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kiligaus · 4 years

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Summary

Y/n a great ballet dancer, Jihoon an amazing hip hop dancer. Both are on their school’s dance team, and both are top tier dancers. Except, Jihoon HATES the sight of Y/n and vice versa. The two can’t stand being in the same room with each other until they are forced to. The next school dance competition is coming, and both were forced to compete as a duet. Oh, did I mention their both total opposites?

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 2.8K

PART 3 (finally)

(note: y/n and jihoon got to yoonbins house around 5:00 after coming from the dance studio) I

stretched back in the chair Jihoon and I shared. “FINALLY! We’re done with the track!” “I know right, finally. It sounds awesome! I can’t wait to start the choreo!” He smiles brightly holding his hand up waiting for a high five. I blushed slightly as I reciprocated the high five. “I’m in awe, you’re incredible with mixing music together! Who knew THEE Y/n was good at something other than dance.” He chuckles. “Hey give yourself some credit too! If it weren’t for you watching me dance and getting this brilliant idea of mixing our styles we wouldn’t be here!” I confess. The boy stares at me for a moment, eyebrow raised. “Hmm, you like it when I watch you dance.” What?! “I- fuck no!” I yelled pushing him off the chair as a reflex. Jihoon glares at me from the ground, rubbing his butt from the sudden impact. “Pfffft, hahahaha!!” We burst out. “Are you guys killing each other yet?” Yoonbin enters the room. “Um, what the heck happened here?” He questions. “Oh, we just finished fixing the track.” Jihoon crosses his legs looking up at the taller boy. “Took you guys long enough it’s been almost 5 hours since you guys started.” The tall boy leans on the door frame. Wow, almost 5 hours. 5 HOURS!! HOLY SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT YEONGUE!! I rapidly grabbed my phone checking the time. 10:45 Shit.

Rat; Ya Kim Y/n Rat; where are you??

Rat; hello

Rat; ?????

Rat; it’s already 10:45 WHERE TF ARE YOU?!?

I quickly dialed up my younger brother. “I am sooo sorry I forgot to text.” I pout from the other side of the call. “Yeah, whatever where are you I’m hungry.” Yeongue responded. I could tell he was annoyed, he hated being alone at night. “Hey, I know you’re mad and I’m sorry, I’ll pick up your favourite ramen from the store just give me a few ok.” I apologize. “Just get here quick.” And after that he hung up. Shit I fucked up so badly.

The boys were chatting away when I abruptly got up and headed for the door. “Y/n? Y/N!” I ignored Jihoons call. I put my shoes on and grabbed my bag ready to head out the door. I felt a hand grabbing my arm and stopping me. I turned around to face the culprit, Jihoon? “Where are you off to in a hurry?” “None of your business.” I deadpan. “Cut the shit Y/n it’s almost 11 pm. As much as I dislike you, I’m not going to let you leave here when it’s pitch dark outside.” Huh? Did I hear that right? Park Jihoon doesn’t want me alone at night by myself!? “Come on.” He says putting on his shoes and dragging me towards his car. “Bin!! Can you send the mix later.” He yells out. Yoonbin his thumb up, giving him the aye ok.

“Where too?” Jihoon asks staring up the car. “Convenience store.” Jihoon pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest convenience store. I still can’t believe he wouldn’t let me leave. Why? A week ago he didn’t give a shit if I left without him. I looked out the window and sighed. Why does my mind keep replaying that moment? My heart fluttered at the thought of it. What no Y/n get a grip! He’s like your enemy, he’s annoying, a show off, and only cares for himself. Or does he? UGH! “Y/N!” I snap back into reality. I turn to the driver’s seat. “We’re here.” Jihoon says. I nod, getting out of the car and heading into the convenience store.

I quickly grabbed 5 packets of my brothers favourite ramen and got back into the car. “Uh, if you just turn here and follow the road-” “Don’t worry I remember.” The boy gives me a small smile. I can’t tell if that’s sweet or just plain creepy. The car ride was quiet until Jihoon spoke up. “Why did you need to leave all of the sudden? It isn’t safe at this hour.” “Yeongue.” “Pardon?” I didn’t know what came over me but, I felt like I owed him the truth. “He doesn’t like being all alone at night. Our mom isn’t really home much cause of her job, so I take care of him.” I confess. “Wow, that’s really mature of you.” I chuckle to myself. “Thanks Jihoon.”

We finally reached my house. Jihoon pulled into my driveway and unlocked the door. “Uh, let me walk you to your door.” He speaks up. What, why is he being a gentleman all of a sudden. “It’s literally a 5 second walk from your car, it’s not like I’m going to jumped.” I try refusing the offer but he insists. “True, but who knows. I don’t want my dance partner to get hurt.” Aww, that’s kinda sweet. “Or else I’ll never hear the end of it from Mr. Yang and Herin.” I take that back. “Wow, thanks.” I rolled my eyes and got out of the car.

Jihoon and I walked towards my front door in silence. No, more like AWKWARD silence. Once we reached the front door the both of us awkwardly turned to each other. “Uh, so this’s me.” I say avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, guess it is.” Why is he acting all coy now? Like a minute ago he was insulting me. And they say girls are the confusing ones. I grabbed my keys from my bag and reached to open the door.

“Y/n! Thanks.” I turned to him in surprise. “Thanks? Thanks for what?” I raised an eyebrow. “I mean for listening to my ideas and with the mix.” Jihoon scratches the back of his neck avoiding my gaze. I stare at him blankly. Huh? Is he being grateful for once? And is he BLUSHING?! No, Y/n get a hold of yourself, he’d never. “No problem Ji.” I smile brightly. He shifted his gaze back to me, eyes lighting up like a puppy. Shit. The boy smiles back. His smile, why haven’t I noticed it before? “Ji, I like that nickname.”

The two of us stood there as if time stopped. It was just me and him, and for once I didn’t really mind the company. “FINALLY! You’ve been gone for so long- Oh. My. God, was I disturbing something?” Yeongue bursts through the door. Both of us jumping back from surprise. “WHAT NO! NOTHING WAS HAPPENING!” I scream. “EXACTLY! GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER GUE!” Jihoon screams. “Nothing would ever happen between us.” I huff. “Yeah.” Jihoon says with slight disappointment in his voice. I stepped into my house beside Yeongue. “Anyways, before we got RUDELY interrupted.” I nudge my younger brother. “I was going to say thanks for the ride.” I say growing quiet. “Anytime.” Jihoon replies. The tall boy turns around and walks back to his car.

“Are you sure~ nothing was happening between you guys?” Yeongue nudges. “Of course NOT! There was just an awkward silence between the two of us.” Yeah, that. Awkward silence. I looked over at Jihoon and sighed. Today wasn’t as bad with him by my side, it was kinda fun. I looked down and smiled to myself trying to keep my happiness to myself. But little did I know my brother notices this. “Hmmm, then you wouldn’t mind if he stayed over for dinner?” “Sure.” I accidentally let slip out. “Great! Oh Jihoon~” Wait. WAIT! “wAIT, I DIDN’T MEAN!” It was too late, my brother snatched the plastic bag full of ramen and ran over to the car. This little shit, I swear to God.

“Jihoon since you brought my sister home, I’d like to thank you by inviting you to have dinner with us.” Yeongue smiles with his eyes practically begging the older boy to stay. “Uhhhh.” He hesitates. Yes, please say no. “What about your mom, I’m sure she wouldn’t like a boy over this late.” He lets out. “Noooo, it’s fine moms not home anyways.” My brother counters. “I- what about your sister, she doesn’t seem to like me.” He glances at me, as I stick out my tongue. He chuckles. “Aww, common she’s always like that don’t mind her! Please stay it’ll be fun common, pLEASE!” Yeongue begs. I glance at Jihoon leaning on the door frame of my house. He seemed flustered at my brothers cuteness, I laugh to myself. No one can resist my brother cuteness. The boy thought about it for awhile, then finally gave in. “Sure why not.” Yeongue really owes me after this. I thought dragging my feet into the house. This is gonna be a long night.

I was currently in the kitchen cooking three packs of ramen I bought, while the two boys were in the living room chatting away with a movie played in the background. I boiled the water and placed the soup base along with the ramen. I sat on the counter watching the movie from the kitchen, sometimes glancing at my brother and Jihoon. I started thinking back to Yoonbin’s house. Man, I think that was the first time Jihoon and I really got along. I look towards the boy sitting on my couch, head facing the tv, once in a while turning to my brother, cracking a joke or two about how the movie was so cringe. He really knew how to treat my brother. I raised my hand to my cheek. Huh? Am I blushing? Park Jihoon what are you doing to me, I’m supposed to hate you. I shook the thoughts from my head and went back to cooking ramen.

“Ramens ready!” I yell bringing the pot to the coffee table, resting it on an oven mitt so the table wouldn’t burn. “Took you long enough.” Jihoon blurts out. “I’m sorry, lemme just tell the ramen to cook faster next time.” I say sarcastically. “Hey, be nice he’s a guest.” My brother glares at me. “hEy, He’S a GuEsT bE nICe, go get some bowls and chopsticks, will ya.” I mock. Yeongue reluctantly gets up and goes to the kitchen. “Hey, Jihoon you know you could’ve declined right?” I say sitting down beside him. “Hmm? Oh I know but, your brother was just so convincing, yaknow with his face.” He says waving a hand over his face, I chucked punching his shoulder slightly. The boy smiles running his hand through his hair. “Got the stuff.” Yeongue says placing the cutlery in front of us. “Alright let’s dig in.” I say sticking my chopsticks into the pot grabbing some ramen.

It was currently 1:25 am. The three of us finished the ramen and the movie. Yeongue was on the couch currently asleep, he didn’t finish the movie with us. While Jihoon and I were on the floor sitting. “Man I love this movie.” I yawn. “It’s alright.” Jihoon lets out. “What? Oh come on! This movie is so good! The way the main character and her crush got together was so cute! I pout. “Ok, fine I give, it was cute.” My eyes lit up as I smiled at him. “I can’t wait for the next movie, the guy from camp comes back.” I start to ramble, not noticing Jihoon staring at me, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “Hey, quiet down your brothers sleeping.” Jihoon cuts me off. Hmmm? “Oh crap right. How am I gonna get him to his room.” I questioned. “I mean I can carry him.” Jihoon suggests. “No, its ok you must be tired, I’ll do it.” I protest. I got up and hovered over my brother preparing myself to carry him to his room. I was about to pick him up when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry Y/n I got this.” He shoots me a reassuring smile. I took a step back and let him pick my brother. “Uh, follow me.” I slightly blush leading the boy up the stairs to Yeongue’s room.

