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candyquokka · 28 days ago

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all i want for christmas

synopsis the three christmas parties minho spent loving you and the one where he finally told you.

pairing non-idol!minho x fem!reader

genre holidays, best friends to lovers, fluff, comfort, 3 + 1 format

warnings mentions of foods, fires, cheating, physical violence (jokingly), swearing, pregnancy ;) , kissing, not proofread

word count 4.3k words

now playing all i want for christmas - mariah carey

a/n wow. so. i'm back. i genuinely missed you guys so much and im so happy to write again. i felt really guilty for just disappearing but this might be my only fic for a while. im sorry if it's bad im genuinely so out of practice.

"i don't need a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need"

zero.

Love was a dreadful, terrible thing. Minho knew firsthand.

He also knew that love could be beautiful. It existed everywhere.

It existed when Minho would feel a smile break out on his face when he would step through his door to the sound of his cats. He knew it existed in the way Chan always made sure that Seungmin had eaten and Jeongin wasn't too hard on himself. It existed in the way Hyunjin wore his emotional scars with pride and in the way Changbin's face would scrunch up adorably as soon as he saw his girlfriend.

But love must be a horrendous thing if it could someone as deserving of it as you through such excruciating pain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year one.

Minho always associated loving you with Christmas. It was mainly for two reasons: because you loved Christmas, and Christmas was when he realized he loved you.

Minho had become your best friend on the first day of college when you stumbled into him while looking for your batchmates after orientation. It was almost fate (despite Minho considering fate to be bullshit), the way he held onto your shoulders to make sure your face didn't hit the floor and you gave him a weak, petrified smile.

"Computer Science major?" he asked, and your quick reply in the positive laid the foundations of your unbreakable friendship.

Minho knew he loved you for a long time. But the realization of it dawned on him during your annual Christmas party when the two of you were in your second year of college.

You were absolutely fanatical about Christmas. Despite Minho's protests about your fascination being sickening, he secretly found it extremely endearing. You had confessed to him once, how your love for Christmas stemmed from the fact that you only saw your father during Christmas due to his demanding job of a military's medic.

That was the day Minho vowed to make sure nobody could ruin your Christmas.

You went all out Christmas decorations at your apartment. Your Christmas tree was huge and adorned with ornaments of various shapes, sizes and colours. Minho came early to help you and your roommate Kyujin with the Christmas baking, considering how last time the two of you tried to bake it took swatting towels and spraying water to get the smoke detector to stop.

But you were most excited to introduce your boyfriend to the rest of your friend group.

Minho wasn't happy about it, but he was happy for you. You loved the idea of romance but for some reason that Minho could not fathom, thought yourself undeserving of receiving the romantic variant of it. But your first boyfriend, whom you'd been seeing for three months, quickly changed that.

You were practically bouncing up and down on your toes as your mutual friends trailed into your tiny apartment.

"Y/N!" Jisung squealed as he barreled into your arms.

"Sungie!" you replied in equal enthusiasm.

Minho's heart melted watching you, his best friend, and Jisung, his roommate, getting along so well. In fact, sometimes he felt third wheeled by his two favorite people who wouldn't have known each other if it wasn't for him.

"Tonight," Jisung declared proudly, "I will serenade Minho with a tear-jerking rendition of 'All I Want For Christmas'."

Jisung stood on top of your couch, arms spread out proudly. He sent Minho a boisterous wink and Minho tried to hide a chuckle while rolling his eyes.

"The only tears shed will be because of Jisung's pathetic voice," grumbled Hyunjin, Jisung's best friend, already dreading the moment when he would have to drag his drunk and sappy ass back home.

Your cheeks turned pink in a poorly contained laugh while Hyunjin just gave you a shrug, only the three of you privy to Hyunjin's comment. Minho saw your face and found his own flushing, quickly blinking to make sure nobody noticed. Jisung shot Minho, you and Hyunjin an accusatory glance, but your little smirk caused him to look away in annoyance.

"I will not date you, Jisung," said Minho in an overly dramatic voice. Jisung pouted and this time, the whole room burst into laughter until Kyujin yelled a string of obscenities at him to get him off the couch.

But throughout the whole debacle, Minho's eyes only belonged to you. He couldn't help but wonder, how would you feel about dating him? These feeling had been brewing for long, even before you started dating Taehyun What's-His-Face. Minho knew he had feeling for you, but today he would realize just how deep they ran.

"You okay? Your cheeks are red man. Like, tomato red," asked the ever vigilant Chan.

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm good," replied Minho nervously, hoping that Chan didn't notice.

"Yep," said Chan, clearly unconvinced, his eyes still narrowed on Minho.

Minho did not get nervous easily. He was calm, stoic, composed. But around you, he was a ticking time bomb. You made Minho feel like a thousand dazzling fireworks had lit up in his stomach. You made him want to be spontaneous, silly and scream from the rooftops that he liked you and wanted to be with you.

You made Minho feel things he had never felt before, and it broke him everyday watching you feel those same things for someone who wasn't him.

Minho's eyes looked for yours, you slipping away sometime when he was contemplating his lost love. He finally found you, leaning against Kyujin bedroom door. Your loose sweater hung off a shoulder and pointer finger of your right hand was caught between your teeth. In your other hand was your phone which lit up when you opened.

God, you looked ethereal.

Until your eyes flickered up and down, you blinked multiple times and your brow creased while your bottom lip quivered. Minho had known you long and intimately enough that something was very, very wrong. Before you even looked up at him, your eyes conveying a silent cry, Minho was striding towards you like a man on a mission.

"Minho," you choked out, and he whisked you into Kyujin's room, giving a concerned Kyujin watching everything a tight nod as he did.

"Minho, Minho, he -" you were sobbing, gasping in wretched breaths that made it feel like a knife was twisting into his heart.

He watched you nearly terrified, rubbing your back soothingly. Minho murmured sweet nothings into your ear to get you to calm down and explain to him what had happened as his on heart raced at nearly a thousand miles per hour.

"What happened sweetheart? Y/N?" Minho asked, his voice laced with worry.

Wordlessly, you handed over your phone to him as you buried your face into his shoulder.

[7:32 PM]

taehyunnie: look y/n, i hate to do this on christmas but

taehyunnie: i have had something come up

taehyunnie: so i won't make it

[7:34 PM]

taehyunnie: quite frankly, we should break up

taehyunnie: i don't think either of us is in the right mental state to date right now.

taehyunnie: sorry.

Minho was seeing red. How could someone do something like this to you? You, who was perfect to the extent where even your imperfections were perfect? Minho was about to ask you what day you would like for him to murder Taehyun when you interrupted him.

"He's not wrong," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I was so excited to date someone that I probably got to clingy and scared him off."

"That's not true," said Minho shaking your shoulders, "That's not true, anybody would be tripping over their feet to date you."

And as Minho repeated those words to you like a chant, over and over again until you believed them as much as he did, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Guilt simmered in his stomach because of the thoughts he was having.

Amidst the winter chill and your broken cries, Lee Minho realized that he was hopelessly and damningly in love with you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year two.

The second year Minho spent Christmas with you, things had changed. Minho's hair grew longer, curling at the base of his neck and you forbade him from cutting it. You had let go over your initial heartbreak from the events of the previous Christmas and for some reason, deluded yourself into thinking that you were unlovable.

The only thing that barely changed was Minho's love for you, apart from maybe how it increased in magnitude.

"You should tell her, you know. Or else you'll end up regretting it," remarked Hyunjin wisely.

The ever so observant boy was the only one who knew about Minho felt when it came to you. Even then, he didn't know the uncharted depth of how much Minho loved you. Just that he hopelessly and unequivocally did.

Minho glared at him in response, snatching a brownie from Hyunjin's hand, and began eating it as Hyunjin grumbled next to him in vain.

Minho was well aware that he was right. But he (foolishly), thought he was sparing you pain by miserably keeping his feelings to himself.

Minho hated and adored every second of loving you. He hated how stifling it was, not being able to whisper soft words of romance in your ear late at night and wake with you in his arms the next morning. But he adored how his heart picked up pace at just the sight of you and how he felt weightless at your featherlight brushes of his arm.

To put it simply, loving someone from afar was as temperamental as the oceans; the tides were hauntingly beautiful and gorgeously devastating but they were impossible to escape from.

An ugly metaphor, felt Minho, who had yet to master the art of swimming.

Minho sat on the couch, Hyunjin and Jeongin playing Mario Kart on one side of him and Chan and Kyujin engaged in an intense game of Uno on the other side of him. You were off socializing as you often did during your annual Christmas parties, but Minho knew you would come back to him.

You always did.

Minho set up shop at five in the morning that day with you. Kyujin had a Christmas dance recital that day, and you both were one set of hands down. From morning, the two of you diced, rolled and baked, dusted and decorated, troubled each other and even had a little tickling bout followed by a pillow fight (and plate of burnt snowman shaped cookies).

This was the future that Minho wanted, you by his side engaging in mundane activities with lazy, soft kisses peppered to each others lips every dya.

He watched, sick with envy, as Changbin scooped up his girlfriend Chaeyeon in his arms and start pressing kisses to her face while she squealed. Minho watched in dread and unease at all the couples around him engaged in extravagant acts of romance and subtle domesticity, dreaming of when, if ever, that would be you and him.

He was so distracted by the torrential current inside him that he hadn't noticed when Kyujin and Chan shifted their game to the kitchen island and you had sat down next him.

"Hi," you told him softly.

Minho blinked rapidly a the voice he would recognize anywhere, the one that beckoned him in his dreams and went silent in his nightmares. Behind you, Jisung and Seungmin were brazenly building a stacked tower of cookies which Minho knew would fall and create a mess unless prevented, but he chose to ignore it.

"Hey," replied Minho, turning around to drink in your entire figure.

"I'm happy I've detached from romance, Minho," you informed him as your arm brushed his, "I don't think dating's for me and..."

Your voice trailed off and you turned to look at him, look into his eyes with an oddly melancholic smile that was contradictory to your earlier statement of happiness.

"I think I'm finally healing."

And under the Christmas lights with you in your Santa hat with the tip of your nose tinted pink from the cold, Minho had never loved and lost more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year three.

Christmas this year was filled to the brim with nagging from your end about why Minho refused to find a girlfriend despite your self-proclaimed temporary vow of celibacy. It was also the year that Minho realized the importance of the time he had with you.

"Come on Min," you groaned at Minho as he pulled up his sleeves and start kneading the cookie dough, "You'll love Sullyoon."

No, he wanted to say, I love you.

Instead, he responded with, "If I'm off with a girl, who'll make sure Jisung, Kyujin and Hyunjin don't end up burning down the apartment?"

You just laughed and made your way from behind the counter to the dining table, where Minho was busy at work. After he was done, you took the dough, neatly rolled and cut the cookies into shape and propped them in the oven. Minho was busy setting up a Christmas movie in the living room and you sat next to him, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder.

Minho would have tensed, if it weren't for how habitual he had become to these touches form you he was the recipient of after practically moving in with you.

Kyujin moved out of the apartment after she got a part time job at a dance institute about a half hour away from where you both lived. She needed the easy commute, and rent was not that difficult to pay for you due to your comfortable internship since sophomore year of college at a reputed tech company.

Minho, the only other person who was in the internship program with you, basically lived at your apartment. He had his own bed, clothes and even toothbrush at your apartment. He stayed nearly five nights in a row, going back to his actual apartment over the weekends to make sure that Jisung was alive and feeding himself more than just chicken breast.

This new development caused Minho to think that maybe, just maybe you harbored feelings for him the way he did for you. The two of you basically functioned like a live-in couple, so much so that your neighbors would mistake Minho for your boyfriend more often than not.

That's why Minho couldn't understand why you were so insistent about him meeting Sullyoon.

The party started soon after. Seungmin begrudgingly wore a Santa hat on his head and Jeongin clicked a picture of him at every possible occasion. Hyunjin and Chan introduced their girlfriends and everybody positively loved Karina and Lisa. Jisung gushed to everyone about the current guy he liked, Yeonjun, and Changbin informed his friends that on New Years, he planned to propose.

In the midst of it all sat Minho and you, arms looped around each other, both feeling love of different magnitudes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were dragging Minho to meet Sullyoon, evidently sitting in your room, despite his protests. You were wearing a long, billowy dress with a checkered pattern of red and white boxes that Minho teased made you look like a picnic blanket. But the truth was he loved it, he loved you and he did not love being taken to meet another woman by the one he was in love with.

"Have fun!" you grinned and shut the door behind yourself, waltzing away with immense satisfaction.

Minho let out a defeated sigh and turned around to see the fabled Seol Yoon-A, affectionately called Sullyoon. He could tell why you were gushing over her. She wore a red dress with a small bow, had pretty doe eyes and was beautiful no doubt.

But nothing in Minho's head could compare to you.

"So," Sullyoon laughed sweetly, "She threatened you to be here too, huh?"

"Yep," responded Minho curtly and in defeat.

Sullyoon got up and made his way to him, arms snaking around his shoulder and for a terrifying moment, he didn't want her to stop. Not because he enjoyed it, but maybe because this would help him get over you, you who would never love him the way he loved you.

But then the scent of Sullyoon's vanilla perfume hit Minho and it was nothing like your fragrant lilac mist. It was nothing like you.

Minho gently moved Sullyoon's arms from they were and took a step back. Sullyoon raised an eyebrow and studied him. She then snorted and sat down on the bed again.

"Ah. So you are in love with her," she said matter-of-factly.

"I-what-," Minho stuttered, unable to figure out what to say to such a statement.

Sullyoon sighed and patted the space beside her. "It's obvious you know. All men are stupid." And under her breath she added, "Thank god I also like girls. Much more mature."

Minho sat down, Sullyoon gave him a knowing look, and he told her everything. He told her about how he met you, how he realized he loved you and how he thought you might like him too. He told her about your favorite color, the way you always wore two extra rubber bands because one always seemed to break.

When he was done with it all, Sullyoon gave him a comforting pat and said, "You are in some deep shit, Minho."

"How would you know?" he scoffed.

Sullyoon shit eating grin turned sad, "Because I went through the same thing you did."

This time it was Minho's turn to survey Sullyoon, to try and understand what she went through that made her so intimately understand his situation.

"I was hopelessly in love with my best friend, but I didn't tell him for two years. When I finally did, I found out that even though he didn't completely feel the same, he was willing to give it a try. Loving him was the best year of my life. And he fell in love with me too. We were attached at the hip and I will never forgive myself for what happened."

Minho had a bad feeling that this story did not end happily. He swallowed a lump in his throat and asked, "What happened?"

Sullyoon had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "I held Felix as he died."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year four.

[5:23 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: so. today's the day, huh.

[5:24 PM]

You (Minho): today's the day.

[5:27 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: MY BROTHER IS NO LONGER BITCHLESS

sullyoonie-tunes: not insinutating that y/n is a bitch of course

sullyoonie-tunes: YOU'RE the bitch

sullyoonie-tunes: she's an angel

sullyoonie-tunes: pls dont kill me

[5:30 PM]

You (Minho): are you done???

"Hey, who are you texting?" you asked Minho, settling down next to him on his bed.

"Ah, Sullyoon," he responded.

You smiled at him, pulling his blanket over the two of you and weaving your fingers through his hair. "When did you two become so close?"

Minho snorted, "When I got her a girlfriend." And now she's getting me one, he left unsaid.

"Oh, I adore Haewon," you smiled, setting your head on Minho's shoulder.

Minho decided that if he was ever going to confess his feelings to you, it would be during Chrismas. You loved Christmas, he loved you, and what would be more perfect than that?

Over the course of the last year, you and Minho were offered permanent jobs at the company you were interning at. Minho had officially moved in with you, and had learned to live with the fact that he could only love you from a distance, completely unaware of the turmoil you felt about your feelings towards him.

Minho had also developed a strong friendship with Sullyoon, who he truly saw as a younger sister. He helped her meet Haewon, and she helped him dissect every move you made to glean information that would support Minho's hypothesis of you maybe liking him back.

Minho had expected his love for you to pass, to ebb and flow away with the changing seasons.

Instead, it blossomed into something he would forever live with. Minho was madly in love. To him, you weren't just a love.

To him, you hung to moon, stitched the stars onto the sky and gave the cosmos every diaphanous colour it glowed with.

The doorbell rang five times in rapid succession and Minho leapt off his bed. "He's mine," he laughed, watching you struggle to get out of the cocoon you had made for yourself in his blanket.

"Well he clearly loves me more," you retorted, catching up to Minho at the door who, ever the gentleman, opened for you.

Chaeyeon smiled at you and behind her was a beaming Changbin. In his hands he held two things. A large bag in one hand and a carrier in the other. You and Minho urgently ushered the two inside and Chaeyeon placed a gift on the kitchen counter.

"Meet Seo Sun-woo," said Changbin proudly, and you and Minho gushed over Changbin and Chaeyeon's two month old son.

Ever since Chaeyeon had announced she was pregnant after her and Changbin's wedding, a sense of reality dawned upon your entire friend group. You had to grow up, become mature and fend for yourself in this world. Gone were the days when you and Minho would party hop playing beer pong. Now, you both stayed up talking about your future and you hopes, dreams and aspiraitons.

