gyuten

[gyuten]

is he wrong though

[gyuten]

heavens will burn

— Genre: angst, fluff ; bodyguard!au

— Pairing: bodyguard!jungkook/celebrity!reader

— Words: 11.3 k

— Synopsis: The truth is that love is only easy for the very lucky few. Jeon Jungkook is in love with someone, and she him. Their love should have come easy, if only life hadn’t given him the biggest misfortune of all: a curse to never be able to touch others without harming them. To Jungkook, his love becomes nothing but sweet pain.

— A/N: if any of you recognize the plot of this fic, then congrats, you’ve figured out who I am :)

“I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

Her black cap does little to shadow her features, a refined glamour too familiar to the eyes of the public—be it from pages strewn on magazine stands, the statics of TV or gigantic billboards scattered across glinting skyscrapers. Her latest designer sunglasses isn’t subtle, neither are the diamonds circling her wrist, it glitters in the light of the coffee shop brighter than the cheap christmas ornaments strung on the corner. Jungkook sometimes wonders if he has the patience to continue this job—a job that entails protection, not babysitting. These stubborn moments of hers often makes him wonder why he agreed to be her bodyguard in the first place. Oh yes, it is purely due to the fact that he is in love with her that he is willing to withstand her every action—not that he’ll ever admit it, gosh no.

“But you’re warm.” She draws out her words in a whine.

Her fingers are drawing circles on his back, a motion that should make him shrink away, for its gentle and nonchalance is not something he is entitled to receive. He does not draw away, selfishly, he doesn’t want to. Over a year it has been since he attempted to draw boundaries between them: his defenses laid set, the perimeters to his shriveled heart strong as it always was, and the layers encasing him towed securely wherever he goes. She is either blind to all the warning signs he’s set up, or is the very naive feline in the phrase: curiosity killed the cat. Somehow, she wedges past the barbed wires surrounding him to settle in the most desolate part of him: his heart. Calling her stubborn would be an understatement. Nevertheless, she succeeded, her presence now a permanent figure that if taken away will undoubtedly leave an ugly tear of her shape. He hopes she doesn’t, for it’s too late for him to stop from falling for her.

“The car has a heater for a reason.” He quips, folding his arms over his chest in a useless act of defense.

Her lips form into an annoyed pout at the indifference he wears. Though she knows it will crumble down in no time, she doesn’t quite understand why Jungkook is always adamant on playing this game of cat and mouse with her. Why resist the inevitable? The answer, mostly, is because [Name] is still clueless to his special circumstance. Special being a too nice way to describe the curse he bears. The painful reality is that Jeon Jungkook is cursed with never being able to touch another person without decreasing their life span. The handmade rock tombstone of the deceased pets lining his home’s garden is proof of it. It’s not a surprise that the once soft spoken and warm hearted boy winds up as a stranger to his former self, lifeless and close to undead if anything else.

“You’re so mean...and I’m okay with that.” She giggles like there’s a joke he’s missing.

Jungkook feels his right eye twitch at how soft and accepting she is of him, another reason as to why he has grown fond of her—with fond being an understatement. No matter what he does to push her away, how cold or sharp his words struck her, she always comes back, too eagerly, too enthusiastic, too unguarded and trusting of him. He hoped her feelings for him will be nothing more than just a phase, for both their sake. But deep down he doesn’t want her to stop, doesn’t want the shower of affection he’s been deprived of to be taken away just like that. There’s a sense of confusion weighing him ever since he met her, he drifts in a limbo of uncertainty, between the lines of falling in love and refusing to.

“Hey, you’re not getting mad at me for invading your personal space anymore. I’d say, there seems to be progress in my attempts to woo you, am I right?” Her face pops into his peripheral vision from over his shoulder, treading on being too confident.

But she is right. Though he’ll never admit it. Jungkook shrugs her off when she digs her chin on his shoulder blades. There is an indentation she leaves whenever he lets her touch him, going deeper than breaking the surface of his skin it makes him crave for more, but he cannot allow himself to. It’s why he does his best to distance himself. A touch from him can be lethal. Nevermind a graze, a stroke, an embrace. That is the thought that keeps him awake at night, at least once, before he met her. But now, his sleepless nights are spent wondering if he will ever feel her touch, no one else’s, and if he will be forever content with being able to feel just her skin. Whenever his mind drifts to that particular direction, Jungkook’s rational side slaps a painful reminder. No, he cannot allow himself to crave the touch of others, or her, especially not her, especially now, now that he finds himself inevitably drawn to the overly affectionate woman whose laughter can warm his freezing nights.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re spacing out again—”

The hand waving over his face comes too close and too suddenly, Jungkook instinctively jerks away to escape it from touching the tip of his red nose. His foot crunch on her leather boots by mistake, but she doesn’t whine or speak about it. Instead, she looks at her hand, perplexed that then turns to guilt.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She apologizes, averting her eyes to her shoes.

He hates that she can sound so beaten up and rejected over him. If only she can understand why he does things like this.

“No, no, you just startled me.” He tries to sound nonchalant, not at all freaked out like the way he reacted.

But the way she keeps pouting and now move away from him tells him he isn’t convincing. Jungkook sighs.

“[Name], come on, you know it’s not you. I just have issues with personal space.”

Jungkook hates pleading, but he finds himself doing it without being asked to if it concerns her. The corner of her lips lifts into a smile, a complete 360 from how sad she was just seconds ago—she was just acting, of course, that’s what she does for a living.

“Why though?” She asks, head tilting to let her hair fall over her shoulder like a soft curtain.

Jungkook turns back to the person in front of him in the queue and pretends as if he doesn’t hear her question. He turns a blind eye to her even as she bumps him from behind and whines his name exaggeratedly to get his attention. All that he cares for is that she’s not really mad at him, it’s just another round of trying to find the reason why he’s the way he is. One would think she’d have given up asking after so long. Well, that one would’ve been wrong. [Name] is nothing but persistent.

“It’s none of your business, [Name]. Now please stop, you’re going to cause a scene. And that would be a hassle for both of us.” Jungkook’s curt words cease her action, which honestly surprises him, though he doesn’t complain at her rare compliance.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”

The shamelessness in the way she says it makes him turn back around to face her, wide eyed and pink cheeked. She raises her eyebrows when their eyes meet, the smug expression she wears challenging him to respond. Jungkook has no time for her silly games, however. They’ve already spent too much time in this coffee shop, and certainly they’re going to be late to their destination. Jungkook flicks her off with a gloved hand over her mouth and shoves her head back—gently, of course. He returns to face the front of the queue with a roll of his eyes, hearing her complain at him for the awful taste of his glove that she had accidentally tasted.

“Oi, that is no way to treat A-list celebrity [Name]!” She rebukes, brows furrowing into a threatening expression Jungkook isn’t impressed by.

“What? [Name]?”

“She’s here?”

“Oh my gosh there she is!”

“[Name]! I’m such a huge fan, please take a picture with me!”

Jungkook releases a long, long sigh and slams his head on his palms.

“Oops?”

“You have really big eyes and it freaks me out sometimes.”

“You have a really big mouth and it makes me want to shove my shoe in it, sometimes.” Jungkook throws out without as much as a blink.

She giggles, always entertained and amused at his hostility, knowing it’s nothing more than a ruse he has to keep up around her. Currently, his eyes are not on her, but on the magazine pages with her picture stamped on the cover. She smiles softly at how immersed on her spread he seems. No matter how much he denies it—how he’s just there to protect her, not watch her movies, buy magazines featuring her, or stalk her on social media—she knows that he does what he can to support her.

“If you do that, I might fire you.” She threatens, though it lacks any real meaning.

“You like me too much to fire me.” Jungkook confidently replies, a smug smirk tilting his lips.

She bites back her tongue, unable to deny it. They both know it's true, though neither has said it out loud before. Jungkook has a way of making her think often of their relationship despite acting like he could care less about it. To her, what they have could be considered more than just a normal bodyguard-celebrity relationship. To him, she isn’t sure.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

As he raises an eyebrow in response, [Name] finds herself enthralled in the effortless way that his features move, like a moth drawn to a flame, the words at the tip of her tongue dies as her mind starts to wander. He is comparable to the many actors she’s had the pleasure of working with: a set of stone cold gaze under undeniably gorgeous eyes, a smile that—while rare—is captivating in a soft and shy kind of brilliance, features sculpted into a vision of art, and a voice that entails all the good dreams she’s ever had. She’s being dramatic, yes, but it’s not as if none of it are true.

“You’re staring.” He points out.

Though so, his eyes have not left his magazine. But the way his adam’s apple bob and his fingers fidget as he pinches the corner of the page makes her wonder if he’s really been reading or just looking for a reason not to look at her.

“So? I’m not invading your space, though.” She reasons with a smile that’s so amused at how suddenly awkward he seems, reading in the corner of the room, pinned by her stare.

Jungkook’s shoulders are drawn back and stiff, his fingers crumple the pages before finally he lands his half-hearted glare on her.

“It’s still rude to stare.”

She edges herself closer to the end of the couch and twists her body to him. There’s a sudden low rumbling that cuts their gazes. Jungkook’s face immediately morphs to that of a disappointed frown, and [Name] replies to it with a half-hearted fake confusion.

“Did you skip out on breakfast again?” He raises a scrutinizing eyebrow.

[Name] thins her lips to stop herself from answering. Her next movements are swift, and Jungkook cannot avoid it as a rolled ball of her used sock comes hurtling at his chest. He only has time to react by pulling out his arms in front of him by the time the sock ball has landed on his lap. The expression he pulls out afterwards is one of disbelief as he glares at her.

“Did you just throw a sock ball at me?!” How juvenile, he thinks, and yet, it’s so her.

Before Jungkook can drag her to the nearest buffet table and chew her out for avoiding his question, [Name] has got running head start away from him with a giggle hanging by her lips.

“Hey!”

Jungkook clambers off the couch and chases her out of her dressing room, an expression of furrowed eyebrows and jutted bottom lip as he runs.  

“Come back here so I can feed you!” He yells, not minding the stares he receives as he whizz by.

The laughter she carries as she runs past him is what slows Jungkook’s pace down in the chase after her. Despite how often frustrated he feels due to her lack of concern for her well being, Jungkook can’t recall the last time he hears her laugh with such unguarded carefreeness. The very fact burdens his mind with melancholy. He understands that the life of a celebrity isn’t as glamorous as the media and television makes it seem, but before this job, he could never guess that the celebrity life is also this emotionally draining on someone. Perhaps that’s why she acts so childishly towards him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s the only thing keeping her together the way she is keeping him sane.

“Hey, Jungkook, you’re spacing out again,” She has stopped running and now stands before him on the other side of the room, hand on her hips and a pout on her lips, “You’re so not fun.” She playfully taunts, disappointed at the sudden halt in their chase.

Jungkook composes himself from his wandering thoughts, and with a clear of his throat beckons her closer. Recognizing the silent reprimanding in his eyes, [Name] trudges over in defeat, rebuking with a sulk she hopes is enough to force Jungkook into guilt. It isn’t. She stops when the tips of their shoes meet, their distance close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath against her skin—the only touch he allows her to feel—this a deliberate action done to taut his nerves. For a reason unknown, Jungkook doesn’t push her away like he always does when she stands too close, this time he lets her.

His stone cold guise bares itself into the truth of his flawed and worn down complexion: the blotch of redness scattered across his cheek, the bruise like ringlets surrounding his eyes, the spider web like crack across his lips. There is a vulnerability in him she’s never been aware of at this close of a distance, bathing him in a light more humane than he ever was. Unlike the immaculate Jungkook who strives for perfection, the one before her is just a man struggling under the weight of life. Perfection is not the reason Jungkook appeals to her, it is the cracks and dents he harbors that draws her curious and thirsty for a sip of what he truly is.

The noise of their bustling shooting set is swallowed by the stone walls of the waiting room they stand on. Once they fall silent, so does the entire room. The way they are separated from the rest of the world gives off an intimacy to their silent stare off. Jungkook always avoids moments like this, fearful for what might happen if he is to be left alone with her. Despite all his attempts, here he is, stiff and pliant for her. Her gaze always hold an unadulterated compassion for him, soft and heart warming like the crackle of a fireplace. Yet when she is this close to him, there lies a severity bordering on dangerous, a heat threatening to burn that nearly leaves him breathless.

Jungkook swallows down the trembling of his limbs—his body’s immediate reaction whenever it senses her near. He wonders how he is still able to stand, to circulate air and still manage to function properly when she is so close, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off her skin. As much as the racing of his heart and rush of blood in his veins drives him to make this moment eternal, he knows he is not allowed to feel. Not her. Fear curls around him with a vice grip, whispering paranoias and nightmares that will sure to come if he surrenders to his desire of taking that one step closer and sealing their distance.

Do you really think she’ll let you be around her again when she finds out?

She doesn’t need you, you are but a stardust in her galaxy.

You ruin everything you touch.

You weren’t raised to love tender, you weren’t raised to love someone like her.

She is too kind, and you are too violent.

If you hurt her, it might kill you.

Bone-chilling coldness slices through his skin like a waterfall of ice, the pain slithers up his spine and shatters the hope harboring in his heart. He jolts away from her, all too aware of what he had done, and how wrong it was. [Name] frowns as he recoils, the pain scrunched in his expression wrenched her heart. It’s a dull ache she’s used to, for Jungkook always pulls away every time she holds her hand out to him, every time the are too close for his liking. A heavy sigh wrack his chest, hiding the choked way it rises and falls.

“Eat, [Name].” The words he said is not what he is truly pleading for.

Jungkook clears his throat, and he becomes stone cold again with the distance he forces upon them. He must’ve felt guilty, for he forces on a small smile, an assurance that does nothing to tame her disappointment. It’s infuriating how easily he can turn his head away as if nothing has happened. She knows for certain that he feels the way she does, if not love, then something toeing around its lines, an almost perhaps. She sees it in the way he hovers and lingers around her with a desperation he thought she can’t see. So, why does he keep resisting?

“You know, you can’t keep doing this shitty thing and then feel bad about it as if that makes it okay! You need to be better!” The anger bubbles up in her throat and spills over.

A sense of astonishment carves itself into his features with the hostility she has resorted to yelling at him with. He doesn’t blame her. She deserves to feel angry, to detest him, as all his actions are done unfairly without her knowledge of why. Maybe, he can drive her crazy enough through this and finally eradicate the love she has for him, make her hatred burn for him.

If you hurt her, you might kill yourself.

He curses life for landing him in such a complicated predicament. It seems, no matter what he does, he will hurt her either way.

“I’m sorry.” He says. The softened edges of his eyes pleads for her to believe that he truly is.

She hates herself for forgiving him all too easily. Whatever it is that Jungkook does, she knows it is only ever in her best interest. He would let himself bleed over before she can even spare a single drop of hers. It’s a raw protectiveness that goes far beyond that of someone paid to protect her. Another reason why she had been suspicious of him possibly reciprocating her feelings in the first place.

“If you care for me, you won’t further pry,” His hands sneaks itself into his pant pocket, it returns with a single chocolate bar which he graciously hand over to her, “If you care for me, you’d mind your own health better and eat.” She opens up her palm and accepts despite the bitterness rising up her throat.

“And do you, care for me?” She had to ask.

His face goes blank, a neutral slate that gives nothing of the thoughts lurking in his mind. Still, she waits for an answer, clutching at the chocolate bar tightly she can hear a small crack as it breaks. He licks his dry lips and pries it open, but a voice not of his pierces the silence in a demand for her to be back on set. How freaking convenient, she thinks. She clucked her tongue, annoyed at the interruption, but wills herself to turn away from him. Her heels clicks sharply as it hits the floor, she spares Jungkook a glance that carries her confusion for him, then leaves him to his own suffocating emotions as she leaves.

“Trust me, I wish I could stop.”

Lights flash like twinkling stars under her eyelids. Whenever she opens them the shine becomes unbearably blinding, forcing herself to hide from it. This cycle repeats endlessly, of a garish light then a warm glow, the sharp transition makes her brain muddled and fuzzy. It’s only one of the many uncomfortable situations a celebrity has to endure. She can’t complain much, this life has littered her in plentiful riches that many would die for.

The train of her jewel encrusted dress weighs down every step she makes, slowing her from reaching her car just yet. Under the well rehearsed smile, she scoots herself closer to the edge of the crimson carpet laid underneath her heels, the only joy she feels comes only from the relief of finally having this premiere night done and over with. And maybe, it also has something to do with being in a confined space with Jungkook. She lets her eyes flit over beyond the shadowed figures of the camera men and fans lining up behind the barrier, it’s not an action she can understand of why, but when she spots him pushing his way through the crowd she realizes just how much she has yearned for him throughout this tiring night. Her smile falls more naturally now.