After tucking my brother into bed we headed down stairs to clean up. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Jihoon says. I headed over to the living room to go collect the dishes left on the coffee table. “Hey lemme help, I help create this mess, so let me help clean.” Jihoon says taking the dishes and heading to the kitchen. “Whatever.” I roll my eyes trailing behind him. The two of us stood at the sink In silence washing the dishes, till I felt something wet on my face. I glared at the person next to me who was holding the detachable sink head while snickering. “Park. Jihoon!” I shout. He sprays me again. “Aye, shut up or you brother will wake up and think somethings going on between us.” He says smirking with his index finger over his mouth. I stared at the boy with rage in my eyes yet my face was flushed from his comment. “It’s so on Park!” I say grabbing a cup of water and throwing it at him.” And thus a heated water battle started. Puddles of water started to form on the kitchen floor, both of us running around the kitchen trying to avoid each other’s attacks.

*THUD* I slipped on one of the puddles of water, laughing my head off, while Jihoon came over to help me up. “Omg, Y/n are you ok!” He says while still laughing. “Yeah I’m fine just a little sore.” I look at him smiling. He stuck his hand helping me up. “I’m so screwed when my mom comes home to this mess.” I say looking around seeing water scattered all over the place. Jihoon chuckles, “Sorry about that.” He scratches the back of his neck with his other hand, as his other is still occupied with holding mine. Honestly, I didn’t really mind.

(Its really been a hot minute since I last updated this au huh? I took uploading once a year literally lmaoo anyways hope yall still like it -Bee🐝)

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yeetdam · 5 years

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stars after the rain ☾ yedam

genre – romance, soulmate au

synopsis – set in a universe where everyone is born with two names tattooed on their skin. one name stands for their soulmate, the other for their potential killer. no one knows which person inked on them is their other half and which is their downfall, but that has never been an issue to you. after all, you were born with just one name. and, well, there’s only one way to interpret that.

wc – 8.3k

a/n – this is a completely self-indulgent fic pls forgive me this mess contains everything i dream of: best friend doyoung antics, slow burn-ish vibes and a cheesy rendition of the slow dance scene on the rooftop from high school musical 3 :’) either way, i hope you’ll enjoy this and pls lmk if there are any mistakes or if u have some feedback uwu

It’s bound to end in a tragedy when Doyoung barges into your room without any warning and sees it for the first time.

“That’s a cool place to have a tattoo,” he admits and points at the back of his neck when you turn to him with an irritated expression. The realization crashes onto you like an atomic bomb the moment you subconsciously mimic his movement and slide your hand up the back of your neck.

“Oh.”

In the blink of an eye, you frantically rummage through your drawers for your foundation. Lately, there’s been many things clouding your mind, be it the many exams you can’t afford to fail or the abnormal number of complaints Hyunsuk has sent you in a span of three hours. It’s not the first time for you to drown in all kinds of duties, but it seems like the pressure has got into your head worse than usual. You never fail to cover the ink on the back of your neck with either turtlenecks or foundation, so it just fuels your frustration when Doyoung sheds light on it.

“Hey, relax! We can join the party a little later, so take your time,” he says and puts a firm hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you. “Uh, do you want me to help? It must be hard blending that in every day.”

You snort. “First of all, I am relaxed. Second of all, I don’t do this every day, but I manage perfectly on my own.”

“Jesus Christ,” Doyoung sighs and retreats his hand, “I was just trying to be the empathetic best friend. But jokes aside, it really is a cool place to have your tattoo. My thigh can’t relate.”

“As much as I love being your best friend and am willing to listen to your problems anytime–” you successfully find the bottle and squirt a generous amount of foundation on the beauty blender, “–even that is too much information for me. What should I know next? Your other tattoo is on your butt?”

There is nothing wrong with covering up the tattoos you are born with. It’s not socially frowned upon if someone doesn’t make any efforts to hide the ink. In the end, it all boils down to your personal preference. You know a handful of people who waltz around with both of their names on display, and you are relatively sure that Doyoung would be one of them if his tattoos were on an appropriate part of his body.

“Haha. Funny,” Doyoung deadpans before he whips out his phone. “I meant what I said, take your time. Plus, I realized I still gotta call someone.”

“Give me five.” You hum and apply the liquid on your skin. He exits your room and makes sure that the door falls softly in its lock to give you a moment of peace. A frown paves its way onto your face as you build up the coverage until there is no trace of black on your neck.

Showing the inked names on your skin and just talking about the concept of soulmates in general isn’t a social taboo. However, there are quite a few people who rather avoid the topic at hand, including you. Truth be told, every cell in your body knows that Doyoung is dying to discuss this topic with you and there are too many moments you recall where he looks as if he’s about to explode if he doesn’t bring up his soulmate. However, he never did that. Doyoung wears his heart on his sleeve and so do you, but here’s the thing: Doyoung is better at swallowing them down.

So as his best friend, the least you can do is go with him to that one goddamn party even though there are other things you’d rather do at this late hour of the day.

(A prime example of what you’d rather do is giving Hyunsuk a piece of your mind because receiving fifty-seven emails about not understanding biology, whining about the new TA and his harsh grading and inquiries about what to get Seunghun for his birthday in the span of three hours is not okay.)

Whenever you go out in public, you are usually seen with a turtleneck or a scarf. Covering up your tattoo with a foundation is your plan c) when desperate times call for desperate measures. Also, there is a reason why you barely go to parties.

Parties fall under desperate times.

Although there isn’t anything in Yeji’s house that is illegal to consume, the living room is sweltering hot, the music obnoxiously loud, and the entire scenario is equivalent to a frat party minus the alcohol, drugs, and making out.

Instead, a dozen bottles of pretty much every soft drink you can find from the convenience store just three blocks away and a broad selection of chips and chocolate and cake are found on the tables.

“Wanna bet that you could never finish cola with salt in one go?” Jaehyuk suggestively raises a brow at Doyoung and holds up the red cup in his hand.

“If I win, you owe me bubble tea for an entire month. Wherever and whenever I want.” You fight the urge to smack yourself as you see the sneaky grin etched on Doyoung’s lips. For a moment, you debate whether to stand up your comfortable position on the couch and knock some sense into him. But then again, you remind yourself why you’re even here in the first place. Though you know most of the people here, you don’t really talk to them. Doyoung was your only friend present.

You’re only here for Doyoung’s sake. You’re going to let him have fun and let him regret his life decisions in the aftermath.

“Aren’t you feeling lonely here?” you divert your eyes from Doyoung to the guy who drops himself on the couch beside you. He’s a new face, you figure, dressed in an unbuttoned, red flannel shirt, a black graphic tee underneath and ripped skinny jeans. Strands of jet black hair fall into his face, but they fail to hide the genuine twinkle in his eyes as the corners of his lips subtly tug upwards.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you mumble and are very glad that you’re no longer focused on Doyoung if you consider the gagging sounds he’s emitting, “I’m not a huge fan of these kinds of occasions.”

“Let me guess,” he muses and takes a sip out of his cup, “That guy forced you here?”

A chuckle escapes your lips when he points at Jaehyuk who’s laughing maliciously at a kneeling Doyoung.

“Actually, it’s the guy who looks like he needs life support, but close enough.” you lift a brow at the flannel guy. “Is there a reason why you’re staring at me like that?”

He shrugs in response. “I’m just happy that I managed to lift up your spirits a little bit.”

There it is again, the glimmer in his eyes. You can’t lay a finger on what exactly it is, whether it’s playfulness or an underlying risk. All you know is that it's a gamble. You either take the leap or you keep it safe. It’s not the first time that you end up in such a situation, but this time, it’s a little but different. The only thing that is stopping you is the uncertainty of reading him.

But maybe, maybe it’s not that bad.

“You know,” you start and fiddle with your fingers, “I’m fairly sure that you’re the only one who can enlighten me here.”

Your hunch is proven right. It is not that bad. Not bad at all, actually.

For the next hour, you two stay seated on the couch and talk about all kinds of things. Sometimes, when you bother to care, you laugh at some mishaps that occur right in front of your eyes, like Chaeryeong tripping over her own feet before she crashes into Mashiho and makes him fall flat on his face.

“Wanna grab something to drink?” he asks after a while and swirls the last few ounces of liquid in his cup. “Besides, I think I need a refill.”

“Sure,” you reply and you both enter the kitchen. The room is empty apart from the two of you, and though you can still hear the music blasting through the closed door, your ears don’t ache as much anymore.

While you grab ahold of one of the opened bottles of cherry cola and pour it into an unused red cup, you watch him roll up the sleeves of his flannel from the corner of your eye. He has pretty hands, you figure, and maybe it would’ve been better if you didn’t stare at them for so long. It’s only a subtle flick of his wrist as he fixes his sleeves, but you don’t fail to notice fine black lines on his left wrist.

Before you ponder longer about it, he asks you, “Hey, can you pass me the cherry cola?”

You nod wordlessly and hand him the bottle and don’t leave his hand movements out of your sight. Once in a while, your eyes flit to the fridge behind him, to the few strands of jet black hair that sick out messily or to his eyes. Curiosity has never been a trait that really defines you, but sometimes, you can’t help but try to decode the name on his wrist.

Still oblivious to your underlying intentions, he continues rambling about his favorite music producers. “Cha Cha Malone has this really distinctive tone in his productions…” he places the edge of his cup on his lips with his left hand and suddenly, your blood runs cold.

Though there is the slight possibility that you are suffering from hallucinations, you are pretty damn sure it is not an illusion. The kitchen sheds enough light to see everything clearly, from the slight bags under his eyes to the coffee stains on the table. The lights aren’t blinding, but they’re enough to decipher the fine black lines inked on his left wrist.

Your name.

“... and I feel that– hey, you look like you saw a ghost. Is everything alright?” he furrows his brows in concern, but when he follows the trail where you’re looking at, he gets the gist. You notice him tense up and are pretty sure it’s not a trick of the light when he pales, something akin to guilt paints his face.

“Come to think of it,” you mumble and avert your eyes from his wrist. “I didn't catch your name. Who are you?”

He hesitates, chews on his bottom lips first before he answers. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights and it just fuels your thought that the worst case scenario has become a reality. You hope it isn’t what you think it is.

“I’m Bang Yedam.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to force any coherent words past your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, and though there is less to be scared of because your name is inked on his wrist too, you're still wary. Obviously, the one who is destined to end your life won't have your name tattooed on them.