You dreamt of making a name for yourself in the tech world, starting a company that would teach disabled kids coding and give them opportunities to work for gigantic tech companies. Minho dreamt of you and with that came the silent promise of adopting your dreams as his own.

"I want kids some day," you said as you held baby Seo in your lap. This year's party was quieter, much more secluded and only had your direct close circle of friends, "with Chris and Lisa expecting twins and even Hyunjin adopting a dog for Karina, it feels like everyone is growing their family."

Minho pouted. "Am I not growing your family?"

You laughed, "Minho, you've always been home."

Minho gave you quite possibly the widest smile until he heard a tin can fall to the ground and a set of four groans erupt from your bedroom. "Look, we're practically raising Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin."

You sighed in affectionate annoyance. "In between them and SonnieDoongieDori, I think that's enough family expansion for now."

Another crash came from your room and you both shared a knowing look. You either got the situation under control, or something broke.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"I feel dead," you moaned, falling onto the sofa after cleaning up well into the night. The party had ended with Lisa unceremoniously vomiting on the floor and everyone ushering her out and enquiring about her state of well-being.

"Let's go, I have one last present for you," Minho coaxed you out of your shell in the sofa, his own heart pounding incessantly.

"Just give it tomo-"

"I'll dump the litter box in your-"

"Fine," you groaned, "Ten minutes and then we start our Home Alone movie marathon."

Minho nodded, to anxious to argue, "Deal."

Both of you stepped out onto the balcony where the cold nipped at you. There were still couples strolling outside and children hurling snowballs at each other. Christmas lights covered virtually every apartment in sight, red and green lights glowing in tandem.

"What is it?" you asked, looking around him for maybe a box or a letter. Minho stood frozen in the anxiety of every way you could say no to him, until you nudged him back to reality.

Minho coughed. "It's not so much a thing and more of something I have to say."

"Oh."

Minho looked at the way your hair curled at the bottom, grazing the hem of your sweatpants. He looked at your jackets' cuffs, stained with chocolate when you both were lathering Nutella over a layer of cook. He looked at your face, full of beauty and kindness.

But mostly he looked at you, strong, gracious, and lover of Christmas.

Minho thought that confessing his love for you would be the hardest thing he's ever done. Instead, it came as naturally to him as snow falling on the streets of Seoul in winter.

"I love you," the confession fell from his lips. "I have loved you for four years and I will spend the rest of my life loving you if you'll let me. You understand me on a level that nobody else ever has. I love you Y/N, and I have never known anything else the way I have known that."

A song started in him that time, a scratchy beat of hopeful terror that started from his toes and came up to his heart.

"Plus, the cats won't accept anyone apart from you as their mother, and that includes Lix," he added for good measure.

You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and Minho felt his initial confidence wearing off. That was until you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Minho wrapped his arms around you, a sigh of relief escaping form his mouth.

"You don't know how long I've loved you for," you mumbled into his sweater.

And everything came to a beautiful crescendo when the nights Minho spent tossing and turning, the four years of assumed unrequited agony did not go in van because you loved him.

You loved him.

That night, Minho held you tightly in his arms underneath the blanket and was at a complete disregard of Kevin's plight in New York. He pressed kisses to every exposed surface he could find, your giggles louder than the shenanigans the character was playing on TV.

"This festival is my whole world," you told him with love brimming in his eyes.

Minho then finally told you three words that he believed summed up everything he felt towards you for the entire time he's ever known you.

"And you're mine."

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

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also tagging @stayblrofficial for their christmas writing event!

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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CLOSE THE GYMS

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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HYUNSUNG / TOPLINE (241208)

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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the way he flew off that chair 😂

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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blossom

아찔하게 말할게, 이 밤의 끝에 우린 피어나 𖹭

how are you supposed to remain sane around felix after the most inconceivable night of your entire life? spoiler; you can't

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 16.7k

content: college au, smut, fluff, angst, inexperienced(??) reader, switchy!felix, hickeys, dry humping, theyre both idiots, a few text message screenshots, friends to lovers, they.... kiss.......

a/n: sauur we made it. ty for sticking with me! i made myself sick writing this they are so cringe and sappy. pls be warned.... theyre insufferable.

[also read on ao3]

series — part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

—

Felix doesn't come back.

At least, you somehow managed to fall back asleep before he did, and now it's early morning, judging by the thin beams of sunlight peeking through the half-drawn blinds.

You sit up, squinting at the brightness and rub your eyes. Everything from last night comes back in a rush and you freeze mid-blink with a gasp.

Well, shit. Did that really happen?

You almost want to lie back down, pull the covers over your head and continue sleeping so you can pretend last night didn't happen in a vain hope of avoiding any and all embarrassment.

But, no. You'll have to get up eventually. Also, you need to pee. And where's Felix?

Reluctantly, you force yourself out of bed and head to the bathroom. It's empty. You take as long as you can to brush your teeth and wash your face with cold water, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look normal, if a little tired.

You take a deep breath, trying to rationalize. What happened last night… It's a natural thing. It happens. It's not like Felix knew what he was doing, or that you were awake (and whose fault is that?). You just happened to be wrapped in his arms but it literally doesn't have to be a big deal. You honestly don't know shit about any of this but… Right? It's not a big deal. You can still be normal about this. About him.

That almost all goes out the window when you finally venture out of the bathroom.

Your feet stop moving as soon as you round the corner. The kitchen area is connected to the living room with no real barrier, so you have a full view of everything. Sure enough, there's Felix, standing by the stove with his back turned to you.

For a moment, it’s like nothing happened. This is just a normal morning after a sleepover with your best friend.

You can pretend.

You shuffle forward, clearing your throat.

He whips around at the sound of your voice and for a moment, he freezes, face blank before it morphs into a smile, and you immediately want to melt into a puddle and cease to exist because he looks like sin personified.

Maybe you're just projecting, because he doesn't look any different than normal. He always looks like this. But not like… this. He's wearing the same loose white shirt that almost drowns his slender frame and reveals a delicious amount of collarbone as it almost slips off one shoulder. His hair is fluffy and messy from sleep, making him look like an actual fucking angel, and the warm morning light spilling in through the windows illuminates his skin. The whole scene is like a freaking renaissance painting.

“Morning!” he says cheerfully, turning back to the stove. Completely normal. Maybe it really was all a fever dream.

It takes a second before you realize you're just standing there, gawking in his direction like an idiot. “Morning,” you echo. Smooth. You take a step forward, still hovering. It's silent for an excruciatingly long moment.

Felix clears his throat. “Did you— Did you sleep well?”

You blink. “Um…”

“I mean— ‘Cause the… the storm… was pretty loud…” he says slowly. “Uh… But, you didn't, like, wake up at all last night?”

You pause, heart dropping as you realize what he's asking. Did you wake up?

You have to give him credit; it's only because you know better that you notice the uncertainty in his voice, the way his shoulders are set a little higher than usual. You can't see his face but the way he's tensed up tells you he's more than a little anxious.

Well. You're going to die on this hill. “No.”

He sighs. Out of relief? Disappointment? You don’t know. “Okay. Good. I mean, I'm glad. That you slept alright.”

You nod. Cool. This isn't awkward at all. You don't know what else to say so you return the question to him. “Did you...?”

“Me? Yeah. Yeah, uh, I was fine. Loads better than the floor so, yeah, thanks for not letting me be an idiot about that.”

You hum noncommittally. Should you leave? (Yes.) There's no real reason for you to stay longer since the weather cleared up. Would it be too weird to leave so suddenly? (Yes.) But you really can't stand this tension much longer. Fuck pretending. You're awful at this.

“Uh, so…” Felix turns his head to you, interrupting your thoughts. “You hungry? Want breakfast?”

You’re about to say no but… you are hungry. And whatever he's making — pancakes? — smells good. Well, breakfast sounds normal enough.

“Sure,” you say instead. That's a normal thing to say.

Felix smiles at your response, seeming to relax a little as he turns back to the stove, spatula in hand. You stare at his back for a moment before deciding standing around is making you antsy. You move to lean against the counter across from the stove, watching him pour the pancake batter a little clumsily.

“So…” you start and his arm suddenly twitches, spilling batter on his hand. He swears and reaches to the sink to quickly wash it off before running the wet hand through his unruly hair. You watch as a few drops of water drip down his neck and you kind of want to touch them, trace their path with your fingers. Or your mouth. Maybe…

Wow. Wowww. You're actually unwell. What the hell? You need to sit the fuck down.

As you do that, pulling out a chair only slightly dizzily, he speaks. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Were you saying something? You're so lost. “Um…” you swallow. “H-How long have you been up…?”

Felix hums and flips the pancakes carefully. “Not too long… A couple hours, maybe?”

A couple hours? He’s been up for hours, plural? Doing what? Waiting for you to wake up?

“Oh.” You swallow again. “How come?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” is his casual reply, followed by a shrug. “Figured I should do something so…” he gestures to the stove.

“Oh,” you repeat, still struggling to get your head straight. The kitchen is also spotless, you notice, any leftover mess from the cookies yesterday miraculously gone. He probably stress-cleaned or something. Your heart hurts for him and how he must be feeling but what can you do? It's your own fault you can't even talk to him about it and clear the air. You dug this grave.

“You didn't have to. Make breakfast, I mean.”

He looks over his shoulder for a second, his smile strained when he says, “No, I know. I just… wanted to do something nice.”

You look down at your hands, guilt twisting your stomach. This… This is your fault. He wouldn't be suffering quietly like this if it weren't for you.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Felix lets out a little laugh. “Don't sound so enthusiastic.”

“That's the most enthusiastic I can sound this early in the morning,” you say, earning a huff of amusement from him in response.

“Well, they're not worth much enthusiasm anyway. I kinda— I dunno. They're uh…” he turns off the stove, presumably finished, but he hesitates before turning around. “Well…” he places the plate of pancakes down in front of you and laughs sheepishly.

Ah. They are quite… dark. Well done, if you will. You fight the urge to laugh as you stare down at the plate of pancakes that look vaguely like hockey pucks.

“Is there something funny?”

You look up to see him watching you with a small pout, his eyebrows drawn in. You can’t hide your smile this time, especially when his lips slowly quirk up in response.

“No, no, um…” You glance back down at the plate of black holes. “They look great.”

“Don't lie.” He sits down across from you, elbows propped, a pout on his face. His face is flushed. Up close, you can see the darkness under his eyes. You wonder if he slept at all.

“I don't know what's wrong with me…” he sighs, covering his face a little, and you get the sense he's talking about more than just burnt pancakes.

“I…” Your heart squeezes at his dejected voice. “It's okay, really, Felix,” you say, but if you're implicating something more than just burnt pancakes too, he'll never know. “It happens.”

He chuckles softly and peeks at you through his fingers. “Yeah. I’m just… a bit out of it, I guess.”

You nod. You’re a little out of it, too. You can't stop staring at his face, the pink flush to his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up a little haphazardly, the way his lashes flutter as he blinks tiredly. He looks so… pretty. He always looks pretty.

He peeks at you again, and you catch yourself and look away. You should say something. You should say you were awake last night. You should tell him you're not upset. You should just be honest.

You don't do any of that. Felix sits up with a huff and starts combing through the pancake stack, picking out a few less egregious ones and putting them on a plate for you.

“There.” He slides the plate over to you. “Try a couple of these.”

He's a good friend, is your first thought, watching him try to salvage the pancakes with a fond smile. At least he has the wherewithal to look sheepish for making such a thing. You don't mind, though. You'd eat them anyway, burnt or not. You’ve never been able to deny him anything, even before all this, so you’ve certainly got no chance now.

He glances at you, noticing your smile, and laughs. You can see a bit of the tension from earlier leaving his body, his shoulders less tense as he watches you cut into the pancakes with your fork. He reaches over and pours some syrup over the cooled pancakes before settling back in his chair, resting his head against his hand.

“Sorry they're not the best. Didn't realize I'm shit at cooking until just now.”

Despite his claims, and the lackluster presentation, the pancakes aren’t bad at all. The edges are crispy (if a bit crunchy) and the inside is surprisingly fluffy. You tell him as much and he crosses his arms over his chest unbelievably, but you see him fighting the smile on his face, tongue in cheek. It’s so, so cute. Truly, you are a goner.

“I'm serious!” you say. “I think they're great!”

He rolls his eyes at you, still smiling. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m telling the truth.” You take another bite for emphasis. “Mmm,” you hum, only exaggerating a little. So what? You see the way he lights up at your praise, and you're grateful for his efforts — even if they look burnt to hell.

You guess you mumbled that last part out loud because Felix snorts, looking up and resting his chin on his arms. “To hell? You can say that again.”

You purse your lips to hide the smile that slips on your face and he glares at you, probably thinking that you’re making fun of him.

“‘S not funny,” he huffs before reaching for a plate for himself.

“It's a little funny.”

“Shut up.”

—

You probably should have made your exit after breakfast, but in the moment of normalcy you forgot that you're kind of supposed to be freaking out about him; you don't think twice about staying. Now, you're sitting with him on his bed, helping him study.

“I don't get it,” Felix whines, tilting his head back and exposing the long line of his neck. You try not to gape like an idiot, resisting the urge to reach up and run your fingers over his jaw and the phantom marks there. “Why are there so many different integrals?”

“Uh…” You pull your attention back to the textbook in front of you, trying to read through everything. It's probably important that you actually pay attention to this. And not the way he's chewing on his lip in concentration. Or the little freckle on the corner of his nose. That's not part of the exam material.

“And these equations,” Felix continues, pointing to the page. “They're the fucking same thing! What the fuck?”

Focus. “So,” you shake your head to clear it and laugh a little. “They're just different methods of approximation. These ones are rectangular, and this one's trapezoidal so…” you squint at the page. “They're similar but here you divide this part. See? And you multiply each inner term. So that depends on how many intervals you're using,” you explain. “Rectangles are simpler but trapezoids are more accurate? I think you need to know both though.”

He looks up at you with a grimace. “Yeah, okay. Thanks. I'm sure I'll remember all that perfectly during the exam.” He glances down at the notes with a sigh. He looks stressed. It doesn't help that he's probably also tired. That he's been up for hours.

Because of you.

You're suddenly hyper-aware that you're sitting on his bed, close enough to touch. You noticed he's been keeping a little more distance than usual, but you can still feel the warmth of his body next to you and it makes you antsy and distracted, trying to keep your focus on the notes spread out in front of you. At least it's something to look at other than him.

You clear your throat. “You'll have to memorize it, I guess.”

“So what you're saying is I should give up on calculus,” he says dryly. “I should give up on life.”

“That is literally not at all what I said.”

He groans and flops forward onto the bed, his head landing by your thigh and leaning against it. You freeze. He doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and sighs.

You swallow down the rush of heat that runs through your body, unsure of what to do when he’s basically using your leg as a pillow. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that you're pretty sure this is the first time you've touched for more than a split second since… last night.

You can feel his breath against your leg, his eyelashes fluttering faintly. He looks like he could fall asleep like this, head nuzzled into your leg. Like a cat, you think briefly, and you can’t help yourself when your fingers reach out, itching to push his hair out of his face — just testing if that's okay.

You do it anyway, against your better judgment, slowly combing through the soft locks. He doesn’t really react, but his breath hitches ever so slightly. Your mind drifts off to the soft sound of his moan against your neck last night and you nearly choke on your own spit.

Oh my god. No, no, no, not real. It was absolutely a fever dream and there is no room for doubt, no matter how vividly the memory is playing in your mind right now. You were doing so well repressing it.

Felix's eyes suddenly fly open and he sits up abruptly. “Uh…” he starts, staring at you with wide eyes before his gaze drops to your hand still floating mid-air, hovering over where his head was.

“Sorry—” He scrambles back, clearing his throat, looking a little flushed in the face. He glances at you for a second before turning away, busying himself with tidying the notes spread across the bed.

“Oh.” You try to keep your voice steady and let your hand fall. “For what?”

“For, um…” He shrugs, still not looking at you. “I dunno. I wasn't trying to, like, fall asleep on you or anything,” he mumbles.

He's nervous, you realize. The fact that he's so nervous makes you even more nervous and guilty. Are you making him uncomfortable? Is sitting this close to you hard for him now?

He looks back at you for a moment, and then his face scrunches up a bit. “I really— I can’t do this,” he mutters, voice wavering a little, looking at you with an almost pleading expression, and your heart sinks. You can’t tell if he means the studying or… something else.

Before you can fully panic at what the fuck he means — he probably knows, is he upset with you, does he maybe not want to be friends anymore—? He takes a deep breath and says your name quietly.

“Is everything… alright?”

What? What kind of question is that? You might have just stopped breathing. What does it mean to be alright anyway? That's pretty subjective, isn't it? This past week you've lost track of any sense of what normal feels like, and really, honestly, you never knew. You don't know anything. You’re trying to act like nothing happened, but it’s so hard. And clearly, you've been failing.

But that's all you want. For everything to be alright. “...What do you mean?”

“With you.” He finally drags his eyes up to look at you again. “With us. Everything… alright?”

Well, no. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Of course.”

The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him. If anything, it makes him look more upset, his shoulders slouching forward and brows knitting together as he looks down at the space between you. “Are you sure?” he asks, in that same quiet tone, staring at you like he wants to say something else. You want him to say it, to keep asking, press you until you crack. You want him to force the truth out of you so badly it makes you feel sick.

