He confesses, and while it’s probably the desire to cum, which is all he can think about right now, he’s talkative and his confession doesn’t slip past Y/N.

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you too, Hoonie.” Y/N leans down to kiss him, their other hand holding his face so delicately it makes Jihoon’s head spin. He gasps softly into the kiss as the angle changes slightly. Y/N feels it too, how he’s reaching a little deeper, tip perfectly kissing their g-spot with every bounce.

“No, like,” Jihoon kisses Y/N again in an attempt to regain his train of thought, “ I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Bought you a ring ‘n everything. Couldn’t– shit– couldn’t find the right time to do it, know you don’t like grand gestures so I didn’t plan anything special, fuck. Just thought I’d ask when the time is right. Marry me, please. Wanna marry you, see you walking down the aisle all dressed up for me. Wanna see you with a pretty ring on your finger, wanna match with you. Wanna take you on a nice honeymoon, maybe take you to Italy with me. Wanna love you and only you for the rest of my life, god, I want that more than anything. ‘M so in love with you, so so in love with you.” Tears had started to gather in his waterline. They slip past his long lashes, down his cheeks to the side of his face. Y/N stops moving, mouth open in slight shock.

Jihoon’s tears hit their fingers which are still delicately holding the sides of his face. “Jihoon?” Y/N’s voice is shaky. “Jihoon.” The second time is more firm when he doesn’t reply.

“Hm?” He hums, locking eyes with his lover.

“Did you seriously just propose to me while you’re balls deep inside of me?” The air in their voice makes it hard for Jihoon to hear their question with the blood rushing through his head, but he hears it.

“I… I did.” He laughs softly, head thrown back as a toothy smile spreads across his whole face. “Will you marry me?” He’s more coherent now, thoughts meeting each other halfway to form whole ones. One of his hands slips off of Y/N’s waist, before it’s digging around in the pillows for something. His fingers disappear for a second in the white case of the pillow, before they return with a small red velvet box.

He flips it open with his thumb. A silver band embedded with small diamonds catches the light, shining into Y/N’s eyes. It’s beautiful, simple enough but clearly an engagement ring. It takes a few seconds for things to register before tears start falling down Y/N’s face as they nod excessively.

“Yes, oh my god. Jihoon, yes, I’ll marry you.” Y/N’s hands fall from his face slowly. Jihoon grabs their left hand with his one that was positioned on their hips. He takes the ring out of the box, carefully slipping it onto their left ring finger. He kisses the skin of their knuckles, before kissing the ring directly.

“Perfect fit.” Jihoon whispers. Y/N leans down to kiss him, fingers intertwining with his. The metal of the ring is still cold against Jihoon’s fingers. He moans softly, whether it’s from the way Y/N shifts on his cock, or from the feeling of an engagement ring on his lover's finger is up in the air. “I love you.” He pants softly against Y/N’s lips, before he grabs them with one arm around their waist and flips them onto the bed.

Y/N gasps softly as their back hits the bed, hand threading into Jihoon’s hair. The dark strands are so incredibly soft in between their fingers. Jihoon thrusts in slowly, face falling into the crook of Y/N’s neck. “I’m gonna make love to you now, jus’ like I said I would. Gonna take care of you now, gonna take care of you for the rest of my– the rest of our life.” His thrusts are slow and so incredibly deep.

His hand never lets go of Y/N’s left one, completely in love with the metal band around their finger.

Jihoon’s lips find Y/N’s neck. He places small kisses on the base of it, sucking softly, almost in time with each thrust. He won’t last long, and he knows he won’t, especially will all of the edging. But he still feels the need to take care of Y/N, to take as much time as his body will let him have like this.

Soft whines slip past Y/N’s lips, fist tight in Jihoon’s hair. The pace is too much, so slow and deep, hitting all the right places with each thrust. “Ji, I can’t— fuck, too much.” Y/N gasps, as his tip brushes their sweet spot, lips working diligently to suck a deep bruise into the side of their neck.