But with your circumstances, you can't help but include that possibility.

Yedam doesn't hide his panic anymore as he tries to justify himself. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself earlier, (y/n). Doyoung told me not to–"

"Doyoung? What does Doyoung have to do with this?"

When all you're met with is silence, you ask again with something akin to fury laced in your tone. "I said, what does Doyoung have to do with this?"

He diverts his gaze to the counter behind you with pursed lips. Knowing that he won't spill the truth, you try to find the remaining puzzle pieces to complete the mystery by yourself. Your efforts are in vain though, because there is nothing you remember that could serve as a link to what Yedam said–

("I realized I still gotta call someone.")

"I need to go," you say when it dawns on you and you set the cup on the table. A jumble of emotions rages in you, be it the anger that flows through your veins or the whirlwind of irritation and disappointment and despair flooding your senses. You don't stop when Yedam calls after you and tries to make you stay.

You rush into the living room to grab your belongings, completely ignoring Doyoung who is still oblivious to your discovery. It's when he takes a closer look at your trembling hands and pessimistic face that the joy falls from his face.

"Hey, why are you leaving already?" he asks, concern laced in his voice as he tries to touch you, but you swat his hand away.

You huff. "Mind your own business, I really don't appreciate your stunt."

"What?" he furrows his brows and tries to figure out the meaning of your words. "I don't understand–"

"(y/n), please don't go– oh God." Yedam slows down to a halt at the sight of you and Doyoung. The boy beside you widens his eyes when he sees Yedam and then, the realization strikes him like lightning.

"O-oh, that was what you're talking about. Look, I can explain–"

You don't stay a while longer to hear his reasoning.

There is a reason why Doyoung has been your best friend for so long. It isn't the first time for you to fight and if you're being honest, your ego isn't that big to not forgive him. Doyoung can be awfully nosy and loves to stick his nose into someone else's business. Therefore, it doesn't surprise you that you invite him over on an afternoon after he left fifty voice messages and over a hundred text messages in your inbox.

"Please don't start your explanation with 'I was trying to do you a favor'." you sigh in distress.

"I was trying to do you a favor," he bluntly says and it costs you your willpower to not invite him out of your place. Doyoung sends you a crooked grin before he turns serious. "Okay, real talk now. I was just... surprised when I saw Yedam's name on your neck. And since I already knew that one of Yedam's tattoos is your name, I thought it'd be a good idea to make you two meet. Turns out to be that I was a fool."

"You're always a fool, please," you deadpan and snicker when he shoots you a death glare.

"Hey! I was trying to be an empathetic best friend here! I just breathed and here you are, clowning me. That is disrespectful!"

He attempts to throw you off your chair by aiming a pillow at you. Instead, he almost knocks down the succulent on your desk. The next few minutes, you bicker for a while and start an impromptu tickle fight to lighten up the mood. It's when you both lie on the carpeted floor and your heartbeats have fallen back into a steady rhythm that he addresses the problem at hand.

"Why don't you want to give him a chance?"

"My gut says it won't end well," you reply slowly.

Doyoung shuffles to the side to get a good glimpse of your face. "You know, the chance is high that Yedam's your soulmate. He's got your name too, after all. And he's willing to give it a shot, y'know? One meeting doesn't sound bad and won't be the end of the world."

You hesitate, considering the implied proposal with a frown. "It's complicated."

"So you're willing to let the glorious chance pass by?"

"Yes."

Taken aback by your rapid answer, Doyoung adds in a quieter tone, "Not many people manage to find even one of the two people. Even less find the one who wears their names too. You should definitely consider it, (y/n)."

"I get where you're coming from, but..." your voice trails off.

Doyoung watches you with expectant eyes. "But?" he drawls.

But you don't understand.

"You're not gonna stop bugging me until I say yes, are you?" you say instead. Although you'd trust your life to him, you don't want to burden him with your tattoo dilemma. He may not let it show too much, but you know he has his worries and he doesn't need to break his head about the meaning of your only tattoo too.

"Do you want the truth or a fabrication of lies?" he asks with a suggestively raised brow, making you roll his eyes at his silliness.

"Fine, I'll meet up with him one time. He shouldn't get his hopes up, though."

For some reason, you find yourself walking into the café fifteen minutes earlier. You blame it on the fact that there surprisingly was no traffic jam, although it's rush hour. As it turns out, you're not the only one to arrive earlier than expected, because Yedam enters the coffee shop five minutes after you.

He notices you right away, seated in between red and black cushions at the far back of the room, but doesn't steer towards you instantly. Instead, he stands in line and orders two drinks before he approaches you. An uncertain, shy smile adorns his face and contrary to the first time you met him, he's different. His hands shake so much that he spills one cup a little bit when he sets them down and he can't bring it over himself to look you in the eye. Yedam's treading lightly, abnormally careful about his own actions.

"I got you hot chocolate. I hope you don't mind," he mumbles and slides the cup towards you.

There's the need to tell him not to worry and loosen up. However, you don't manage to do so. What you do manage is a quiet "thanks" before you take a sip of it.

Well, at least Doyoung wasn't lying when he said that the café served delicious beverages.

Awkward, heavy and pressuring don't even come remotely close to describe the silence hovering above you. Even an innocent bystander can tell that neither of you is exactly comfortable in your shoes.

"So." Yedam's ears perk up when you clear your throat. "You wanted to meet me."

"Yeah…" his voice trails off as he taps his fingers on his paper cup. This time, he's wearing a blue wool sweater with sleeves so long they cover up his palms. You fight the urge to ask him if you could see his left wrist.

"Uh, give me a second to mentally prepare myself." he stammers before he starts anew. "I'm going to be honest here. I was happy when Doyoung called me and said he knew someone who wore my name. I had a great time that night and I, um, guess that things wouldn't have ended like that if you figured it out in a different manner."

"I'm going to be honest too," you confess. "I had a lot of fun that night, well, before it started to go downhill. It's just, I don't think I'll be able to cope with this." You gesture on your own wrist.

Something that hits very close to desperation is written on his face. For the first time, he looks at you directly and tries to read you. "Listen, I'm not trying to force anything on you. I know not everyone cares about the marks and that's fine. I just..."

He hesitates, tries to find the right words. Judging by the tone of his voice and the quiet sigh that escapes his lips, you know he doesn't belong to the group of people who don't care, unlike you – and he is very well aware of that too.

"You just?" you probe. Though you are quite sure what words will follow next, you need to hear them come out of his own mouth.

Yedam glances at you unsurely, wariness audible in his voice when he speaks up. "I was just hoping to, uh, get to know you. It doesn't have to be something long lasting, I swear. If you feel uncomfortable, we can break it off at any time. I was hoping that we could at least try."

There are many, many red lights blinking in your mind. This suggestion is nothing more than a very, very bad idea. In your case, the journey doesn't even matter. It doesn't matter if you end up being more than friends. What matters is the result. And, well, the result is inevitable.

Amongst the many, many stop signs that practically scream DON'T DO IT, there is one brain cell that begs to differ. Yedam looks at you expectantly, pleadingly even. His desperation is visible in his eyes as if they held stardust which reflects his every emotion.

You inhale deeply through your nose in an attempt to steady your frantic heartbeat. It's bound to end in a tragedy and you should care more, but you don’t have the heart to reject him.

Hopefully, you don't sound so unconvinced and scared when you respond.

"Trying sounds good."

Yedam is careful. He's so careful it genuinely surprises you. He doesn't push you to anything, works his way to more personal questions (though so far, the most personal question he's asked you was how long you've been friends with Doyoung) and tries his best to cater everything to your needs. It's by the fifth time you meet up in person when he finds the courage to ask for your number. Truth be told, you can practically see him pondering five minutes about each text he writes before sending it to you. The absence of emojis in his messages just confirm how nervous he still is.

It's still awkward when you talk and most of the time, it's Yedam who asks questions. Yet he's quick to pick up certain likes and dislikes, like your favorite ice cream flavor or your least favorite type of music.

It goes without saying that Doyoung practically demands regular updates. He was over the moon when you told him how your first date ended and even paid you bubble tea. That was how happy he was for you.

"He's not as bad as expected," you say as you nonchalantly look for good Netflix movies to watch.

Doyoung snorts in response. "Of course I knew that already. I've known Yedam for a good while now and seriously, all he does is sing the High School Musical soundtrack and swoon about music producers."

"He sings?"

You practically feel Doyoung rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. "Duh. That guy's a singing god. But you have my word, (y/n), I'll end him and twist out his intestines if he hurts you. You really don't have anything to worry about."

"The only thing I worry about is you becoming a potential murderer," you say in a monotonous voice. (In a way, it’s ironic, given how there is bound to be someone who wears Doyoung’s name with the negative connotation.)

That causes your best friend to laugh in an exaggerated manner. "Very funny. In all seriousness though–" he grabs a handful of chips and stuffs it in his mouth, "–how do you not know that he sings? Even though you know he produces his own songs? I thought you talk lots."

"The thing is–" you shuffle to the side and hope he won't spit any crumbs on you, "–he's the one who talks. I just listen and answer his questions."

Doyoung sends you an unbelievable look that's equivalent to 'Are you serious?' "Then ask some questions back, you fool!"

"I don't know what to ask though!"

"What? You truly are unbelievable." he groans and throws his head back. "I guess I have to step up my game and help out a poor soul, huh?"

You throw him an offended look. "I am not an imbecile!"

"I never said that, dumbass," he tuts. "But back to the point. Yedam likes music, just recommend him some songs and he's gonna love you. Or have a High School Musical marathon with him. For all I know, attend a concert with him or just let him show you his own songs– the possibilities are endless! You always meet up at that café and although it's nice and cozy there, it's getting boring. If you only knew how panicky Yedam gets when I bring you up in our conversations: pitiful! That's what it is!"

"I don't know if that'd be a good idea–"

"Listen, I have no idea why you are so against getting close to him and since we already had this talk, I'm not gonna bring it up again. But for the love of God, if you already agree on trying, then put in some effort yourself!" he exclaims and with every word, his hand gestures become bigger. It even reaches the point where you're certain that he's going to hit you in the face.

Nonetheless, he’s right. You desperately need to step up your game.

Yedam is confused when you send him a link while he’s talking about something you don’t bother listening to. His irritation is visible in his scrunched brows, in the way his gaze switches from you, then back to his phone, and in the little hitch in his voice.

“They say your music taste tells a lot by yourself.” you shrug and try to sound as casual as possible. “And, uh, perhaps I heard that you like listening to new songs.”