But he doesn't. He doesn't push, not that you expected him to. Felix is never one to push you for anything you're not ready to give. It's something you love about him and you hate yourself for wanting him to now. It's not fair of you to expect so much of him, to want him to keep poking, try to pry you open, or read your mind.

He's still waiting for an answer. “Why do you ask…?” you whisper.

“Um,” he starts, touching his ear. “I guess… I mean— Recently, I feel like things have been a little… different? Uhh, weird? Maybe? I don't know. But—” he sighs. “I— You tell me. Am I making it up? I swear if you tell me I'm wrong, or an idiot, I'll shut up,” he laughs nervously.

“That's not it,” you say quickly, and swallow against the lump in your throat, guilt rising up like bile. Obviously, he’s right. Things are different. Things are weird. He knows it, you know it, and apparently both of you have been content to dance around the subject for days.

He stares at you like he’s waiting for more. You chew on your lip, struggling to find the right words to say. He’s being careful, tiptoeing around you like you’re going to run away at any moment. (You are.)

“I just… have a lot on my mind is all,” you murmur.

A beat. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. He’s watching your face closely. “What kind of things? Can you tell me?”

You can't even look at him for too long, terrified the floodgates might burst open if you do. You focus on the sheets bunched up in your fingers. “You know. Just…” Just that this is all my fault. Just that I stupidly caught feelings and caused this tension between us. I’m sorry. I really wish I didn't like you.

You're seconds away from sprinting.

He nods slowly when you don't elaborate. “Yeah… okay.” His voice is soft. He’s giving up. You don’t know if you like that or not. “Yeah. I get it.” He purses his lips. “Sorry, I just— I… Can I ask one more thing? I just— It’s not about the, uh…” he points to his neck. “...practicing..? Or.. something… is it?”

You freeze, mouth hanging open. Oh, god. He’s seriously bringing that up? So directly? Now? “I—”

He’s looking at you, waiting for your response with an almost desperate look in his eyes. You can't believe he's actually talking about this now when you both had a mutual agreement to pretend that never happened. For days he acted like it never happened. It was his idea.

A few seconds of silence pass before he lets out a sigh and looks down, shoulders slumping heavily. “Bingo, huh? Yeah, that’s… that’s what I figured.”

“You… figured..?”

Felix sighs again and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.” He still can’t seem to look at you. “That I screwed everything up.”

You feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. “What?”

He turns back to look at you, rubbing his eyes, and lets out an unsteady breath. “I didn't mean to—” he says quickly. He looks frustrated with himself, face pinched in a frown as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Just,” he says quietly. “You can like... talk to me if you're upset about it.”

You stop breathing.

“I, like... I don't want you being uncomfortable around me just because… Can we just…” he sighs. “I know we said to forget about it but… not if you're upset. Please tell me if you're upset.”

Your head is swimming, heart racing at a pace that makes you lightheaded, his words spinning in your mind. He thinks you're upset. “I'm not…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not… upset.”

His eyes soften, but he still seems hesitant. “No? Really?” He exhales. “It was… a really dumb idea. I should've never suggested it. I'm sorry.” He chews on his lip. “And you've been so… like, I feel like you've been a little uncomfortable around me since. I-It's been eating me up a little, you know? I should've known better. I'm… really sorry.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times in stunned silence. You're such an idiot. Of course he’s been worried about you. Of course he’s been blaming himself. Felix is genuinely distraught because he thinks you hate him or something, and you really don't know how to process that when it's the furthest thing from the truth.

Felix looks pained as he sits next to you, waiting for you to say something. The anxiety is visible, written on every inch of him in the way he can’t look at you, in the way his hands are shaking. You just want it to stop.

He's blaming himself for this. Thinking that you're upset over—

“I-I’m not upset,” you finally manage to say. Your voice sounds weak, even to your own ears.

He gives you a dubious look, and you straighten up.

“I'm not upset,” you repeat more firmly. “In fact, I'd do it again,” you blurt out.

If you weren’t so frustrated—with him, with yourself, with everything—you might’ve been amused at the way his expression changes. If anything, he looks more confused, furrowing his brow and blinking at you wide-eyed like you just told him you're secretly a lizard.

“You— What?”

He’s looking at you like you've lost your mind. Maybe you have. You’re probably crazy for even entertaining the thought, but your mouth is still moving before you can even think to bite your tongue, the words tumbling out before your brain can catch up and ask you what the hell you think you're doing.

“I— I didn’t mind, um,” you stutter out, suddenly feeling flushed under his blank stare. You swallow, trying to keep your voice even while your heart is pounding so hard against your chest you’re sure it’s about to burst through. “I mean— I don’t— It wasn’t like, bad or anything…”

His eyes go wider at your words and you can see the gears spinning in his head as he tries to figure out if you’re joking or not. You’re not. You’ve thought about it a lot, actually. A stupid amount.

He just keeps looking at you like he can't believe what he’s hearing. “What, are you—” he manages to croak out. “Are you serious? Um— You’re really—” He swallows thickly.

“I mean…" you stutter, face growing warmer with each passing second. “Yeah,” you try to act nonchalant. “I-I just mean… that I don’t mind.” You shrug. “I actually… kind of thought it was… nice?”

There. The words are out. Too late. Too honest. You almost immediately want to take them back— but you can’t. Surely that's a normal enough thing to say?

Apparently not. Felix’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he looks at you, a flicker of… something in his eyes that you can’t quite read. “That's—” he blinks. “You can’t just... say that.”

“Why not?” you shoot back. “It was… useful.” Wasn't that the whole point?

After several beats of torturous silence he finally lets out a loud exhale. “Are you messing with me.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the heat in your cheeks. “Why would I be messing with you?”

“What? Because—” He furrows his brow, struggling to get the words out. “You… you haven’t been acting… Uh— You’ve been, like, kinda weird. All week. You're really not upset?”

You look away. Of course you've been more distant, acting like a complete idiot because you caught feelings, so of course you inadvertently pushed him away. Well, he's been a bit weird too. But that's because he thought you were uncomfortable with him, you realize.

You're such a fool.

“No. I'd do it again,” you say again, hoping it comes across blasé and not desperate.

Felix coughs. “Right. Okay, well— I don't… know if that's… a good idea.”

Obviously. But wait, is he actually… Considering it? Thinking about it? Oh god. You didn't realize how that sounded. You had meant it hypothetically, not as an offer but…

He's right. It can only end in disaster. But maybe… What better way is there to prove that you're not uncomfortable with him?

...There's definitely no other reason than that that leads you to look back at him and say something so deranged.

“...Please?”

Felix’s eyes widen comically and he’s clearly trying to form words, mouth opening and closing as he stares at you like you’ve grown a third head. “What— I—” His mouth clamps shut instantly, cheeks blooming a bright shade of pink and you have to fight down an onslaught of butterflies at the sight.

He clears his throat. “Uh— uh, you want to?” he asks slowly, blinking at you like he’s not sure if you're real or a figment of his imagination.

“Um,” you clear your throat, trying to steady your voice. This is so fucked. What are you doing? “Yeah, I mean, I still think I'm… I need to practice more…?”

“I-I don’t—” A startled laugh escapes him. “I don't think that you… do… Uh, you— you really want to, like— right now?”

Jesus, he’s actually serious. You feel lightheaded, pulse pounding in your ears. You have a vague notion that you should probably backtrack, pull away, maybe laugh and tell him that you’re kidding. Just the thought of it makes you shiver—

“Um. Sure..?” you say instead, and mentally facepalm.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You follow it for a split second before darting your eyes up to look at his face. He looks flustered, his cheeks a deep shade of pink. It makes your stomach flip.

“I… this… seems like… maybe not a good idea,” he says, twisting the rings on his fingers. “But, I— Uhh, if you want…?”

This is insane. There's still time, you think, to make a break for it, but you can't manage to speak. You know it's a bad idea. You can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's been beating himself up over this and is clearly still not convinced you don't hate him.

Felix slowly starts to move, shifting his weight until he's leaning against the headboard in front of you, the space between your knees only inches apart. He watches you closely, as if waiting for you to change your mind, and— Right. You kind of have to take the lead in this. A part of you desperately wishes the roles were reversed but you really can't think about that if you want to have any hope of making it out of this alive. You’re already on the verge of passing out as it is.

As you start to move closer to him a giggle slips from his lips and he clamps them shut instantly, cheeks flushed as you slowly scoot across the bed towards him. You pause, wondering if he’s maybe come to his senses, but then he bites his lip and shakes his head.

“Sorry, I-I’m— Uh, just—” he laughs again, high in his throat, looking a mix of nervous and incredulous.

You giggle a little hesitantly. “..What?”

“Oh my god. Sorry. It’s just—” he says, trying to hide his face. He peeks from behind his hands, grinning sheepishly. “You’re— This is so— I can’t believe you think you need more practice.”

“...Shut up.”

His soft laughter is cut short when you get even closer, your knees brushing his. For some reason, seeing him like this… flustered, nervous, almost shy… is suddenly making your head spin. You want him to feel at least a tiny fraction of the way you’ve been feeling these past few days.

When you’re finally settled in front of him, you take a moment to look at his face, watching as he wets his lips, tongue peeking out just enough to leave them shining. He clears his throat, the sound making you jolt out of your daze.

“Okay,” he starts, eyes darting around the room. “What— What did you… want to… practice?”

He sounds breathless, his face a pretty shade of pink. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. He looks so, so beautiful like this; flushed, hair messy, mouth parted, and you really just want to kiss him.

You blink hard, trying to tamp down that thought. “Um…”

His eyes flit back to you, and he swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat and… Oh. Small, almost imperceptible patches of pink are scattered across his skin, blending with the blush creeping up his shirt collar. Hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless, especially to the one who inflicted them.

You don't realize your fingers had begun tracing the skin until he lets out a shaky exhale, tilting his chin, baring his neck for you.

You pause, eyes jumping up to his face. He's watching you under half-lidded eyes, lips parted as your fingertips brush his skin.

“I—” he stutters, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “You… really did a number on me, you know?”

You have half a mind to apologize but it's drowned under the rush of make them darker, make them last longer clouding your thoughts. You kind of want to mark him up forever. You're leaning in, you realize, breath ghosting his skin. “Can I…?”

He nods, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, please,” he breathes. “You don’t… you don’t have to ask. Do whatever you want to me.”

Whatever you want. That's… Hm. Wow. You can't even spare a thought on how crazy an offer that is before you're bringing your legs up to sit in his lap, any sense of decorum lost to you. You lean down, bracing yourself on his shoulders.

His hands hover momentarily by your waist before settling there, holding you in place as you make yourself comfortable in his lap. His breath stutters when your lips brush against his neck ever so slightly and his head falls back against the headboard with a soft thump. You hum, a thrill running through you at how sensitive he is as you repeat the action.

You press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, pausing to gently suck and pull, and he makes a noise, a low whine that makes your stomach do backflips. You pause, lips hovering above his skin.

He's squirming a little underneath you, trying to get closer, to get you to press harder, but he keeps his place against the headboard, body taut with what you can tell is the effort to stay still. He swallows, eyes squeezing shut as he tilts his chin up even more, baring his neck again. “Please,” he whispers.

You're gonna die here, you think faintly. But for this it'll be worth it; you press a kiss beneath his jaw and he audibly sighs, head tilting back further as he grips your waist tighter.

You slowly make your way to the other side of his neck, lips leaving a trail of kisses in your path, and his breathing starts to get faster and more erratic. He gasps when you bite the sensitive skin, feeling him arch up against you a little, and you gently kiss the red mark you’ve left behind. “Mmhh,” he says, eyes slipping shut, “God, you’re seriously already good at this…”

“Really...?” you ask, satisfaction and pride bubbling in your chest. You never could’ve imagined that having him practically under your control like this would feel so good, but the effect your actions have on him is literally dizzying. “I guess… I had a good teacher?”

He huffs out a laugh, rolling his head to the side as you start to work on a new spot. “You—” he lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a moan as you suck another mark just below his Adam’s apple. He’s gripping your waist firmly, fingers digging in hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have bruises in the shape of them later. “Mm— God, don’t— I’m— I’m sensitive there…”

You know. Still, you pull back, admiring the red mark left in your wake. Felix is a mess, breathless and flushed and staring up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Shit,” he says, voice uneven, “You’re so— so…” He trails off and the sight of him plus his voice… it's such an onslaught to your senses. You lean back into his neck if only to hide from his gaze and start pressing soft kisses to the skin again.

“Please,” he begs, voice quiet and rough, “God, please, please—”

You hum, the words going straight to your head— and other places which you’re trying not to think about. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing anymore but it just feels so good to hear how he reacts to every small touch, his soft whining, the way he keeps shifting as he tries to stay still, everything—

As you gently suck another mark into his neck, this time on the sweet spot just by his ear, he gasps and his legs twitch underneath you, a whine slipping from his throat. “Ah, ahhh, wait—”

There's no time to process anything before he lets out a small, frustrated sound, one hand going to your chin to gently guide you away from his neck. He's breathing heavily, a little dazed, with a pretty pink flush coating his cheeks and high on his ears. He's so stunning you completely forget you can't just stop and stare like this.

He whispers your name. “We, uh…” he breathes out, and just having him say your name in such a wrecked voice is enough to make you feel even more insane. “We should s-stop…”

You don't know what's gotten into you. You want to keep going.

His hand drops away from your chin, gripping your hip again instead. He tilts his head back further into the headboard, eyes shutting for a moment as he tries to steady his breathing.

“I—” he begins through a sharp inhale, only to pause, swallowing visibly before he repeats himself. “W-We should really… stop.”

You nod mutely, trying to reign in your wild heartbeat as you reluctantly lean back a little.

He slowly releases the tight grip on your waist, looking at you, mouth still slightly parted as his breaths start to even out. Neither of you say anything for a moment, but you can’t look away from each other. The air is so thick.

As you shift your weight in his lap, you become painfully aware of the fact that your body is pressed right up against his, your legs straddling his hips, your faces so close you can feel his ragged breaths against your lips. It’s impossible to think straight with him looking up at you like that, eyes blown wide and dark, face flushed, the prettiest pink staining across his cheeks and the tip of his ears, lips parted as he tries to regain his breath…

God, you really, really want to kiss him.

He swallows visibly as your faces are still mere inches apart and it takes a tremendous amount of self-restraint to not just lean in and press your lips onto his. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling right now, but the look he’s giving you and the way he’s still just—looking at you—makes your head spin.

He wets his lips and you might just drop dead. “This...” he starts, voice still a bit shaky, “Sorry. This was supposed to be you practicing… I… always get too…”

As he trails off, he lets out a small, unsteady laugh, looking up at you with a sort of sheepish smile—like he’s embarrassed. “…carried away. God, sorry. Um,” he swallows again, looking everywhere but you. “Are you alright—?”

His cheeks are still a pretty shade of pink, lips red and shiny from where he’s been biting them. The sight is not doing any favors for your sanity.

You feel so crazy. You can't take it anymore.

“I lied.”

Clearly, that wasn't what he was expecting. He blinks at you, eyebrows drawing together. “...What?”

“I—” Oh god. Are you really doing this? “I… lied. This morning. I-I was, um,” you take a deep breath, “...awake last night.”

“You… were awake… last night?” he repeats slowly.

You nod. You might be on the brink of death. “Um, t-that's why I was maybe acting… extra weird? …Sorry.”

He’s staring, expression blank, before it seems to click. “Oh, god,” he groans, bringing a hand up to hide his face. “Oh— oh my god. I'm so, so sorry. You— I—”

He puts his hands back on your waist and tries to push you off of him, but you place your hands over his to halt his movements.

He goes still, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt more dizzy in your life. You’re sitting on top of him, his hands are on your waist, he’s flushed red, looking so pretty, and you’re so gone that you can hardly feel embarrassed.

“No, wait, it's okay,” you say. “I'm… not uncomfortable with you. Or… this. That's what I'm trying to say.”

He lets out a harsh breath before shaking his head. “No no no, no way,” He pulls his hands free from under yours, as if burned, and runs them through his hair. “I'm— I'm, like, a fucking creep, I—”

“Oh my god, Felix, no,” you say in a rush, feeling like he’s slipping away with each passing second. “You’re not— Listen. I just…”

How do you even say this? That it affected you more than it probably should have, that it’s been plaguing your mind all morning, that you’re more confused than ever.

“I’m not— uncomfortable,” you manage to get out, “I promise.”

He looks at you, guarded, searching your expression. “…You’re not,” he repeats, with a tinge of disbelief.

“No.” There’s an odd, strangled feeling in your chest as he studies your face, the air still so thick between the two of you. You’re suddenly very aware of the way you’re still sitting, straddling his hips and so close you can literally count the freckles around his eyes.

“...Promise?” He peeks up at you, hands slowly coming down from his hair.

You nod. “Promise. Really.”

He swallows thickly and moves his hands down to hold your hips again, almost like an unconscious action, like that's the most natural place for them to be.

“Then… then how are you feeling?” He studies your face carefully, eyes jumping from each of your eyes, down, and back up.