“Fuck, baby, ‘m so close.” Jihoon pants, lips ghosting over the dark bruise. “I’m not gonna last. You feel s’fucking good.” He’s definitely far past the point of being pussy drunk, bordering on inebriated. He pulls out, slamming back in as he loses the last bit of his self control. His pace quickens, but it still maintains the depth of his thrusts.

He tries to kiss Y/N, but it falls flat when all he does is whine into their mouth. Y/N’s orgasm sweeps over them unexpectedly, walls fluttering around Jihoon’s cock as their release only helps Jihoon slide in deeper. The added lubricant mixes with his pre-cum, and he loses it completely.

The way Y/N tightens as they ride out their orgasm, small sounds leaving their lips, it’s too much. He kisses them hard, lips moving in time with theirs the best he can manage. And then they clench around him again and it’s over.

Jihoon cums hard, his vision going completely white as his body feels like it’s on fire. His cock is sensitive as he keeps thrusting, somehow going harder. He can’t seem to stop, not until he’s whimpering and whining, voice pitched nearly an octave higher than normal. His lips stop moving in time with Y/N’s as he just pants and whines into their mouth.

Jihoon’s arms feel like jelly and he collapses on top of Y/N, still set on moving inside of them. For some reason, his cock will not seem to soften, even though it’s nearly painful. Y/N clenches again, still proceeding their own orgasm, as they pet his hair to try and calm him down. There’s no point in telling him to stop; he’s still hard and he’s still fucking them, though he seems to be slowing down slightly.

An unexpected second orgasm sweeps over Jihoon, and it renders him completely spent. He stops moving, seems to stop breathing for a second. His cock twitches a few more times inside Y/N before it finally begins to soften.

And then it’s quiet. Jihoon doesn’t move, or make a sound; all that can be heard is the shallow breaths leaving his mouth. Y/N finally manages to untangle their hand from his, moving it to rub his back in the same way he always does after they’re spent like this. Their other hand stays put in his hair, nails gently massaging his scalp as they wait for any indication that he’s not completely passed out. “You okay, baby?” Y/N whispers softly. The moment is so fragile; Jihoon hardly ever submits like this, and he’s never cum so hard in his life, let alone twice back to back. The feeling of his softening cock inside of them, and the almost inhuman amount of cum inside of Y/N starts to feel a bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t respond, just makes a small noise in acknowledgment.

“Ji, come back to me. You’re okay.” Finally, he shifts to look up at Y/N, eyes fluttering open. He looks the same way he does after a good nap, tired. “I thought you might’ve blocked out for a second there. Do you need a minute?” Jihoon hums, laughing softly.

“I think I did black out. Fuck.” Jihoon buries his head in Y/N’s chest, placing a soft kiss to the skin there. “Am I crushing you?” Y/N hums.

“No, but I need you to pull out, love. I’m sticky.” Jihoon moves at a snail's pace as he carefully pulls out. He whimpers softly, cock incredibly sensitive. It twitches involuntarily as the tip slips out, and then his cum begins to leak out of Y/N’s spent hole. Y/N feels it seep out, shivering at the warmth.

Jihoon settles his weight back on top of Y/N. He glances at the clock, which reads five minutes to twelve. “Happy birthday, my love. I hope you had a good day today.” He finds Y/N’s left hand, fingers immediately finding the ring.

“Course, I did. I had a pretty boy and a happy birthday.” Y/N exhales softly in contentment. “I cannot believe you proposed to me during sex. That’s such a you thing to do.” Y/N laughs softly, free hand still rubbing his back. They can’t help but stare at the ring.

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice slowly fading out with fatigue.

“You’re a romantic, my love.” Y/N kisses the top of his head, hand trailing up his back to the base of his neck. “Let’s take a bath, okay? You need to relax.” Jihoon nods softly, carefully shifting his weight off Y/N. His cock rubs against their thigh, and he hisses softly.

“Can you get it ready? I need a minute to regain feeling in my legs.” Jihoon laughs, hiding his face in embarrassment, though it doesn’t hide the tips of his ears which are beet red.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” Jihoon’s chest swells again, completely enamoured by their patience with him. It never fails to assure him that this was the right person. The only person. His person.