The confusion morphs into a small yet genuine smile once he sees that it’s a link to a Spotify playlist. “You’re not wrong about that. While we’re at it, here.”

Your phone vibrates, signifying a new text message. Just like him, you fail to hide your amusement when you see the link to his own Spotify playlist, followed by a SoundCloud profile.

“Let me guess, the SoundCloud one is where you post your own music?” you joke lightly but when you look up and meet Yedam’s bewildered expression, you gulp. “Did I say something insensitive?”

Yedam hastily shakes his head. “No, not at all! I’m just surprised that you remembered that I produce some songs too.”

“I mean, it’s hard not to forget that when Doyoung gushed about that for a good hour and you like to swoon about how much of an idol Cha Cha Malone is to you.”

He looks at you with a stunned expression. “Do I really talk that often about him?”

“No. I just remembered that, that’s all.” you smile lightly. Regardless of whether or not Yedam buys it, the apples of his cheeks are dusted red and he looks down as if he hopes for the floor to swallow him whole.

Quickly realizing that the atmosphere might turn into an embarrassingly long and awkward silence, you scroll through the Spotify playlist and chuckle when you recognize songs you haven’t heard in a while yet.

“Do you have something against my music taste?” Yedam asks, partly wary, partly sounding as if he was ready to brawl.

“No, of course not!” you explain once you calm down. “It’s just, it’s been a while since I heard the Jonas Brothers. Also, uh, I’ve never seen High School Musical and you have a lot of songs in it.”

Yedam looks like he's about to jump out of the window and his eyeballs might have fallen out of its sockets after your confession.

"What did you even do in your childhood?" He acts as if it was an unforgivable crime and then adds with conviction, "First of all, the entire soundtrack is on the playlist. Second of all, what are you waiting for? We need to catch up with things you should've done when you were a child!"

“What are you–” Before you get to finish your thoughts, he grabs ahold of your hand and leads you out of the café. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he replies without looking back at you as he picks up his pace. “You need to watch all movies. I refuse to leave you uncultured.”

Your attempts of not having to watch any of the films prove themselves futile. That, and the other, unexpectedly childlike side of him make you stay. Even if you planned on running away, you couldn’t anyway. With the way your hands are intertwined, it’s hard to do so. Though by now you’re practically rushing down streets and occasionally bump into a pedestrian or two, the incredulous look on their faces when they see you hand in hand is something you don’t miss.

You don’t know whether the feeling bubbling in your gut should feel warm.

When Doyoung said that Yedam knew every single song from High School Musical, he meant every single song.

You tried, you really tried to pay attention to the storyline. However, it’s not that easy when five minutes into the movie, the first song comes up and Yedam belts out every single note in a theatrical way. You find yourself anticipating the next song so he’ll sing more rather than the actual plot progression.

When Doyoung said that Yedam could sing, he meant he could sing. It would’ve been nice of him if he had warned you beforehand how angelic Yedam’s voice was because your jaw dropped to the floor the moment he started to sing. You didn’t know what you expected, but you certainly did not expect to be swept off the ground in a span of 0.08998 seconds.

“Did I just ruin your fun?” Yedam asks carefully, a bashful smile plastered on his face once the first song came to an end.

The question startles you and you blink at him in awe before you feel the heat creep up your cheeks. “What? No! I mean, no. I was just surprised that your voice is that nice,” you manage to choke out.

His smile widens, and your face flushes a deep red.

“So you don’t mind me singing along?”

“I prefer your voice over that guy right there…” you pause. “Wait, what? Forget what I said.”

“Me? Forgetting that? You wish,” he beams and erupts in laughter when you cover your face with your hands. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll sing along.”

You find yourself listening to Yedam singing anything your heart desires many times after.

While you still have no idea what exactly the plot of High School Musical is up until now, you indulge in the heavenly voice of your human jukebox even more with every passing day.

Depending on his mood, you discover the many facets of his personality. On days where he’s tired and you happen to stop by just because you’re casually in the neighborhood, he shows you his self composed songs. Although the bags under his eyes are impossible to miss, he keeps his head held up high and urges you to comment on all of his songs despite rather wanting to hide under the covers.

On days where you’re tired and happen to be lounging on his couch, he loves to lull you to sleep. His voice is soft and gentle, just like his hands playing with your hair as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Then there are days where it seems as if stole the sun’s job or had drunk too many energy drinks and jumps around like a lunatic while belting out the melody of My Heart Will Go On.

Today seems like a day where he’s just emitting happiness.

Truth be told, you don’t know when exactly you’ve let down your guard. The current scenario is too sickeningly domestic for your liking – with you leaning your head on his shoulder while his arm is lazily draped around you. The third installment of High School Musical running on screen doesn’t quite suit your taste either, yet you don’t make any amends to put some distance between you.

“Do you know how to dance?” Yedam asks casually, eyes glued on the screen. Currently, Troy and Gabriella are at the school rooftop and it seems as if the next song is going to start soon.

Your eyes narrow at him. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll take it as a no. But that’s fine too.”

“Yedam, seriously, what are you planning?”

There’s a gleeful twinkle in his eyes when he faces you. Before you can ask again, he stands up and pulls you up with him.

“Just trust me on this. It’ll be fun,” he interrupts you in the middle of your doubts. That shuts you up for good, yet it doesn’t hinder you from sending him warning glares.

You stay blissfully unaware of his ulterior motives until he firmly grabs one hand and puts your other on his shoulder, followed by planting his free hand on your waist. He shoots you a fond and reassuring smile to soothe your panicked self. Then slowly and surely, the first guitar strums come out of the speakers before Gabriella starts singing in the background.

A quick glance behind Yedam to the screen, where the lovestruck couple is also in the same position as you, is enough to let you know in which direction this is heading to.

“No. No. No. I can’t dance, much less slow dance–”

“I’ll guide you. Just keep your eyes on me,” he muses and tilts your chin so you lock eyes.

There are so many cells in you that are screaming at you to look away, but you’re unable to do so. There’s something behind the fragments of fondness in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher, but either way, you get lost in his eyes and your breath hitches.

“Let me guide you,” he repeats in a tone that makes you melt in a matter of seconds. You’re pretty sure your legs would’ve given up at this point if it weren’t for him who takes a step back and tugs you with him.

It goes without saying that you feel like a newborn baby deer that’s still clumsy on its legs. In the first few tries, you’re uncoordinated, stiff as a board and step on his toes a few times, and you’re not able to look away from him. He winces when you misplace your foot and you shoot him an apologetic look in return, but after some time, you get the hang out of it. Midway through the song, your legs no longer feel as if they’re going to mutate into jelly as you sway through the expanse of his living room.

“Look, you’re doing just fine,” Yedam reassures warmly before a grin etches across his lips; as if he just came up with a brilliant masterplan. “Wanna try a spin?”

“No,” you shoot out like a bullet and cause him to giggle. “This is enough for today.”

“Fine then, maybe next time.”

The rest of the song is spent in comfortable silence, warm smiles and occasionally knocking over a book or two when you happen to bump against the shelf. When the song comes to a slow end, you find yourself coming to a standstill. It’s just then when you realized how dangerously close Yedam really is. His breath hits your lips and you pick up the slight scent of spearmint.

You’re not the only one who notices. Yedam’s gaze switches from your eyes to your lips. Confliction is prominent in his face. Even though you’ve grown more comfortable around him, a feeling similar to home even, he’s aware he can’t cross all your limits yet. He doesn’t dare to prod further, lean a little bit closer and you know he’s wordlessly giving you the shots.

At this point, your heart practically hammers against your chest and you wouldn’t put it past him to hear it too. Perhaps, you’re in too deep and for a moment, you slowly move closer until it’s just a matter of a few millimeters separating you.

That is until you’re aware of the fact that you’re clinging onto his hand as if he were your lifeline. The realization causes a knot in your stomach. Suddenly, the doubts flash your mind; the fear that initially overcame you when you first met him at the party, when you found out who Yedam was.

There’s nothing wrong with Yedam. He’s nice and talented and genuinely cares. Yet at the same time, you’re not certain if there’s nothing wrong with him. You can’t be fully certain of him and that realization strikes you like lightning once more.

You try to ignore the sadness that washes over him for a short moment when you pull away.

“I’m sorry. It’s just a little complicated to explain,” you mumble apologetically.

“It’s fine,” he replies in the same manner.

There’s no doubt that you can see the genuineness in his eyes, but you can’t tell whether he was really telling the truth or was trying to manipulate himself into thinking that it truly is fine for him.

Surprisingly, as well as to your luck, he doesn’t bring up the episode again. In fact, he acts as if it never happened and honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You’ve become a little more cautious ever since, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him performing a little bit of skinship on you. He still sings for you, proudly shows you his latest songs and becomes cozy around you whenever you watch a movie.

Just like any other day you’re at his place, you’re sitting on the couch and currently scrolling mindlessly through your inbox while Yedam is on the other end of the couch.

“I really like you.”

You hope you misheard what he said. Yes, you definitely misheard it, you’re positive of that. The intensity of his gaze when your eyes meet begs to differ though.

Honestly, the day was bound to come sooner or later. After all, you’re not that oblivious. Yedam is similar to you, you like to think – he wears his heart on his sleeve. But whereas you let your bad sides show, he puts all the good in him on display.

“How are you so sure that we’re soulmates? Do you have any other reason besides the fact that I wear your name too?” you ask after a moment of silence. It costs you your entire willpower to not lash out on him and say once more that you’re not interested in something more than what you already have, but he wouldn’t believe that.

And frankly, you’re not sure if you would believe yourself either.

“I do,” he responds, voice full of conviction. “I say it so easily because I found the other person already, and I know that he’s not my soulmate.”

“Again, what makes you so certain about that?”

Yedam purses his lips and hesitates before he sits directly next to you. He opens his mouth several times, but no words come out.

Then suddenly, without any verbal warning whatsoever, he turns to you completely and tugs on the collar of his sweater, pulling it so far down until he exposes a strip of skin underneath his left collarbone.

You gape at the sight, hope you’re hallucinating. You really hope this is just a trick of the light. It must be one.

The pitch black ink contrasts with his skin, and though the letters are fine lines and easy to miss if you don’t pay attention, the name leaves a burning image in your head and a foul taste in your mouth.

Kim Doyoung.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to kill me if he really wants to. And trust me, he’ll definitely have a reason to do so.” Yedam chuckles dryly as he covers the tattoo.

Although you already know the answer, you ask flabbergasted. “Does he know?”

“That I wear his name? Unless he wears mine, which I highly doubt, no. He would’ve confronted me about this by now if he knew.”