You can’t think coherently with his body pressed against yours, your mind is so muddled, and his voice—

“‘Cause, I— um, I feel…” A small, nervous, incredulous breath leaves his lips. “Are you… are you feeling…”

“I…” You're cool. You're vibing. Your brain is melting out of your ears. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I feel dizzy.”

“Dizzy,” he repeats, grip on your hips tightening a little. “Dizzy… good? Or… sick?”

He shifts, bringing you nearly flush against him, and your eyes flutter shut. That alone is enough to send you reeling into alternate dimensions.

“I… not sick,” you choke out.

“Yeah?” he says, low and quiet, eyes flicking all over your face. He blinks, swallowing. “That’s… that’s good.”

You look down at him, taking in his face and the state of his neck. You did that… you did that… Suddenly all you can think of is how it felt under your lips just moments ago, of how he had felt, writhing, whining, begging—

Before you realize it, you're leaning forward again, as if possessed. Felix swallows and his hands grip onto you tighter, holding you steady on top of him. He’s staring up at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips, and your head is filled with static.

With a shaky breath, you tilt your head and bring your lips down to his neck.

You can feel the way he shudders and his head falls back against the headboard again. “Are you sure…” he breathes, voice hitching as you leave another soft kiss by his collarbone. “Are you— ah—”

His hands slide up to your waist and back down to your hips, fingers digging in as you suck a bruising mark into his shoulder.

He groans, and your vision is literally swimming. You suck a little harder and his hands twitch where they’re holding you firmly, words coming out in a soft moan. “God, you’re— you’re really good a-at this, that's not fair—”

You hum against his skin and run your tongue over the reddening area. “You’re so sensitive,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, and he lets out an embarrassed noise.

“Shut up,” he whines between gasps, but the words are undermined by the way he’s arching against you, tilting his head to the side to give you better access. “I’ve never— I don’t—”

You shift the slightest bit in his lap and his words are cut off in a soft gasp, eyes shutting for a split second before he’s looking back up at you. The look on his face makes you feel like you’re floating. “Mmm, I'm not… like this… usually… I—”

You want to say something, but the strangled sound from his lips when you reposition yourself on him again takes all coherent thoughts straight out of your mind. Felix’s fingers dig into your waist and you wonder if he’s trying to keep you still or pull you closer.

You want him closer. You need him closer, and it’s that thought that prompts you to actually press your hips against his and he throws his head back against the headboard again, eyes shut and mouth dropped open as he lets out a low moan. He grabs onto you tighter, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed up against him from chest to hip to— oh.

His breath stutters as his eyes go wide. He swallows visibly before shifting under you again, and yeah, he’s definitely not unaffected.

“Oh,” he breathes quietly. He sounds so ruined and there’s no way you’d be able to stop now even if you wanted to. You press down against him again and he bucks up and lets out a long whine.

“Oh, god—” he gasps out, hands scrambling down to your hips. “W-Wait, I—”

It's a struggle to pull yourself back enough to focus properly. “S-Sorry.”

He looks at you, wild eyed, hair falling on his face, all flushed skin and parted lips, the marks you left on his neck and collarbone glaring at you.

“No,” he says, breathing hard, chest rising and falling against yours. “Don’t… don’t apologize, it's just… I…”

A small whine escapes you as you feel his grip on your hips tighten again, as if testing it. He exhales slowly, and the silence stretches so long you start to wonder if the moment’s over, if you should get off of him, when he speaks in a low, quiet voice.

“Are you… are you really okay with this?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours. His voice is unsteady, but his hands still have a firm grip on you. “I don't want to… ruin anything…”

“Ruin anything...?” What— your friendship? You can’t quite focus when he’s literally holding you on top of him, body hot to the touch, skin soft and so, so tempting. He's an idiot. You like him. You want him.

Felix makes a strangled sound as he pushes and pulls on your hips again, moving your weight over him, his head falling back against the headboard again. You feel light-headed.

“Sorry,” he gasps. “We can stop if… if you…”

You're an idiot. “N-No,” you breathe out quickly, absolutely reeling from having him move your body like that. “No, don't, I…” You’re not even sure you could stop.

Felix lets out a small whine, hands digging further into your hips, his eyes dark and hazy as he looks up at you through his eyelashes.

“Okay,” he breathes, the word sounding like it's been punched out of him. “Okay.”

He leans back and tugs on your hips, rolling his own up as he pulls you down against him. You gasp at the contact, the sudden spark of pleasure coursing through you, but you’re barely given a moment to even think before he’s doing it again, pulling you back down, and fuck.

“Felix,” you choke, and the only answer you get is a whine from him as he moves your body against his again. You’re so caught up that you don’t even realize you’re starting to move to meet him, and he lets out a strangled sound at the action.

“Is this… I-Is this good?” he manages to get out, face screwing up slightly as you press down against him again.

You hum, leaning further into him to hide your burning face and you start to mouth at his neck again because… well, why not? It's familiar at this point and you're well past the point of trying to rationalize your actions. If you don't get your mouth on his skin you may just pass away.

You bite down and he lets out a long, low moan, his head drops back against the headboard again, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh,” he gasps, “Yeah, that— god, shit—”

When your body presses down a little against him again, he nearly chokes. You pull back, eyes instantly tracking the movement of his tongue wetting his lips and you go a little cross-eyed.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, “I don’t think… uhh..” his hands on your waist slide down to your hips, holding them tightly as he gently rocks against you. “I don’t—” he whimpers again, fingers digging into your hips, “I don’t think I can… take much more…”

There are words lodged somewhere in your throat, and you don’t know how to express how bad you want him even if you could.

He looks up at you, eyes dark and heavy, and you think maybe he gets the message anyway.

Before you can say a word, he's pushing you backwards onto the bed. You gasp as you land on your back and he crawls on top of you, leaning down and trapping you with his arms on either side of your head. Looming over you with dilated eyes.

For a second he just stares, not touching you anywhere but still caging you in with his body, and then your brain finally catches up to the position you’re in and—

“Oh my god,” you squeak. “Felix—”

He blinks at you, flushed and panting, his breath brushing against your face. In the sudden change of position, he accidentally presses his knee in between your legs and you let out a gasp and squeeze your thighs together instinctively.

“Oh,” he breathes, looking at you with wide eyes, and you don't know if it's your imagination or if his eyes really do dart down for the briefest second. “Sorry. Was that… bad? Are you uncomfortable?” His blush is dark, spread down his neck.

You swallow, mind blanking on anything to say. He moves his thigh further between your legs, just a bit, and that’s definitely not helping.

His gaze drifts down, down again, and he blinks slowly, like he’s not sure he’s seeing things correctly.

“Um… you’re shaking,” he whispers, eyes flickering back up to your face. “Are you… Are you okay?”

“I—” you choke out. “Yeah. I’m fine. I swear, I’m just—”

He shifts over you again, and you feel his leg press in ever so slightly between yours, and this time you let out probably the most embarrassing sound possible.

If he’s trying to kill you, it’s working.

Felix’s eyes go wide. Slowly, in an almost tortuous way, he pushes down against you again.

“Ah—” you gasp again, before pressing your lips tightly together to prevent yourself from humiliating yourself any further. His eyes are dark, watching your expression closely, and you bring your hands up to cover your face for good measure.

He smiles a little. He looks absolutely delighted.

You have the faint urge to hit him but then he's grabbing your wrists and gently moving them off of your face before his head dips down to your neck, breathing hot against your skin, lips hovering just above your jawline before he starts leaving small kisses all over your skin, slowly moving to your pulse point and sucking a light bruise below it.

What the fuck. What the fuckk. You're suddenly apologetic of how you teased Felix because you're pretty sure you're just as sensitive as he is. It's nothing like your arm.

Your gasp turns into a choked whine as he grinds down on you, his lips trailing up until he’s nuzzling your earlobe and he lets out a moan near your ear, the sound going straight to your gut. He drags his mouth back down, teeth scraping your sensitive skin on their way down your neck.

“Why am I the only one getting marked up, hm?” he asks, mouth trailing your collarbone before sucking again. It makes you whine, your wrists straining against his grip on you as his body keeps you locked in place. You try to raise your hips up instinctively (which is really embarrassing), but his weight on you makes it impossible to move.

He groans at your squirming and pulls away, mouth hovering over your skin. “T-Too much?”

You shake your head, holy shit you're actually going to die if he stops now.

He lets out a breath and moves down again, leaving a trail of kisses as he reaches the space between your neck and shoulder. “You have no idea,” he says, voice low and strained. “How much I’ve… I’ve wanted…”

“What? Wanted what?” you ask, breath hitching as he sucks another mark near your collarbone, just above the neckline of your shirt.

He stays there for a moment longer before pulling back and blowing on the spot, making a chill run down your spine. “Wanted— Mmm, do you even know— how good you look… wearing my…” His eyes go a little hazy as he wets his lips with his tongue.

Your eyes widen as you realize that, yeah, you're still dressed in his sleep clothes. “Oh.”

He pulls back for a second, eyes roaming over you. “It's… not fair.”

Your breath stutters as he reaches out and hooks a thumb under the collar of your — his — shirt, pulling it down and exposing more of your shoulder. His eyes roam over the bared skin before he's leaning back down, mouthing at the space under your collarbone and sucking an angry red mark onto the skin.

You whine, arching up against him, and the movement grinds your hips up against him. The sensation makes you both gasp, and he drops his head down, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

“F-Fuck,” he whines. You feel him move up to your face, his nose bumping against yours. He’s searching for something in your expression as he slowly lets go of your wrists, his fingers lightly running up your arms, mapping the contours of your face. His breath fans lightly over your lips, the air between your faces getting shorter as he leans closer and oh god, this is it, this is it, this is it—

"Do you, uh…” he starts, “Maybe… need practice kissing too..?"

“What?” You blink, mind slow to comprehend what he’s asking when his lips are so close to yours and he shouldn't be talking right now, what the fuck? And then it registers. "I-I've kissed people before, Felix," you sputter in a burst of concern for your dignity.

“Yeah, but…” he whimpers. “I… Can I…?”

You kind of want to laugh. “...For science?”

“Yeah. Yeah, for science, please can I—”

You’re not waiting for him to finish his sentence before you're grabbing his shoulders and pulling his head down to yours.

He lets out a shuddery sigh and then he’s finally, finally kissing you. It’s soft and almost chaste, completely different from the way he was biting and kissing your neck just seconds ago, but fireworks explode behind your eyes all the same.

His lips are soft, and he tastes so sweet, like maple syrup. His tongue licks your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, a small gasp slipping from you. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and then he’s really kissing you, tongue curling around yours. You moan, eyes fluttering closed, body lighting up, your entire world reduced to the points where your bodies touch.

This can't be real. Because if it feels like this when it's just practice you can't imagine how it must feel when it's real. Even if you've kissed people before, it was hardly like this. If Felix notices your fumbling, he doesn't say anything, just sighs against your mouth, tilting your head up and kissing you deeper than you thought was possible.

Your hands slide up from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, and he responds by kissing you harder, deeper. You’re so busy focusing on the way he’s trying to deepen the kiss that you barely register his thigh slipping higher between yours, starting to move again.

“O-Oh—” you let out against his mouth, hips lifting up against him instinctively and he whines — a high-pitched, needy sound against your lips.

He pulls away, breath coming in short gasps and his head drops down on your shoulder. For a moment you can only hear the sound of ragged breathing as his heart beats against you, his hands still roaming your sides, tracing every contour of your body.

“Shit,” he breathes into your shoulder. “You’re so… how…” and whatever thought he was having is cut off by the sound he lets out when you squirm a little and his body presses further against you.

“Careful,” he chokes out, “Careful, careful, please, oh my god—”

Despite his words, he keeps moving against you, the friction both too good and not enough. You're dizzy with how good it feels and you gasp when his mouth finds your neck again.

Your hands are back in his hair, clinging to him, needing to grab onto something. “Felix,” you all but whine.

He groans against your neck, moving his head up to your cheek, before his lips find yours again. His grip tightens as he presses you further into the mattress, a whine escaping you as he nips at your bottom lip.

“Please,” he whispers against your mouth, a breath more than a word. “Please, I…” He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and groaning against your lips, “Please…”

You're not sure what he's asking for, but you'd give him everything if you could. You pull him closer with a tug on his hair, your bodies flush against each other, and even through the layers of clothes you can feel everything.

“Ah—” he whines, and his hips stutter against yours. “P-Please,” he repeats breathlessly as he presses his face back into your neck and his hands dig into your sides. “Please, you keep— making these sounds and looking like—” he gasps as his hips brush against you and he almost loses his train of thought. “And I don’t— I don’t think I can— last much longer…”

TV static. You're probably flatlining. “O-Oh my god,” you mumble, reeling at the thought of getting to see your best friend fall apart on top of you, that he’s actually on the verge of unraveling just from being with you like this; and then his mouth is back on yours, tongue sliding against yours.

“Felix,” you gasp against his mouth, “Felix—” your words break on a whine as his hips grind against you. He lets out a broken moan, like just the sound of his name on your lips is enough to do him in.

He’s shaking now, not so much kissing you as panting against your mouth. Not that you're faring any better. You feel so overwhelmed you think you’re going to cry, or break, or both; the feeling of his thigh against you and his chest pressed so closely to yours, it’s all too much. As he moans softly, the sound slowly rising in pitch, you feel something in your gut pull tighter and— Oh. Oh.

Everything goes white. For a moment, all you know is Felix: his body on yours, his skin under your hands, his scent, his sounds, his taste still on your tongue— all of him, and it’s all-encompassing. It's all so sudden and violent that all you can do is gasp and cling to him.

Once the feeling subsides you try to gather yourself, you open your eyes just enough to see Felix staring down at you, his pupils blown so wide they almost completely cover his irises.

“Fuck…” he breathes, sounding almost awed. “Did you— Did you just—”

You're too enervated as you try to look at him, you swear you’re seeing double. He’s still breathing hard, his hands gripping you tightly against him. His mouth opens to say something else, but it’s quickly interrupted by a groan as his hips roll against you, like he can't help it, and he buries his face into your neck instead.

“Oh my god—” he moans into your skin. Suddenly his breath hitches and his hips press into your thigh more insistently. He lets out a needy whine, his words barely distinguishable. “F-Fuuuck, oh fuck—”

You feel the way his body jerks and trembles against you, breath coming in short pants that turn into pretty, high-pitched sounds — probably the prettiest sounds you've ever heard in your whole damn life — his breath hot on your neck, clinging to you, and oh, he’s shaking.

The moment seems to stretch on forever. Time literally slows with him shuddering on top of you until he finally collapses, burying his face in your shoulder.

Slowly, reality starts to sink in, your body becoming more aware of his body almost crushing you and his hands tracing idle patterns on your skin. Your mind gradually clears enough that your brain catches up to the situation you're in, and suddenly the room is so hot, every point of contact with Felix absolutely blistering.

That was so intense. And he wasn't even actually touching you. Holy shit. Fuck.

For a moment you’re both just left trying to catch your breath, until he slowly lifts his head, gazing down at you. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and it makes you feel so hot.

He blinks down at you for a second and seems to freeze. After a second he breathes, “Um… you look hot,” before his cheeks instantly turn an even deeper pink. “I mean, like.. uh… you look like you’re heated up or something... Like, your face is flushed. It’s— I mean—” he laughs awkwardly, stumbling over all his words.

Well. Sure. It's probably like two billion degrees in here, you think, and it’s really not helping that he’s still lying on top of you, his weight pinning you down.

“Um…” You're still so fuzzy and out of it. “You’re crushing me,” you state dumbly.

His reaction is immediate, moving to shift his weight off you. “Oh, s-sorry, I… sorry—”

No, wait, now you're cold. You reach out to stop him before he gets too far.

A tiny smile quirks on the corner of his lips as he notices you trying to hold onto him. With a breathless laugh he settles back over you, propping himself up on his forearms. “Better?”

How is he real. “Mhm.”

He’s so close, his face is so close to yours, and you realize you have made a grave error in keeping him on top of you. He’s always had an effect on you, but he’s never looked so mesmerizing as he does now with his messy hair and red cheeks, looking like he’s itching to reach out and touch you. It feels a bit like staring directly at the sun. Captivating, and dangerous.

“You, um…” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay..?”

You blink. Okay doesn't quite cover it. You might have literally just witnessed the fifth dimension. You settle on a nod.

Felix nods too, a quick jerky movement, still watching you closely, with something akin to awe. You’re not sure what to make of it, or what to say, you just try to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.

He swallows, his eyes searching your face. Then his gaze drops down, and you realize that for the first time he left marks on you. And if you look anything like he does right now — Oh no.

Your eyes widen, hand flying up on its own accord, touching your neck, the skin tender and tingly.

“O-Oh,” he says, sucking in a small breath through his teeth as your fingers trace your neck. “I… Sorry. I didn't— uh…” His eyes dart between your neck and your face. “Did— Does it hurt?”

“Umm…” You’re not sure how to explain that yeah, it kinda hurts, but you also think it's extremely hot and you kind of really want him to do it again.

A beat of silence stretches out while he waits for your answer, and you can see the anxiety building on his face. His eyes dart to your neck, to your face, and the longer you stay quiet the more worried he looks.