The breeze changes swiftly from a bustling gust to a gentler drift when she enters her car, the noise of the crowd becomes drowned and distorted when the car door finally closes in on her. Relief and exhaustion seeps into her bones in heavy torrents, the perfect posture and smile she has been wearing along with the heavy dress slumps into the leather seat in a manner not quite lady like. Her eyelids are heavy, threatening to shut, but she doesn’t allow it, she has to wait for Jungkook.

His heavy breaths comes before he does and her body tenses like a live wire when she senses him. Jungkook’s weight falls on to the leather seat recklessly, and he slams the door shut without a second to waste. With both car doors shut, the vehicle startles forward past the sea of crowds, their muffled screaming and eager faces a blur to her barely opened eyes. His heavy breaths are louder in the confinements of the quiet car, louder than the hum of the engines that it’s beginning to get hard for her not to notice. She averts her eyes to him out of worry, watching the sweat dribble down his pale face and the hairs sticking to his forehead. Only Jungkook can wear exhaustion as well as a fine tailored suit.

The black gloves he wears is always taken off whenever a red carpet event ends. It’s his way of shedding away the exhaustion of the day, of letting himself breathe and settle. Most times, [Name] attempts to reach out and touch him, just a brush of skin, she wants so badly to understand why he never lets anyone but himself touch the expanse of his skin. Is it because he’s insecure over how rough and dry they are? It doesn’t seem like it, if anything, it’s currently glistening with a sheen of sweat from the heat the gloves gave. She doesn’t try anymore, respecting him and his space, even though she doesn’t understand of why.

“Your fans are savages.” His voice breaks through the night with a small dry laugh.

“It’s not my fault I’m gorgeous.” She shrugs, only half paying attention to his words.

He makes no attempt to deny, only sharing her a small smile. A small sense of pride wells in her chest. Jungkook thinks she’s pretty.

“You should shower once you get back, you stink of sweat.” He doesn’t, but she likes to witness him as he turns pink cheeked and shy.

Subtly, he ducks his head and sniffs himself to confirm her words. His nose scrunches as he does so, in an awfully adorable way she’s not sure he is even aware of, moreover the effect it does to her heart.

“Or you can just, you know, take off your coat.” She suggests.

Jungkook pauses, his narrowed eyes darting consciously at her underlying motive. For an actress, [Name]’s not putting much of a convincing grin for him. He doesn’t seem annoyed, having gotten used to her meddling into his business. The last time he’s shown an inkling of annoyance was when he had chased after her before they nearly kissed a few weeks ago. It’s odd, how easily they return to the flow of their relationship despite all the tension and anger that has surfaced before. It is only because it has become increasingly harder for Jungkook to ignore her, any kind of anger or resentment he has for himself that should have drawn him away from her always fades. Whether they will to or not they always keep coming back to one another, like birds migrating in a pattern that always leads them home.

“Nice try, [Name].” She pouts. Well, there’s never any harm in trying.

The night falls silent with the halt of their light conversation, both figures going idle on their respective side of the car. Shards of the moonlight and city lights scatters through the car’s window, illuminating [Name]’s features with a soft brilliance unlike the harsh glare of flashing cameras she was bathed in. Even with the distance between them Jungkook is always aware of her, of the even rise and fall of her breath and the crimson of her lips cracking ever so slightly as the night goes on. An internal radar exists in his system, whatever it is he is doing, somehow, someway, he always turns to her whenever she enters a room, as if he hasn’t had enough of watching her.

“You hungry?” He asks.

She turns away from the window and acknowledge him with a raised eyebrow. He always has time to worry for her, sometimes it annoys her, currently it is endearing.

“Are you kidding? Can’t get through more than a bite with this stupid corset on.” She groans, poking at her waist.

“Great. Namjoon, make a stop at the nearest convenience store.” He instructs to the driver.

“You brought my spare change, right?” Though he provides no verbal answer, she knows Jungkook is always prepared when it comes to her, despite it not being entirely in his job description.

Fortunately, the convenience store they found themselves in is empty, the only sign of it still opening being the fluorescent glow coming from within. It’s an odd sight, a sleek black limo parked in a run down store. More so when a famed celebrity is sitting on its curb, stripped from all her gold and glitter and into something more understated and plain. A warm cup noodle is within her hold, providing warmth in the cold breeze of 1 AM. Jungkook sits next to her, watching her silently feed herself with the elegance of a reckless child from the corner of his eyes. He smiles, relishing in the authenticity she is comfortable enough to show around him.

“You know, your face should be up on the silver screen.” She says out of the blue.

Jungkook shrugs, barely paying attention to her words and more so to the sparkling ruby red layering it, and how delectable it looks as it move. He realizes his heart is always at its most vulnerable when the sun has dipped beneath the horizon, it turns tender just as his exhaustion leaves him without the strength to uphold his defenses. Like this moment, where the urge to move closer and hold her becomes unbearable, Jungkook can feel his fingers twitch involuntarily.

“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”

“Why not? You’ll make a better living than being a bodyguard anyways.”

An unspoken answer suffocates the air around them, bringing about a tense silence neither expects to fall into so quickly. Though he has never said it, they know that the main reason Jungkook sticks to this job is because of her, because he has found himself attached to her and is unwilling to let go. A clear of his throat interrupts the silence, and Jungkook takes a swig of his water to relieve himself.

“I just don’t think that type of lifestyle suits me. I mean, I’m tough on the outside, but to become a celebrity means I need to toughen up my inside, which is—”

“Really soft and fragile, I know.” She giggles like its not a secret to the world.

Jungkook smiles along with her. Somehow, he doesn’t mind that she knows of his true self, of the fragile boy longing to be cared for.

“Besides, I’m a very private guy myself. I wouldn’t like to have people intruding in my life all the time.” Jungkook bumps her shoulder with his water bottle at that last remark, teasing her with a smile that shows off his teeth.

“Right, you have a very strong need for personal space,” The sentence draws out into a wistful silence, one which makes Jungkook nervous when her smile fades, “Why is that?” She asks, turning her eyes to him with a long harbored sadness.

He frowns. Whether he likes it or not, their conversation always leads to this topic, as it is the foundation that builds their questionable relationship. He hates that her constant frowns and worries all stem from him: his inability to tell her the truth and his selfish need for her to stay in his life. In the silence that drags on, Jungkook can only stare at his hands, the only piece of skin that is currently visible to the eyes other than his face. In the years since he has discovered his curse, a burning hatred for the skin he wears exist in the deepest part of his soul, rendering him unable to look or touch his own skin for too long. Looking at the milky plane that shapes his fingers and the blue veins snaking underneath it brings about a sense of nausea that makes him want to vomit his dinner. He can’t understand why she’s so fixated on wanting to touch something so vile, so dangerous. If only the curse could have the same effect to him as it does to everyone else. Maybe then he could lessen her suffering.

“How bad can it be, really, Jungkook?” She wounds herself closer to him as she pries.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, as if willing his brain to remain unaware of how close she is to him. It’s the only thing keeping him from giving in to his desire and from hurting her. How cruel of life, to not rid of him of the heart that he wished should have died along when the curse happened. The intensity that comes with his love feasts at the wall he’s worked so hard to build, brick by brick it is torn apart, and brick by brick Jungkook tries to rebuild the damage that won’t stop, for her sake.

“It’s pretty bad, trust me.” He tries to lighten the tension by offering up a dry laugh.

“I have feelings for you.” She confesses.

Unexpectedly, it is said with a raw passion and unabashed truthfulness that tugs at his heart strings painfully. He swallows down his own confession and chokes out words he knows is not sufficient enough to respond to her, but has to be said to draw the line of boundaries she must not over step.

“I know.”

“And you have feelings for me too.” She says.

There is no denial, as much as he should deny it. He digs his nails into his own palms, leaving crescent moons that threatens to tear into his skin. He has half the mind to stop himself from drawing any blood for the sake of not worrying her. It hurts to not be able to look at her when he craves nothing but to see the softness of her features, it hurts to not be able to say the words for himself when he desperately wants to. This confession feels painful, though it should liberate his heart.

“Please, don’t do this.” He begs, a whisper so fragile and broken [Name] cannot recognize it as his voice.

She draws herself back, choking at the painful weight pressing down on her chest. It is always like this with him. After so many months, the sting continues to bite harder and harder every time it happens, leaving behind a suffering she can no longer bear. I’m sorry. Please. It’s always what comes out of him when she asks. She can’t understand, he leaves no room for her to. How long does he plan to drag this on? To leave her in the dark? She’s had enough of his avoidance, of the hurt he gives her. How dare he dig his way into her heart and irresponsibly abandon it whenever he wants to?

“No, I’m doing this.”

The ferocity that licks at her words pries his eyes open. She brings herself to her feet and sends a ferocious glare down at him, her shadows spill over his hunched figure with a sense that tows in a feeling inferiority within his heart.

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is that it? You could at least have the decency to distance yourself from me if I’m bothering you, but no, you just have to toy around with my feelings and continue to play this game of push and pull. Well, I’ve had it.”

He knows he must have struck a sensitive nerve within her to have her raise her voice at him like this. [Name] doesn’t raise her voice to anyone, especially not him. Guilt crawls its way up his throat, and he swallows, not knowing what else to do other than look down at his shoes and let her berate him. She deserves this much.

“You won’t understand.” Softly, he says.

“You don’t know that! You never gave me a chance or an explanation!” She argues hotly.

This predicament makes him fidget in his spot, anxious for what words may accidentally slip out of him in the midst of his rising emotions and the repercussions it may bring. Jungkook takes a breath and calms himself before facing her.

“This is not going to go the way you think, [Name].”

“With you? Nothing ever is.”

Jungkook is startled into silence, noting of the spite lacing her words. He just isn’t used to her being so straightforward with him in such a resentful manner. Though he knows he deserves it, the thought of her hating him on its own is enough to make him stand out of agitation.

“[Name]—“

“What? You’re sorry?” She draws her eyebrows down, perusing the array of conflicting emotions on his expression.

A dying ember is starting to spark back to life when he meets her eyes, confused and angry and hurt. Anger swells up in him, not for her, but for himself and what he’s too weak to do, what he has done.

“But I really am—“

“Well, your apologies means crap to me now. Not when you keep repeating this over and over.”

“Look, have I ever lied to you before? If I could tell you without getting you to hate me I would!”

“You don’t know for certain that I’d hate you! You kept assuming that I will as if anything could make me care you any less. What is it, did you kill a man or something? I won’t tell the police if—“

“No, no, please, just—“ The overwhelming thoughts running through his mind wound his head up like a tight knot, bringing about a tense pain at the back of his head that makes him wince, “I can’t lose you.”

“But you’re okay with lying to me forever?”

The defeat underlying her question makes him pause, the words at the tip of his tongue immediately ceasing. There has never been a time where [Name] doesn’t look beautiful to him, whatever state or expression she wears, Jungkook is always enthralled with her every feature. Now, witnessing the despair worrying the lines of her face feels painful, a feeling he never thought could occur when it’s her. The racing of his heart slows into a sluggish pace, worn down and weighted by the helplessness he feels.

“[Name]—” He calls for her, but can’t understand why, the name falls from his lips almost naturally as if it’s the only word he knows how to say.

Perhaps he is just desperate for her to understand, to accept that he’ll never be able to explain to her of the things she deserves to know though he knows it is unfair. Fear is a familiar taste for Jungkook, a manifestation of the curse he bears. But he finds there’s something else he fears more than what the curse can do, and that is losing her. His breathing stutters, as he feels himself losing his grip on her.

“Please, I—“ He hesitates in taking a step closer, because no matter how much he wants to tell her, he knows he’ll lose her once he does.

Desperation claws at his throat, and he tries to say something, anything to get her to stay with him. Though she is near, Jungkook feels as if she’s drifting farther and farther away when her eyes starts glistening with unshed tears, the warm gaze that he has come to love now looks at him as if he’s a stranger.

“That’s what you always say.” She sighs, not trying to hide her disappointment.

His body trembles like a fallen autumn leaf when she turns her back on him and starts walking away. No, no, no. There is no excuse for what he does next, once panic clings on to him his body goes into overdrive, and out of pure instinct he grabs on to her hand with a desperation evident in his strong grip. The panic and fear pumping in his veins clouds his mind, but all he knows is that he has to get her to stay, he needs her to. He’s never been more desperate for anything more in his life, if he has her, he knows that he will be content for life.

The cold of his touch sends a shock wave up her arm and down to her spine. At the sensation, [Name] whirls her head to him with a speed even she’s surprised of. She’s convinced that it is only her imagination, the pressure on her hand and the fingers curling over her skin, until she sees their hands connect. Somehow, [Name] can’t shake off the fact of how odd their hands look together, almost unnatural due to it never happening before.

It’s not as wonderful as she dreamed it would be, his touch is cold and palms calloused. Yet it’s exhilarating, getting to feel the rush of blood in his veins, the constant thrumming of his pulse and the shake of his every bones. For the first time, [Name] can feel the fibers making up his body and the essence that molds his soul. Jungkook feels, most of all, real.

The shock wears off once she hears how shaky her breathing has gone, the thundering of her heart becomes a deafening bass that rattles her eardrums hard enough for her to finally pay attention to. When she lands her eyes on him, she sees Jungkook’s face contorted in pain, as if her turning away from him had caused a physical kind of pain. [Name] has always known of his feelings for her. But she has never known it to go as deep as it did, to burn with such a raw passion that it could wound him greatly. There is relief and fear in her, of both their dangerously strong feelings for each other.

“Jungkook?”

The sound of his name snaps him awake out of the cloud of fear. His eyes go to hers before anything else, no longer angry or disappointed, its tenderness has returned, though tinged with an uncertainty he isn’t sure of what it means. Then his eyes lands on his hand, holding on to hers with an iron grip even he cannot recognize as his. The situation sinks in to him with a heavy dread, and Jungkook withdraws himself away from her as far as he can. The hand that had held hers tremble as he clutches it, out of rage for what he’s done but at the same time, a delight exist from finally getting a taste of her. He doesn’t allow the joy to happen for long, instead allowing fear and dread to envelope him.

I’ve touched her.

She’s going to die because of me.

I’ve hurt her, in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Jungkook? Jungkook, talk to me.” [Name]’s anger is now replaced with concern as she draws nearer to him.

Jungkook thrusts his hand up, but it withers back to his side in fear of touching her again. His vision blurs into splotches of broken street lights and her distorted face, he doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until a wet trail cascades down his cheeks. He’s far too afraid, far too angry at himself to focus on responding her. The only thing his mind is screaming at him is: you hurt her, you hurt her, you hurt her.

“Jungkook, hey, are you alright?” She asks, her hands hovering carefully over his deflating figure.

Jungkook staggers, feet turning into jelly under the weight of his anger. He hasn’t even notice of the powerful grip he has on his own hand, this time, he successfully draws blood from under his skin at the force he’s putting on it.

“You don’t understand, [Name]. I’m cursed! I can never touch anyone without drawing them further to their deaths. That’s why I don’t let anyone in, why I wore all those unnecessary garments, why I can’t have anyone touching me. Don’t you see? I really want to be with you, I do. But I can’t. I will hurt you, I know I will, and I can’t do that to you.” A rawness tearing from deep within him speaks out, manifesting the broken man for he truly is, crying and pleading before her.

At that moment, watching Jungkook rip himself apart fills her with the same pain she saw Jungkook with when she was leaving him. [Name] thought that she would finally be liberated from the burden on her shoulders when she receives her answer. She is wrong. There is no greater heartbreak than the answer she so desperately wanted to know. Right now, the weight in her heart is overflowing, as she feels it bleed with regret like a heavy torrent.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook—“

“I don’t deserve you, how could I let this happen?” He’s mumbling to himself, surrendering to his own madness underneath the silver moonlight.

[Name] hovers over him like a shadow, unable to touch him and unpleasantly forced to witness him breakdown. I made him like this. It’s my fault. Why can’t I just let it go? Why, why, why.

“You deserve more.” Her voice carries out into the night like a soft breeze, calling Jungkook back from his self induced nightmare.