It explains a lot. No, it explains everything. It explains why Yedam oozed confidence and was sure that you were bound to last a lifetime. It explains why he looks at you as if you were the center of his world without a doubt. It explains why he’s not afraid of you. He’s only been treading lightly because of you.

You sneak another glance at him and the sight causes something in you to break. Yedam is sitting right beside you, watching you carefully and pleadingly even. The specks of glimmer he holds in his eyes, the ones that reveal his feelings, aren’t even specks anymore. They’ve dissolved and you’re looking right through him. He wears his emotions on full display now, the desperation is prominent more than ever.

He’s treading lightly yet is needy for an answer and slowly reaches out for your hand. Before it can get so far, you turn away from him and croak out a weak “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t trust me?” you wince at the hurt laced in the undertone of his voice.

“It has nothing to do with me trusting you. It’s me, okay? It’s just–”

“–complicated, I get it,” he spits out the words as if they were acid and suddenly, the couch feels much lighter.

“Yedam, I didn’t mean it like that!” you stand up and grab the hem of his sweater in an attempt to bring him to a standstill. “I’m sorry.”

Yedam stands still, but he doesn’t turn around to meet you. He takes in a deep breath and sighs audibly, but you don’t miss the hitch in his breath as if he’s trying to contain something else.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” he pauses, stabilizes his shaky pitch before he reaches back and detaches your grip, “Nevermind.”

He leaves you alone in his living room and it costs you your entire energy to not break down onto the floor.

He doesn’t text you anymore and as much as you itch to contact him, you don’t muster up the courage to actually do it.

Doyoung also noticed the shift in your relationship. Fortunately, he doesn’t pry further and never brings up Yedam in your conversations. You’ve never told him any details but you’re relatively sure that Yedam said some things to him.

Either way, Doyoung remains a great friend. He tries his best to lift up your spirits – even bought you a gallon of your favorite ice cream flavor along with a lifetime supply of candy of all sorts. Once he realized that his wallet was suffering, he resorted to cooking your favorite food, even if that almost resulted in him burning down the kitchen.

However, as much as Doyoung might distract you from your pity party, he’s not a permanent fix. You know it and he knows it. Therefore, it really doesn’t faze you when he brings up the last person you’d want on your mind (to your dismay, he’s the only person on your mind).

“He’s also miserable right now, you know?”

When you don’t respond, he sighs and drops on the seat next to you, seeing it as his cue to continue. “He’s waiting for your call. I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but you better sort it out. Not only am I running out of ideas to get you out of your house, but I’m also pretty sure you two will end up as living corpses if you don’t fix it soon.”

You lift up your head and purse your lips. “It’s not going to end well.”

“You always say that.” he rolls his eyes, sounding more fed up this time. “Yedam didn’t tell me a lot and I know you get turn hyperventilated whenever it comes to your tattoos, so I’m not going ask about that. I never did and never will, get it? All I know is that Yedam dished out his soulmate situation from start to finish. You should trust him too, wholeheartedly.”

“I would’ve done that if I could a long time ago!”

“If I could,” he mimics, two octaves higher than your actual tone, “You can! I don’t want to guilt trip you or anything, but it’s only fair if he knows too. He’s poured his heart out to you, why can’t you do the same? Just think like this: say we live in a world where soulmate tattoos don’t exist, would you like him?”

“I…” your voice trails off.

Seemingly satisfied with your reaction, Doyoung sighs and stands up.

“I think you know the answer too. Talk to him, please.”

Come to think of it, you’ve never invited Yedam over to your place. That’s about to change when you send him your address and find him at your doorstep later in the evening. The sun is long gone and in its place shines the moon along with the stars. Their light is enough to taint your living room in a soft glow and it’s enough to notice every single one of his features.

He’s tired, looks like he hasn’t slept well in days, yet frankly, there’s something oddly comforting about his presence.

“You called?” he asks to break the ice.

Truth be told, you’ve rehearsed what you wanted to say many times a few hours ago. You could’ve also practiced weeks before but you doubt you’d ever get rid of the uncertainty laced in your shaky voice when you start to talk about that topic.

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeves. “I realized something. You never asked to see my tattoo.” It’s not what you rehearsed, but as long as it leads to the point, it’s alright.

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he responds.

You observe his expression, narrow your eyes in a brief moment of contemplation before you slowly undo the scarf you’re wearing. Yedam is quick to guess where this is heading to and quickly stammers, “Wait, you don’t have to justify yourself in front of me!”

“No, I want to,” you say with conviction and turn around so he can see the black ink at the back of your neck. Although the room is just dimly lit, you know that he can see it clearly. For a moment, you get goosebumps as his fingers ghost over the ink, but you let him bask in his fascination.

“The truth is, this is the only tattoo I was born with,” you confess after a moment of silence.

He gulps. “What?”

“I only wear your name, Yedam. You’re smart, I’m sure you understand the weight of that.” You turn around but don’t find the courage nor the energy to look him in the eye. The silence is heavy, unbearable, and literally nothing about it lifts the pressure off your shoulders. You don’t need to see him to know how the revelation shatters his view on everything in millions of shards.

“Look at me, please,” he pleads instead, and when you shake your head in response, he gently cups your face. You have no other choice but to do as and are startled when all you see is not pure horror, but soft, pure and wholehearted adoration in him.

“God, (y/n), I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. Believe me when I say you mean so much to me. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to have you voluntarily open up to me. and now that I see the situation from your view, I get why you were so unwilling at first. But trust me when I say I only want the best for you and would never put you in danger.” The raw vulnerability in his voice makes you believe him for a while and keeps you from breaking out in tears.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I do know that. Did you already forget? Doyoung is my potential killer,” he says matter-of-factly and sends you a broken smile, “So before I kill you, I’ll make sure that he ends me first.”

“Great, and then my best friend ends up in jail.”

This time, he genuinely laughs. You, on the other hand, can’t bite down the small smile that paves its way on your lips from that weak joke.

“You’re right, I can’t guarantee your safety from me,” Yedam admits once he’s calmed down and tucks a strand of your hair in place before he goes on, “But I can guarantee that I’ll do anything in my power to make you happy. Have you even looked at my SoundCloud profile? Ever since I met you the majority of my releases are love songs!”

“So you admit that the songs are all about me?” you playfully raise a brow at him.

“Of course they’re all about you.” he breathes out as if the weight on his shoulders was lifted off of him. Yedam still looks like he could need some sleep, but there is no longer a sign of restlessness. He is at ease, and it shows the most when he adds fondly, “It doesn’t have to last forever. We can break it off if you feel unsafe. I hope we can at least try.”

The course of this conversation is oddly reminiscent to your first date in the café, you think. Back then, you were more than convinced that the only way this would end was as a tragedy. Back then, you just said your answer out of pity, one might say. But that was back then, and this time, you’re more than serious and more than convinced when you respond with a smile.

“Trying sounds good.”

289 notes · View notes

kpoptionate · 5 years

Text

[12:45] junkyu doubles over in laughter, arms gripping his stomach at one of your jokes that you didn’t even think was funny—but you’d do even the most embarrassing of things just to hear his laugh over and over again.

#when are we gonna stop tagging ygtb and use t13 instead...also can they like fucking debut already it's been 9 months #ygtb imagines #ygtb blurbs #ygtb fluff #ygtb soft hours #ygtb scenarios #treasure 13 imagines #treasure 13 fluff #treasure 13 blurbs #junkyu imagines #junkyu fluff #junkyu scenarios #junkyu soft hours #treasure 13 soft hours #blurbs #t13blurbs #kpop blurbs

31 notes · View notes

yeunbins · 5 years

Text

perfect chemical — hyb

genre: enemies2lovers!au

requested: yes

a/n: this was WAAAAY long overdue

description: maybe being lab partners isn’t so bad after all

if you could describe Ha Yoonbin in one word, it would be that he is the literal devil. satan himself is shaking in his boots. you hated him with all your guts. just thinking about his name sent shivers down your spine. you are also one hundred percent positive that he felt the same way about you.

it all started around middle school. with you two being the top acers of the class, there was a time the class needed a class president. of course, your friends, yedam, doyoung, keita, jyunhao voted for you to be nominated. while jihoon, yoshinori and junkyu voted for yoonbin to be nominated. you still remember it like it was yesterday. someone raised their hands to close the nominations and it was only you and yoonbin who were the candidates. everyone chose their side and of course, you lost to yoonbin with one point. since then, there has been a competition between the two of you.

back to the present, you were currently drawing random doodles in your notebook. suddenly, the teacher called your name. “hm?” you raised your head. “were you paying attention, ms. y/n?” the teacher taps his foot. you laughed awkwardly, “yes” squeaked. you hear someone scoff at the side. “as usual of our ms. genius. barely paying attention in class” yoonbin mocks. you felt your blood boil hearing his voice. “yeah at least i don’t brag about my achievements when i barely achieved half of it” you retort. yoonbin gasps, “you take that back!” he gasps, pointing at you. “make me!” you hissed. “YOU TWO IN THE PRINCIPAL’s OFFICE NOW!” the teacher in front of you boomed. you angrily grabbed your bag and stomped off to the principal’s office. yoonbin shoves his things inside his black backpack. jihoon trying to calm him down, “bro, chill out! i told you, you shouldn’t have done that!” he tries to calm an angry yoonbin. “dude, just, fuck off and wait for me during lunch” yoonbin sighs, following you to the principals office.

—

“same reason?” the guidance councilor mused. you crossed your arms, avoiding all forms of contact with yoonbin. yoonbin fakes a laugh and throws his hand over your shoulder, pulling you close to him. “yep! isn’t that right babe?” he coos making you flustered causing you to smack him in the face. “ow!” he flinches. the guidance councilor laughs again, “you two would make such a cute couple” she winks. you choked in mid air, “excuse me ms. kim, that’s not happening anytime soon. i’d rather date a mole rat other than her” yoonbin whispers obnoxiously. “like i would date you” you gagged. before yoonbin could react, the door opens to reveal the principal, motioning the two of you to come in his office for the nth time this school year.