“I didn’t mean to,” he finally manages to say. “I’m sorry, I should’ve… asked, or…”

He looks so nervous, like he’s absolutely terrified that you’re going to be angry at him for leaving marks on you that you almost want to laugh. It’s endearing. He’s so cute and hot and perfect.

You do laugh, in spite of yourself, a small giggle bubbling from your throat. You immediately catch yourself and school your expression but it's too late. He looks at you a bit wildly.

“What—? What’s funny?” he pouts, his voice coming out even higher-pitched than usual.

You bite your lip. “Nothing.”

His face gets so pink it’s practically glowing. “What,” he whines, lower lip pushed out in a proper pout now.

Another laugh bubbles out of you — you can’t help it when he’s being so cute. “Sorry,” you purse your lips. “I'm fine. I don't mind.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that you’re not mad at him, and he lets out a long, shaky breath, shoulders dropping.

“I swear to god,” he huffs, and he sounds so genuinely huffy and upset over the fact that you’re laughing at him that you can’t even stop yourself from giggling again.

“Do you think this is funny?” he grumbles, shifting his weight a bit over you. “You’re so rude. That was, like… payback, you know. Now we're even. Actually…”

He suddenly dips his head down, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. “Don’t,” you laugh, squirming under him. “It tickles!”

“Good,” he grins against your skin. “That's what you get for laughing at me.”

He moves down, licking a hot stripe across your collarbone. “Oh my god, stop—”

“No,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss right where your pulse is fluttering under your skin. “You’re rude and I’m not done yet, so stay still.”

“Felix—”

His mouth is warm and he’s pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on every part of your skin he can reach. He sucks and tugs, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin and you let out a gasp. You try to wriggle out from under him but he’s holding you down, his body flush against yours and his arms caging you in. “Fu-uck, Felix..!”

"Stay. Still,” he huffs, nipping gently at the skin. You shiver and he lets out a soft breath, a shudder of a laugh against your skin. He moves again, his lips working their way down your neck and you give in and close your eyes.

He’s being gentle now, you can barely feel his lips as they brush your skin. But then he suddenly sucks softly at the dip between your collarbone and you can’t help the little sound that escapes you.

You feel him grin against your skin. “There. Now we're even.” he says smugly, pulling away.

You blink your eyes open blearily. Payback, huh? Okay. You guess you probably deserved that.

Still. “You’re such a dick,” you mutter.

His eyes are wide and full of faux innocence as he looks down at you, looking awfully pleased with himself. He grins proudly, and you can see little marks on his neck, too, red and angry-looking and…

Felix's expression changes as he looks down at you, the smugness slowly fading to be replaced with something softer. He’s quiet as he gazes down at you, taking in every detail of your face, his eyes roaming every inch. It feels like he’s trying to sear the image into his memory.

His hand comes up to brush some of your hair out of your face, fingertips gently tracing your features. His gaze is intense, his fingers are gentle, and suddenly it’s hard to think straight.

He swallows and you can see him struggling with himself, like he’s struggling to say something.

“Um…”

He takes a careful breath as his eyes wander over your face, taking all of you in. His gaze lands on your mouth and stays there, watching intently, his tongue slowly swiping across his bottom lip.

“We… I mean— you didn't, like, really actually need practice kissing right, or was that like—? Like actually science..?”

“What?”

His gaze darts back up to your eyes, cheeks tinged with pink. “What?” he parrots, voice slightly higher pitched than usual.

What the hell is he asking? Of course you didn’t need practice. Right? You’re pretty sure you know how to kiss already. At least, you think so. God, what if you’re not even a decent kisser and he was too nice to tell you.

“Felix,” you say slowly, figuring it's best to be direct. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His cheeks are already burning, you can see the redness spreading from his face to his neck and down his chest. “I don’t know,” he stammers, looking away. “I was just… wondering. If it was just for fun or if it… like…”

He’s still not looking at you, and you’re so confused. “What…?” you repeat.

“Um, well,” he mumbles, somehow blushing even further. “I was… uh, wondering…” He finally glances at you. “Like… you know… if it meant something—” He freezes mid sentence and closes his eyes, like he’s bracing for impact.

…Of course it meant something. It was everything. But Felix— he’d never feel that way about you. He couldn’t. He already told you he doesn't.

Just for fun? You kind of want to laugh and cry and take his stupid face in your hands and shake some sense into him. What is he even trying to say?

You're too busy having a mental breakdown and Felix finally meets your gaze again, biting his lip. “Forget I said that,” he sighs. “I’m an idiot, just ignore me, please.”

After a silent moment of staring at each other, he awkwardly clears his throat, sitting up on his elbows and pulling back slightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he blurts, his cheeks flushed and eyes avoiding yours. “Nevermind! We, uhhh, should I move? I should move.” You can feel the way he’s shivering slightly, his voice trembling from the exertion.

He pulls back, shifting to get up, but you grab his arm, holding him in place. “Felix,” you rasp out, not even sure what you want to say but knowing you have to say something.

He freezes, staring at the way you’re gripping his arm, eyes still refusing to meet yours. His shoulders are tensed, tight like a coiled spring.

For a minute the only sounds in the room are your uneven breaths, the words hanging in the air between you. Then his voice breaks the silence, barely a mumble. “Just forget I said anything,” and then he's pulling his arm out of your grasp and moving to get off the bed.

No, no, no no no. Without letting yourself think too much you grab his wrist, pulling him back down to you. He lands on top of you with a startled gasp. “What—”

“Felix—” You don’t know what else to say. Your head is still fuzzy and your body is still buzzing and the only thing you can think about is him but words are not forming.

He swallows. “Y-Yeah?” he says, breathless.

Your hands are shaking and you shove them into his hair, pulling his head down until your foreheads collide only a little painfully.

“Mmph— hey—” he starts, but the word is swallowed up by a groan when you tighten your fingers in his hair. Your head is still spinning but finally, finally, finally your mind comes up with words that aren't just his name.

“You're an idiot.” Good start. “It wasn't just for fun. Are you seriously— Science? I thought that was just— Like, what the hell does that even mean—” you sputter.

His eyes are so wide, the brown of them almost completely swallowed by his pupils. “It wasn't…?”

“You moron,” you groan. “I actually hate you so much.”

He laughs, breathless and shaky. “You hate me?” he asks, a slight whine to his voice.

“Yes,” you mutter. “Please tell me what the fuck kind of science you think I was trying to do.”

His chest is heaving, heart hammering against your own. “I-I don’t know,” he stutters, looking so adorably dazed you want to laugh. “Don’t— don’t look at me like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he says, cheeks burning. “Your face is really close to mine right now, and— I’m trying—”

“Trying…?” you whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth. Why are his lips so pretty. You just want to pull him down and kiss him and kiss him and—

He licks his lips. “Trying…” Then he groans, “Ugh, shut up. I'm embarrassed.”

You breathe out a laugh and he pouts at you. “Stop,” he whines. “I'm, uh…” he says, blinking. “We… need to shower. Or something.”

Your face heats up. “What?”

“Shower,” he repeats in a strangled voice. “Like— oh, oh my god, like separately. Not— not together, obviously.” His cheeks are already turning a deeper shade of red, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing.

“I know that,” you whisper.

“Good. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Because it would be really weird if we—” He cuts himself off, biting his lip. “Anyway,” he says loudly. “I’m getting up now.”

He slowly pushes himself up into a seated position. He’s blushing so bad, his face so red you can practically feel the heat emanating from his skin, and still staring at you, blinking like he can’t quite believe what just happened. After a long moment he seems to shake himself out of the daze and blinks again. “So, um. I’m just— You can go first if you want.”

“Yeah.” You’re still a little dizzy but you manage to sit up. “Sure.”

“Cool,” he says eloquently before scrambling off the bed and turning to rummage through a few drawers.

After a moment he seems to find what he’s looking for and turns back, holding out a stack of clothes to you.

“Here. This will, um. Probably fit.”

You mutter a thanks, sliding off the bed and taking the clothes he’s holding out for you. “Um… I’ll be quick,” you say lamely, and he nods, almost a robotic jerk of his head.

You stumble to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and taking a moment to collect yourself.

It takes everything in you not to scream when you glance in the mirror — You look crazy. Even in the dim bathroom lighting it’s obvious. You let out a quiet exhale, pressing your fingers against the marks and wincing at the twinge of pain.

Well… you suppose that's fair payback. Still, you're not sure if that's really all it was. You kind of feel like an idiot because what if the moment has passed now and it's too late to bring it up and, like, actually talk about it and Felix tries going back to being normal friends again.

He wouldn't do that. Right?

You're not any more sure of what to do when you step out of the bathroom ten minutes later, but at least you feel refreshed.

Felix is sitting on the edge of the bed when you reenter his room, staring at his phone with a funny expression. His head jerks up at the sound of the door opening and he shoves his phone away, sitting up straight.

He all but bolts off the bed when you step into the room, standing up so fast you would've missed it in a blink. He’s blushing furiously, face so red it’s almost concerning.

“You’re… done,” he says after a moment. “Right.”

He’s fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, avoiding your gaze. You blink at him, but he’s pointedly not looking at you. “Uh, yeah.”

“Cool,” he responds, his voice high and stilted. You give him a skeptical look and he finally glances at your face, swallowing when he sees you looking at him.

His expression makes your heart sink slightly; a part of you has already begun to feel resigned, wondering if he’s going to tell you it was actually just a mistake and you should forget about it. The thought makes your insides twist uncomfortably.

“I, uh. I guess I’ll…” he starts, his eyes darting around the room. “Uhh, you should check your phone? Or don't. Actually, maybe don't.”

“...What?”

“Just… nothing,” he says unconvincingly. “Just check your phone. I mean— It’s not important, it’s fine.”

“Okay…?” you say, starting to reach for your phone.

Felix looks vaguely panicked. “Wait, not now, uhh—”

His strange behavior would be funny if you weren’t just so confused. “What are you being so weird for?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “I’m not— I’m not being weird,” he protests, even as his ears keep turning redder. “I’m fine, just— check your phone when I'm not here!”

“Felix.” You give him a dubious look, even as he’s practically vibrating with how badly he's pretending to be casual. “What did you do.”

His eyes go wide. “What? Nothing! I didn’t do anything.” He stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, looking so flustered that you can’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of the situation. He catches your expression and splutters indignantly. “Don’t laugh!”

With a huff he turns on his heel and practically flees into the bathroom, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, completely dumbfounded. What the hell.

After a moment of just standing there and staring at the floor hopelessly, you finally give up and collapse into the bed.

He’s being so weird. You just don’t know what to make of all of this. Was it just a mistake or… Did he mean it? Do friends seriously… do that kind of stuff? And stay friends?

You’re tempted to not check your phone, just to spite him, but after a few minutes of stewing in your thoughts you can’t wait it out. You get up and grab your phone from the desk, your heart picking up when you see an alarming number of notifications.

Most of them are messages Felix must have sent after you left to shower. You click into the chat hesitantly.

You have to admit it’s a little cute.

It makes you want to walk over to the bathroom and let him know he’s being an idiot, but you manage to resist the urge and keep reading.

You’ve been biting down your lip to keep from laughing as you read through the messages, and you have to cover your mouth to muffle a laugh as you get to the end. He’s such an idiot. And he’s cute as hell.

Seriously, are you dreaming? Did he mean it? It kind of sounds like he means it. He likes you? He’s panicking for nothing, really, you feel the same way, but it’s endearing how hard he’s trying to be chill while still obviously desperate for an answer.

Before you get the chance to pinch yourself you hear the shower shutting off and your heart rate skyrockets.

You immediately drop the phone, covering your face with your hands. He's about to walk out of the bathroom any second now and you’re going to have to actually talk to him, and you don’t know how.

Sure, you want to talk to him, but the thought kind of also makes you want to throw up. You're only, like, eighty percent sure he wasn't joking. That's not enough.

There’s a moment of silence as you wait, wondering if it would be better to just turn your phone off and pretend it was dead so you couldn't read the messages. But before you can decide, the door creaks open and Felix reappears, hair damp.

He opens his mouth, closes it, shuffles his feet, opens his mouth again. “I, uh—”

You can’t help it — even though you’re nervous as hell too, the way he’s standing there looking like he’s in some sort of crisis is too adorable. You should probably put him out of his misery, but you’re also kind of enjoying seeing him like this. Just a little.

“You good?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“...Huh?”

“You’re looking a little stressed.”

“I’m totally fine,” he protests hotly, but his voice cracks just a little. He looks away, ears turning pink, and he clears his throat before making his way over to the bed.

He plops down on the edge of the bed next to you and stares at the floor, tense.

It’s strange to see him looking so nervous, knowing he is the confident one, the one who initiated this, started this whole thing — and now he’s staring at the floor like he’s bracing for a blow.

You feel a little bad, but the look on his face is too cute, and you’re too overwhelmed by the realization that he must really do like you. What the fuck? At least, he's acting incredibly suspicious.

For a long moment the two of you just sit there. You feel like you might wake up from a dream at any second, while Felix seems to be struggling to say something, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fisted in the comforter.

And you have to admit that this situation is kind of hilarious, because never in a million years would you have guessed that Felix would be the one to act like this out of the two of you.

Finally, you can’t hold it in anymore and you struggle to stifle a laugh.

He shoots you a betrayed look, clearly offended that you’re laughing at his distress. “Why are you laughing?”

You keep trying to hold back your amusement, but your attempts fail and you keep having to cover your mouth to stifle your giggling. Felix looks increasingly more outraged that you’re laughing at his plight, his face turning a deeper and deeper shade of red as he stares at you.

“This is not funny,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It kind of is,” you say, hiding your mouth with one hand. “You were being so cool before, what happened?”

“Shut up. I'm still cool,” he protests, puffing his cheeks out and turning away, refusing to look at you. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nooo,” you insist, holding back another laugh. “I’m not.”

“Oh my god,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m actually going to die right now. I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you say, feeling a little bad seeing the look of defeat on his face. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” he grumbles, even though he clearly isn't. He glances at you and quickly looks away again, his cheeks flushed. “You’re making it worse.”

“Sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand on his arm. “I'm not trying to make fun of you.”

“Liar,” he mutters, but he doesn’t shake your hand off. After a moment he seems to untense slightly, and he lets out a shaky sigh.

He finally looks at you and swallows, his eyes flickering across your face. “So… um.”

His eyes keep darting away and then back to your face again, like he wants to look at you but is afraid of getting caught staring. It’s kind of adorable to see him looking so self-conscious.

“Are we gonna talk about this?” he asks, forcing out the words.

“About… what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Uh… yeah. Um…”

Now that it's come down to it, your heart is racing again. He keeps looking at you, then away, then back again. Each time his gaze is on you, you get a glimpse of his expression and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

There's nothing to worry about. He said he likes you. Yeah, hypothetically. No one ever means that literally. And look at how he's acting. But he didn't say outright that he likes you. You don't know what to do.

You clear your throat. “Is… there much to say? You already said a lot. Really spammed my phone.”

He flushes more and makes a strangled sound somewhere between a whine and a laugh, his hands going to his face.

“Sorry,” he mutters through his fingers. “I was freaking out.” He lowers his hands just enough to peer at you. “I didn’t... I didn’t say anything super embarrassing, did I?”

“It was funny,” you tell him. “You were being really stupid.”

He lifts his head enough to glare at you. “Thanks.”

“No, but like— in a cute way,” you add quickly, watching as his expression shifts.

“I wasn’t being cute,” he mutters, though he seems a little less embarrassed.

“No, I’d say you were being cute.”

He’s definitely still blushing, avoiding eye contact. “I was not,” he says, petulant.

Then you decide, fuck it, and lean over real quick, watching his eyes widen before you press a quick kiss on his cheek, right by the corner of his mouth.

He gasps immediately when your lips brush his skin, his blush immediately worsens and you watch it spread down his neck. He makes an indignant sound, his hand flying to his cheek where you had kissed him, and he looks at you in shock.

“S-See?” you stutter, turning your head away quickly to hide your own warm cheeks. “Um… cute.”

A moment passes as he just gawks at you, his face still bright red. His hand is still on his cheek, his mouth open in bewilderment.

And then his brain seems to restart, and he lets out a huff, finally dropping his hand. “Damn,” he mutters. “Damn…”

He’s still blushing furiously, and every time he looks at you, his eyes get all wide. You giggle a little and he shoots you a withering glare.

“You’re being mean,” he whines. “This is cruel. I’m going to die and you're laughing at me.”

You bite your tongue. “Sorry.”

He glares at you again, though it's lost any real heat, before he relents and drags a hand over his face with a groan. He sits there for a moment longer, staring at the wall like he’s trying to make sense of everything. “So…” he says slowly. “Does that… what does that mean?”

There's a certain weight to the question. You take a moment to collect yourself. You feel lightheaded, your heart beating so loud you wonder if he can hear it.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

He turns to look at you, still red in the face. “You just kissed me,” he points out. “What does that mean?”

You try to keep your expression carefully neutral, but you can feel your own cheeks heating up just as intensely. “I mean,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “I guess… theoretically… it would mean… I, um… like you..?”

He freezes, just staring at you for a long moment with wide eyes. “You…”

He seems to be making an effort to look casual, but his body language betrays him, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping against the floor anxiously.