With a sluggish pace that worries her, Jungkook lifts his head up and lands a pair of hesitant eyes on her. She frowns when she notes of the red rimming his swollen eyes and the starking paleness that weaves its way onto his complexion, a heartbreaking despair webs across his features like a parasite, depriving him from the beauty she’s come to love. This is all because of her, because she refuses to listen to him.

“We’re just one hell of a modern tragedy aren’t we?” He laughs, though it is coarse and without humor.

[Name] casts her eyes to the ground, fighting back the tears that threatens to spill from the unbearable ache in her heart.

That night, they leave the store and return to the car in silence. There is no second glances spared, even as Jungkook takes the vacant passenger seat by the driver instead of claiming the seat next to hers. Weary from the roller coaster of emotions, Jungkook slumps deep into the leather seat, hoping he can disappear from this night and from her for the rest of her life. It’s what’s best for her, especially after what he’s done.

Namjoon worries his bottom teeth at the unsettling tension that has suddenly encase the limo, but he says nothing, not when he catches the reflection of Jungkook’s face on the car’s window: the face of a man whose world has shattered before him.

The knowledge of the curse has anchored down the once halcyon days into one of uneasy distance and tense silence. Secret glances and hushed laughters becomes a distant memory that slips away from him like sand no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He’s never realized how quickly time ebbs with her constant company and demand for attention. Now that a wall has burrowed itself between them, the day seems never ending, and when it transitions to the inky darkness of night, it always ends in a fit of nightmares he’s not keen on recollecting.

Resisting her has been more difficult than he thought. It’s as he suspects, the second she wormed her way inside his heart, the absence of warmth it has stood by feeds off of her like a leech, and once she tears herself away, it is left starving for only her. Well, at least she seems to be faring of better than him. As long as she is happy, then he can live with this pain for the rest of his life, all for the chance to see her smile, even if not for him.

She’s found solace in her make-up artist and manager more often now, and he can’t lie to himself if he says he is not envious. He used to be her safe space, a place to confide in on the thoughts she’s never been able to say to anyone without risking judgement. It’s a privilege which he realizes he’s never truly appreciated before. Now he finds himself being the one to spare time to silently watch her—the only thing that has gotten him through his dark days—a habit he’s not even aware of having, only that it feels right.

There is something different in her smile nowadays, a certain restraint that cannot truly encompass the joy or amusement like she always had with him. He wish he can turn a blind eye to this. The last thing he needs is a reminder of how affected she had also been when his curse was revealed, of how good of an actress she is to be able to carry on through the day as if nothing has changed.

What he hates most about the situation between them are the nights of unbearable loneliness and regret spent fighting off the temptation to surrender to his dark thoughts. Sleep hasn’t been easy, and even then, he looks forward not to the dreams that wakes him with a painfully wrenched heart. Very much like tonight, where he finds himself curled on his couch, though his eyes are seemingly glued to the TV screen in focus, there is an impassiveness in his lack of movement and slow blinking.

The pitter patter of rain gently sings a song of heartbreak that reflects to his own state, and the shadows that has fallen upon the city provides the perfect gloom to wrap around his freezing heart. Though worn from sadness, he cannot cry, having dried his eyes off too much the night he confessed to her. All that is left is a hollowness aching to be filled.

A stuttered knock breaks through the cold night, interrupting the perfectly orchestrated beat of sorrow Jungkook nearly falls asleep to. He remains petrified, his mind leadened to a state of lacking any sort of motivation to go through the day. The knock repeats itself after a long moment, and Jungkook pries his eyes away from the TV, wondering silently who could be behind the oaken doors at an 11 PM on Saturday.

His steps are heavy with reluctance as he drags himself across the room. He half hoped whoever it is would go away and leave him to suffocate in his own self pity. A barely coherent what manage to escape him before his attention fixes onto the last person he thought would ever show up in his doorstep, her: dripping and heaving from the rain with the radiance of the golden sunshine that had been eclipsed from him. There shouldn’t be anything remotely attractive in the way she carries herself so recklessly like this. Yet he falls into a delighted silence, soaking in the unadulterated sight she presents so willingly to him. A sensation of lightness enters him, flushing away the lead coating his bones and the pressure on his chest, allowing him with an easiness to breathe.

The shock comes belatedly, after Jungkook’s mind process the reality that even in his most vivid of imagination he can never capture the details of the constellation of freckles dotting her skin so accurately, for she really is standing on his doorstep. He cannot hide the smile that blooms on his face. But the memory of that fateful night tugs at his mind, reeling him to cower behind his door with uncertainty.

“[Name]..” His voice is hoarse from its lack of use. There is no reason for him to speak if it’s not to her.

Her eyes watch him carefully, every curvature of his face: the prominent hollow under his cheekbones, the dip of his cupid’s bow and the familiar scar on his cheek she’s missed so terribly. There is a significant age that has caught on to him, despite it only having been less than a month since they fall into silence with each other. Is it perhaps the sorrow, or the hopelessness that weighs him most of all? She cannot determine, for even at its bleakest she feels her breath being taken away by the presence of him. She smiles, a soft curve of her lips that makes Jungkook’s heart lurch to reach out to her.

“Your face is a mess.” She says, after a long moment of silence.

Even when she is trapped in an emotionally draining mess, she still finds time to ridicule him. Like the smile that unknowingly appears whenever she is present, he laughs, an uncontrollable force that racks his chest with a joyful tingle. The ringing of his laughter infects her, bearing joy in the hearts that had been drowning in forlorn. As if all the emotional turmoil of the past weeks never existed, they fall back into their familiar pattern, of a liberation to truly be themselves that can mend each other’s broken hearts.

“Nice to see you’ve got your priority straight.” He jokes.

“Oh, I do, and it’s always you.” She confirms with a confidence that stuns him.

His teeth digs into the bottom of his lip, suppressing the shock from showing on his expression.

“Why are you here, [Name]? You’re cold and drenched! Please tell me you didn’t run all the way here in your pajamas.” His answer is only a sheepish smile.

A heavy sigh breaks out of him, though he is not sure whether it is out of disappointment or relief, perhaps both.

“Isn’t it obvious? When a girl runs through traffic lights and heavy rain to reach for your doorstep it means she loves you, you idiot.”

The word love has always been held back by both, they keep dancing around it as if it could burn them from the inside out. Though he knows that if either of them were to say it first, it would be her, always the more dauntless of the two. He just didn’t expect her to say it now, in the moment where their relationship is in the brink of collapsing, a vulnerable knot threatening to break. Jungkook inhales a shaky breath to steady himself, but the word that keeps ringing in his ear and the sound of his blood rushing makes it difficult for him to focus.

“[Name]..” He begins, hesitant.

“You’re cursed, I know.”

There is defiance in the upright stance in which she carries herself with, even though weighed down by her sopping attire and the stream of water dripping off of her hair, she is the cliff by the shore of the open ocean, steady and firm through the never ending waves. He doesn’t understand why she’s so sure, not when she seems to understand so little of the big picture.

“But you don’t understand—“

“No, you assume I don’t. Look, I get that you’ve been protecting me for a long while, you think I’m fragile and naive, and maybe it’s become a habit of yours to continue protecting me as if I know nothing of how unfair reality can be, but god damn it Jeon Jungkook for once in your life listen to what I have to say!”

He folds his lips shut, though he cannot hide the glimmer of intrigue and amusement shrouded in his silent smile.

“I know it’s just chemicals that makes me cling to you, but gosh making me fall in love with you is the greatest thing my body can ever give to me. You make your way into my veins, course right through my limbs, and dig right through my brain like a parasite, but Jungkook, it’s the most wonderful parasite I’ve ever had the honor of harboring. My life has always been an array of uncertainty and risks, a leaping stone that I could slip on. But you, you came to me, and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the ground that lays across the stream I’ve been crossing. There are cracks and blight on you, but you make me feel safe and real.” She says, with a clarity that terrifies him.

Jungkook wonders what he’s done to deserve this, this kind of selfish love that eats away at the soul and leaves you disoriented and broken like the cracked grounds after an earthquake. The damage and pain is addicting, a good kind of pain. And then he realizes that this love he has the honor of receiving is only due to his curse, the very mark that has tainted him and ostracize him from the rest of the world.

This love hurts, but it is a love that is specifically theirs. Not just his, he realizes. Because the pain and longing he thought he had experienced alone is wrong, all this time she too feels it. The words he can never articulate to describe the intensity of his emotions are robbed right out of his mouth and on to hers. She feels it too, the inevitable pull for each other that goes far beyond their limbs. Jungkook feels the warmth of his tears building behind his eyelids, a relief and weightlessness greater than that he’s ever received makes his heart soar in the confinements of his ribs.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, what you can make me do. Heck, I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means I get to hold your hand. Jeon Jungkook, if you think that a curse will keep me away from you then you really don’t know me at all.”

He’s not sure if it’s the rain or her own outburst of tears streaming down her face, but the urge to swipe his thumb over her damp skin becomes tenfold after the passionate confession. But he holds back, with the reminder that the curse still exists and can still very much harm her.

“I can never touch you, I can never hold your hand or kiss you. You’ll be sentenced to a very cold and lonely love with me.” He warns, a tinge of sorrow returning in the droop of his eyes.

[Name] laughs, airy and short, it can almost be mistaken as a cough. She shakes her head, letting droplets spill on to his cotton shirt.

“As long as it’s your love.” She assures.

This time he can’t fight back the onslaught of joy pricking at the back of his eyes, and he lets out a laugh of his own, just as airy, but filled with a happiness pure and bright, amidst attempting to mask the tears spilling on his cheeks.

“Gosh, you’re so stubborn,” He wipes at the tears, pressing on to his eyes until stars explode behind his eyelids, but when he opens them back she is still there, then he knows that this is truly not a dream, “Why me? Out of all the other celebrities and bodyguards and staff, why the heck pick the guy hardest to love?”

“The people who are hardest to love loves the hardest. And frankly, I’m not a pussy who will settle for anything less than a fucking thunderstorm.”

Jungkook chortles, choking in disbelief over how crude she can be at the most inappropriate of times. Though it is one of the quirks he finds himself growing fond over.

“I love it when you unnecessarily use vulgar words to get your point across.”

“What better way is there?”

Jungkook cannot respond. It is not rare of him to find himself speechless because of her. As if taking his breath away is not enough, she also knows how to take the words right out of his mouth. The moment simmers, and with it, Jungkook’s attention inadvertently travels to her, to the lips that shapes her silent laughter. He licks his own, wondering to himself if he’ll ever be able to have a taste of her the way he truly wants to. It’s human nature, to want more than what you already have. And now that he finally has her, he desperately wants to feel her. To convey the affection and wonder he holds for her with something that is a lot more permanent than words.

“I love you, and I really want to kiss you.” He admits, because it’s the least he can give her.

[Name] falls uncharacteristically silent. Her fingers fidget against each other with the force of an earthquake, its is enough to make her tangle them together in the pocket of her hoodie to stop them. The intensity that lies beneath his words burns her inside, boiling the blood in her veins and warming her skin with a force enough to make her forget about the chill from the rain. Jungkook wonders of the sudden shift in the self assured and confident woman before him, why now she appears so very small and timid unlike she ever is. Has his words impact her as great as what she always does to him?

“Mannered men usually invite the women in before jumping at them you know.” She says, turning the attention away from her.  

A pink flush floods his cheek, for he hasn’t even realized of how distracted he has been with her and her confession to have forgotten about the alarming situation she is in. Thoughtfully, he reprimands himself for not prioritizing her shivering form and what it might do to her health far earlier.

“O-Oh, shoot, you’re going to get sick!” He realizes a tad too late.

Jungkook ushers her in with haste, overcome with the over protective and doting side of him she always finds entertaining in witnessing. To think that the cold hearted man the world sees him as is tripping over his own feet in a clumsy attempt to warm her. How cute.

“But, hey, if you still want that kiss, I think I might have an idea.” She yells, craning her head in a look out for him who had disappeared past one of the doors.

Jungkook’s mop of brown hair pops out from one of the doorway, his scrunched expression a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity that draws similarity to that of an adorable child. He returns to her side with freshly laundered clothes and a towel.

“Here’s a fresh pair of change. They’re a bit tight on me, so I think it’ll fit on you. Um, shower, right, bathroom is on—“

She makes no move to accept it, instead opting to rummage past her hoodie for an item she’s hidden there. Jungkook’s train of thoughts halt, its course shifting down a path of perverse at her sudden action. He turns his eyes away, though he cannot control the rush of blood from showing on his cheeks. [Name] wants to laugh at the embarrassment he bears in this moment, though she can’t help but feel a certain kind of admiration for the manner he possess. Still, she can’t let this slip away without as much as an attempt to further humiliate him.

“Wow, do you seriously think I’m the type of shameless girl who undresses herself after confessing her love?” She asks with a tone bordering on a full on giggle.

“[Name], honestly—“

“Well, I mean, maybe for Chris Hemsworth, sure, but, as much as I love you, you’re nowhere close to him.”

Jungkook’s skin cools down once he’s gotten a grasp of the ambience in her joke. If his embarrassment for his thoughts had gone on longer, he would’ve missed the way she so casually slips in an I love you, as if the days they’ve spent hadn’t been spent avoiding the words. He almost chokes on his own breath, though fortunately has caught himself before she could hear him. Jungkook swivels his attention back to her, but it quickly falters when he catches sight of a questionable item that she must’ve pulled out from her hoodie. Of course, how in the hell could he ever think of the idea of her undressing herself so readily for him?

“What’s that?”

Wet fingers unravel itself around the item and allowing Jungkook to decipher the inscription written in the box, which only further confuses him.

“Plastic wrappers? For leftovers?”

[Name] isn’t deterred by his lack of understanding as she tears it open eagerly, a thin layer of it is unrolled and poised over his adorably clueless face.

“To think, it only took an agonizing weeks of silence and a spontaneous confession in the rain for you to admit you want to kiss me, huh?”

Jungkook is still very much confused.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since the fight, you see—and maybe a lot of crying too.” She says, ducking her head down as she hesitantly adds the last sentence.

Something squeezed terribly hard at his heart, the thought of her: tear streaked, tender skin splotched in unpleasant shades of red and touched with inflammation from the force of such a heartbreaking outburst. All because of him.

“You can’t touch me because of the curse, but that only applies when your skin makes direct contact with mine. You can touch me through your gloves, and I can touch you through your clothes, so I thought—“

Something flickers in the enthusiasm she wears when Jungkook’s confusion refuses to fade. Rather than puzzled, perhaps she had misread him, and maybe he doesn’t feel as sincere about his words as she does. She frowns, lowering the plastic wrap back to her side.

“I can kiss you through that wrapper.” He finishes, after a beat of tense silence.

Clarity lights his features into one of happiness, capturing the essence of ocean waves breaking the sunset into rippling kaleidoscope she can never resist in looking. [Name] can feel herself falling in love with him all over again at this sight.

“Y-Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Silence always manage to embed its claws between them, though no longer does its talons make them bleed. Now, it has become a familiar part of their relationship. This time, the silence in the room contains a certain nervous energy that drives both to shyly turn away from each other’s gazes.

“I mean, if you’d like to try it—I guess—there’s no harm in it.” Jungkook stutters, feet shifting against the cold tiles.

“Do you?” She asks.

Another silence enters, though it carries a meaning that is enough to answer her question. Jungkook welcomes himself to her warmth with a certainty she can never predict, as if he had belonged there all along, he sneaks his way into her hold. She can barely process it, process him: arms taught around her waist with the desperate longing of belonging to a place that is permanent, he is so close, so comfortable in settling within her hold with an ease she can ever imagine him to have. The dampness in the room tastes sweet on the roof of her mouth, and the colors in the muted room bursts with an intensity that shouldn’t be possible in such a gloomy lighting. But it is because it’s him, it’s him holding on to her and him professing his love to her in a way that he fears the most.

Before she can return his embrace his grip has loosened, and both instinctively draw their heads back with the desire to soak in each other at such close distance. She maps the blemishes and each shade of color that exists on his face to save in her memory, a sight so rare she wishes she could continue seeing him like this forever.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

Her fingers shake around the plastic wrapper, though she wills herself to bring it between them she can’t, the function of her limbs disconnected from her jumbled state of mind at the simple request. Another set of hand comes to her aid and Jungkook takes the plastic wrapper over their faces, her vision of him ripples at the appearance of the plastic sheen. Neither move immediately, too afraid of ruining this moment. The courage that usually flows in her cannot be found, she can only continue to cherish the sight of him so close to her. Then he moves, a sluggish confidence surging over him. His display of courage pushes her to mirror his movements, meeting him halfway from the other side of the plastic wrapper.