“you know, i’m getting tired of seeing your faces in my office everyday” the principal facepalms. you hid your face with your hands and yoonbin plays with his fingers. “its her/his fault!” you both stand up at the same time, annoying the principal even more. “if you two get sent in here again for the last time, i would have no choice to give you both a suspension for a week” he says sternly. you two both sat down quietly. “but sir! i have perfect grades! i will be forced to be dropped from the honor roll if you suspend me!” you complained. “yeah! what she said” yoonbin nods his head towards you. “exactly. so you two should grow up and be mature about this. you two are no longer kids! but seniors in high school!” the principal scolds you two. you both lower your heads and kept quiet. “one more chance. if i see your faces here again, you two are automatically suspended” the principal sighs. you both nod and stood up from the chairs. “here’s your hallway pass. hope i won’t see you two here again” the principal passes you two a familiar pass. you walk out the principal’s office in a bad mood. stomping your way to your next class which was chemistry.

—

“for this year, we would be having lab days. so i will be assigning your lab partners for the rest of the year. no buts” your chemistry teacher announces to the whole class. to be honest, you didn’t really care who you end up with since you’re practically friends with everyone in this class. except for yoonbin of course.

“ha yoonbin and (y/l/n) (y/n)” you hear the chemistry teacher read off his attendance list. you hear yoonbin sigh really loudly.

this is gonna be one hell of a school year

—

“could you take the test tube and wash it?” you ask yoonbin who was busy doing nothing. “what?” he raises his brow at you. you looked away from the microscope to give him a glare. “wash the test tubes”

“what’s the magic word?” he smiles fakely. “YOONBIN!” you screeched. “that’s not the magic word but we’ll work with that” he snickers taking the test tube away from your hand. you watch the microscope again but only to be disturbed by the one and only lucas. “hi!” he smiles widely. you look behind you incase he was referring to someone else. “me?” you point to yourself. lucas laughs, “yes! you, y/n!” it was a good thing that you wore a mask so he won’t see the rising blush on your cheeks.

lucas was the friendliest boy in school. which makes him part of the popular kids. you admit, he was very good looking.

“don’t you have a partner? where did he go?” lucas asks you as he sees you doing all the work. you shrug your shoulders, not caring wherever yoonbin is.

“he probably ghosted on me–“

suddenly, a loud slam could be heard next to you. you jumped and looked up to see yoonbin staring intently at lucas. “hey y/n i think it’s my turn to look at that. take a break and watch me finish our work for today” yoonbin says loudly for lucas to hear. lucas looks challenged and scoffs. “anyway y/n. here you go” he shows a toothy grin handing you a piece of paper. “bye!” he waves off walking to his station. you opened the paper to reveal his number. you laughed and kept the paper in your pocket, not realizing yoonbin was watching the whole time.

—

“hello? earth to y/n?” keita obnoxiously waves his hand over your face. “what?” you ask dazed. “i asked what happened during the first lab session” yedam explains. you look around and see everyone staring at you.

“chemistry was fine for once. mainly because i did all the work as usual and i met– yeah that’s about it” you laughed nervously. hoping they didn’t catch the last part. “yOU MET WHO????” doyoung slams the lunch table.

“i met lucas...” you mumbled. the 3 boys stared at each other for a moment before standing up and cheering you on. “Y/N GOT A BOYFRIEEEEEEND~”

—

“so did you guys slit each other throats out?” jihoon asks with his infamous puppy eyes. yoonbin puts down his chopsticks. “sadly, no” “bummer” junkyu mutters. suddenly, your table nearby can be heard. “Y/N GOT A BOYFRIEEEEEEEND~” keita’s voiced could he heard. everyone’s ears in yoonbin’s table perked up. “you’re dating y/n?!” yoshinori gasps. yoonbin chokes on his kimchi. “FUCK NO!” he denies. “i think she got lucas’ number” he finishes.

“lucas wong? the popular guy?” jihoon asks. junkyu nods, “yeah he’s one of the pretty boys and the captain of the school’s basketball team” yoonbin rolls his eyes, “lowkey i feel wrong about him. something about him.. just irks me”

jihoon gave a knowing look to yoshinori and junkyu. “someone seems.... CONCERNED” he yells. yoonbin felt his face turn red. “HELL NO DUDE” he gags.

“your face says otherwise binnie~” junkyu teases. “i hate y’all” yoonbin huffs making everyone in the table laugh

—

weeks passed and you’ve been talking to lucas now. he was such a funny guy. on the other hand, you and yoonbin had started to make up from the past. it chemistry at the moment and you were talking to yoonbin about the upcoming project.

“so yeah, i think we should divide the things we do. i do the first 50 and you do the other half. would that be okay?” you looked up from your notebook. “sounds perfect to me” he agrees. “yay!” you smile happily, showing a small dance. yoonbin observes quietly. wondering to himself how come he has never seen this side of you.

“i have to get going soon, lucas might be waiting for me” you tell him. yoonbin looks at you confused. “what do you mean by ‘might be waiting for you’ ?” he asks. you look taken a back. “we’re going on a date. i don’t know why you’re making this a big deal yoonbin” you knit your eyebrows. “i’m just saying. he does have a reputation of playing with girls” he informs you quietly.

“like this is your business. i’m leaving now” you retort. “don’t say i didn’t warn you y/n!” he yells after you walked out of the classroom

—

‘just when i thought our rivalry was coming to an end’ you scoffed, gripping your bag tighter. you walked into the well known diner in town and sat down at one of the booths waiting for lucas. 30 minutes haved passed and still no sign of lucas. realizing you’ve been stood up and how yoonbin was right, you stood up and walked home. your phone vibrates like crazy in your hand. you looked down at your phone to see multiple messages from yedam, keita and doyoung asking how your date went. you closed your phone and tossed to to your bed. you didn’t think much of it except for the fact that yoonbin was actually right for once.

—

“so how did you date go?” yoonbin asks as he plays with the chemicals in the test tube. “you were right.. i’m sorry for not believing you” you admitted. yoonbin laughs, “told you so. you should believe the things i say for i am a truther after all” he jokes. “bitch i didn’t even say that you were a liar!” you laughed smacking him in the arm.

on the other side of the laboratory, there was jihoon, yoshinori, junkyu standing with yedam, keita and doyoung.

“alright fellas. i’m betting $20 that they would date at the end of the month” jihoon bets. “make that $50 and give it a week” keita challenges. “game fucking bet!” junkyu whisper-shouts

—

it was now around 4:30pm and you and yoonbin were still at the library finishing up your final chemistry project. “how much longer are we gonna stay. i’m hungry” yoonbin dreads. staring at your slouched figure answering the remaining questions. “just a little longer, it’s almost done” you reply. you hear yoonbin mutter a ‘fine!’ and sat down at one of the chairs nearby.

it was quiet for awhile and just some background music yoonbin was playing.

“hey y/n” yoonbin calls. you stopped what you were writing and looked at him. “did you know that you’re the perfect chemical? that’s why i have to test you so i know” he flirts. you felt yourself blush. “boo! that sucks! might as well help me with this” you deadpan. “bitch please, if it that pick up line sucked then why are you blushing right now?” he mimics your actions before hand. “hey y/n, take a break. i’ll take this part now” he says, grabbing the answer sheet from your hands, intentionally brushing them against each other.

“you’re such a flirt, ha yoonbin” you roll your eyes at him. “well, i mean i am a criminal did you know that?” he says. “how so?” you raised a brow at him. “because i could take your heart and go” he says all smugly. you faked gag, “this is the cringiest pick up line i’ve ever heard” “you mean the best? thanks babe” he puckers his lips at you and it grew quiet after that.

you were waiting for him to finish the last equation. swaying your legs from the height of the table you sat on. “you know, i didn’t even know why i like, liked lucas” you open up. “well that means you’re the only

one for me” he responds. “can you stop that” you blush, “nope.” he smiles, standing up from his seat and walks towards you. he stands in between your legs and he grabs your hands. “kiss me” he says. you close your eyes as you slowly lean towards him to give a soft peck on the lips.

#yg treasure box #ha yoonbin #ygtb #ha yoonbin imagines #ha yoonbin scenarios #yg treasure box imagines #yg treasure box scenarios #ygtb imagines #yoonbin imagines #yoonbin scenarios #treasure box imagines #treasure box scenarios #ygtblbr #yoonbin fluff #ha yoonbin fluff #ygtb fluff #yg treasure box fluff #treasure box fluff

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trsrina · 2 years

Text

teaching yoshi how to braid hair

written in second person pov, female reader, established relationship, fluff, word count : 0.3k

“it’s actually not that complicated. spilt it into three sections and just cross each section to the middle.” you instructed yoshi while demonstrating with your own hair.

“okay, okay, it seems easy, let me try.” letting go of your own hair, you turned your back against yoshi to let him try.

yoshi delicately took a hold of your hair, carefully following your instructions, being very gentle as he didn’t want to hurt you.

seeing yoshi’s focused expression and his little habit of sticking out his tongue while focusing in the mirror in front of your bed, you couldn’t help breaking out a smile, adoring your boyfriend.

“okay! done! how did i do?” yoshi being proud of his work, turned you around to face him so he could get a good look at you.

there were a few loose strands of hair sticking out and your braid was loose, it wasn’t the best but you still felt very proud of your boyfriend.

“you did great, my love, there’s still room for improvement but you still did better than me when i first learnt how to braid hair.” you chuckled.

with one of your hands grabbing yoshi’s and the other softly caressing his cheeks, you wholeheartedly complimented him and admired his dedication.

“well then you better teach me more. one day, i will braid your hair for you so that you won’t have to do it yourself, princess.”

yoshi kissed the hand that you had laying on his cheek, lovingly looking into your eyes and held tightly onto your hands as if you’d fly away if he let you go.

“thank you, i love you.” you gave him a peck on his lips and him smiling back at you in response, dragging you down so he could cuddle you, making you giggle at his actions.

234 notes · View notes

theboyz-kr · 5 years

Text

treasure a reaction to gf being rlly clingy

genre: fluff

requeststed? yes

Byounggon;

he’d be shocked, not being used to your clingy behavior it would be weird for him. “what’s gotten into you today?” he asked you as you were laying down in his lap, “nothing, i’m just sleepy..”

Seunghun:

he wouldn’t think too much of it. he’d be quite happy you were being clingier than usual. he kissed ur nose and giggled. “i love you.”

Hyunsuk;

(my baby) he’d be shy, he absolutely found you so adorable, he was giggly and red in the face. “i love you sukie,” you told him as you buried your face into his chest. “why are you making me this shy it’s not fair.” he huffed

Junkyu:

he’s just as clingy. so if you clung to him more than usual boy are you in for endless cuddles and kisses. “clingy y/n is the best y/n,” he pressed your faces together “kyu i can’t breathe”

Yedam;

“yedam, pay attention to me i want cuddles” you whined, poking his cheeks. he glanced at you before looking back at his computer, “yedam...please,” you pouted. he groaned in annoyance “if i cuddle with you will you leave me alone?” he asked “yes! anything for you buttercup!” he cringed at the nickname , “you’re ridiculous” he said giving you a kiss.