His eyes roam around, seeming to look everywhere but at you, before finally landing on your face again. “Theoretically… you like me?” he repeats after a moment, his voice still sounding faintly disbelieving.

The way he’s looking at you, it’s almost too much. You’re so flustered you can barely see straight, and you feel like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest.

“I guess...” you say, trying to keep your tone light even though you're pretty sure you're shaking. “...Yeah?”

He’s speechless, staring at you in shocked silence for what seems like a very long time. His mouth is opening and closing in a manner that would be funny if you weren’t completely freaking out yourself.

It takes a minute for him to react, blinking rapidly. “You…” he repeats, but it comes out breathless, like he’s still in shock. “You like me? Like, as in…”

His voice is so disbelieving that you’re starting to second guess yourself. “I… hypothetically,” you mutter, feeling silly for still using that as a crutch.

“Hypothetically,” he echoes. His lips curl into a tentative smile. “You’re not… joking?” he asks carefully. “This isn’t some kind of… I don’t know. You’re not messing around?”

“Did you mean everything you said?” you ask, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

He looks startled to be put on the spot, and he stutters for a moment before responding. “Yes. I— Of course,” he says earnestly. “I was just afraid you wouldn't…”

He trails off, eyes darting away from you for a moment before focusing back on your face. He takes a breath and his lips turn up in a bashful smile.

"So… what does this mean?" he asks, shifting to face you fully. His eyes search yours for an answer, a hopeful look in them.

“Are we…” you swallow, feeling nauseous and giddy all at once. “Should we be, like… dating… theoretically?”

Felix looks incredibly flustered as he stares back at you, looking absolutely bewildered, like the thought had never even crossed his mind until this moment.

“Dating…” he mumbles incredulously. “Dating… holy shit… You… you want to…?” he asks haltingly, his eyes fixed on yours.

His reaction makes you feel a little self conscious, wondering if somehow you’ve misread the situation entirely. You bite your cheek. “Maybe?” you say faintly.

You can almost see his mind spinning, processing this sudden development. He seems completely dumbfounded, blinking rapidly like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

After what seems like an eternity of stunned silence, he finally finds his voice again. “Like… for real?”

“I mean…” you say awkwardly, feeling very exposed right now. “I… yeah? If you want…? It makes sense, right? Theoretically?”

He lets out a breath, his eyes wide. “I... Yeah. That makes sense. Uh, I…” He's still staring at you like he can’t quite believe you're actually real. “Am I dreaming?” His expression is so earnest, like he’s afraid you might vanish at any second.

You huff out a laugh. “Need me to pinch you?”

He lets out a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a whine. “Maybe.”

You reach out and pinch his arm gently but firmly.

“Ow,” he complains.

“You're the one who wanted it.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to do it so hard.” He rubs his arm, giving you a half-hearted glare. His cheeks are still red, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks incredibly cute right now. “You didn’t say you were going to maim me.”

You roll your eyes. “My apologies, your highness.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, still massaging his arm.

You can't help but laugh a little. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling up at the sides. He looks a little less stunned now, and the sight of his smile manages to calm your racing heartbeat a little bit.

"So…" he says after a moment, still looking at you intently. “So… we’re actually doing this?” he asks, his voice still a little hesitant. “You and me?”

Three words have never felt so heavy. Your heart feels like it's jumping into your throat, your blood thrumming in your ears. This is actually real.

You nod slowly, words suddenly a little tricky to find. “You and me," you manage, a little breathlessly.

His answering smile is wide and dazzling, and it makes your heart do a little flip.

“Damn,” he says, a small huff of a laugh slipping past his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think things would turn out this way.” He looks genuinely awed, like he still can’t believe you’ve actually agreed to this, his eyes wide and shining. He reaches out and gingerly takes one of your hands in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

It's strange. You've held hands before, but somehow the small action has you blushing harder than anything else you've done with him.

He’s staring so intently at your hands together, a small smile on his lips. He lets out a laugh, then looks up at you. “Is this weird?” he asks, a playful lilt to his voice.

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to calm your nerves. “A little,” you admit.

A soft, amused huff leaves his lips, before his smile turns more mischievous. Suddenly, he tugs on your hand to pull you towards him.

You let out a startled yelp, losing your balance and toppling forward on top of him. You catch yourself before you fully collide with him, forearms bracing against the bed as you find yourself inches away from Felix’s face. His hands immediately go to your waist, steadying you.

“Hey,” he says, smiling up at you. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch warm and soft. You feel your face getting hotter, the proximity to him making it hard to think straight.

“You’re blushing,” he points out teasingly.

“Yeah, well,” you say, your heart thundering in your chest. “You did that on purpose.”

He grins. “Maybe.”

His gaze just wanders over your face for a moment before he suddenly pulls your head down and presses a kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek. He’s kissing you all over your face, his breath warm on your skin. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, and he’s just so—

“That's you,” you mutter, your breath hitching as he brushes over a sensitive spot near your jaw, and he grins.

“Mmm... You think I'm pretty?”

Idiot. You want to punch him so bad — how could anyone not think that — but his mouth finds yours again, his hand moving up to your chest to feel the fluttering of your heart against his palm. He kisses you slow and deep, as if trying to memorize the feel of you.

Eventually he pulls back, breathing hard. His eyes are unfocused and you can see the pulse beating fast in the hollow of this throat.

“Wow,” he whispers. “Wow, I like you so much.”

You squeeze your eyes shut before you literally start swooning. “Uh… cool,” you mutter. You know, like an idiot.

“Cool?” he repeats, amused. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

He lets out a huff. “You’re so smooth,” he teases, a smile in his voice. “But you still haven’t said it back.”

You open your eyes to find him looking at you expectantly, an exaggerated pout on his lips. “How am I supposed to know your feelings, hm? You're killing me here.”

“You're so fucking cheesy,” you complain. “I already said it.”

He hums, a wounded look on his face. “Yeah, hypothetically or something. As if that means shit. You’re gonna wither my heart here. Just gonna leave me wondering if—”

“I like you too,” you blurt out, words tripping over each other in your haste to get them out. “Obviously.”

His eyes widen and he stares up at you, mouth hanging open in a little ‘o’. For a moment it almost seems like he’s speechless, but then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face and he laughs.

“Yeah? You do?” he asks, the look in his eyes clearly fishing for more. “How much?”

“I'll fucking kill you,” you mutter, but you’re sure the heat in your face diminishes any vehemence.

“Ouch,” he says, laughing again. “You’d kill your new boyfriend?”

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. You falter before managing to stammer out, “U-Um, boyfriend…”

He laughs and pulls you down to him again. You let out a squeak of surprise this time as you fall onto his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” he says, voice laced with a teasing lilt. “Boyfriend. You’re stuck with me now.”

You bite your lip. “I'll uh…” you mumble into his chest. “I'll think about moving in. Like, actually.”

His arms tighten around you at the words, and he lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah?” he asks, the excitement evident in his tone. “You’d… really? For real?”

“Maybe,” you say, your voice just a little shaky. “I might.”

He laughs, his chest vibrating underneath you as he hugs you even tighter. “No take backs.”

He nuzzles further into you, resting his cheek against the top of your head, apparently not minding your still damp hair. You feel his hand start rubbing circles against your back. You shiver a little, his touch sending a little thrill through you.

It feels so… domestic. Being in his arms like this. This easy, comfortable intimacy that used to be so foreign to you. You never thought you’d get to have this.

After a few minutes of calm silence, Felix speaks again. “What do we like… do?”

“Um…” you laugh a bit. “I don't know? I thought you would know.”

“Me? I mean… It's just weird because we've been friends, like, forever.”

He's right. The boundaries feel a bit blurry now. You lift your head a little to look up at him. His eyes are a little unfocused, his gaze roaming around the room as he thinks.

“I— I can’t believe I’m dating my best friend. That's so cliché,” he says, before pausing. “I mean… We're still friends, right? That doesn’t like… change?”

“I… yeah..?” You think you'd rather die than lose him as a friend. “We'll always be friends.”

To emphasize your point, you reach up and flick his forehead gently.

“Dude!” he complains, rubbing his forehead. “What was that for?”

“You’re being stupid,” you tell him. “If we're not gonna still be friends then I don't wanna do this at all.”

“You're still violent,” he mutters, pouting a little before smiling. “Okay, okay, okay. Friends forever.”

—

(Later…)

“We should go on a date.”

You almost completely trip and fall over on your way to the couch in the living room, but manage to catch yourself. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, looking a little sheepish. “Like, out somewhere. Fancy dinner. Candlelight. The whole thing.”

You don't know why it surprised you so much. Of course couples go on dates. Still, you raise an eyebrow at him. “The whole thing,” you repeat, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

He pouts at you. “Come on. I’m trying to be romantic here. Work with me.”

With a sigh, you sit next to him and look sideways at him. “I can’t believe you’re serious. Candlelight—”

“Hey.” He straightens up, a determined look on his face. “I am serious. It’s gonna be romantic and sweet and amazing and you’re going to fall deeply in love with me and—”

You roll your eyes at his words, unable to hold back a smile. “Is that so, Casanova?”

His ears flush a bit, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. I’ll have you know I’ve charmed plenty of people this way.”

You roll your eyes again, still smiling.

“And then after I make you swoon with my unstoppable rizz and devilish good looks, we’ll… make out in the back of my car?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Your face flushes red at the suggestion, but you quickly try to compose yourself. “Yeah, right. I'm not even special, huh? You do that with everyone?”

Felix laughs, his eyes glittering with amusement. “No! No,” he protests, shaking his head quickly.

He reaches out to grab your hand, his touch warm and gentle. He interlaces your fingers together, holding your hand gently but firmly in his.

“No, it’s just you,” he says, an earnest look on his face. “I promise. Just you.”

The sincerity in his voice has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you can feel your cheeks flushing a little again. You look down at your hands together, feeling a strange sort of vulnerability.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I think you've been watching too many cheesy rom coms.”

He laughs. “Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “But it’s a good plan, right?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t help but feel affection bloom in your chest. This is what you missed. The easy banter, the playful teasing.

“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Very suave. Charm my pants off in an expensive restaurant. You should show up with a boombox while you're at it.”

Felix grins at that. “Hell yeah.”

You're suddenly startled by the sound of the front door unlocking. You let go of Felix's hand but you barely get a second to think before the door is swinging open and a boisterous voice bursts through the room.

“Yooo, Felix you in? Minho kicked me out cus apparently studying is important and I don't get anything done over there but I—”

You and Felix turn to face Jisung, who cuts off when he sees you together. His mouth drops open in a small ‘o’ and his eyes narrow as they flick back and forth between the two of you curiously.

You blink a few times, wondering what his deal is until — Oh shit. You quickly slap your hand over your neck but it's too late.

“Oh. Dude. No fucking way,” Jisung grins, looking absolutely gleeful. “Innie totally owes me twenty bucks.”

You and Felix exchange horrified looks. “What?!”

—

a/n: so.... what started as a silly one shot scenario quickly devolved into a 30k+ long series LMAO.. honestly, i never would have written as much as i did if not for yall loving it sm. thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support, i never ever could have dreamed it! i hope this was enjoyable and a satisfying resolution (^—^) plss lmk what you thought!

thank you SO MUCH for reading 🫶🩷💕

p.s. made a playlist for the series !

alsour maybe answer my poll pleasie

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

Text

THE BREAK UP BUSINESS — EP. 1

[ an advent calendar series ]

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

[ abstract ]: He breaks up relationships, professionally. Lee Minho is the man people call when they wanna end things with their (not so) better half but don’t have the guts to do it. But this Christmas time everything changes, when he receives an offer from his former best friend and college roommate who needs desperate help to break up with his fiancée—you. However, this complicates everything. After all, you’ve been the only person that’s ever made Minho believe that true love might actually exist. So, what happens when you take the delivered message about the break up not so well and Minho—feeling guilty—offers you a place to stay, all while pushing away the feelings he’s had for you for years?

[ general ]: minho + fem reader, childhood friends/enemies → lovers, non idol au, best friend’s ex, demisexual reader, angst + fluff + smut, sunshine x grumpy, she falls first but he falls harder

[ warning ]: break up, mention of infidelity

[ words ]: 2.6K

[ note ]: here’s the first part for my advent calendar series! I hope you guys enjoy. The huge excitement when I announced my story made me so happy (but also nervous ngl) so: enjoy! And let me know what you thought about the first episode by commenting, reblogging or sending an ask my way 🩵

[ !! ]: the beautiful dividers are from @saradika-graphics

Minho decides to not hit the snooze button yet another time, when the alarm starts ringing once more. What a start of the week. He desperately would have needed another hour of having his eyes closed but there’s no minute left for that.

Sitting upright on his king sized bed, he swings his feet to the ground and gets up. When he finally blinks a few times and takes in his surroundings, he notices the red leather purse that’s placed on his huge sofa in his studio apartment.

”You’re still here, Tanya?” he asks, hearing his own voice echo into the distance.

There she is, already freshly styled and in a new outfit, reaching for her bag, “What do you mean, Min?”

She looks confused. Like she usually does when Minho asks weird questions like this. They’ve been dating for some time, so why is he speaking as if he wants to get rid of her?

“I’ve got a work appointment in less than an hour. I should get going. I wasn’t aware you’d stay here for so long,” he tries to save his ass but only makes it worse.

The blonde woman scoffs, “So, what? Am I an inconvenience for you? Good morning to you too, Lee.”

She grabs her jacket, already on the way to the door.

“Shit—wait, that’s not what I meant. It came off weirdly, I’m sorry. You mean so much to me,” Minho replies, running after her, as he reaches for Tanya’s hand.

She raises one of her eyebrows. “How much?”

“Very much,” he instantly replies. Because that’s the truth. At least he thinks so. He enjoys spending time with that woman, so why make such a huge fuss about it? Isn’t that all that counts?

“So much that you still haven’t introduced me to any of your friends, huh?”

Ouch. Right.

“I’ve explained it to you…” he says, sounding like a broken record to the woman whose hand he’s gripping onto right now.

“Yeah, Minho. And I’ve been patient,” Tanya starts again. “For way too long. I can’t do this situationship type of thing. You’re a great guy and I thought it was worth it to give it a try despite your commitment issues–“

“I don’t have–“

She sighs, “Are you lying to yourself now?”

“Sorry,” he says, his voice dropping quiet.

“That’s all you ever say, Minho. That you’re sorry. But your actions don’t show it. Last night was the last chance I gave you,” she explains to him.

He looks at her bewildered, not quite getting it. Now Minho is the confused one. “Last chance? I wasn’t even aware of that.”

Tanya chuckles, “That’s always what it’s like with you men. You didn’t see it coming.” She takes a deep breath. There’s no bad blood there, but she’s tired of it. “I’m not mad at you—maybe a bit, for wasting my time. Which is why I have to go. But I hope if you find the woman that’s worth fighting for so that you will man up and do so.”

“Tanya– wait!”

“Don’t. Have a nice day,” is what she says, her voice gentle, before Minho hears his front door close.

Fucking hell. What a start of the week. It’s only Monday. Minho pushes the sadness and all his feelings away, as he’s done for the past 26 years. Even though he just ended something that could have become so serious if he didn’t have those commitment issues. He’s gotta get himself together—there are a bunch of customers waiting for him, ready to get what they ordered.

So, that’s the irony, to explain a bit of context here. Minho basically has turned his weakness into his passion and career. Similar to Batman—but whereas the rich superhero saves the city, Minho basically destroys it. Okay. That’s a bit harsh. He only breaks hearts, professionally.

What does that mean?

Well, Minho works for a company that does the dirty jobs no one wants to do. They’re the ones you call when you—for whatever reason—aren’t able to end a relationship on your own. Minho will do it for you—visit your (still) significant other, deliver that message to them, offer a bit of empathy, and go to the next appointment.

He’s been doing this for a little over two years now, after he’s decided to start all over again and it’s going great. Minho is the most successful in his team, ending a couple of relationships per day. Seoul is a big city and there seem to be a lot of unhappy people that would rather have someone else send those awful news than do it themselves.

Jokes aside—there are situations in which it’s better for safety reasons to call a professional like Minho. The Break Up Business (they could have been a little more creative there) will also do the aftercare. A huge basket full of chocolate, awful romantic movies on DVDs (retro), tissues and whatever one asks for to get them through the next stage of their life.

It’s already noon and time for his lunch break, when Minho has saved a woman out of the claws of her possessive (now ex) boyfriend, called out a serial cheater and ended a relationship between two more couples that just didn’t know how to communicate.

When he’s done with his caesar salad and the iced americano, he receives a call from his boss.

“What is it?” he asks, listening to the man at the other side of the speaker.

“I’ve got another spontaneous job for you. I’ll send you the address, alright?”

That’s also how it’s gonna be sometimes. Usually, Minho meets the part of the relationship who wants to end things first, discussing everything with them. However, from time to time, there might be a job that one of his colleagues has already started and for schedule reasons he needs to finish it. It’s less work but also a bit more complicated to really get into a case this way. But he's gonna ace it anyway.

Minho takes a quick glimpse at the information and data his boss sent him, when he notices something. Weird. He’s heard of that street before. He remembers that his former best friend thought about moving there and even visited an apartment for sale.