The tang of the plastic tastes synthetic to her tongue, but the fire under his lips sets her senses ablaze and her nerves to haywire, the awful taste of plastic becomes nothing but a miniscule stardust in the universe that explodes behind her eyelids. A chill tingles her spine, ice and fire clashes within her system and sends her body into overdrive from the overwhelming sensations. It is as if the world collectively breaths out a blissful sigh as they kiss, a sense of feeling whole she never thought she was missing fills in the cracks and dents in her heart.  

The chill of the rain greets her lips when he withdraws for air, though she can’t find any disappointment like she expected to feel, not when the memory of his warmth still lingers in her system. She blinks slowly, afraid that she cannot capture enough of his flushed face and starry eyed expression at this moment.

“That was..” He doesn’t finish, not knowing how exactly he can describe the sensations flooding him.

“Plastic-y.” She offers with a shrug.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, a low groan bubbling from within his throat. The air flows gentler at her answer, with a lighthearted feeling they both land in easy familiarity.

“So, um, I really don’t want to further ruin the moment—I mean I’ve always imagined it a bit different to be honest, though it is still amazing—but, well, someone needs to tell my manager that my bodyguard is my new boyfriend.”

Jungkook purses his lips, mind still leadened with the memory of the kiss to properly process her words quickly.

“Not it!”

“Not—darn it.”

If the wrath of her manager and the rest of the world is what he has to face for the opportunity to see her happy because of him, then he’ll let the heavens burn for their love.

[gyuten]

i just finished the yukhei fic you just posted and i literally can't stop myself from sending this so tell you that you did an absolutely wonderful job of narrating everything that happened!! you're truly one of the most talented writers ever, thank you for putting so much hard work into this because every detail of the story was so captivating and beautiful. i am sitting here smiling like a complete idiot at my phone screen because of it 💞

omg this is one of the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me?? 😭😭nskqbajah now i’m the one smiling like an idiot at my phone. i’m so glad you like my fic, bub!! i’ll try to post another fic by next week and hopefully you will all love it as much as ‘a clap of lighting’

[gyuten]

i absolutely love love love your yukhei fic!!! you did an amazing job writing the fic, and i definitely didn't mind it not being under 5k words hehe

asjdaldqeno you’re too nice, bub!!

[gyuten]

your yukhei fic was amaaazing!! you're a fantastic writer!

thank you!! you’re too kind, bub

[gyuten]

your scenarios are truly excellent, even though they are long, once i started to read them, i can't stop myself from finishing them! do you want to become a writer? bc your writing style and your vocabulary are on point! keep up with the good work! (and with having lucas as your muse) ;)

I swear I meant to write like 10 k at most whoops sorry thank you so much for enjoying my writing bub! writing is more of just a hobby though, so, no, I don’t really want to become a writer haha

[gyuten]

a clap of lightning

— Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst ; childhood crush!au, college!au (if you squint)

— Pairing: NCT’s Lucas/Reader

— Words: 17.5 k rip y’all

— Synopsis: There is no mistaking that Wong Yukhei is the modern day prince charming little [Name] had been dreaming about. Adult [Name] however, has to face the brunt of her young fantasies as she comes to a startling realization that the man of her dreams is not quite like what she imagined. But maybe, modern day prince charmings are overrated anyways.

— A/N: Hi, I’m Ava, and I’m incapable of writing anything under 5k :) please enjoy this first fic on my new blog. also pls don’t come at me if your ‘keep reading’ doesn’t work ok.

Dreams are often not as sweet as it appears to be. Many overlook the warning that came with it, for, what’s so wrong with opening ourselves to reach out to our greatest fantasy? At the time, naive little [Name] has yet to understand what dreams can really be—what it’s sweetness truly hid, the jagged edges that lurk in its shadows. The dream she’s harbored as a little sapling—like many other girls her age—was simply one of meeting and falling in love with a prince charming. And her prince charming, upon a bold decision she made at the young age of 8 years old, was simply her adjacent neighbor’s loud and clumsy son, Wong Yukhei.

Ever since the family had settled themselves inside the once crooked home with its decaying walls and weathered paint, [Name] had taken notice of their little boy—a boy her mother informed her was in fact of her age—whose smile is pretty unlike any other and was shared too frivolously to the world, his unruly brown locks always tucked inside an old baseball cap, and his mahogany eyes that glittered like rippled lakes when sunlight kisses it at just the right angle. It’s quite inevitable that she found herself dreaming of their budding romance, of being swept off her feet with his blinding smile.

Unfortunately, those fantasies have still remained—and perhaps will always remain—a fantasy, for years.

After weeks of renovation and work done to the Wong residence, the rickety old building was transformed into something more suitable to be called a home. To celebrate, Yukhei and his parents presented themselves at her house’s door, offering a batch of delicious home cooked brownies. Its enticing smell reached all the way up to her opened window, luring her to her windowsill where she sat perched, hesitantly peeking through it where she spotted the short brown tufts of the boy she had unmistakably seen move in across the street, only this time without his baseball cap. As muffled sounds of exchanged conversation was heard between the parents, [Name] tried to find her courage and call out to the boy who seemed uninterested and restless with the boring exchange. But she had never been one to initiate conversation, always too restricted by her shy nature and withdrew herself into her own comfortable shell. It was startling and almost too good to be a coincidence when the boy’s jumpy nerves and unfocused eyes managed to land on her through the porch pillars.

It was when their eyes met and he offered a blinding smile that [Name]—suddenly too flustered and warm for her liking—shut her window with a loud slam and retreated away to her bed. Looking straight at him was, in that moment, odd and unfathomable and intense. Despite how innocent the exchange had been, how sweet and warm he had looked at her, [Name] couldn’t feel any comforting warmth like she did whenever she made a new friend, no, this was far too warm, far too overwhelming she felt her chest heave for air despite nothing choking her as jolts of electricity began coursing through her veins, this feeling licked dangerously at her heart with a painful burn like a raging fire. Perhaps her 8 year old mind had simply failed to understand what she’s feeling at that moment, but it was at that first moment that [Name] decided, Yukhei was the prince charming for her.

One would think that in the following years they spent as neighbors, [Name] and Yukhei would somehow found their time to converse, get to know each other, and establish some form of friendship. But the reality was, even when it was revealed to her that Yukhei was to attend the same elementary school as hers, and conveniently preordained to be her new classmate, [Name] and Yukhei had never shared more than passing glances and polite nods to each other. In hindsight, it could have been her fault. No, it was definitely her fault. Every time she saw him approaching, heard his laughter from the end of the hallway, the knock and call of her name coming from her lawn, or even the sound of his name coming out from someone else’s lips, [Name] shriveled up and turned the other way, her heart hammering thunderously against her rib cage and blood boiling quicker than she could comprehend. The only time where she could look at him without internally combusting was when he was unaware of her.

After countless attempts of reaching out and being offered only rejection, Yukhei gave up and simply ignored her existence. Which should have made her devastated, as she harbored feelings for him—going as far as claiming him her prince charming—and though it did tow in a sense of melancholy and regret, this predicament gave her great relief too. At least she wouldn’t have to live constantly looking over her shoulders every time the name Yukhei was mentioned. She convinced herself, this was probably best. And so, for years, despite the many circumstances that should’ve landed them as childhood friends, they were in reality nothing more than strangers.

One would think that someone as sweet and kind hearted as the new student Wong Yukhei would easily nestle his way into being a well rounded student among his peers and teachers. It took only three weeks for Yukhei to prove everyone wrong. While the sun rested at its highest peak, the cafeteria was bustling with overlapping chatters and moving bodies eager to please their appetites. [Name] had just finished her meal with a satisfied hum when the thundering echoes of the hundreds of voices started to dwindle, at first subtle, like a spark before a fire. And then it was snuffed out with only the traces of lingering smoke. The voices came from hundreds, to a hundred, to tens, until complete silence overtook the room. Unsettled, [Name] looked to the friends sat at her table for an answer, but found their attention focused elsewhere. It seemed, as she glanced at the students all around her, their voices had been claimed by something else outside the cafeteria.

When she followed their eyes, [Name] nearly choked as her heart leaped on its own accords, as it always did when it saw him. Wong Yukhei was standing by the hallway at the mouth of the cafeteria. Only this time, it wasn’t his presence alone that made her squirm in her seat. It was Wong Yukhei with blood smeared across his fist, Wong Yukhei’s glittering irises that glinted with a wildness that didn’t belong to such a sweet face, Wong Yukhei’s chest heaving with the residue of his anger. [Name]’s heart backtracked and plummeted unlike it ever did. This was not her prince charming. Yukhei stood over a whimpering boy, cornered by the walls, face hidden by his shaking hands to shroud the injury he sustained from receiving the punch. Despite not being able to see his face, [Name] could recognize the snaggle tooth through his pained grimace with ease. It was Park Woojin, a boy whose path she made sure to never cross with due to his poor attitude. Then her attention flickered over to the girl cowering behind Yukhei and recognized her as Kim Jennie, the recently arrived transfer student. From how the three were positioned, anyone in the silent cafeteria could understand what had transpired. It wasn’t a secret that Park Woojin had recently taken an interest in tormenting poor Jennie due to her foreign upbringing, and although many pitied her and attempted to stop Woojin, in the end they were all too scared to face the brunt of the troubled boy. That was, until Yukhei, it seemed.

No one dared to move, until the sharp sound of clicking heels seeped through the hallway with a menacing echo bouncing against the walls like a looming threat. Mrs. Choi appeared before the three, brows drawn to match her furious frown. She took a few seconds to asses the situation, taking a short glance at each three before choosing to land on Yukhei again.

“Wong Yukhei. Come with me. All of you, help Woojin to the infirmary.” She barked her order without leaving any room for Yukhei or the crowd of students to argue.

Yukhei’s anger simmered all too suddenly like a trampled flower. Without another word but a last fleeting glance at Woojin, Yukhei followed after Mrs. Choi. Immediately, as soon as the last trace of their presence vanished, the students clambered out of their seats and surrounded the two remaining figures of a shellshocked Jennie and wounded Woojin, filling the room once more with a familiar racket. She was one of the few who didn’t move from her seat, too focused on churning the new information before her. Wong Yukhei had punched the school bully to protect a girl. Wong Yukhei risked getting punishment to save a girl. Wong Yukhei busted his knuckles punching the bully no one dared to come near to. Wong Yukhei. Oddly enough, her thoughts drifted to the many courageous and dashing prince’s in her favorite Disney movies who had came to the rescue of their damsel in distress, saving them from dragons and evil witches. Wong Yukhei was, in a sense, like those brave princes, at that very moment.

This was the incident that had unknowingly snagged [Name] further in Wong Yukhei’s clutches.

Yukhei had gotten off with a month worth of detention and a growing popularity amongst his peers. Word of how he had defended Jennie after Woojin broke her toy were all the school could talk about for two weeks long. In those two weeks, [Name] had to learn to not jump up on her seat at every mention of Yukhei’s name and gave way to her biggest secret. Which was pretty difficult. What made it all the more difficult for her was when she realized how much she’s begun to pay more attention to Yukhei after that incident. Yes, she’s noticed how bright and contagious his joy had affected those around him, it’s difficult not to when he’s always claiming everyone’s attention with his presence. But lately, she’d begun to notice a different side to him, a more delicate edge to his blinding exuberance, a side that was arcane and often mislooked. [Name] knew of his secret passtime of feeding the stray cats that wandered aimlessly around the school’s lawn with his leftover lunch every day, she knew that Yukhei had lied to Mrs. Choi when he claimed to have lost his group project when it was his partner who had been a nervous wreck all morning about the missing project, she knew that he had only released the class’ hamster because she overheard his defense over how sad and lonely it looked sitting on its cage everyday. [Name] knew these things about Yukhei, knew of the kind hearted, sensible and caring person he was, and yet never dared to speak of it to anyone else.

She decided it was to be their own little secret—whether he’s aware of it or not—an undisclosed knowledge that filled her with amusement and fondness that only she got to feel. It in a way, brought her somewhat closer to Yukhei—although their distance remained. It, in a way that she knew brought only further complication to her already suffocating affection for him, was the reason she found herself willingly falling deeper into the uncertain abyss that was Wong Yukhei.

Even as she entered middle school Yukhei’s presence still lingered. He was fickle and difficult to be rid of, like a pollen. [Name] didn’t complain much, because she couldn't deny the elation of being able to still be around him. Apparently, what she kept convincing herself as an ‘elementary school crush’ phase had stretched on even up to middle school.

It was a week before their midterms as she recalled correctly, when Yukhei first laid his eyes on her after years of averting each other’s gazes. She recalled the creeping feeling of defeat as she realized that she wasn’t anywhere near prepared for the exam. She had been busy at the time, running errands as the vice president to the student council and relentlessly practicing for the school’s competition coming up. [Name], stupidly, as a result, had succumbed too many times to her exhaustion instead of paying attention to class and taking proper notes. She would’ve asked one of her friends to tutor her or even copy from their notes, but they themselves are swamped with school projects and preparation for midterms on their own. [Name] wasn’t inconsiderate, the last thing she wanted was to burden any of her friends with her incompetence.

Her friends had left for lunch at that particular day, while she chose to stay in her seat and attempted some last minute cramming session amidst drowning in regret and self pity. Though try as she might, only a portion of the information read was able to be thoroughly processed into clarity. With all her focus on her biology book, [Name] had tuned out the noise of the class door opening and the footsteps that followed. Only when their silhouette spilled over her textbook did she look away from it. She was certain that the choking noise she emitted was too loud not to be noticed. It’s only natural, for as soon as her mind realized that it was him standing over her, him staring right at her, and him alone to accompany her in the barren class, how could her nerves not petrify at all? How could she possibly focus on grasping for much needed air when his eyes were so tender, so careful and almost frightened at the thought of landing it on her, yet the warmth it always held crackled and burned right at her?

Despite Yukhei’s sudden presence that warranted [Name] to deal with an overwhelming surge of clashing emotions she knew was very much visible on her expression, he didn’t say a word. He kept staring, and [Name] was guilty of not looking away, of allowing herself to be ensnared in the intricate webbing of constellations that shone in his eyes.

“Here.” Finally, he spoke.

The spell he casted her under snapped and she was forced to look away. Embarrassment quickly flooded her system when it sinked in that she had been blatantly—and unabashedly mind you— staring at him, what’s worse was that this time he was aware of it. Through her silent self-reprimanding and desire to disappear from existence, [Name] finally took notice of his hands that held a worn binder and milk bread. He placed the two items on her desk, and she was too curious to not look. When she flipped the binder open to a random page, it opened up to pages of notes written in neat and compact words. Jumping ahead a few pages, [Name] was startled when she landed upon the very notes she needed for the upcoming midterms. As she let the knowledge of the new found study material sink in, [Name] glanced at the milk bread sat beside the binder. She nearly forgot that this was lunch time and that she hadn’t attempted to fill up her growling stomach at all.

Somehow, through the years of silence and avoidance, Yukhei had manage to come to her at her time of need, which was both suspicious and convenient. Yet she couldn’t be bothered to voice her suspicion, tongue tied and mortified as it struck her: Yukhei noticed her, enough to know that she’s been struggling through class and had chosen to abandon her health to make up for it. With some leftover courage, [Name] gazed up at Yukhei, somehow still standing before her, and still staring. She knew that even without saying a word, Yukhei should’ve understood the question laid on her puzzled expression. But still, he remained silent. At first, she thought his wordless state was only because of how painfully awkward this encounter was, yet the twitch of his lips and the shaking of his fists told her that something restrained him from saying anything else. She wished he wasn’t, it had been so long since she last heard his voice so close to her, felt him beside her. Yukhei ducked his head away, almost pained to look at her any further, before the rest of his limbs followed suit and walked away from her without any moment to linger. When the classroom’s door came to a shut, [Name] found herself heaving for air, somehow unaware of how breathless she had been with Yukhei. Again, her gaze drifted to the binder and the milk bread—a very thoughtful account that brought warmth unwillingly spreading to her cheeks.

This where she realized that her feelings for Yukhei was most definitely not a phase, not when it still remained as they graduated and stepped into high school.