Doyoung:

another shy baby. seeing as he’s the maknae he’d be really shy when it comes to any kind of pda. “ahh what are you doing to me” he whispered to you. hoping you weren’t able to feel the heat radiating off of his body. he was blushing furiously as you cuddled him. “are you getting shy doyoung??”

“no!”

#ygtb imagines #ygtb fluff #ygtb scenarios #hyunsuk scenarios #yedam scenarios #doyoung scenarios #byounggon scenarios #seunghun scenarios #junkyu scenarios #hyunsuk #yedam #doyoung #byounggon #seunghun #junkyu

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kyuokka · 4 years

Text

PROMPTS LIST

#CUTE QUOTES

1. YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY BREATHTAKING

2. I LOVE YOU, YOU KNOW?

3. I’M GOING TO MARRY YOU SOMEDAY

4. KISS ME

5. KISS ME AGAIN

6. CAN I KISS YOU?

7. YOU’RE ADORABLE WHEN YOU’RE JEALOUS

8. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MY BABY

9. IT’S YOU AND I, NO MATTER WHAT

10. “THANK YOU”, “FOR STAYING WITH ME”

11. YOU’RE PRETTIER

12. STOP MAKING ME JEALOUS

13. YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME NOW

14. I’M NEVER LETTING YOU GO

15. I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOU

16. IS THAT MY HOODIE?

17. DON’T LEAVE, STAY WITH ME

18. I’M RIGHT HERE

19. YOU’RE WARM

20. LET’S STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER

#KISSES

21. KISS ON THE PALM

22. KISS ON THE BACK OF THE HAND

23. FOREHEAD KISSES

24. NOSE KISSES

25. CONTINUOUS PECKS

26. MORNING KISSES

27. SAD COMFORTING KISSES

28. CHEEK KISSES

29. KISS DURING A SLOW ROMANTIC SONG

30. FIRST KISS

31. NECK KISSES

32. LIFTING UP, TWIRLING YOUR S/O KISS

33. DRUNK KISS

34. ANGRY/JEALOUS KISS

35. GIGGLY KISS

36. PASSIONATE MAKE OUT

37. DISTRACTING YOU S/O KISS

38. SOFT WHISPERING AGAINST LIPS KINDA KISS

39. HEIGHT DIFFERENCE KISS

40. AGAINST THE WALL KISS

#ACTIONS

41. BACK HUGS

42. LIFTING AND SPINNING HUG

43. BRUSHING YOUR HAIR BACK

44. WIPING OF EXCESS FOOD

45. MAKING YOU SIT ON THEIR LAP

46. BURYING THEIR HEAD IN YOUR NECK/ CHEST

47. BUYING YOU FLOWERS

48. CLINGLING LIKE A KOALA

49. CUDDLES

50. COOKING WITH YOU

51. GIVING YOU THEIR CLOTHES

52. LONG HUGS

53. HEADLOCK/PLAY DATES

54. TICKLING YOU

55. MAKING YOU SIT ON THEIR LAP

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mirohed · 5 years

Text

kim seunghun | love me, love me not

pairing: kim seunghun + gender neutral reader

wc: 3.7k

genre: hanahaki au + angst

synopsis: daffodils represent unrequited love. is that why you keep coughing them up?

warnings: implications of suggestive content, descriptions of illness (and mention of surgery), mention of alcohol

playlist: love me, love me not.

a/n: happy birthday to me!! im glad i finally got to finish and post this (its,,, been in my wips since at least february LMAO) !! they prob wont read this but i wanted to thank my irls for dealing w me and my kpop bullshit (esp bc none of them stan ygtb 😔)

It's getting worse.

Your knuckles turn white, gripping the porcelain of the toilet. Tears and blood alike fall into the bowl, disturbing the gentle peace of the water. You pound at your chest, the action causing you to hack up yellow daffodil petals stained suspicious red. It's a monotonous process at this point. Pound. Cough. Pound. Cough. Repeat until the damned coughing stops.

It takes ten minutes before you return to normal. Or at least as normal as you can get. You got lucky this time.

You watch the petals spiral downward into the gaping hole in the toilet and get flushed away.

Being with Seunghun wasn't always accompanied by a tightness in your chest and petals tickling your throat.

june 19, 2005; 2:52 PM.

"I wanna grow up," you had grumbled, your hands squeezed around the chains of the swingset. You and Seunghun had been riding your bikes for the first time since getting the training wheels off. You had sped down a hill ("First one down’s a rotten egg!") and lost control, falling off and scraping your knee on the pavement. He rushed you to your parents' house, supporting your weight with an arm around your waist. The two of you had settled for playing on the swingset in your backyard instead.

"Me too," he said. "I think." He'd been rocking forward and backward on the swing, eyes focused on the blades of grass underfoot.

"You think?"

"I don't know." You stayed silent, trying to gain as much height as possible with your uninjured leg. "I don't wanna grow up and stop being friends." That got you to stop right in your tracks, your leg planted on the ground.

"What?" You sent an incredulous look his way. "Why would we stop being friends?"

He had let go of the swing, his hands finding his lap. "Some of the older kids stopped being friends when they grew up," he mumbled. "I don't wanna stop being friends, but neither did they..."

You got off the swing, limping over to him and wrapping Seunghun in the biggest hug your six-year-old arms could muster.

"We're gonna be best friends forever. Don't forget that."

"Best friends forever." If he wrapped his arms tighter around you then, you didn’t pick up on it.

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i had fun today :^))

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i wanna adopt a puppy!!

[09:55 PM] huniebee🐝: will you promise to help me take care of it

You brighten as the messages come in, your phone's vibrations distracting you from the way your throat clogs.

[09:56 PM] you: ofc

[09:56 PM] you: well be the best puppy parents the worlds ever seen

[09:57 PM] huniebee🐝: wait i need to send the pics from the pet shelter

[Attachment: 8 images]

You save each picture, cooing over the puppies you got to meet. This time, you only get a precious few minutes of relative clarity before things get too distracting to ignore. You return to the bathroom with a resigned sigh that devolves into a fit of coughs.

You cough and retch and cough some more. By the time you're done, there are less petals and more blood in the toilet bowl. Your chest still feels full of something you can't quite spit out.

Then you hack up something new: a bloody stem with wet flowers still attached.

There's nothing left to do but cry, your whole body wracked with pain both physical and emotional.

august 29, 2011; 3:15 PM.

"Today was fun," you said, making yourself right at home on Seunghun's bed. Your new backpack hadn't lasted more than a couple minutes in his house before getting neglected on his carpet. Your best friend hummed in acknowledgement, already sitting at his desk with his workbook out. "I'm glad we got to meet some new people," you continued, "but that Hyunsuk guy? Seems like a major pain in the ass."

"Give him a chance."

"I know, I know. I will. But still," you huffed, “it was his first day too. No need to act like a know-it-all."

"I know. But it's the first day. Maybe he'll even himself out with time."

The conversation ended there, and you spent some time staring at his ceiling fan, the blades going round and round in a big, beautiful blur. Before long, you had grown bored, looking over at him only to see his pencil flying across the paper.

"Hey. Let's go to the mall and get pretzels." Seunghun spun around to face you, a foot stopping his chair from going too far.

"Sure," he gave a placid smile. "Do your work first."

You groaned as loudly as you could, sounding much like a petulant child straight out of elementary school. (Which was more or less the truth, but you thought you were better than that.) After a few minutes of uninterrupted whining and failing to get Seunghun to break, you spoke up. "Why do I need to do my work? You're Mr. Hardworking, Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"We're in middle school now," he had said, and you remember thinking you were in for a long lecture, "and pretty soon, we're gonna have to go to high school and take entrance exams and decide which university we want to go to and..." He averted his gaze, put down his pen. "We need to start growing up."

"We're still young," you reasoned, sitting up and letting your legs dangle off the side of his bed. "If anything, this is our time to experience things and, you know, make mistakes before we become adults!"

He was silent for a few long, agonizing moments, long enough to make you think you'd won. The pretzels were within reach; all you had to do was ask for them.

"I call a compromise."

Shit. Compromises were common in your friendship. Seunghun was always a little too good at stopping you from making stupid decisions. The worst part was that you could never argue with them. "We go to the mall to get pretzels—my treat—if, and only if, you do your work. We don't go until we're both finished. Deal?"

You opened your mouth, determined to pick the proposal apart, but his reasoning was (unpleasant, yet) bulletproof. Instead, you reached for your backpack with a heavy sigh. "First of all, fuck you. Second of all," you said, tugging your own workbook out, "you're impossible."

"I know. Do your work."

"Fine."

The math problems had been difficult, definitely harder than you were used to, but doable. If anything, the greasy mall pretzels that were way too salty to be healthy made it all worth it.

Seunghun gets understandably very worried when you text him from the hospital, but he comes to see you nonetheless. In his arms is a bouquet of daffodils.

"They symbolize friendship," he says, setting it down on the table next to you. You stare at the pristine yellow petals and flatten your lips in a tight smile. How ironic, you think, that he doesn't know they also symbolize unrequited love.

"The doctors wouldn't tell me why you're here. Classified information, they said." That much is true; nor much is known about the disease outside of shitty romance movies with unrealistically happy endings. Seunghun always believed in them. You never did.

You don't think your story's gonna have a happy ending.

You didn't want him to know anyway, lest he worry. (And you don't want to think about what would happen to your friendship if he found out he was the cause of it all.) "You don't have to tell me," he begins, sitting himself down on one of those rigid hospital chairs, "I just wanna know if it's bad. Like, well...you know.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Terminal."

"Like if I'm gonna die?"

"Yeah," he rubs the nape of his neck, a bit abashed, "more or less."

"I don't know. Sure hope not," you chuckle. That brings on a coughing fit, and Seunghun looks on, brows knit together. He moves close to offer what little comfort he can, but you hold your hand up to stop him; having him near will only make things worse.

Petals threaten to spill out of your mouth, and panic bubbles in your chest when he asks if you're okay. Your doctor, bless her, chooses that moment to enter. She shooes him out "to speak to you in private." Seunghun, to his credit, obliges and flashes you a smile and a thumbs-up as he goes. You try to mirror his expression (and hope your smile isn't more of a grimace).

The door closes behind him with a soft click. "Friend of yours?" the doctor asks.