Why is he remembering this?

Well, Minho has always compared himself to Hyunwoo ever since they became roommates in college. The slightly older one used to be way more charismatic, bringing home women after women, while still succeeding and being year’s best in school.

Minho has never had issues with that life—he’s kind of become this way nowadays too, having strangers sleeping in his bed over and over again—but a very certain detail makes his stomach do a little twist.

Chill the fuck out. It’s just the same street. This doesn’t mean that Hyunwoo is the customer.

Until he reads further.

Customer: Choi Hyunwoo

Fucking hell. The thing is—it wouldn’t be much of an issue if his former roommate didn’t start a relationship with a very certain someone. A person whose heart Minho does not want to break. After all, they destroyed his own little feelings years ago, without even knowing.

You.

The only woman he’s ever loved, cherished, imagined a serious future with. Until she decided to go out with his roommate instead because Minho was too much of a coward to be straightforward and honest when he knew he had the chance.

Shit. First Tanya breaks up with him and now a person from season 3 of his life returns to season 5. This can’t be real. And it’s only Monday.

And when Minho reads further, all his assumptions turn out to be true.

Partner: Y/L/N Y/N

He can’t do this. He can’t deliver a message of heartbreak to you. But Minho also has never cancelled a job offer. This would look very bad and he knows his boss has high expectations especially when it comes to him.

Minho knew this was gonna come back and bite him in the ass one day.

When he reaches your apartment building, luckily the door downstairs is opened, so he can just crawl up the stairs and get ready for his misery. The irony yet again. You are the one who’s gonna have their life changed in less than a minute and Minho is projecting it onto himself. But it’s the first time it feels as if he’s actually breaking up with someone and not just delivering a message.

The door swings open and he notices your smile fade away the second you see him. Gosh. You look even prettier than two ago when he last saw you. You’ve got your hair and nails done all prettily, wearing one of those illegally tight skirts that would make him go crazy even back in college.

Minho and you have known each other for a long time, getting way back to middle school, which makes his emotional attachment to you worse. Especially since that man has commitment issues and this is a foreign terrain for him.

“W-What do you want?” you ask. No hello, no greetings. But he doesn’t blame you. After all, you ended things on not so good terms.

“I’m…” he begins, his words getting caught in his throat. Shit. This has never happened to him. He’s so utterly nervous. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” you ask, looking at him confused, “Hyunwoo is at work, he won’t be back until the evening hours.”

Yeah I know. I read his case file. He’s already got someone else to stay the night with that’s been going on for some months but I’m gonna spare you the details.

“It’s… not related to him,” Minho lies.

And then, suddenly, your whole demeanour shifts.

“Shit. Did something happen? Something with your mum?”

Fuck. The fact that you’re instantly getting worried about his family makes him feel like an even bigger asshole. Why the hell is he doing this to you?

But it’s his job. He’s got no choice.

“Can I come inside?” he asks, ignoring your questions.

“S-Sure.” You let him in and tell him to sit down on the couch in the huge living room. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“It’s fine, thanks,” he declines.

Your apartment is beautiful, although a little pretentious but he knows Hyunwoo’s taste a lot.

“So, what’s with mum?” you ask now, referring to his mother. But you’re close to her too—after all she’s best friends with your mum—since Minho and you have known each other for over ten years.

“Nothing. I’m here for something else,” he admits.

“W-What is it then? Minho, you’re starting to scare me…”

He throws his head back, showing off his adam’s apple and it does something unholy to you that you’re way too ashamed to admit.

“I’m here because of Hyunwoo,” he confesses.

“I told you he isn’t there,” you state, looking at him confused. God, can all women stop looking at him like this?

“I know. I’m delivering a message from him,” he starts again.

“What are you now? A pigeon? I don’t understand this,” you try to handle the situation with humour.

“I work for a company called The Break Up Business and people call us if t-they want to end their relationship. I’m here to tell you that Choi Hyunwoo doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” he runs over his own words, blurting them out as fast as he can. Usually, he’s much more charismatic with that.

“What? Are you kidding me? It’s not even April Fools day,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff, “No, you’re not, Minho. You’ve actually never been sorry for anything in your life. I know you too well for this.”

Ouch. That hurt. Although you might be right.

He reaches for a package that’s placed beside him, “I can offer you a basket filled with–“

“Shove that up your ass, Lee.” You laugh in his face because what else are you supposed to do? “Why the hell are you the one delivering that message? Why can’t Hyunwoo end things like an adult with me?”

You’re not gonna break my heart again. I’m over you. That’s why I started dating your roommate in the first place.

“Fucking shit, six months before the wedding. What a prick,” you sigh, speaking to yourself but you know that Minho is still listening. It’s probably part of his job. What a weird career path he’s chosen there. He might as well have ended up on a reality TV show instead.

“We offer–“ he starts but immediately gets interrupted.

“I don’t care, Minho. I’m not in a state to function right now, as you can see. I’m sure you’re familiar with these things, regarding you’re doing this professionally. I didn’t know you’d become so low.”

Ouch. That was personal. That was some hidden resentment that’s bubbling up like a volcano from within. But Minho is used to way worse reactions—objects being thrown his way, being yelled at until his ears hurt, having to call the police in a few cases.

“I understand that you’re angry. You’ve got every right to be,” is what he says—a typical customer service phrase that won’t get him in any legal trouble but serve the bare minimum of fake-empathy.

“Did he even give a reason?”

He realises now—that’s the first time you’re actually asking for details on the break up. So far, you’ve complained about Minho talking to you or Hyunwoo’s timing but not the situation itself.

“He did. He’s found someone else,” Minho states, telling you what he’s read in the case file.

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Yeah, no doubt. Kinda saw that coming, but I’ve always been blind I guess,“ you say, pushing your glasses a little higher on your nose.

“Again, I am really sorry. If you ever need help or someone to talk to–“

“That someone is definitely not you,” you spit back.

Minho takes a deep breath, pressing the palms of his hands together. “We have professionals. Here’s a list of phone numbers and mail addresses you can contact,” he says, handing you a piece of paper.

“Okay,” is all that makes it past your lips. “Can you please go now? I need to pack my shit and see where I’ll be staying the night.”

“Right,” he says, handing you another sheet, “we’ve booked a hotel room for you. You can stay there for the next night and then you’re asked to leave the apartment since it’s under Choi Hyunwoo’s name.”

Minho sounds like a robot.

He’s never thought he’d break your heart some day. But Minho is blatantly unaware of the fact this isn’t the first time this has happened. After all, you wouldn’t be in a position like this if he made the right decisions a few years ago.

“I’ll… I’ll see you again tomorrow, for another appointment regarding the moving out process,” your former childhood frenemy informs you.

“You’re gonna be there too? So your company does everything to ruin people’s lives?”

Nothing new for Minho and you. After all, he’s the one who was constantly picking fights and annoying you during middle and high school, then became friends with you in college just to walk out of your life again. You’re used to it by now.

“We will help you find a place to stay. You don’t have to take that offer. But we’re here,” he explains.

“Oh, I will. You’re the one who put me in this situation so you’re gonna find a solution for me.”

And perhaps there’s a slight chance that you want him to stay in your life for a day longer now that he’s back.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Minho announces, before he leaves the apartment.

When he’s out the door, he feels tears pricking on his lower lashline. Fuck. He should have just told his boss to give that case to someone else.

But on the bright side—he’s got you back. You’re single. He’s single.

What if–

Shit, slow down. You wouldn’t give him a chance anyway, right?

388 notes · View notes

candyquokka · 2 months ago

Text

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Six)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, fluff at the end, hurt/comfort (literally), knives, cutting open wounds, mentions of blood and puss and scars [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 6,085

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

Previous | Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

You waited another day to see if your side would get any better but it still hurt, and it was still shiny and red. It was even hot to the touch which you knew wasn’t good. You decided it most likely was infected, and you would take care of it once everyone went to bed that night. The problem was waiting that long because it hurt more than it did the last few days, so even just sitting the wrong way made you almost whimper in pain.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Chan asked as he walked into the den.

You looked up from your book, laying across one of the couches so it would cause less strain on your side, “No thank you.”

He frowned, “Why? You always like leaving the house, you said it’s boring staying inside.”

“Yeah, but…” you paused for a moment to think of a good excuse, “this one part is getting really good.”

Chan squinted at your book before giving you a look like he knew you were lying, “The Ultimate Guide to Gardening?”

“...I finally got to string beans.”

He sighed and took the book from between your hands, “_____, what’s wrong? Ever since Minho said...that to you, you haven’t wanted to do anything. Are you…depressed maybe?”

You knew Chan would go insane if he found out you were actually depressed being with him and living in his house. You weren’t, but if he ever thought you were, he’d surely go berserk trying to figure out what to do and how to fix it.

“If anything were going to make me depressed, it would be whatever’s goin’ on up here,” you pointed to your head, signifying your conflicting thoughts that hadn’t stopped since you first laid eyes on Chan, “rather than whatever comes out of Minho’s stupid mouth. I swear, I’m fine.”

“Did someone else say something?” he wondered.

“No.”

“Is it something physically bothering you?”

“No.”

“You know you can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Chan was frustrated, he made it clear when he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands, “Can you please just tell me so I can help you? It’s not healthy being cooped up inside all the time. You haven’t been outside in over 24 hours.”

“You’re the one who imprinted on a werewolf hunter,” you reminded him. “Stubborness is a given.”

“That’s still not my fault, it was out of my control,” he explained for the umpteenth time, “and stop trying to change the subject.”

Something else that was different after your talk with Chan was that you two hadn’t been that close again since. You went back to sleeping alone in your room, and the most contact the two of you had was his hand on your shoulder or back. It wasn’t that you told him to stop, but you didn’t necessarily make any moves to be closer to him. Your body did crave that contact again – more than just those touches, actually – but your mind would implode. You were still fighting with yourself and needed to be away from him, otherwise you knew you’d just turn into putty in his hands.

And then probably cry again. Which you were still embarrassed about.

“I’m tired, okay?” you lied easily. “I don’t sleep that well.”

He didn’t seem shocked by this. You knew he knew that you were hardly sleeping, so technically you weren’t lying to him. It just wasn’t the real reason you didn’t feel like moving lately.

“_____…” he sighed and knelt on the floor beside you. You twitched to sit up until you remembered you’d probably wince and give yourself away. “What can I do to help you sleep better? Have you tried Felix’s bed, maybe? It might be warmer.”

“It’s not that,” you shook your head. “The thoughts keep me up at night.”

Again, another not-lie.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered.

Your eyes narrowed slightly in an accusatory way, “You just want to stay with me again.”

“No, I–” he paused and then shrugged. “Well, yeah. But no.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “Give me one more night and if I don’t get a good night's sleep, you can…y’know.”

His eyes brightened but his mouth fell into a frown. You knew he was excited, but he was afraid you felt pressured to say that, “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I know, but the only time I slept well was when I…stayed with you…”

He sighed softly, patting your hand that rested on the couch close to his shoulder, “Alright, _____. If that’s what you want.”

You scoffed and smiled, “Don’t act like you weren’t waiting for me to give in.”

“I just want you to finally get some sleep, ba-” he cut himself off, something you noticed he did a lot. You assumed he was about to call you pet names and realized he shouldn’t in case it made you uncomfortable. “I want things to get better for you.”

“Me too.”

You waited for about an hour after Chan left the bedroom after saying goodnight to get up and go to the bathroom. It wasn’t abnormal for you to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom so you hoped he wouldn’t assume anything of this. Maybe he was already asleep anyway – you did your best to keep your heartbeat and breathing even so he’d think you were safe and sound asleep.

Quietly closing the door, you locked it and flipped the light on before lifting up your shirt and peeling the bandage off. The ugly red and sheen were still there. You took a deep breath, going through the cupboards to get the leftover medicine that Chan had originally cleaned the wound out with, as well as the ointment you put over it to help it heal, and a pair of scissors that they kept with the medical supplies. With everything ready, you took the scissors in your hand and tried to steady your breathing.

You can do this, you told yourself, Just do it quick like back home.

Before you could do anything, though, there was a loud knock on the door, causing you to drop the scissors with a clatter that seemed somehow too loud.

“_____?” it was Felix’s voice that was talking to you. “Your heartbeat is really fast. Are you okay?”

Why is he awake? you asked yourself in a panic because you were pretty sure everyone was asleep like, y’know, normal people.

Obviously, your panicked silence mixed with the weird clang of metal made the wolf think you were definitely not okay. He had no problem forcing the door open and seeing your makeshift surgery setup on the counter of the bathroom sink. Then his golden eyes zeroed in on the inflamed wound on your side, sucking in a breath.

“That doesn’t look good…” he commented with a quiet tone, walking forward to examine it better. “How long has it been like this?”

“Few days,” you mumbled, embarrassed that you’d gotten caught.

Felix sighed, his warm fingertips brushing the wound every so slightly, but still enough for you to wince, “Yeah, this isn’t going to get better on its own. We’ll have to clean it out again. Although...it seems like that’s what you were trying to do.”

He glanced up at you through his lashes with a pointed look.

You frowned and stared anywhere but at the wolf, your face warming up, “I just didn’t want Chan knowing, okay? If I fixed it myself, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about or anyone to fight with it about.”

Felix straightened and cocked his head to the side slightly, “None of us can heal this for you without him knowing. I mean, maybe we could sneak you out to Josh, but we wouldn’t get back until morning…”

“No,” you hissed. “Chris absolutely cannot find out. If he knows this is infected, he’s gonna scream at Seungmin.”

It was no secret that Seungmin and Minho were on thin ice with the alpha. After Minho’s latest remark to you and how poorly he was treating you when he ran into you, and the two of them assaulting you twice, this would be the final nail in the coffin for sure.

Felix seemed to mull over your condition as he bit his lip as stared at the claw marks. He definitely had to do something about this, but how was he going to heal this himself and keep this from your mate? Chan knew everything that went on when it came to you. Hell, he probably could sense something was wrong while he slept right now. But Felix couldn’t just let you walk around with it infected or let you try to fix it yourself.

“Fine,” he finally sighed, staring at the tiled floor, “but I’ll need help from some of the others. Probably Changbin and Jisung.”

You nodded, “Anyone but Chan.”

You were laying down on the desk in Changbin’s room, looking up at the ceiling as several wolves ‘prepped you for surgery’ as Jisung put it. You still weren’t very comfortable with having any of the wolves touch you, but you refused to use Chan as a security blanket right now. If he found out that the wound Seungmin gave you was infected, he’d not only kill Seungmin, but he’d never leave your side for the rest of your life.

So you just stared at the ceiling and kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting for the wolves to be ready to cut you open or whatever their plan was. Minho seemed way too casual about it as he watched with arms folded, while the other three seemed kind of stressed about the whole ordeal. You didn’t really blame them since he had to keep this from their alpha, but why was Minho humming to himself and acting perfectly fine? Why was he even here other than the fact he had woken up because him and Jisung still had to share a bed?

Then again, he was also the one who hated you and was probably hoping you would bleed out or something. If you died and Chan managed to live through the heartbreak, he’d just find a new mate. Seemed like a win/win for Minho so he'd probably want to witness it.

You hated that you had that thought because it just made you feel worse, so you tried not to think about it.

“Okay,” Changbin sighed, stepping over to you with a sharp pocket knife in one hand, and a glass jar in the other, “let’s get this over with. Jisung?”

“Y-yeah,” Jisung’s eyes snapped to Changbin, the younger wolf clearly on-edge. “I’m ready.”

“We’re gonna start now,” Felix told you.

“You know the best option is to just tell Chan, right?” Minho asked, looking between the three wolves. “He’s the only thing that can take the pain away unless we bring her to one of the healers.”

“She had a point when she said he’ll reem Seungmin for this,” Changbin pointed out, looking back at Minho. “Do you want to break up a fight at midnight?”

When Minho just rolled his eyes and conceded, Changbin put the two objects on the desk beside you before opening up the jar. He spread the contents over your wound, numbing it so you wouldn’t feel as much of the pain as normal. Then Felix held up a t-shirt that he’d rolled up the long way.

You eyed him warily, “What’s that for?”

He frowned, “Just…put it in your mouth; trust me...”

You obediently opened your mouth and let the wolf place the cloth between your teeth. Then you realized it was to muffle your cries of pain – you hoped this would quiet most of the noise so Chan wouldn’t wake up. You hoped he was too sound asleep to hear you, but just in case, you’d have to try to be as quiet as possible.

“Ready?” Changbin asked, but the question was aimed at you now.

You nodded, not saying anything with the towel in your mouth.

Changbin looked over to the younger wolf, “Do you want to clean the wound or help hold her down?”

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror, while Minho’s widened for a different reason.

“Hold her down?” Minho repeated, sounding almost…excited.

“I don’t know if I can handle…all of that…” Jisung admitted, eyeing your wound.

“You make all of the medicine but can’t handle what it’s for?” Changbin asked.

“I’ll hold her down,” Minho immediately volunteered without any prompt to do so.

Changbin shot Minho a dirty look before he sighed, “Just help Minho hold her. Felix, try to comfort her, okay?”

Felix nodded, “Got it.”