While in high school, Yukhei was able to secure his social status by snagging the position as the soccer club’s midfielder. While [Name] chose photography. After middle school, she decided against joining the student council and focused on her academics and extracurricular instead. Though that thought had yet to blossom into satisfactory results, perhaps due to fate’s unnecessary meddling of her non-existent love life. Somehow, joining the photography club meant that you’re responsible for capturing the school’s each proudful achievement and activities. Somehow, this meant that the soccer team claimed most of her time. She hadn’t yet determine whether it was fortunate or not that her decision to join the photography club had given her the opportunity to watch Yukhei at an even closer distance.

Much to her disappointment however, she and Yukhei never got to interact the way she hoped they would in high school, like the way he appeared at her time of need at that fateful spring day. She couldn’t really blame him. High school was the year that he started juggling too much, appeasing too many, working too hard. Though yes, it disappointed her at first, [Name] couldn’t help but swell with admiration for the boy the more she paid attention to his persistence and hard work in managing his time. He remained steady in the top 10 of his class, maintained his social status with one of the most popular cliques in school, continued his after school soccer drills and on-the-work band without any complaints, and somehow, was still humble enough to appease to those around him, still threw out smiles through the sweat and exhaustion in his bones. How could anyone not favor him? And how could her heart ever let someone like that go?

What she remembered most about Yukhei in those three years of high school though was the unbelievably unfair puberty that struck him. To put it simply, the tall, dorky yet charming Yukhei she’s grown fond of has flourished into a dapper, taller and gorgeous Yukhei that grew in well to his features. Soccer had toned out his muscles and kissed his skin with a beautiful golden tan, the new hair he’s chosen to settle with perfectly framed his features and further accentuated his appeal, and his voice—wow, how easily she found herself shivering every time she thought of him speak—had drastically changed into a deep velvet tune that rung persistently in her daydreams. Yukhei grew into a beautiful man, both in appearance and heart, and just when [Name] thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

High school was the year when [Name] attempted to get over her stupid crush. Yet failed, again and again, every time he smiled, laughed, spoke, and breathed. Somehow, she doesn’t mind this.

By the time she graduated and enrolled into the college of her dreams, [Name] had chosen to abandon any of her previous fantasies regarding Yukhei to focus better on her classes. Like any other freshmen, her mindset was very ambitious, yet so very wrong, as she had nearly been reduced to a heap of exhausted limbs and fried brain circuits. But she willed herself to stumble through, and she did. Regarding Yukhei, well, Yukhei was not a pollen she decided, he was a leech, for even in college she could not escape him. Fortunately, despite taking the same minor as him, they had completely different schedules, which meant she only had to deal with her stifling affection and constantly freezing limbs only when she passed by him somewhere within the university’s property, which was very rare. Life however, decided it’s finally had enough of their stubborn persistence of avoiding each other.

The start of a new semester, among all other things, meant new schedules, new arrangement of classmates, and a bigger chance of landing in the same class as Yukhei—a possibility she overlooked too greatly. It had been such a long time since thoughts of him occupied her mind, so long that she was convinced she’s finally escaped the clutches of his charms.

When she steps into the lecture hall on the current wind blown day, with steaming coffee in hand and a calm mindset ready to indulge herself in another semester of overwhelming knowledge, the entire first year she’s built herself up into the self assured and confident woman crumbles at the doorstep when she sets eyes on her occupied seat—occupied by Wong Yukhei. [Name] nearly spills her coffee on her brand new blouse as her knees wobbled at seeing him. And out of all places, right at her seat. Technically speaking, it’s not hers, as there are no assigned seats in this class. But it’s an unspoken system that has been established since the first day of class: the first seat they sat on upon their first day was to be their assigned seat for as long as they remained on said class. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know that.

It’s been so long since she’s felt the tide of anxiety taking over her body, so long since she’s felt like a vulnerable and love-sick little girl that she’s berrated herself for being in the past. She forgot just how significantly powerful Yukhei’s presence could affect her. It feels like hours, yet it has only been minutes that she’s been standing, frozen, by the door. [Name] only wills herself to move from the doorway when a classmate came up to her with worry. She smiles, assuring them that she’s just fine, before heading up the flight of stairs for her seat. Crazy how she used to avoid coming in contact with Yukhei like he’s the plague, but now finds herself willingly heading straight at him.

The problem with Yukhei taking her seat is that she has a particularly strong reason for being so attached to it. First off, the distance between her seat and the professor’s is too perfect, not too close to have her be spotted whenever she decides to slack off once in awhile, but not too far away that she can’t hear the room carry the professor’s explanation in all its detail. The lighting that its glass window provided is also too perfect for her to give up on, her neatly written notes and occasional surging self indulging selfies depends too much on it. She has to take that seat back. It becomes clear the closer she got to him that the barrier separating them from intertwining into an awkward stare off that morning is because of the earphones currently plugged in his ears and the novel that’s taken his attention hostage. She doesn’t know that Yukhei likes to read novels.

This time, she is prepared to interact with him without making a fool of herself like the previous times, this time, she is certain that the confidence she’s fostered in the past year can break through the confinements of her sentiments over him. It’s empowering to think on, the transformation she’s wade through in the past year has fundamentally changed her enough for her to be aware of the lack of stumble in her step and the missing stutter in her breath as she draws closer to him. Yes, she’ll be fine. At the echo in her footstep, his eyelashes flutter, as graceful as the motion of a butterfly’s wings, a slow and deliberate action that allowed the morning sunlight to filter through it in a moment that poets would proudly claim as their muse. His body moves just as slow, a sluggish movement that hints at his unaccustomed system to the newly scheduled morning class. Then, his eyes land on her. She stops herself before him, this scene familiar, if not for the opposing side she now finds herself in.

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” She prides herself in delivering the sentence without any hitches.

The arch of his eyebrow gives away his astonishment at her boldness, a quality he remembers her clearly not having. Though to be fair, it was over five years ago that he last interacted with her. Yukhei tucks his folded arms on his desk with an innocent semblance to hide the fascination for this new found [Name]. He notices the confidence in which she carries herself with, and frankly, he likes this new change.

“Oh?”

[Name] nearly slips back into her addled state of mind at how readily he replies.

“I believe you’re new in this class, but you see, I’ve sat here for an entire year now. And you might not be aware, but there’s this whole thing about ‘first come, first serve’. So it’d be very nice if you could find some seat elsewhere, please. “

In an abruptness she isn’t prepared for, Yukhei tucks his novel and earphone into his arms and readily stands away from the seat. He shrugs his bag onto his shoulder and steps closer, too close that [Name] has to step back to give herself the much preferred comfortable distance between them that would not give away to the blush rising her cheeks or her erratic heart beat.

“It’s cool, you can have it.”

Startled, [Name] pauses to confirm that he is indeed giving away her seat back. When Yukhei juts his chin to the seat and quirks an eyebrow at her lack of movement, she finally move to claim it. As they side step past each other, [Name] is careful to not come into any contact with him, afraid that any brush of skin might bring out the current panicking and disbelieving crush obsessed side of hers.

“Hey,” She curses at herself inwardly for how quickly her head turns to him, “Your lipstick’s kind of uneven, might wanna fix that.” He gestures to his grinning lips, then leaves with what she’s certain is a joyful bounce in his step over successfully mocking her.

For years, [Name] has dreamt of the first moment in which she and Yukhei would meet—truly meet and converse that is. Now that she’s achieved just that, she’s greatly disappointed and embarrassed over how their interaction went. Yukhei is supposed to be the prince charming: chivalrous, well mannered and kind. He is supposed to be enchanted by the patiently crafted make up she dons on her features, find the too large sweater she’s wearing an adorable sight enough to compliment on, supposed to fall to his knees for her smile. But he isn’t. Of course he isn’t. What a fool she is for ever allowing herself to be indulged in such childish and unrealistic fantasies. All at once, she can feel her confidence deflate into one of insecurity. She can’t look that terrible, right? Sure she’s not the prettiest girl in the room, but surely she’s not hideous enough as to not warrant any reaction out of him. Does he even recognize her? Has the years of accidental eye contact and those few interactions they shared in the past meant nothing? Is she that plain that he can forget her so easily? And of all the things he could notice about her, it just had to be her god darn messy lipstick.

“Way to go, [Name].” This is said with means of shaming herself, and a difficulty to understand why this meeting could go so differently than what she expected it to.

The doors shudder open with a bang only her temperamental professor could afford to do so early in the morning. With one last sigh to end her swirling thoughts, [Name] sits herself down on her desk and unpack her necessities on to the desk. Suddenly, this seat doesn’t feel as great as it was as she follows through class that morning. Suddenly, the word prince charming seems farther in the distance than it ever was.

Maybe if she isn’t so muddled in her own thoughts she would have noticed Yukhei’s presence at the seat right in front of hers, despite the harsh glare of the sun that always lands on said spot and has left it unoccupied for the entire year.

Sharing a class with Yukhei is nothing new, she thinks. She’s shared a handful of classes with him in the past, which she confidently believe is enough of a reason for her to not be caught surprised by any of his antics. Well, sharing a class with Yukhei and sharing a class within close seating distance with him is definitely different. For starters, she’s always been enthralled by the way Yukhei exudes an aura of perfection so easily. How he can be studious, social, athletic and actively participate in various events has more than once touched her with awe and wonder. Apparently, either she was too incredibly absorbed in her own daydream to have somehow convinced herself that Yukhei is everything her prince charming was, or college is really kicking at his ass and has rendered him stripped of all his nearly perfect semblance.

On their second day, [Name] takes notice of the seat he chooses to occupy. But, having her expectation and hope crushed so quickly the day before, she shakes away any thoughts of him possibly sitting there for her. The class ticks by in agonizingly dull minutes, yet having grown accustomed to this, [Name] wades through without an ounce of drowsiness on her. The same could not be said for Yukhei. Throughout the entire time they’ve been school mates, he has always proven to be well rounded in all his academics. This she believes is gained through a lot of hard work and sharp focus to the class he attends. Somehow, college Yukhei is not exuding any of that academically well rounded student that day. No, he is exuding the aura of a mentally drained student who chooses to sleep through his lectures. And he just had to be one of those students who sleeps sitting straight, letting their head droop backwards once they go completely unconscious.

[Name] is only interested in taking notes from the board, yet every time she glance forward, she also catches a glimpse of Yukhei’s sleeping face, albeit turned upside down from where she sits. A frown crawls its way on her lips, for not only is he distracting her from her class, but he has further plummeted her emotions for the boy she believed was a perfect and well mannered student. Had he been sleeping in classes without her knowing all these years? Was his satisfactory grades a result of cheating?

No, stop caring [Name].

It’s difficult not to, not when the first slip of drool drips from the corner of his mouth. [Name] doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary attention to herself, but gosh she nearly couldn’t contain the gasp that’s about to come out from her. At this angle and circumstance, Yukhei looks nothing like the prince charming she’s remembered.

Stop it.

This is no time to dwell on such trivial matters. She’s held through the first year of college with a GPA to be proud of because she’s abandoned him. Right now, she can’t afford to let herself slip. Instead of the shock and confusion she expects to feel, Yukhei’s slumbering face makes her nerves tick in annoyance, not only for being a distraction, or for his lack of appreciation to the professor’s explanation, but also for the notion that he seems to have no regards for his future in this college. She clicks at her pen and pokes it at Yukhei’s forehead as an attempt to wake him. He doesn’t budge. Harder, she pokes at his cheek. Nothing. Even harder, with eyebrows further pulled down it makes her forehead wrinkle.

Instead of slowly stirring to consciousness, Yukhei is jerked awake with a sudden jolt that makes her jump in her seat. He pulls himself up into an upright position and turns in his seat to her, looking like a crazed man with wild unfocused eyes. Slowly, consciousness seeps back into him, and a certain calmness dawns on him. [Name] should have been mesmerized, petrified, heart fluttering at the way he holds her gaze. But his red rimmed eyes and drool covered cheeks halts herself from feeling any of that. She notices that the line of drool on his cheeks has been smudged when he jerked awake, unfortunately, its remnants now exist by the tip of her favorite pen.

With a disgusted grimace, [Name] unwillingly shoves the pen to Yukhei, “I guess this is yours now,” Yukhei, still dazed and unaware of what had transpired, takes the pen with furrowed eyebrows, “And pay attention.” She scolds, already pulling her gaze away from him and back to her notes which should have been finished if not for his interruption.

“Uhm, thanks.” He mumbles, still turned towards her, though she tries to brush it off and regain her focus.

“You have a zit on your forehead by the way, might want to cover that up.” Baffled and utterly startled by the bluntness in which he says it so casually, [Name] lands her eyes back on him.

Yukhei’s smile trickles with playfulness, though with the drool marks on his cheek, she expects that he shouldn’t be able to still look so ridiculously good looking. He waves her pen in the air as a thank you, and returns his attention back to the professor as if nothing had happened. She, insulted and growing increasingly vexed by the man sitting before her, is urged with the temptation of hitting his head with another pen and demand him to be rightfully courteous as to thank her for waking him and cleaning her pen instead of readily taking it. And what kind of well mannered man would so blatantly point out the zit on her forehead? Is it really her fault her hormones are acting up? Self consciously, she pokes at the reddening pimple on her forehead, churning the pain that has gotten worse since this morning.

An annoyed huff escapes her. Prince charming be damned, she has no idea how she could ever expect Wong Yukhei to be one. He is just as infuriating, rude, and childish as the boys she and her friends made fun of at high school. She just wished she hadn’t spent all those years chasing after such a lost cause.

She feels a deeper stab of betrayal the longer she thinks about him, about who she believed he was and what he really is. Yet, she has no idea why her heart beat still refuses to calm down.

Funny how when she had been so desperate for his attention in the past, life made no effort to meddle in and realize it. But the minute she decided that she wanted nothing to do with him, life graces her with his constant presence, and worst of all, had arranged how exactly he was going to sneak himself into her life. It’s all because of Kim Mingyu, the blasted gargantuan and his easily wooed heart.

“Hey,” Without knowing it, the baritone of his voice had clung onto her mind at their first real conversation a week ago, its distinctive rasp easily identifiable.

It’s possible that Yukhei might not be calling out for her specifically, she can’t be sure when her eyes are downcasted and curtained by the loose strands of hair. His seat is left empty, and surprisingly, he is found lingering instead on the seat next to hers. How peculiar of him to seek out for her. But, she does not give in as easily to the whispers in her over excited heart and chooses instead the rational side of her mind. Her eyes only wander away from her notes when the pause in the air is interrupted by the clear of his throat. A small smirk can’t be helped but shift her serene expression, one of a rare pompous satisfaction at the notion that this time he is the one vying for her attention. When their eyes meet, Yukhei’s irises are less of a magnificence than what she remembered it being, its glimmer dim. Though it changes not the way her heart reacts to witnessing it, every time. Fortunately, this time she has gotten better at controlling and masking her true disheveled state.

“Professor told me that I’ve been doing poorly in class, you see. And I was thinking that you might be able to help me, since you know, you’re one of the best in this class.” Hesitance seems to be a foreign mentality for him.

“Why not ask Mingyu?” She doesn’t want to outright admit that she finds herself feeling flattered that she’s the first option he decided on.

Yukhei takes the vacant seat next to hers with a startling casual air that mirrors not to the awkward tension they’ve been in for the past years. [Name] scoots her chair away from him out of nervous habit, creating a distance much more preferred. He shoots her a dazzling smile, one that reaches his eyes and slowly lights them with the familiar warm glimmer that makes her stomach churn. No, she is not falling for his charms, not again.

“I did actually. But he bailed on me when Sohye asked him to tutor her, and well you know, he’s smitten over her and can’t refuse. So, he told me to find you.” She responds to him with a frown she hopes doesn’t give away her dejection too easily.

How foolish is she, to think that Yukhei would willingly come before her for help. It would make sense that he’s only here because he has to. He might not even remember or recognize her, despite the years they’ve been placed together. Of course he won’t, she made sure of that. Get a hold of yourself, her mind warns. Though her rattled heart leaves her fingers shaking as it grips her pen, her expression remains steady. So what if he doesn’t remember her? So what if she’s just a second choice to him? She’s survived an entire year without his approval, why let this change anything about her? The shake in her fingers subside.

“Right,” Her curt reply cannot fully mask the disappointment she feels however, try as she might, “Maybe if you hadn’t spent your time sleeping you wouldn’t need to be bothered with me.” She quips.

Yukhei shifts his seat towards her with a curios tilt of his head, wandering of the hostility and dismissiveness in which she’s given him. As he recalls, [Name] has always been a quiet girl. But her gentle heart and delightful mannerism has always spoke louder than her. So, is it his presence that induces this colder edge to the surface? How odd.