In the morning, the Seventeen group chat is what wakes Y/N up. Jihoon’s phone won’t stop going off; a product of the photo he sent before he put it on do not disturb. Jihoon stirs softly, arms tightening around Y/N’s waist. “Let them talk, just give me a few more minutes of this.” He murmurs into the back of their neck.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world, my dear.” Jihoon’s hand finds Y/N’s again, before he presses a soft kiss to their ring finger.

a/n: oh boy. hope that was,,, enjoyable. also if I start an official tag list for fics would anyone join??? sorry that this is late. my bday was a week ago LOLLLL.

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wqnwoos · 1 year

Text

seventeen & touch-starved s/o (vocal unit ver.)

hhu ver. — requested by anon

JEONGHAN.

he’s so soft :(

like immediately scoops u up

talks to you very gently while he holds you,, about literally ANYTHING

jeonghan doesn’t notice how close you’ve sidled up to him until you tug on his shirt a little. he’s been wrapped up in conversation with mingyu, riling him up with friendly teasing and laughing as mingyu pouts defensively.

at least, until you appear out of nowhere, brushing your arm against his and sending him glances from the side of your eyes; he can tell you think he hasn’t noticed, but he definitely has. he always notices, especially when it’s you.

which is how he ends up cutting off his teasing, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer, resting a hand on your thigh and murmuring a quick “you okay?” in your ear. and it’s only when you nod, satisfied, that he returns to the conversation.

JOSHUA.

i feel like he intuitively knows when u need him

hand holder for SURE have u guys seen the recent gose 😭

probably rubs your back or something too :((

“joshua, we are going to get lost.” you pronounce the moment you see the bustling crowds of the carnival in front of you.

your boyfriend scoffs lightly. “come onnn. we’ll be fine.”

“hello? are you seeing this?” with a wide sweep of your arm, you gesture to the horde with wide eyes, unconsciously pressing closer to him already.

“don’t worry, baby. we won’t get separated.” joshua reassures, and then pauses, before dramatically announcing — “ever.”

you blink at him under the coloured lights and merry-go-round music. “i can’t tell if that was heartwarming or incredibly cheesy.”

“both?” he suggests with a smirk, before holding his hand out to you. “come on.”

“josh, don’t let go of me, okay?” you say nervously, as you approach the crowds.

he brushes a kiss over your joined hands with half a smile. “never.”

WOOZI.

omg. soooo flustered but equally as pleased

also have you seen those arms?

he’s an excellent hugger nobody can change my mind

jihoon can tell there’s something on your mind. you keep looking over at him from your place on the couch as he works, sometimes opening your mouth like you’re about to say something but then changing your mind last minute. and when it happens for the seventh time — yes, he counted — he finally turns to you, sliding off his headphones with raised eyebrows.

“can i help you?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

you’re already looking at him with widened eyes. jihoon cocks his head to the side — when you pull out the puppy gaze, it means you want something. unfortunately for him, he gives in every time.

(how can he help it, when you look like that?)

“hug?” you say hopefully, voice pitched a little higher than usual.

he should have guessed. jihoon opens his arms with a mock sigh, gesturing for you to come and sit on his lap — ignoring both your satisfied smile and his warmed cheeks.

DOKYEOM.

his smile itself feels like a fucking hug so. idek where to start. this man is a safety net :(

HES SO WARM i feel like he gives the best cuddles

loops his arms all the way around you and squeezes to make you laugh too

“seokmin~! i need a hug!” you declare, the moment you step into the house. you might say it dramatically, but you mean it entirely — today has sucked ass. “i demand it, even!”

at your greeting, seokmin sticks his head out the kitchen, lips already curved into a gentle smile. “what happened, angel?” he soothes, opening his arms and entangling you in his embrace.

“bad day. awful.” you describe shortly, already leaning into him gratefully. “less talking. more hugging.”

“yes, boss!” he mock salutes over your shoulder, giggling as he tightens his grip, and with the sound of his laughter, the burdens of today seem to fall away — at least for a short while, you’ve found your reprieve.