You spit the blood-stained petals into your hand, your doctor graciously looking the other way as you toss them into the trash. "You could say that."

october 4, 2013; 5:11 PM.

You tugged at your clothing, feeling more than a little uncomfortable as you waited for your best friend to show up. The DJ, a former student, was already hard at work inside the gym. You heard the bass-boosted beginning of the Cupid Shuffle and shot a frantic text to Seunghun.

[05:11 PM] you: holy shit theyre playing the cupid shuffle can you PLEASE hurry up

[05:12 PM] you: idc if this is our first homecoming you better get your ass over here

[05:12 PM] huniebee🐝: give me like two minutes!!

[05:12 PM] you: THE SONGS GONNA BE OVER IN 2 MIN

"Are you waiting for Seunghun?" Hyunsuk had asked, tie already loosened. You two had gotten close—not as close as you and Seunghun, of course—this year as a result of having classes together. You wondered why you ever hated him.

"Yeah. He won't be too late, thank God, but I'm pissed we're missing the Cupid Shuffle. What about you? I remember you bragging all week about 'flexing your dance skills in front of the ladies.' Or are you all talk, as usual?"

"You know, it's almost like you don't want me to wait with you."

You had laughed, knocking your shoulder into his. The chatter kept up for a minute or two before he made his leave. ("Well, it's time for me to flex my dance muscles in front of the seniors," he chuckled, giving you a salute as he walked off.)

"I'm here! God, I can't believe I missed the Cupid Shuffle," Seunghun said, head hung low. You began to feel a little self-conscious; you were feeling out of place in your semi-formal outfit, yet he looked right at home in his dress shirt.

Chasing those thoughts away, you grinned. "You're here now, aren't you? Come on." You took his hand and dragged him into the gym.

You don't talk to Seunghun or to Hyunsuk after that. You're not sure if you should tell Hyunsuk about the whole situation when he texts you. Seunghun must have told him something was up, of course, and he's insightful enough, sensitive enough (when he wants to be), but you worry. You're afraid he'll open his big mouth. Instead, you send a few messages to your best friend.

[04:29 AM] you: hey

[04:29 AM] you: i just wanted to say in advance that im sorry

[04:29 AM] you: im so so sorry for everything ive done and for what im about to do

There's one last message in the text box, daring you to send it. "I'm sorry I love you," you whisper instead, deleting the message before you do something you’ll regret. To seal the deal, you tap through a few menus until you reach his contact. The picture you've assigned to him is one you took; he's about to take a big bite of cotton candy bigger than his head.

With a heavy heart (though you hope it’s just the weight of the daffodils in your chest), you block his contact. It's better this way. It has to be.

Your doctor said you could get rid of the thick, thorned vines with a vicegrip around your heart and lungs, could pluck the flowers that threaten to spill out at the mere thought of your best friend.

The biggest side effect of it all, she told you, was that you'd forget all about Kim Seunghun. So you steel yourself.

The last thing you think about before they insert the thin needle of anesthesia in your veins is Seunghun's smile, and how you'll never see it in person again.

And how even if you did, you wouldn't remember it as the grin from the boy you love.

october 4, 2013; 9:16 PM.

The frenetic strobe lighting in the gym slowed to a stop, having been replaced with a spotlight making lazy rounds through the gym.

You knew that marked the beginning of a slow song, and dragged Seunghun off the floor in search of some punch. He seemed to have different plans, tugging you back on the floor and pulling you flush against him.

"Where are you going?" he had asked. "You're the one who wanted to dance the night away." His hands found your waist, yours instinctively folding behind his neck. You had wanted to say something about how that claim was void now; he was the one that made you miss the Cupid Shuffle, but the words get extinguished when you look at him.

It was just like that time you practiced in fifth grade, but you swore there was something different about tonight and the way you swayed. You thought back to your practice session in fifth grade, how you had stepped on each other's feet, how you spent the whole time laughing. (For the record, it wasn't for any lack of balance; you started it, laughing as he cried out before he stomped on your toe.)

There was no laughing during the song. Everything was vibrant and deafening and there all at once. But at the same time, it was like everything had been stripped away. Everything but you and Seunghun.

Things changed after that. You were left with a dizzying, free-fall sort of feeling that picked up with each glance at your best friend. Almost every butterfly in the world was taking current residency in your stomach, making you feel light as your body moved to the music. Before long, there was something lodged at the back of your throat, nudging its way forward.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you said, a particularly heavy cough bringing the mysterious lump to your mouth.

Running your tongue along the smooth texture of the lump (okay, so not phlegm), you spat the offending object into the sink: a single yellow petal, coated in saliva.

You blinked.

Blinked again.

"Oh, what the fuck," you muttered, unlocking your phone. One quick Google search later—why the fuck am i coughing up flowers—you found an answer.

Flora mortem. You were loath to believe WebMD, of all things, but you found yourself tapping the link regardless. There was another term for the rare disease: Hanahaki.

Revising your search query was a mistake. The first result was the "hanahaki" tag on Tumblr, which showed nothing but models with tears in their eyes and bloodied flowers in their mouths. Yikes.

You made your way back to the party after that, but lingering in the back of your mind was the cause of the disease: a severe case of unrequited love.

There is only one definite cure for Hanahaki Disease: having the object of the afflicted's affections return their feelings.

You almost manage to purge the petal and the stupid WebMD page from your mind for the rest of the night.

Almost.

You wake up hours later. It's a little disorienting, sure, to come to with little memory of what landed you in the hospital. You peek under the oversized hospital gown to see bandages over your chest, get tempted to rip the IV drip from your arm. The doctor comes in right before you make a move on the needle. She tells you all about how the flowers in your lungs are gone for good.

"You're saved. But the final test," she says, pulling a phone from her pocket, "is this. Do you recognize the people in this picture?"

You recognize yourself next to a boy you don't know. His hand's around your waist, pulling you close. You wear matching grins. Given the way you're both dressed, you suspect the picture's from your freshman year's homecoming dance. Weird. Memory's kinda fuzzy from that night.

"Yeah. Myself. I don't know the other guy. Am I supposed to?"

"No. You're not. Congratulations," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're cured."

You look through all the old messages and pictures when you have some time to yourself. You reach out for the memory, the feeling of knowing Kim Seunghun. You get nothing, and while your brain knows something's wrong, you're more concerned about being able to breathe easy.

You move to a new city, far, far away from the place you grew up in. You finish your last year of high school, get a job, start college. You make new memories with new people. You forget all about Kim Seunghun.

It gets easy to forget that you weren't born with the ugly faded red scars that run up and down your chest. It's your only remaining tie to the man you loved so much you almost let yourself wither away. You think it's a good thing you cut him off; why stick around, why force yourself to suffer, for someone who doesn't love you back? Why be with someone if it physically hurts to stay by their side?

But sometimes you wonder. What happened? What happened to him after his best friend walked out of his life for good with no explanation?

Those days are never good. You distract yourself then, often with the familiar kick of alcohol burning in the back of your throat. You've never been much of a drinker, but you figure it's never too late to start.

Sometimes, the distraction comes from being in the arms of another.

(One of your favorite distractions, a young man named Byounggon, had run his fingers along the angry lines one night, jotting them down in his map of your body.

"Do you regret it?" he asked then, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. You cupped his cheek, ran a thumb along the planes of his face.

"I wouldn't be here if I regretted it, now would I?" He let the corners of his mouth turn up just so, pressing his lips to yours.

You don't talk to him much nowadays, your interactions reduced to likes on Instagram, views on Snapchat. He's moved to a bigger city. "More opportunities," he said. You keep up with his dream of being a musician, always. There was a time when you were his number one supporter, after all.)

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks, jotting your order on the plastic cup. When you nod, he asks for your name. He jots that down too.

But then his eyes widen and he looks at you with renewed interest. "I'm sorry?"

"Is there a problem?" you asks, peering at your name (spelled correctly) on the cup. His eyes search for an answer within yours, some sort of explanation you can't seem to give. He averts his gaze, shakes his head, places your cup in the queue of orders.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Just thought you were someone I knew. Have a nice day." You parrot the phrase, catching a glimpse of the young man's name tag.

Seunghun, it reads in cheerful yellow. There's a doodle of a puppy in the top right corner. You think it's rather cute.

Two weeks later, you meet Seunghun again. This time, you're out for a morning jog. The crisp autumn air greets you as your feet meet the pavement and let out a satisfactory crunch under the burnt orange leaves on the sidewalk.

You both get stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. While you catch your breath, you don't miss the way he flinches, as though he didn't expect you to show up. He schools his expression into something friendly within no time, and you wonder if you imagined the whole thing.

"The weather's nice, isn't it?"

"It is," you pant. "On your way to work?" He raises a hand to tug at the strap of his backpack with a small smile.

"Yeah. You should come by, give us business," he grins. "On mornings like this, I recommend the hazelnut latte." You hum in agreement, not yet recovered enough to converse. "Tell you what, you come and get one when I'm working, I'll make sure it's on the house."

"Really? Maybe I'll swing by." The light changes, and you leave Seunghun behind, waving goodbye as you do.

You come in later that day, ordering a hazelnut latte as promised. Seunghun's manning the register, same as two weeks ago, and when he takes everything down, he smiles. You miss it as you pay, but there's something extra on your cup.

As you take a sip of the (delicious; his coworker Yedam must be some sort of brewing prodigy) latte, you catch a glimpse of the extra writing.

Along the side of the cup is his phone number.

[10:58 PM] seunghun!: more than anything i want to adopt a puppy

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: or rather another one

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: i named this one after an old friend

[Attachment: 1 image]

The picture of Seunghun and his dog brings a smile to your face. You've been spending more time with him recently, whether it be going on coffee runs ("Are you sure you're not just using me for my employee discount?") or complaining about life as a broke college student ("My card got declined trying to buy a bag of chips last night...").

It's nice. Spending time with him is...nice.

It's more than a simple distraction, somebody to hold close on nights your decisions try to haunt you. It’s friendship, something to hold onto when you lose your way in the dense forest of your mind and to cherish when you manage to make it to a clearing and bask in the sunshine.

You've caught a cold recently (probably from that bastard Seo Changbin in your communications class). Seunghun's given you some homemade tea, swearing on its usefulness. It certainly tastes good, the sweet honey chased by tangy lemon. Unfortunately, the tea isn't able to stop the persistent cough you've been plagued with.

Feeling phlegm start to come up, you turn the bathroom lights on, hacking it up and spitting into the sink.

Huh. That's weird.

There's no phlegm.

The only thing in the sink is a single golden petal, coated in saliva.

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