“Yeah well, band practice kind of takes its toll on me,” He says this, expecting her to crumble and give in to a curious reaction, but she is as about responsive as a statue, which displeases and further drives him to gouge out for the girl he knows is hidden somewhere underneath, “We call ourselves NCT. Your friend Jungwoo and Jeno are in it with me.”

There is a millisecond pause in her blink, one Yukhei takes notice of with the aid of the close distance they have. He half expects her to push him away or even move to a different seat with the lack of distance he’s forced upon them. Usually, when he lands her eyes on her, she would do everything she can to not hold his gaze. Something about him unsettles her, he knows, and frankly the knowledge of not being well liked by someone upsets him. So it comes as a surprise when [Name] willingly averts her attention to him this time, unlike what he’d expect her to do. There is no hiding the surprise in his parted lips and bulging eyes, as this time he is the one struggling to hold her gaze. [Name] swells with pride with the reaction she manages to pull from him. It’s fortunate that he can’t tell how hard her heart has been hammering against her ribcage all this time.

“That’s nice. But that shouldn’t be an excuse to slack off on college.” The way she speaks reminds Yukhei of his mother back at home, a tenderness has touched her voice beneath its stern pretense.

Ah, there’s that girl I remembered.

There is no guilt in his grin, not like what she had hoped her scolding would bring. One second he is caught off guard and vulnerable to her, and the next the tables have turned and she finds herself falling back into the familiar pattern of gasping for breath before him. All because of a stupid grin.

“Stop.” Her thoughts speak out before she can think it through.

Yukhei sits, perplexed, unaware of what he’s doing to her all the while looking so adorable with his furrowed eyebrows and small pout. Darn him.

“Look, I’ll tutor you, okay? Now can you please stop bothering me?” She hastily throws the answer with a flip of her hair as she attempts to focus back to her notes.

Satisfied, Yukhei rise from his seat[Name] glance at him from the corner of her eyes, watching the transition of him gathering his belongings to recomposing his stature, before his stare dawns on her. She narrows her eyes to question his unmoving presence, and he only smiles, content with the new change she’s underwent. It seems it’ll be easier to speak to her now.

“Saturday at 4. I’m sure you know Amyrea Cafe two blocks away.” It’s not said as a question, but rather an agreement that he chose to agree on behalf of her name.

[Name] scoffs, above the thundering of her heart and the slow haze of her mind muddled with the memory of his heart wrenching smile, “I believe this is my tutoring session. What makes you think you can decide when and where—“ “You’re right, sorry.” The insincere apology is not accepted, if her scrunched expression is any give away to it.

Yukhei wants to laugh, delighted with the many reactions he is able to gouge out of her. To think that it only took nearly a decade for him to witness something other than a pink cheeked and wide eyed expression. He settles his hands on the pockets of his pants, an action she can’t help but think make him appear like one of the models that lines the cover of magazines.

“Like I said, band practice takes up a lot of my time. The only time I’m free is after 4 on Saturdays. Well, Sundays too, but that’s more of a me-time kind of day, you know?”

She doesn’t know whether he’s bluffing or not, for certainly no one can be that busy to not have time to study for less than a day in an entire week. Though uncertain, she opt to say nothing and offer a complacent sigh to him. That response however seemed to lack in what he require, as he stays rooted and continue his onslaught of staring. She realizes he’s never looked at her like this before, with expectancy and a hopeful tint in the worn brown of his irises. It’s becoming a bit too much for her heart to handle.

“Fine.” She agrees once she feels her heart might burst out of her chest.

Satisfied, he flashes a thumbs up and finishes off with a playful wink she’s not sure hold any meaning other than to further tease her. She’s never received any of his playful antics before, but now that she has, she hates to admit that it brings back the dorky, youthful Yukhei she fell for in the first place. Gosh, why is it that when she finds a quality in him she dislikes, he can immediately reel her back in with such an easily appealing action? He scurries back to his seat just as the professor enters, and she’s guilty of watching him go.

Should she dread or risk harboring hope for the upcoming Saturday? She wonders. The thought hit her too late and too sudden the way a freight train might crash and burn, that today, she might have just landed a date with the very prince charming she’s been dreaming of since she was 8.

Oh, but he’s not as charming as I hoped for anyways.

At least, that’s what she wills herself to believe.

The turmoil of dread and excitement she’s been harboring for this particular Saturday has ensued into a pleasant—albeit with a bit of disappointing mannerism from Yukhei here and there—enough occasion. To start, Yukhei was late, and she had to wait an entire half an hour in neverending impatience and anxious foot tapping. Then, he had asked her to stand and order for him, claiming he was too exhausted from the running he did to reach the cafe. Then again, he isn’t all too difficult to teach, which really makes up for his poor manners and tardiness. She knows that the stellar grades he’s accumulated in the past could only be a result of his intelligence. He simply needs a quick catch up on the lessons he’s missed during his nap sessions to pick up on the pace of the class. Within just two hours, Yukhei’s absorbed most of the basics they learned in that first week, and an exhausted silence ensues.

When she takes a glance to the walls of glass windows lining the small cafe as their textbooks come to a close, the gleaming blue that stretches above the bustling city of Seoul has been dipped with hues of purple, orange and pink, a telltale sign of the setting sun as its peak lingers in the horizon. Tufts of white clouds dot the sky beneath the cool wind, crowds of both people and cars have started to pile up on the streets as the working hours come to a close. The flow of time in Seoul has always been fast, too hurried it leaves her with not enough time to settle and appreciate trivial things like the beauty that lies in its streets. At this moment, she feels the clicking in which time slows, if only just a tad.

“You’re daydreaming.” Time winds back up when his voice cuts through the room, everything launching too fast that she can’t help but flinch.

When she risk a glance at him, contentment and peace of mind reflects in his slackened posture and small smile. A tenderness reach his eyes, one that ignites the tingling warmth throughout her system, one too familiar. She looks down to her scattered notes and attempts to nonchalantly cover her blushing cheeks by resting both her hands on them to appear as if she’s resting her head on her hands. Yukhei, as mischievous as a little boy, mimics her movement, but settles his gaze on her instead of his table.

“It’s cool. I figured you might not want to talk to me since we’re done with the tutoring here.” Though he means to remain casual with his words, [Name] can’t help but turn to him at the assumption.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s how we always are. I try to reach out to you, you turn your back and shut me out,” He shifts his position and leans away from the table and her as if his own words pained him, and as the sun casts its remaining light on his face, she sees that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes now, “I mean, I can’t blame you for hating me, since obviously I can’t make everyone like me. I just…” He doesn’t finish himself, opting for showing a frown to set his point across.

Has she been all too selfish for thinking that she’s the only one to have suffered from the predicament she landed them into? Was it just her imagination that Yukhei had just expressed how bothered he was over the way she treated him? She feels her fingers tremble at the force of such sudden enlightenment slipping into her thoughts. Furthermore, Yukhei’s curled fists and downcasted gaze are not boding well on her processing mind. Perhaps the reason these thoughts have never penetrated her mind before is due to the belief that Yukhei can never be bothered by her. It’s much more logical to think that the popular and socially adverse Wong Yukhei could never notice the quiet girl who prefers to keep to herself and her small group of friends. Besides, why would Yukhei bother himself with the lovesick quiet girl who spends her time avoiding him? Now, now she can’t be sure anymore.

“Y-You noticed me?” Of all the thoughts racing through her mind, the idea of him noticing her after all the years of avoidance and minimal contact is what kept ringing in her ears, a sound too good to be true she has to ask to be certain.

The calloused pads of his fingers gripping after each other in a nervous awaiting for her reaction cease. He settles closer to the backrest of his seat with a long sigh, the wandering of his eyes hinting at his struggle to grasp for the right words.

“It’s hard not to. You’re the girl who does all she can to not talk to me after all.”

Girl. To him, she is just another girl among the crowds. Yet, that can’t be true, for he somehow recognizes her through the sea of faces he’s met over the years. So, why did he just refer to her as a girl? After she swallows the disappointment in her throat, it became clear that she had hoped for him to refer to her as a pretty girl, a sweet girl, or even a nice girl. Anything that could give away the impression he has of her. But she’s come to realize Yukhei isn’t the type of guy to meet your expectations.

“You’ve been surprisingly a lot more talkative to me these days. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it seems like my charms are finally coming through to you, and to think it only takes a decade.” He slides humor into the tense silence like smooth butter.

[Name] is guilty of falling too easily for it, breaking out a small smile that fades as instantly as it comes.

“I’m sorry, Yukhei.” It’s heavy on her tongue and odd to her taste buds: his name said with an apology.

It seems she’s not the only one to think so, as Yukhei’s wide eyes bore to hers with an astonishment to match his parted coffee stained lips.

“It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you. Though, if I knew that me avoiding you had been bothering you, I wouldn’t have done that.” Lies.

“So, we’re cool right?” He’s never sounded so cautious before, always loud spoken and blunt and strongly passionate.

The entirety of this unreal situation only sinks in when Yukhei hands the question. What exactly would this mean? That she gets to befriend her long time crush and suffer knowingly in a loop of never ending butterflies, racing heartbeat and taut nerves? Most likely, yes. What fears her the most about accepting and opening herself to a friendship with Yukhei is the possibility of having him find out about her true feelings, of leaving her hope in the hands of someone who can destroy it and her heart at the same time. Though now, she has to take into account his feelings as well if she is to reject. It’s quite difficult to make a rational decision when Yukhei’s eyes are watching her so. Even as she attempts to ignore his stare, its intensity leaves goosebumps across her skin.

“Cool?” She echoes back, hoping for an elaboration.

“As in you know, be civilized friends/neighbor/classmates/study buddy kind of thing. That is...if it’s alright with you?” She sees the quiver of his lips as he grows impatient for an answer.

Well, what’s a little bit of heartbreak compared to the chance of being able to experience Yukhei’s exuberance and all his dorky glory up close? She’s always dreamed of being able to be in close presence to her prince charming. And this is her chance. Perhaps, she might regret this decision one day. Especially after she realizes that Yukhei might not be the boy she’s envisioned him to be after all. Maybe, allowing himself into her life can finally make this fantasy of hers go away. So today, she is going to take her chances with the boy she’s pined over for nearly a decade.

“Okay.”

As their coffee grow increasingly colder into the darkening night, [Name] can feel only the lightness in her heart and the warmth of her cheeks at witnessing Yukhei’s blinding grin. At least, until he had to run off in a rush with a mere thank you not long after, leaving her to pay for their meals and less load in her wallet.

“Damn you, Wong Yukhei. You can’t just be a proper gentleman for one second?” She sinks dejectedly on to her taxi’s leather seat, with one last lingering memory of his grin to convince herself she’s not making a mistake.

The next Monday, Yukhei had somehow convinced her seatmate, Jisoo, to switch their seats. So it’s not entirely her fault that her hands had unknowingly spasmed with unbridled nerves and spilled coffee on her sleeves when Yukhei struts into class and takes the seat beside her.

“What are you doing?” She tries not to let her inner panic show through, but the way she hisses the question gives away a tad of her anxious nerves.

Yukhei is the embodiment of joy with a sweet smile and worn brown sneakers, happily bouncing his knees as he sits and lands his eyes to the boards. He spares her no glance, but she knows his widening smile is for her.

“Why, I thought you said we’re cool? So I’m here, cool and ready to learn with you.” He says it so casually that her increasing rush of her blood starts to hurt.

He just wants to be friends, [Name]. You can at least do that.

Clearing her face of any trace of her inner turmoils, [Name] clears her throat and turns back to her notes with a small oh.

“By the way, I can’t make it this Saturday for tutoring. So, you should come over to Jungwoo’s house after classes are done and we can study then, assuming NCT will be done rehearsing anyways.” He tilts his head to beckon for her attention and smirks as soon as she land her eyes on him.

“Excuse me?”

Yukhei raises an amused eyebrow, not as a silent question, rather as a dare for her to talk back. Could it be that he’s aware of her crush on him and is teasing her on purpose? The thought doesn’t stay long, as her annoyance for his lack of manners and the number of bills he owes him for Saturday hurtles into a big pile of curse words stuck in her throat. But, as she was raised to become a sensible and respectful woman, she filters through them carefully before she launches her words at the smug looking Yukhei.

“Who do you think you are, exactly?”

Yukhei leans back in his seat, taken aback by the sharp edge her tone is gliding on.

“As far as I know, I’m not the one who needs tutoring for this class, so you have no right to be making demands, alright? Just because you have pretty eyes and a nice smile, doesn’t mean you can bat it at me all you want and I’ll kneel willingly to your request.” She’s surprised at how she’s able to say it so furiously.

Compared to her, Yukhei is a lot more surprised, though not in the sense that she wants him to be. Rather than regret in his features, she sees the beginning of an amused grin and a playful shadow dancing in his eyes. And then, he laughs, at first a small chuckle that shakes his shoulder, then like a wave his entire body follows until it draws out into a laugh.

“You think I have pretty eyes and a nice smile?” He asks, grinning shyly at the compliment.

She doesn’t even realize she had let that part of her thought slip. In her embarrassed state, she also fails to realize the slight flush coloring Yukhei’s cheeks.

“I’ve always known you’re not as quiet as you appear to be. I just need to push the right buttons to bring you out, huh?”

She says nothing, far too embarrassed.

“You’re prettier when you don’t hide yourself from people, you know.” He speaks of his observation despite having no reason to.

The acceleration of her heart beat comes as expected, following on it is the rush of blood across her system that spreads most evidently in her pink cheeks, and the pen she’s been fumbling with topples out of her hand like a domino. Prettier? Then does he think of her as a pretty girl? Wasn’t she just a girl two days ago, and now, suddenly she’s pretty? It shouldn't be a comment worth changing her entire perspective of Yukhei over. He’s only said one nice thing about her, compared to the many rude and unnecessary remarks he has to make about her appearance in previous days. Or the pompous way in which he carries himself around her, which can be charming, but more often just annoying. Not to mention, his lack of manners and attentiveness. One nice compliment shouldn’t change the fact that Yukhei has been purposely riling her up this past week.

“Flattery will get you nowhere” The words are said above a whisper, if not for their close distance, Yukhei wouldn’t be able to catch the shake in her voice or hear it at all.

“Sorry, you’re right.” There is no humor or playfulness in his voice this time, and his smile wilts away into a more serious expression.

“But I really can’t make it on Saturday. NCT are having our first gig. Would you mind if we move it to today? I promise I’ll pay you back for the coffee at Amyrea yesterday as well.” Now, his tone takes a turn from playful commanding to a soft plea.

She huffs, blowing a strand of hair that has fallen on her face. It’s just convenient that she has no plans for anything after classes today, she’s finished all of her notes and no projects are due until two more weeks which leaves her room to breathe and relax. Should she give up on a night of junk food and binge watching netflix to join Yukhei and his garageband in what she knows is going to be an awkward and tense experience?

“Fine. But next time, I get to decide the tutoring sessions.” She holds his gaze, passing on her displease.

It doesn’t seem to bother Yukhei as he nods his head, an action that reminds her of an over excited puppy waiting for treats. Curse him and his adorable antics.

“And don’t think I won’t charge interest for the coffee at Amyrea.” She points her pen like it could harm him, but with her shaken up heart, she hopes it’ll be enough to get her point across.

He just grins.

That evening, when the last of her classes are over, [Name] had to remind herself of the different route she’ll be taking for the day. Instead of her dorm room, she’ll be heading to Jungwoo’s house, which fortunately is only a few minutes away by train. If it isn’t for Wong Yukhei and his irresistible—yet infuriating—charms, [Name] would have settled for an early sleep today. Kim Jungwoo is a dear friend whose loyalty and trustworthy company isn’t supported by how often you engage him in conversations with. She first met him in middle school when he offered her to lead as vice president alongside him, who had been running for student body president. He’s unlike many boys his age, responsibility and maturity grew on him at a much quicker rate than others. It’s almost like having an older brother, except one that’s of your age. Though they remain friends even till college, [Name] has never once set foot into his home. Until today, oddly enough not through his invitation.

His home is a smooth coral blue, quaint and homey with a minimalistic flare, its door and window frames painted white to match the fence lining the property, the small garden surrounding the premises is flushed with vibrant greens and specks of bright flower petals. It's a home that makes her homesick for her own. When she knocks on the door half expecting for an older woman to open the door for her, it is instead the familiar face of Lee Jeno, another friend of hers she got to know in high school. She draws out a relieved breath, unknowingly hoping that it wouldn’t be Yukhei to invite her in. Spending time with the man isn’t doing well for her heart, or her confused mind.