The three wolves shifted around, Jisung and Minho standing on either side of you with their hands braced on your shoulders. Felix stood between them and looked down at you with his classic bright smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did.

You saw Changbin pick something up out of the corner of your eye, and then you felt something sharp poke your side, but it was bearable. It wasn’t until Changbin dragged the blade of the knife down one of the scratches that you felt white hot pain in your side that made you arch off the table and groan into the shirt while your eyes screwed shut.

“It’s okay,” Felix shushed you as one of Minho’s hands moved down to your hip to force your body back down, “it’ll be over soon.”

“If she moves, I’ll accidentally cut where I’m not supposed to,” Changbin warned, his golden eyes staying trained on the wounds the whole time.

You bit down on the fabric as hard as you could, trying not to make any noise. You were sure your jaw was going to snap from how hard you were clenching on the shirt, and you couldn’t stop the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, slipping out and down your temples to your hair. Felix tried to wipe most of them away while Jisung and Minho pressed you down into the wooden desk.

Changbin began cutting open the second one, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw just how much blood and puss there was. He was so sure they had cleaned the wound out, so he wondered if maybe somehow stress was affecting the healing process. Or maybe Chan just didn’t do the best job of cleaning it despite how thorough he was with wounds. Or maybe it was some third thing they didn’t know about. He wasn’t sure.

The whine you let out was bordering a scream, the third one hurting more than the others, and all three wolves by your head tried to calm you this time. Changbin paused and leaned his head toward the door like he was listening, before the door opened and a very-tired-looking Seungmin came in with a half-asleep Jeongin and a slightly-terrified Hyunjin behind him, taking in the scene before them: you laying on the desk desk, three of his brothers holding you down, Changbin cutting your side open, and all the blood and fluid coming out of you and onto the towels Changbin had laid out.

“What the fuck are you–?!”

Before Jeongin could even finish his question, Minho was in front of him, gripping the back of his head with one hand and firmly placing the other hand over his mouth, “If you wake up her mate, we’ll do this to you too. Got it?”

“We’re just draining her wound,” Changbin explained, not looking away from his work. “It’s infected pretty badly.”

Seungmin quickly gathered everything he needed to know, and realized this meant his ass was on the line, “You better know how to fix that before Chan wakes up.”

“A ‘thank you’ might be better than a threat,” Changbin sneered.

Jeongin, however, had decided he didn’t want any part in the ordeal, yawning, “You never saw me in here,” before he left the room.

“Channie is gonna be so mad,” Hyunjin panicked, looking around the room for at least one sane person.

“Then go back to bed so it’s one less person to be mad at,” Changbin said gruffly. “I’m busy.”

But instead, he closed the door and went to stand by Felix. Changbin called Minho back over to help with you, and Seungmin followed behind him and stood at the foot of the desk, taking everything in. You were squirming and crying, and Changbin couldn’t do anything when you were moving around so much.

“I know, _____,” Changbin sighed as Minho stood on the other side of him and put his hands firmly on your abdomen, “I’m sorry. I’m…almost done.”

This time when the door opened, you knew it could only be one person – unless Jeongin randomly decided he did want to be involved. But your eyes were so filled with tears that it became too blurry to see, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open because of the pain.

Despite that, the voice you heard shook you to your very core, and actually sent pure fear straight through you. You’d never heard Chan sound this angry – not since the first night.

“What are you doing to her?!” Chan roared right before you felt his large, familiar hands cupping your face.

You didn’t dare open your eyes to meet his that you already knew were red with rage. But you weren’t going to let him get angry at his brothers who were only trying to help you. But you still had a shirt in your mouth being held there by your jaw that wouldn’t unclench because of the pain, therefore, you couldn’t do much to back up the wolves.

“Chan, the wound is infected,” Changbin told him, his voice trying to calm the alpha. “Look.”

When you heard him suck in a sharp breath, you knew he saw all the blood and puss that was in the wound. But then you heard the growl of Seungmin’s name leave his mouth, and you blindly tried to find your mate. Your hands flailed and searched, but Chan was already backing Seungmin into a corner.

“Um, a little help might be nice,” Minho spoke up. “Considering she’s, y’know, in severe pain.”

He paused and his head whipped around. Then he was rushing over to your side and crouching down beside you, his eyes full of hurt as he let out soft whimpers.

“_____,” Chan’s voice was much softer than it was previously, and the shirt was removed from your mouth, “I’m so sorry I let this happen.”

You opened your eyes now that the tears had cleared out more, and the pain of Changbin opening the first three scratches had become a dull, burning ache – you almost wanted to thank him for stopping before he went on to the final scratch. Chan’s eyes were still red, but they were soft when they looked at your paling face. You placed a hand on his cheek and felt somewhat better when Chan leaned into your touch.

“Please don’t get mad at Seungmin,” you croaked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Or any of them; they’re only trying to help.”

“You wouldn’t have to be in this mess if Seungmin hadn’t–”

“Seungmin didn’t know,” you cut him off with a whine, knowing it would be difficult defending the younger wolf from his alpha’s anger. “Nobody thought anyone would imprint on...the idiot hunter that broke in. He just wanted to protect his brothers.”

“Chan? Help?” Changbin prompted again, breaking the two of you out of your conversation. “I still have to get this last one open before she loses too much blood and I need you to help.”

Chan moved away from you, and your hand dropped back off the desk. Changbin moved slightly to the side to make room for him as Chan placed his large, warm hands on either side of your wound.

“I wish you asked me to do this originally,” he grumbled as his hands started to feel warmer and warmer, and the pain in your side faded more and more. Chan sucked in a sharp breath as he winced. “Can’t believe you let her be in this much pain.”

“Don’t worry, it gets worse,” Changbin told him before he placed the tip of his bloodied knife at the last mark. “Ready?”

He nodded, bracing himself for the worst of it.

Meanwhile, your body slowly untensed, relaxing onto the table. You didn’t feel anything. You wondered if Changbin was waiting for you to completely relax before he started again, but you just breathed heavily and enjoyed not feeling the sharp, hot pain of the knife. You actually didn’t even feel the sting of the other wounds Changbin had cut into your side. You felt a little warm there, but that was it. It was nice. You almost fell asleep like that.

Chan, however, felt everything. He twitched in the opposite direction of the side he felt the intense pain. He bit down on his lip, trying to keep his sounds of pain to himself but letting out grunts as his eyes squeezed shut. Seungmin could see from where he was standing that three claw marks had already been scarred into his side, matching the ones on yours. And as Changbin dragged the knife, the fourth one was carved into his skin.

These scars were bigger than most of the others that littered his skin. He had a few on his neck, and only a couple on his face. But the rest of his body – mostly his torso and arms – were covered. And yours were now his newest addition.

“Are you okay, _____?” Felix’s deep voice pulled you up from the waves of grogginess that were washing over you.

“”M okay,” you mumbled, your eyes closed. You were too tired and still felt the ghost of the pain you had felt before Chan’s hands were on you.

“How do you feel?”

“Warm…”

Felix looked to Chan, who was catching his breath after Changbin finally brought the knife away and began cleaning at the wound. This hurt less, but was still painful nonetheless and made him wince with every pass of the clean cloth and cotton balls that Changbin used.

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” Minho mumbled as he looked down at your face.

Your breathing was even through your lips and the pack could tell you’d fallen asleep. It was probably for the best anyway.

“You alright, Channie?” Changbin asked quietly once he was done cleaning you up, looking down at the alpha that had removed his hands from your side and sat back on the floor, laying back on the floor.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, so the cool hardwood felt nice on his back.

“I don’t know how she stood that,” he breathed, one arm laying across his forehead as he laid there with his eyes closed.

“Masochist,” Minho suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

Seungmin stayed silent, still standing in the corner where Chan had backed him into. His eyes stayed on your unmoving body, but his expression was unreadable.

The only thing keeping Chan from ripping Seungmin’s head off was making sure you were safe and would wake up. He stayed beside you as Changbin and Jisung worked to drain your wound properly and patch it back up, and he stayed beside you after he tucked you into his bed in a large t-shirt of his.

Now, Chan was sitting on the hardwood floor, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair and cheek as he studied your face. He wanted to hold you closer but if you woke up with him like that, it might freak you out.

“Hey, Chris?” Felix spoke up as he entered the room. The alpha didn’t look at him, but hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t think you should be so hard on Seungmin.”

“It’s his fault for scratching her in the first place,” Chan stated harshly. “He deserves whatever comes to him.”

“She told you not to be angry with him,” Felix reminded him, “and I know you can’t ignore that. She’ll be upset with you if she finds out you did anything to him.”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Jeongin began as he wandered in through the open door, “but I couldn’t sleep because of all the noise, and from what I heard, I can’t help but think she didn’t want you to worry about her. Hyunjin said she told everyone not to tell you what they were doing.”

At that, Chan turned his head, “Why would she not want me to worry?”

“Because she does care about you, idiot,” the youngest wolf sighed. “She’s said it before – we’ve heard all the breakdowns.”

“It’s conflicting, we know, but she can’t help how she feels, either,” Felix said with a shrug. “Emotions are hard. We all know that.”

“Why would she care if I’m upset with Seungmin or not, though?” the alpha quizzed.

“I think that’s her way of caring about you and your relationship with us. You know how Minho and Seungmin are sometimes? I think that’s just her all the time.”

Chan turned back to you, watching your sleeping form. He wondered if you’d wake up soon so he could just ask you himself. He didn’t care how long it took, he’d coax the answer out of you even if it took days. He wanted to know if you really did truly care for him enough that you’d go through all this trouble so he wouldn’t worry about it. He thought it was stupid of you but it still was sweet if it was true.

Like you were connected enough to hear his silent plea, you shifted a bit and your eyes fluttered open. The three wolves studied your movements carefully as you pushed yourself to sit up, wincing and hissing in pain. Chan helped you up the rest of the way, doing most of the work until you were sitting up against the headboard.

“How do you feel, _____?” Felix wondered quietly, keeping his voice low so as to not scare you. “Are you still dizzy?”

“No,” you shook your head as you rubbed your eyes that still stung from crying, “my side is just sore.”

“Which is normal,” the freckled boy shrugged. “Changbin said if it’s still looking rough in a couple of days, we’ll drain it again. Otherwise, keep applying the ointments. Jisung mixed up a new one that should help with keeping infection away.”

“I think it’s time to head back to bed,” Jeongin decided, putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder and nodding toward the door.

“Right,” he nodded like he just realized Chan probably wanted to talk to you privately – or, at least as privately as he could in a house full of werewolves that heard everything. “Have a good night, guys. Channie, please remember what we said, okay?”

Once the two boys made it out the door and Felix turned around to close it, Chan’s eyes looked at you. They were still their warm gold, but his expression was unreadable.

“That your power?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your question, not expecting the first thing out of your mouth to be that, “What?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” you mumbled, your eyes looking down to scan his exposed torso, “and you have those marks on your side where mine are. Those weren’t there before.”

He nodded a little, “I can take away others’ pain. The only catch is I feel it instead, and I get their scar, so…”

He held out his arms for you to see, rolling them over to examine all of the scars that littered his skin. It was silent, and then he let his arms rest on the bed beside you, both of you waiting for the other to say something.

“Are you mad at them?” you asked him quietly, finally breaking the silence. “Or me? …Or both?”

“Dunno,” he murmured as his eyes looked back at the blood-stained bandage covering your side. “Trying really hard to not be mad at all, but it’s hard.”

“I did this to me, not them,” you insisted, immediately going into defense mode. “I made Felix and Changbin and everyone promise not to tell you; I was basically holding the knife myself!”

His eyes darkened. You noted it was definitely a bad choice of words.

“_____, why did you keep this from me? You should’ve told me.”

You cast your eyes down to your bare lap, toying with your hands nervously. “Well...I thought it was getting infected and I wanted to fix it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you intentionally kept it from me. You made my entire pack swear to secrecy for what?” he pressed, sounding like a father scolding you.

“Because you’d get worried and get mad at Seungmin…” you admitted softly, still not making eye contact. It felt embarrassing to admit all of this to him. Was it because you were basically indirectly telling him that you do care and then it would set that in stone instead of it being kind of ambiguous by your actions? “I didn’t want to make you angry at anybody, and I didn’t want you to have to waste time worrying about me.”

“Listen to me,” he demanded softly, holding your chin gently and forcing you to look at him. His eyes were now sad as they bore into yours. “Worrying about you is not a waste of time. You’re constantly in my head; I think about you all the time. You’re never a waste of my time, _____. I love you and you know that.”

“But why do you love me when-”

“So this does have to do with Minho, too!”

Hot tears pricked your eyes, getting frustrated because you were making him angry at more person than one, when your goal was zero. “No, this is different!”

You hated yourself for being a frustrated cryer.

But having you cry, especially because of him, was the last thing Chan wanted. In a swift movement, he was sitting on the bed and had pulled you into his lap, cradling your head against his chest as he softly rocked you and shushed you, “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right. I just...I’m angry at myself for not being able to help you or stop you from doing this. I hated seeing you like that. I think I almost died.”

You were going to make a, ‘no, I almost died’ joke just to lighten the mood but you knew it would upset Chan, so you just hid your face in his chest. This time, you would let yourself just rest there in his hold.

He held you closer, rubbing your back soothingly. He purred softly in approval at the amount of contact, and you were just as happy, albeit a little confused because of your heart battling your instincts. But were you making any movement to leave his hold anytime soon? Absolutely not.

“Please don’t be mad at them,” you mumbled, your words getting muffled by his chest. “Any of them. Not Seungmin or Changbin or Felix...even Minho.”

He sighed, trying to see it from your point of view. He felt he had to take it out on someone or something or he’d just make himself more miserable for not being there for you. He felt like a bad mate.

“If you promise to always tell me when something’s wrong…” he began slowly before taking a deep breath to calm himself, “I won’t be angry with any of them. Although I do have some strong words for Minho for the things he said to you.”

You forgot Chan had been ignoring him ever since he found out the things he said about you being his mate. You pulled back a little to look up into his eyes. “I can’t tell you all the time.”

“You can try,” he smiled softly. “Promise me you’ll try?”

You nodded, “Promise.”

He cleared away any stray tears but continued to hold you in his arms, his back against the wall.

“I know it’s late but...I don’t want to move,” he admitted with a warm laugh.

“My head is still screaming to run,” you laughed softly, your head resting against his shoulder.

“What about your heart?”

“God, Chris, that’s so cheesy,” you whined.

“Come on,” he laughed, carding his fingers through your hair, “just tell me.”

You sighed and closed your eyes, “I guess…I think it’s kinda nice.”

“It’s just a matter of getting that pretty little werewolf-hunting head of yours to agree.”

“How did you just...give in to it?”

He hummed softly as he thought it over, wanting to give an answer that might actually help you, “Well...I think part of it is that the feeling is much stronger for us. But I think it helped that I started to trust you being around my brothers. I knew they would still be safe with you here, so I didn’t have to hold myself back anymore. I had to be near you and make you happy.”

“So...I should just ignore my head?” you asked slowly, repeating what you’d gathered from his speech.

“I know it’s easier said than done,” he chuckled, moving his head to look down at you, “but it’s worth a shot. Just start small.”

Start small, huh? What’s something small you could do? Your eyes wandered around a bit before settling on his hand on your thigh. You carefully took it off your thigh and put your hand on his like you were measuring who had bigger hands – you noted that Chan’s were a bit larger. Then you laced your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze that had his inner wolf grumbling with joy.

“Is this...okay?” you asked, still unable to make eye contact with him – especially now.

So you didn’t see his wide grin as he nodded, “This is perfect.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his lap. You were exhausted, too exhausted to move, so you ended up knocking out while he hummed softly and told you stories of his brothers and the pack.

When he noticed you were asleep, he carefully shifted you onto the bed, laying you down and tucking you in before he got up, deciding to go sleep on the couch again. He thought you’d want it to yourself as he said you should take small steps, and he didn’t want to just assume he could sleep in the same room as you, even if it was in Felix’s bed. Although you’d slept in the same bed together before, that was when you said you wanted to. Now, he wasn’t sure, and it was better safe than sorry.

He laid down on the couch that was a little shorter and thinner than his bed, and tried to get as comfortable as he could. He laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and trying to listen to every move and sound you made in your sleep. That’s why it didn’t take him long to get to you about an hour later.

“No!” your tired voice gasped, and he jolted out of bed and ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Upon flinging the door open, he saw you were still sound asleep, the moonlight shining in onto your sleeping face. “No…”

Your brows were creased slightly, a small frown etched onto your face. You kept softly repeating ‘no’, so Chan took a cautious step in, wanting to wake you up in case you were having a bad dream.

“Finley…”

He paused. You’d mentioned Nolan, who was your brother. But…who was Finley?

He heard a bedroom door open a split second before he heard, “She’s already talking about other men?”

The voice made him jump and he quickly but silently closed your bedroom door. He whipped around to see Minho standing in the doorway, smirking playfully at the alpha, but it was clear he had woken up from the hour or so of sleep he’d gotten between then and everyone cleaning up after the incident.

But Chan just looked at him expressionlessly before turning and going back downstairs to the couch.

Minho’s expression fell as he watched his brother go.

»»————-　　————-««

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