SEUNGKWAN.

he will drop anything and everything to give you what you need and that makes me UPSET

always goes into full caretaker mode AHHH i love him

probably sways you guys back and forth when you hug

seungkwan takes one look at your sleepy form in his doorway, and he freaks.

by freaks, you mean he pulls you inside, kisses your cheek in greeting, and scolds you for not wrapping up warm enough, all in the space of a minute. and then he’s cupping your face with warm hands. “what happened, baby? you didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

you scrunch your nose sleepily. “sorry. i missed you.”

“aish, don’t apologise, just come here,” he grumbles, to hide the embarrassingly delighted smile growing across his face.

“warm,” you say drowsily, as you lean into his embrace with droopy eyes and slightly slurred words. “best hugger. you’re the best hugger, seungkwannie, you know that? you’re my favourite hugger.”

he kisses your forehead then, with a soft murmur against your skin. “yeah, baby. you’re my favourite too.”

an requested by an anon who read the hhu version!! i hope you like it @ anon, let me know!! 💗💗💗

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gluion · 3 months

Text

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and jaehyun relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward… i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so… parental issues, both of you come from cheongju for the sake of the story, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and jaehyun is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won’t work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. you can access the changmin & hanbin vers as well! please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with their climactic performance,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote seven articles. like, six profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work.

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2019. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all seven articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2019, since i first left,” you admit.

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill.

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2019

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with an ‘m’.

“myung jaehyun.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“myung jaehyun?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”

myung jaehyun made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even baek jiheon, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” jaehyun looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like jaehyun had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to hwang intak, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at jaehyun until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at jaehyun; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with jaehyun for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

jaehyun reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at jaehyun, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of jaehyun but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “jaehyun, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that jaehyun, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with jaehyun. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with boynext—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “jaehyun.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and jaehyun were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

jaehyun’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.”

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

jaehyun hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

jaehyun finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans jaehyun’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” jaehyun insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. jaehyun pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow jaehyun outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours.

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of jaehyun sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting five years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves jaehyun. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, jaehyun only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at jaehyun who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something.

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him.

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long for mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed jaehyun. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with jaehyun’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, jaehyun takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2019

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” jaehyun’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” jaehyun pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

jaehyun laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards jaehyun, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” jaehyun complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” jaehyun does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over jaehyun’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

jaehyun’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” jaehyun starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at jaehyun and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days jaehyun ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” jaehyun nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” jaehyun bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and jaehyun shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and jaehyun were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at jaehyun who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once jaehyun hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and jaehyun were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and jaehyun. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” jaehyun starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, jaehyun giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of jaehyun and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but jaehyun could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

jaehyun’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you.

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and jaehyun didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from jaehyun’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned jaehyun to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and jaehyun. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—jaehyun’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back.

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with jaehyun, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to jaehyun’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before jaehyun entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.”

jaehyun knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

��and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will jaehyun get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and jaehyun’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows.

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut.

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to jaehyun. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s seven articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and six profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then six profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called boynextdoor?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“boynextdoor?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows. “yeah. do you know them?”

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s shorter than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did jaehyun undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a jaehyun focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, jaehyun’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

jaehyun is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2019

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future.

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for.

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that jaehyun boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger. “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from jaehyun?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, jaehyun is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, jaehyun?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit jaehyun’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing jaehyun, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

jaehyun moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you.

now, your home is jaehyun.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.”

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with jaehyun then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to jaehyun. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” jaehyun says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

jaehyun exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been five years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2019

out of all the seasons, jaehyun’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, jaehyun prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs.

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” jaehyun looks up from his desk to see jiheon standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

jaehyun laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when jaehyun last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, jaehyun reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” jiheon groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves jaehyun alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “baek jiheon, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as jaehyun’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from jaehyun. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into jaehyun’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with jaehyun was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and brother were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as boynextdoors’s myung jaehyun? a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my brother, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [boynextdoor], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. onedoor, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be boynextdoor’s leader or myung jaehyun if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

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#works of moni #onedoornet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #boynextdoor #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor fluff #myung jaehyung imagines #boynextdoor imagines #myung jaehyun angst #boynextdoor angst

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