“Hey there, haven’t seen you in awhile.” Jeno greets, leaning his elbow on the door frame in an attempt to mimic the male protagonists of every cheesy rom-com to date.

A giggle slips past her, Jeno follows suit not long after and fixes his posture to a more natural one. The door is opened wider to make room for her entrance, and she ducks in under Jeno’s outstretched arm to step foot into the home. The house’s interior is just as simple as it’s outer appearance, yet it still retains a wonderfully comfortable atmosphere with many personal memorabilia hung on the walls and cute trinkets on its shelves and tables. Her eyes darts to the only opened door in her peripheral vision when a ruckus she recognizes as the sound of a drum cymbal echoes through the living room. That must be where NCT rehearses.

“Yukhei told us you might come. I’ve gotta say I’m surprised though, you’ve always avoided him like he was the plague. And now you’re willingly hanging out with him?” Jeno’s voice reels her back to reality.

He closes the door with a click and beckons her deeper into the house as he makes way to the white sofa in the living room. They both sit themselves on it, and Jeno, still adamant on keeping his playboy-wanna-be persona, swings his hand behind her shoulder. She lets him do it, just this once, she knows it’s just harmless fun with him.

“Well...we’ve decided to put our childish acts behind us and become civilized. I mean, it’s bound to happen one day, what with having been stuck with him for nearly a decade now.” She explains.

Jeno raises an unimpressed eyebrow, catching the uncertainty in her tone too easily to know she’s not fully telling the truth.

“Uh huh. You mean your childish acts. I never did understand why you don’t want to talk to him. He’s not that bad of a guy once you get over how unnecessary loud, rambunctious, blunt and clumsy he is.”

No one knows the details of why she kept avoiding Yukhei throughout the years they’ve been neighbors and consistent schoolmates. She had the sneaking suspicion that if she ever decided to confide the reason to anyone, the news will spread somehow and Yukhei would find out. So, she settled for swallowing down her own feelings and hiding it from the world. Not even the sweet smile Jeno is giving her right now can convince her to confess.

“I have my reasons.” Is all she’s willing to offer.

Jeno shrugs, knowing she won’t budge even if he begs.

“So, who else are in NCT? I know you, Yukhei and Jungwoo are in it.” She asks, averting the topic to a more favorable one.

“You know Lee Taeyong over in literature? He plays the keyboard. Renjun from the arts department plays the guitar. I’m on drums. Yukhei plays bass and backing vocals, while Taeil and Jungwoo are the vocals.”

Bass. She doesn’t know Yukhei could play bass. He doesn’t seem like the type to play one, despite the similarity its deep rasp has with his voice.

“Oh? I didn’t think you’d really show up, [Name].” The conversation is cut short by Yukhei, materializing from under the shadows of the practice room’s dim lighting.

Light bathes him as he enters the living room, showcasing him in all his post practice, adrenaline rushed glory. Sweat drips agonizingly slow on his skin, enticing the smooth expanse with a beautiful glow, the t-shirt he dons is an army green, yet parts of it has turned a darker color as his sweat soaked through it, his hair is a mop of wet strands clumped together, and his grin has exhaustion written in the way he stretches his lips. She has never seen him in such a state, yet she finds this sweaty and gross Yukhei so incredibly sexy, she has to clutch onto the fabric of her jeans to contain herself. This sight brings about some unwanted imaginations of him that she is not interested in delving into right now. Especially not with Jeno and Yukhei present. She clears her throat and turns her gaze away to avoid any further thought of him.

“Lemme just go change and we’ll head out.” Yukhei disappears into the flight of stairs without waiting for a response.

“Oh? A date?” Jeno’s question is sung in a light teasing manner.

When she gives no response, he nudges her on the ribs with a giggle that contradicts entirely to the playboy-wanna-be persona he had on previously.

“Shut up. I’m just gonna tutor him.”

“Yeah right honey, nowadays we call it a study date.”

Jeno means no harm, of course. But [Name] can’t allow any kind of hope to kindle within her, especially not concerning Yukhei and the possibility of him reciprocating her feelings. She shakes her head with a small glare, then rise from her seat as she escapes from Jeno and grab herself a water from the kitchen. Fortunately, Yukhei ran down not a minute after she finished her drink, a lot more fresh and clad in a grey hoodie. When the two are about to bid goodbyes, the rest of the band members filed out from the practice room, all looking as disheveled and sweaty as Yukhei was. Short introductions are made then, not as awkward as she had been expecting, fortunately. Yukhei, questionably in a rush, pulls her out the door soon after.

When the door closes in on them, a tense silence hangs in the air. Now, she is alone with Yukhei. Unlike at class, or the cafe, there’s no one else aside from them. The evening is quiet, its street lacking any passing cars or passerbys, almost to conveniently leave her with no distraction or choice but to settle with Yukhei and Yukhei alone. She’s nervous and almost unwilling to let go of the door handle, knowing if she does she will have to face him. But she knows she can’t stay, not unless she wants his suspicion on her back. A deep breath rattles her chest, then she turns so quickly and scurry away from the doorstep and onto the sidewalk, not waiting for Yukhei to follow or say anything.

“I saw a cafe a few blocks from here, it seems like a nice and quiet enough space, so we should head there and study for a couple of hours—“ A warmth that doesn’t belong to hers wraps around her wrist, and this sudden sensation makes her halt in her step and turn.

It all seems surreal and very much like the cliche drama trope she loves to watch, a situation she could never imagine she’d find herself in. Yet, here she is, out of anyone else, with her prince charming. At this moment, with the sunlight’s orange haze casting a halo over Yukhei’s hooded figure, and his hand on hers, time stops, and she can’t blink, too afraid that when she does this moment will fade too quickly before she can bask in it. Yukhei has been able to make her heart leap and jump on so many occasions, but this time, this time she can’t focus on it or how warm and shaky her limbs are. She can only focus on the hand on hers.

“Do you mind if we make a quick detour first?” His voice comes out muffled to her ears the first time he says it, but when she focuses and returns into the moment, Yukhei is closer than she expected him to be.

There is no fear or temptation to cower away from him like she always had before, this time she feels the urge to step closer, to see better the constellations freckled in his face and determine what shade of brown his eyes truly belong in. She shakes herself awake when Yukhei’s face begins to shift into a perplexed one at her lack of answer.

“Sorry, I just—“ She shakes her hand away, suddenly all too aware of the sensations flooding her body and overridden with its intensity, all because of a touch from him.

It must’ve been a trick of the light, the rose colored cheeks of his, for it fades away the second she blinks. Yukhei clears his throat, stuffing the hand that had held hers into his pant pocket.

“No, my bad, I startled you, sorry.” He’s never sounded as awkward as he does right now, an occurrence [Name] thought wouldn’t be possible.

There is no relief from the tension, if anything, Yukhei’s spontaneous action only further spiralled the situation into an awkward one. But since when has he ever let himself be awkward around anyone?

“So, what detour?” She finds herself asking through the unbearable tension that’s surfaced.

The question snaps him back into the Yukhei she recognizes, one second he is flustered, the next he is flashing her a sheepish grin.

“Practice really made me hungry. I was thinking of grabbing some instant noodles at the mini mart down the street, coffee shop food’s terrible for a college student’s wallet, you know?” He responds, escaping the awkward tension.

The request ticks at her nerves, for the darkening skies and the flicker of artificial lights blossoming around them tells her that if they take this detour, they might not have time to study much, or at all. But she can’t ignore the exhaustion Yukhei is carrying with him, or the pleading smile and slow blinking doe eyed look he’s doing. With a reluctant sigh, she nods. The mini mart is just a short ways away from Jungwoo’s residence, it takes about a 5 minute walk to reach there, accompanied with Yukhei’s mindless chattering and her short responses. As they reached the nearly empty mart, he beckons her to take a seat while he buys their food.

“My treat, consider this as payment for what I owed you back in Amyrea.” Says him as he leads her to a seat along the glassed windows.

With a scoff, she says, “Please, Amyrea costs a lot more than just instant noodles and coke.” Which is only replied by a rumbling laughter and a promise to pay back the rest soon.

The heat billowing from the instant noodle fogs the glass windows before her as it arrives with a giddy Yukhei. He digs into the dish with the fervor of a starved animal, unrefined eager slurps pierce the quiet hum of the mart. Yes, Wong Yukhei is definitely no prince charming, and his table manners speaks all about it. The sight both amuse and disgust her, her heart and mind torn between these two feelings like a war in her mind. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him to slow down, not even as the greasy broth of the noodle stains his sleeves and his lips. Who is she to tell him how to live his life or eat his dish? She shuts her lips and digs in to her own. While she is not even halfway through her noodle cup, Yukhei has finished drinking up the last remnant of its broth, ending his meal with a low burp. [Name] resists reacting to the shock crawling up her spine and continue eating. She only reacts when she sees Yukhei take a swig at his drink.

“Soju?” She asks through a mouthful of noodles.

Yukhei responds to her raised eyebrows and worried expression with an innocent grin. He shrugs his shoulder, failing to understand her concern and takes another swig at his soju.

“We’re supposed to be studying after this. Not to mention, you have a morning class tomorrow. One where your group is supposed to be presenting!” She reminds him.

The alarmed hitch in her tone doesn’t faze him. Yukhei is not only irresponsible, crude and lacking in table manners, apparently he is also annoyingly stubborn.

“Stop.” She commands, stern.

She does not look forward to taking care of a drunk Yukhei. He holds the half emptied bottle away from his lips, and she foolishly believed that he’s finally listening to her. The moment is short lived however as he flashes a mischievous grin at her and whisk the bottle back to his lips. Again, there’s that raised eyebrow, challenging her to stop him. Furious and overcharged with spontaneity, [Name] boldly takes hold of the bottle and tugs it away from him. Without letting him recover from the shock, [Name] chugs the remaining soju down in one go, wincing at the sting biting down her throat. She finishes with a loud intake of air and a slam of the bottle, while Yukhei, is rendered speechless and in awe. It’s not a stretch to say that he is very impressed by what she did.

“Gosh, look what you made me do.”

“What I made you do? You’re the one that chugged on my soju!”

“You’re the one that has no regards for your education! Honestly, what are you trying to do, sabotage your group presentation? And since I’m the only responsible one out of the two of us, I had to stop you from intoxicating yourself. I swear if you step out of this chair and buy yourself another bottle I will not hesitate to dump my noodles on your pants.” The rant takes more breath than she predicted, leaving her heaving like a mad woman by the end of it.

Again, Yukhei’s face depicts the awe for her uncharacteristically angered state, and the alien feeling of being stared at in such a light by him draws her back to her calm composure. She wish she could rewind the time and stop herself from getting carried away by her anger. But some parts of her feel pride, of being able to impress her long time crush and render him into silence.

“Yes ma’am.” He surrenders, holding both his hands up.

When they step out of the mini mart this time, there is not much struggle or further delay from Yukhei, in fact, he submits under her stern stare and obediently follow her in silence. It is when they reach a red light that [Name] begins to feel the world sway under her feet. She stops herself and blinks, uncertain if the sudden haze in her vision is a mistake or not. Oh, that’s right. She nearly forgot what a light drinker she is, undoubtedly, she’s now experiencing the aftermath of her spontaneously stupid decision. Damn you, [Name].

“Hey, why did we stop?” His concerned face pops into her blurring vision.

“Um, no reason.”

She tugs at his hoodie’s sleeve and beckons him to move along and cross the street. However, a crack in the pavement her woozy mind fails to spot causes her to nearly tumble into a heap of mess, fortunately, Yukhei’s eyes has been stuck to her like glue since she’s acted suspiciously tipsy, and so before she can hit the ground, he catches her in his arms. If she is sober, perhaps she’d have the time to feel embarrassed and flustered with the way he’s holding on to her right now. But as her mind falls deeper into the realm of intoxication, she couldn’t care less.

“Whoa, whoa, there. Maybe warn me next time if you’re such a light drinker?” Yukhei chuckles at the disoriented and unfocused lilt in her expression, a contrast to how composed and assured she had always been.

He snakes an arm around her waist, hoisting her up before letting her lean on to him for support. Due to her smaller frame, it’s not difficult for him to stagger through the crowd of passersby and lead them safely to the other side.

“I’m f-fine.” She stammers.

The sight of her so vulnerable in his arms, so candid and real unlike he’s ever seen her before, it stirs and brew a fluttering fondness within him. He smiles down at her, soft, but amused, and she’s too busy attempting to get back on her feet to notice.

“And you said you’re the responsible one? Let’s just sit you down for a bit.” Yukhei pushes her slowly to a nearby bench and slowly settles her down.

“Well, there goes our tutoring session for today. I guess it’s kind of my fault though.” He chuckles to himself as he sits next to her.

“I really want to curse at you right now. And my flats are squishing my little toe.” She says whilst wiggling her feet out from her shoes.

The confession startles him, not for its meaning, but for how easily the truth spills from her in this intoxicated state. Apparently, [Name] is not only a light drinker, but one inclined to tell the truth without any second thought of the possible repercussions of it. A part of him feels guilty, listening in on her as she rambles about her random thoughts. Yet the amusement and rarity of this entire situation wins over his guilt.

“Why?” The question is asked after a complaint over his ‘stubborn stone like head’.

Yukhei spares a glance at her, bothered by the lack of elaboration she gives.

“Why what?” He prods.

The question makes her entire form deflate, a crestfallen look immediately taking over her features. Yukhei scoots himself closer out of worry for the sudden change in demeanor.

“Why are you so different?”

Though he had hoped for an elaboration, the question still remains vague. He shouldn’t feel tempted with gouging more of the truth from her. At this state, it’s almost like he’s taking advantage of her. But now, knowing she has something to say about him, Yukhei has to listen.

“Different how?” He asks.

“Why are you so rude and ungentlemanly and blunt and such a slob? I thought when I finally got the chance to talk to you I’d have all my expectations met. Instead, you commented on my lipstick and my zit, then you drooled on my pen and didn’t even think twice to pay for me in Amyrea. W-Why aren’t you like the chivalrous boy I saw save Kim Jennie back in elementary? The one who stood up to Mrs. Choi when it was your partner who had lost the group project? Why aren’t you like that guy who came to my rescue in middle school? Why are you...this?”

The night wind blows strong and cold against them, when its ferocity fades into a gentle breeze once more, he sees the anger she had asked the question with simmer into devastation and confusion. She’s looking at him, but not in a way that is pleasant. Yukhei, again, finds himself speechless before her. For years, he has always believed that [Name] wanted nothing to do with him, she absolutely hated his guts, it’s the only reasonable explanation to her years of avoidance. The reason however, has always remained a mystery to him. Yet if she hates him so much, then how can she notice all those things about him? Is he wrong to assume that she hates her?

“I—“ He doesn’t know what to say, truly, tongue tied and thoughts halted. Even the disbelief of the knowledge that she noticed him is difficult to form into words.

“I didn’t save Jennie or came to your rescue.” He replies, after a pregnant silence too long for either of them to bare.

The answer is simple, yet [Name] has a hard time believing and processing it.

“I punched Woojin not because of Jennie. I did it because he broke my toy that I was showing off to her. It was from my favorite anime, and it cost a lot. So I punched Woojin because I was angry, I wasn’t really thinking straight at that time.”

The memory comes in waves, of a furious Yukhei, a wounded and fearful Woojin, and an equally shaken Jennie. Had the rumors floating around the incident been wrong?

“And for that project thing? Well, I only took the blame because Taeyong said he’d do my homework for an entire month if I did.”

No, that can’t be right. Yukhei has a heart of gold that beats for kindness and care for the people around him. Is he saying he only agreed to take the blame because it benefits him?

“The binder and milk bread in middle school, they weren’t from me. Jungwoo came up to me during lunch asking for a favor, he told me you’d been swamped with student council work and couldn’t focus well for midterms, so he asked me to give to you his older brother’s old notes and some milk bread from the cafeteria.”

Reality comes crashing down, like shards of glass it rains and leaves shallow cuts on her skin, but the longer she stands the deeper the cut gets, until it pierces right into her veins and she can feel nothing but the aching pain. The fear that has been dancing around in her mind materialized right before her, in the baffled and concerned expression of Yukhei. All these years, the feelings she had for him has been nothing more than a fantasy she forced herself into seeing, a stupid big fat lie she made up all on her own. There has never been any other moment in her life, where the feeling of embarrassment can compare to this very moment. She doesn’t care if Yukhei notices the blush on her face this time, hell, she can’t care less about him or what he thinks as of now. The only thing she can think of is how amazingly stupid she has been to fall into a trick her own mind made up. What the hell is wrong with her? She made Yukhei upset over all these years and wasted her time pining over nothing.

“[Name]?” She barely hears him over her ringing thoughts.

“Hey, look at me, please.” He pleads, panic slowly overcoming him at her blank expression.

“What about the cats you used to feed at lunch? Or the time you volunteered for clean up duty when no one wanted to? W-Was that all also a lie?” She doesn’t care how fragile and shaky she sounds at the moment, how teared up she’s gotten or how Yukhei notices.

“I-I feed the cats the food that I didn't like so my mom wouldn’t get mad when she checks my lunch box. And that volunteer work..I was dared to accept.”

So, this is what heartbreak feels like. The hollow ache in her chest and the numbing of her limbs. She would’ve thought that her heartbreak would come over a rejection. But no, there is only her to blame for her state this time.

“Oh.” She folds her arms around her, wanting to surrender to the temptation to curl up into a ball.

“I don’t understand, [Name]. I-I thought you hated me, but you’ve noticed me all these years?” Yukhei treads his question carefully, not keen on further pushing on her sensitive state.

“Of course I noticed. I like you, Yukhei. Or rather, the fantasies that my mind made up of you. You’re supposed to be my prince charming. But somehow…” She doesn’t have the strength to finish, feeling a shiver rack from within her bones and to her weakening limbs.

Yukhei can’t wrap his mind around that one word. I like you. Words he’d never thought he could ever hear come out from his adjacent neighbor and long time schoolmate.

She likes me? She’s been avoiding me because she likes me?

[Name] manages to rise to her feet despite the wobble in her knees and the glazed over expression she wears. Yukhei stands beside her and opens his arms, cautious in case she topples over like before. But she pushes his arms down and shakes her head, though feeling sick to her stomach and unsure of her capability to walk she doesn’t want him anywhere close to her. She just wants to sleep and cry to herself.

“Take me home.” She pleads, weak and close to tears.

Yukhei frowns, but doesn’t bother arguing. He steps away, giving her room for her to walk as they head out to the train station, a significant distance between them, though in reality it’s only mere centimeters, he can’t help but feel like she’s oceans away from him. The ride home has got to be the most awkward situation Yukhei has ever gotten himself into. And he doesn’t like it, feeling useless while [Name] is in dire need of comfort. But he can’t, not him, not unless he wants to risk upsetting her further and breaking the dam of collecting tears he can see her fighting back. Why couldn’t he just lie? Why is he such a screw up? Now, she really hates him.

As they reach her dorm room, a helpless Yukhei attempts one last time to say something, anything, to her. But the door is shut in his face before he can, leaving him alone in the hallway with just the memory of her pained expression to accompany him on his way to his own dorm.

Yukhei swears he would never drink alcohol again after at that night.

“She likes you?”

The notion should have made any male’s heart race in glee. But with the way things are between Yukhei and her, he can only feel it ache as his heart drums its mellow beat.

“You don’t seem all that happy for a guy whose long time crush just confessed herself to.” Jungwoo deducts, narrowing his eyes at his lifeless looking friend.

“That’s because she doesn’t like me me. All these years, she’s been watching me, she noticed me, and she made up this whole image of myself that I’m actually not. Jungwoo, honestly, why would she like me anyways? The real me? This image she made up of me was like I’m some kind of perfect prince charming, and I don’t blame her for falling for it. I just wished I hadn’t disappointed her so much with who I really am.”

Jungwoo has never seen Yukhei’s lips hold its frowning position for this long before. The playful sparkle in his eyes as if it never existed, and the restless energy that would usually make his knees bounce every time he sits is now very much still like a statue. This is unnatural, and so very wrong it pains him to look at his friend and not recognize who he is.

“And she’s not my crush. I’ve just always been interested in her, I wanted to get to know her and stuff like that. So, yeah, it really hurt when I thought she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He adds on hesitantly.

The raised eyebrow and unamused expression Jungwoo wears tells him that he’s not convincing anyone. A long sigh is pulled out of him, one of weariness and melancholy.

“Well, how was she when you came back to class the next morning?”

Yukhei winces at the memory.

“She changed seats, can you believe that? The seat she had been sitting on for an entire year and the one that made her talk to me. All to avoid me. She doesn’t look up at me when I present in front of the class, she ignores me when I come up to her. Jungwoo, it’s like she hates me all over again, only this time for real.”

Silence encases the room, one that allows Jungwoo time to think of a way to save his friend and for Yukhei to bask in the sadness he’s getting himself used to feeling.

“Yukhei, if this bothers you so much, then just make her like you,” He spares an unimpressed glance to his friend, “I mean, you you.” The reality that Jungwoo—one of the smartest people he knows—is deliberately butchering proper grammar just to appease him tickles a small dry laugh.

“Look,” He shifts in his position to face Yukhei better, “You’re not prince charming, and you’ll never be one. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a good guy. Yes, you’re not the most chivalrous or well mannered, but you don’t have to be one to make her like you. In a way, her fantasies are not that far off from who you really are. Yes, you didn’t completely punch Woojin for Jennie, but you did save the poor girl and other students from further torment from him. Yes, you only fed those kittens because it’s convenient for you, but you didn’t have to spend your time playing and taking care of them. And yes, maybe that binder and milk bread wasn’t from you, but you wanted to give it to her.”

A flicker of hope lights up in his heart, giving it a jolt out of its dull and mellow stupor. Slowly, Yukhei’s eyes flicker back with its familiar warmth, a slow yet sure change.

“You think so?”

Jungwoo nods.

“You just need to talk to her.”

Once more, the fire in his expression is put out, and in its place is dejection.

“It’s no use, she doesn’t even want to look at me. How do I get her to listen?” He tugs at his scalp in frustration, his frown deepening the longer he thinks of their predicament.

“I have an idea.”

Yukhei is far too hopeless to reject said idea.

The first time the thunk rattles her glass window, she convinces herself it’s just her imagination. When another one follows, [Name] forces herself to shut her eyes and ignore it, paranoia for a possible paranormal activity lurking somewhere in her dorm surfacing. The third time, it is followed by the call of her name. She opens her eyes, wondering why the voice calling for her sounds so familiar. Now certain that it is not a ghost coming after her, she steps out of bed and makes way to her window. A groan escapes her when she sees the visible scratches in her glass window, no doubt from whoever it is throwing stones at it. Another one hits, and before the glass breaks, she shoves open her window and pokes her head out with a scowl.

“Okay, if you keep throwing stones at my window I swear—“ Her breath stops when she spots Yukhei, standing on the lawn of her dorm’s building.

His actions halts abruptly in mid throw, caught in the eyes that he’s missed looking at—dramatic he knows, it’s only been a week. Unknowingly, his lips move on their own as they stretch into a smile, one he hasn’t worn since they last spoke. [Name] can’t understand why her heart still flips as she witness the blossoming of his relief and joy. Her grip on the window tightens, and she makes a move to close it.

“Whoa, w-wait, wait, wait!” Yukhei’s rare showcase of desperation is the only reason she heeds to his request.

“What do you want?” There is no hostility in her tone, just a soft spoken weariness he almost didn’t catch.

“I’m so sorry, [Name].” He cuts straight to the point.

This is not what she is expecting. What catches her off guard is the sincerity in which he says it, as if he is guilty of an unforgivable crime and has been suffering greatly for it. Why is he apologizing? He hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not as if she’s avoiding him because she hates him. Gosh, if she could hate him things would be so much easier. Rather, she can’t stand to look at him or be with him because he keeps bringing back the anger and shame she has for herself.

“I know I’m not the prince charming you want, and I don’t think I can ever be one. I’m just, me. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more. Yes it’s true that I didn’t save Jennie because I’m chivalrous, or gave that binder and milk bread for you because I’m attentive, or any other things I’ve seemingly done out of good will. I’m tactless and ignorant and an oaf and—”

“Please cut to the chase.” She interrupts, finding herself mildly amused by the way he describes himself.

He nods, wetting his lips as he can feel his throat drying at the force of his yelling.

“What I’m trying to say is that I like you.”

She never thought that she could ever hate the sound of those three words, I like you, as much as she does now. It’s pity, or guilt, she knows he’s only saying this because he is forced to, otherwise, the guilt will haunt him for the rest of his college years.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I do. Look, you got to do all the talking that night when you were drunk, now I need you to listen.” He insists.

Her silence and lack of motion gets him to continue. There is no stopping the joy and expectancy from sparking within her at Yukhei’s determined expression and earnest words. She just hope he won’t let her down this time.

“[Name], I—“ The screech of a door opening interrupts the moment.

“Hey, Yukhei.” Moon Taeil’s sleepy voice can be heard all the way from her third floor dorm.

She groans loud, knowing that if anyone out there has such knack for interrupting at the perfect timing, it’s her RA. Who also happens to be in the same band as Yukhei.

“Oh, hi hyung.” He doesn’t hide his displease for the interruption as he sneers.

“Do you know what time it is, Romeo?”

Yukhei takes a moment to check on his wrist, devoid of any watch, then shrugs his shoulders and flashes a sarcastic expression that nearly made her laugh out loud.

“I’m glad that you’ve finally got the guts to confess to your childhood crush, but seriously, not at the expense of all our sleep. It’s 12 AM for god’s sake!” Taeil’s exasperated outburst is followed by another creak of the door, “Just get in there and finish your business, okay, I frankly don’t care.” Yukhei disappears from her sight before she can speak.

[Name] can feel her heart somersaulting inside her chest, a sensation that makes a stark difference compared to the heavy beat it’s been treading on all week. Did she heard Taeil wrong, or had he just refer to her as Yukhei’s childhood crush? No, that can’t be right. Taeil’s probably just assuming things, things which can’t be farther from the truth. Then why didn’t Yukhei deny it and eagerly bound himself up the stairs? Oh crap, he’s actually coming here, to her dorm. At a time where she’s nowhere near presentable in her pajama-clad-bare-faced state. What if he backtracks and regrets confessing to her once he sees her now? She has no time to think when a knock at the door cuts through the room. Defeated and frankly too lazy to doll herself up, [Name] trudges to her doorstep and opens them.

A single red rose presents itself before her eyes, its petals slightly curled and darkened around the edges, his long fingers curls around the thorns still visibly poking out from its stem, and she notices the tendrils of roots poking out from its end. The rose and anxious tapping of his soil covered shoes tells her that he’s picked the flower from the campus’ garden on his own, which is a sentiment that arises a fondness towards him unlike she’s ever felt. How cute.

“I’ve always held interest for the little girl who would only show herself from the second floor window across my home. I’ve always wanted to get to know her. But when she kept ignoring and making up excuses to not see me, I figured it was a hint to take a hike and leave her alone.” His grip tightens onto the rose stem, digging the thorns further into his skin.

Concerned for the redness seeping across his palm, [Name] widens her door, “Yuk—“

“No, no, just, please listen to me.” She does.

“So I stayed out of her way because I didn’t want to upset her. But somehow, I always find my way back to her, through elementary school and even up till college. Then, after years and years, she finally came up and talked to me. I thought I was dreaming, honestly.” His laughter is one of genuine happiness when he finishes, recollecting that fateful day where they finally spoke to each other.

“So, I believed that it meant she had finally stopped hating me, you know? And I—well, if I have to be honest, I really don’t know how to talk or act properly around girls. But, can you really blame me? The only girl I want to get to know has been avoiding me for years. ” The rose in his hand is lowered back to his side, showcasing her the beautiful face she’s come to love.

“She has always been shy though, soft spoken and kind hearted. When she acted so cold towards me, well, I kept poking and prodding at her so that I can see the real girl behind that mask of indifference. But somehow I went poking too deep and ended up...ruining things for us..” His voice falters, nearly getting choked up at the end when his eyes dare to meet hers.

No, he didn’t ruin anything for them. It’s her to blame, her fantasies and her crazy expectations for a guy whom she didn’t try to take the time to know. She wants to say this to him, to assure him, but the plea he had asked of her rings in her mind: listen. So she remains silent.

“You’re right, I’m not prince charming. I don’t go out and save damsels or hungry animals in distress, I’m not attentive or rich enough to buy you fancy chocolates whenever you’re down, I have poor table manners and I drool when I sleep. But if there’s one thing I know for certain is that I’m not a bad guy. [Name], I really want to get to know you, to be there with you, even though my constant annoying ass and teasing doesn’t really show it, I do. If anything, annoying you was sort of my way of trying to get to know you. A-And, I care for you, I don’t like seeing you sad or angry, especially because of me, I can’t get the image of you crying out of my head even though it’s been days. I can’t get the thought of your eyes not meeting mine anymore because I’ve become so comfortable with it. I can’t accept the situation we’re both in because, I finally have you, and now we’re back to as if we’ve never met. [Name], I—“

Of all the things she thought he could do at that moment, Yukhei gets down to one knee and holds out the rose to her with the brightest grin he’s ever offered. To think, that a man so far away from the description of a prince charming can completely master the classic rom-com drama trope, and did it not just once, but twice. With such a heart wrenching confession too, one she’d honestly never expect from Yukhei. How is he so unfair? Though he lacks the eloquence of poets, the stuttered confession has managed to bathe her entire body in a wonderful wholeness of feeling loved. Yes, maybe he hasn’t been the perfect image of a prince charming, but honestly, does a guy like that even exist? He’s not perfect, not at all any of the things she believed he was, nor will he ever be. He’s just Wong Yukhei, and maybe, maybe he’s not so bad after all. Maybe, all he needs is a chance.

At that very moment, looking at him, so earnest and hopeful, all the bitterness and anger and shame that’s been shadowing her morphed itself into an overwhelming fondness that draws out a genuine smile on her face.

“I’m not a prince charming, I’ll admit to that. But if you give me a chance, I want to be one for you.”

It’s unfair, how easily he can make her feel one thing after another without much effort. But she doesn’t mind, not this time, not when her 8 year old dreams she believed had crashed and burned has come rising back from the ashes and fall perfectly into order right before her. No, not even in her most wonderful of dreams could she come up with such details in this situation.

“Um, [Name]? Please answer me, because my thighs are starting to hurt and I don’t want to have to repeat all that again. Not that I’m lying about any of that! Just that it’s a mouthful and really spontaneous so I can’t really remember what I just said—“

The rose is plucked away from his grip, his voice lost amidst watching her reaction. Slowly, she brings the red petals to her smiling lips, a liveliness dancing in her eyes and swaying body. Yukhei stands back up on his feet, completely enchanted with how soft she looks before him, but most of all, how happy. He relish in the knowledge of giving her that sliver of joy back, her infectious smile drawing one from him as well. In that moment, neither Yukhei or [Name] can pay attention to the thundering of their hearts or the lightning coursing through their veins. All they can see is the smile on each other’s faces.

“You should’ve cleaned the thorns, idiot.” The reprimanding lacks its stern, instead replaced with a breathy and dream like tune due to the breathless state she is in.

Yukhei shrugs, only half listening to her words as he is instead focused on the way her lips move. The same one his eyes are drawn to on their first day of class, one he deliberately commented on its uneven appliance of lipstick. He never told her that he lied, simply wanting an excuse to stare at them longer. Will she be angry if he succumbs to his wish to kiss her? Prince charmings are known to kiss their princesses right?

“And you know what? Maybe prince charming is kind of medieval anyways. I mean, you don’t have to be one. They’re too...stiff and stuffy and—“ A soft touch to her lips cuts her before she can finish, too quickly, the tender and short sensation overrides her entire system, leaving her frozen.

Yukhei pulls back, an innocent grin splitting his blushing cheeks. She can’t focus, can’t think of the words she was about to say because all she can think of is: he kissed her. Her prince charming had got down to one knee before her doorstep, poured out his heart to her, and kissed her all in the span of 5 minutes. Is this what all those princesses feel when their prince kisses them? The floating and unreal sensation she doesn’t want to stop feeling?

Unable to withstand the glazed over shock in which her eyes stays locked on him, Yukhei ducks his head, still smiling unbelievably wide.

“Sorry, I just had to...you know.”

Wong Yukhei isn’t prince charming, she decides. Nor is he sweet like the first taste of dreams. He is, above all, like a clap of lightning. With a force enough to break the night sky. When the thunder rolls, so does every fiber in her being. And she loves it.