leeknowrecord

[leeknowrecord]

Invisible thread

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[leeknowrecord]

Good Luck Charm

Plot: When your cat takes a liking to a nearby neighbor, nothing seems to stop her from escaping.

Pairing: Lee Minho x Gn!Reader

This is part one of my Meet-Cute series, Stray Kids edition! I hope you like it~

-Meet-Cute Series Masterlist-

Warnings: Nothing I can think of :)

Words: 2.4k

"Charm!" You called out softly as you walked through your apartment. "Charm! Come here baby!" You called again, your voice becoming a slightly higher pitch as you tried to get your cat to come out of wherever she was hiding.

Checking her normal spots, but not seeing her, you felt your heart rate spike. Walking around your apartment you continued calling out to her, your panic rising as you couldn't seem to find her anywhere.

Entering your living room, your eyes landed on the window, it was open only a small amount. It was normal for you to open it, and Charm, in your three years of having her, a few months of which were in this apartment, had never even attempted to get out, so why now?

Running over to the window, panic now obvious as you feared she had been gone for too long, you opened the window and stuck your head out.

Your eyes immediately landed on Charm as she sat on the sidewalk below. "Charm!" You called out, watching as she turned around and looked up at you, meowing softly.

After a few attempts of trying to get her to climb back up, and her stubbornly refusing. You ran down to the street as fast as you could, relieved to find her sill sitting on the sidewalk when you got there.

Getting back into your apartment, after chastising her the whole way back, you made sure the window was closed before you allowed yourself to relax.

"You lost your window privileges, I hope you don't miss fresh air too much" You spoke to her as she sat at your feet, an innocence in her eyes you couldn't resist. "Maybe I can get a screen installed."

You sighed after a moment before walking into the kitchen, Charm following close behind "How about some dinner then you jerk."

As you stared at Charm ignoring her food, you feared maybe she was sick, or maybe got hurt on her adventure outside.

"Or did someone pity you and feed you?" Charm stared blankly at you "Is that why you went out? You smelled food on someone who went by?"

Getting no response you shook your head "That have better been a one-time attempt young lady."

You left Charms food on the ground as you began to settle for the evening, hoping the stressful event of the day would not be repeated again.

A few days had passed since Charm and her adventure outside, and you had nearly forgotten about it. Though the window had remained closed.

Until now that is.

You had gotten distracted and forgot your food on the stove, causing the food to burn, and smoke to fill your kitchen. Rushing to the window to open it, you chased out all the smoke, but not before setting your fire alarm off.

After ten minutes of manic fanning and two failed attempts and shutting the alarm off, you plopped down on your couch, breathless.

"So much for lunch." You mumbled as you looked around, noticing a light smokey air still lingering in your apartment.

Your eyes landed on the window before the sudden remembrance of Charm popped into your head. "Oh no."

Running to the window you looked out, just in time to see her familiar fluffy tail disappearing down the sidewalk.

"Charm! You yelled out in panic before rushing from your apartment.

Minho hummed softly to himself as he walked back to his dorm, grocery bags in hand and thoughts bouncing from various things. He looked around him as he got a whiff of smoke 'Smell's like someone burned their lunch.' he thought to himself with a smirk.

Suddenly hearing a drawn out meow from behind him, Minho stopped and turned around, spotting a familiar cat charging towards him.

"Oh, you again!" He said softly as he stopped and crouched down, petting the cat as she began rubbing against his legs. "Did you escape again?" He asked with a smirk, but worry sat in his chest hoping she hadn't gotten too far from her home.

His ears caught on another noise as he heard a panicked yell. Looking up, another moment passed before he heard someone calling out a second time. Suddenly, from around the corner, he watched as you appeared, panic on your face.

As your eyes landed on him and then to the cat, he saw relief wash over your face and he almost smiled.

"Charm!" You called out, exasperation in your tone as you jogged up to him.

Minho stood up, his eyes now glued to you as he took you in.

You were disheveled, obviously from chasing your cat, but you were still attractive. As your eyes met his, he felt his chest tighten a bit as you smiled in greeting, though you held an awkwardness in it as you looked at Minho.

Charm meowed before she ran up to you, rubbing against your legs, you immediately crouched down and picked her up "Why did you do that again?" You asked softly as you held her tight to your chest before looking up and meeting Minho's eyes again.

It was now that Minho realized he had not stopped staring at you. Afraid he might freak you out, he smiled and cleared his throat softly.

"So she does have an owner then."

You smiled and nodded "Yes" you let out a soft laugh "I swear she doesn't do this often, just twice, now, and both were recent."

"Yeah, we've met before." Minho said with a chuckle as he looked at Charm.

"You have?"

He nodded as he met your eyes again, he motioned towards the road you had come from "When I was coming back from the store, just like today, she appeared in the street. I pet her for a while, and even gave her some cat treats, which I hope you don't mind." He added on quickly.

You shook your head and smiled "No, I don't! Though that explains why she didn't eat her dinner." You thought for a minute before you spoke softly "Do you, walk by often, by chance?"

He nodded and you let out a knowing hum "I think she has a crush." You mumbled as you kissed her head before looking at Minho with a light panic in your eyes, which you followed up with an awkward laugh.

Minho smiled as he let out a chuckle, taking a step closer as he reached out and quickly pet Charm's head "You called her Charm?"

You nodded your head "Yeah, 'cause she's my good luck charm, though recently she's testing her luck."

Minho chuckled "And what's your name?"

You met his eyes, and felt a bit surprised before you smiled "Oh, Y/n"

His smile softened and you felt your heart thump "I'm Lee Minho."

You nodded politely "It's nice to met you Lee Minho, thank you for being kind to Charm." You added on softly, your voice suddenly becoming shy.

He tilted his head a bit as he smiled, his eyes going back and forth between you and Charm "No problem."

After a moment of silence you cleared your throat "I should get going, I don't think I locked my door behind me when I ran out." You chuckled.

He continue to smile widely at you as he nodded. You took a step back as you gave him another smile "Bye."

He gave you a slight bow as he let out a soft laugh "Bye."

Turning, you began walking away hugging Charm tightly to your chest, probably a bit more than you intended as she squirmed against you. But your heart was pounding so heavy in your chest you barely noticed.

As you rounded the corner, you looked back, and felt your heart leap when you saw Minho still standing in the same spot, watching you with a soft smile still present on his face..

You quickly looked away, trying not to smile as you walked faster back to your apartment.

Looking down at Charm you spoke in a whisper. "So is he the reason why you keep escaping?" she meowed softly and you nodded "I don't blame you honestly."

When you had first rounded the corner, and saw him crouched down petting Charm, your breath seemed to disappear. You hadn't expected to see someone so gorgeous, not to mention kind. Especially since you were out of breath, probably visibly disheveled, and smelling like smoke.

You clenched your eyes shut, hoping he didn't think you looked crazy. As you made your way back into your apartment, you wondered if you'd see him again. You wanted to see him again, but you hoped next time you wouldn't be in such shambles.

Minho wasn't really sure why he couldn't stop staring at you, or how he couldn't look away as you left. He wasn't sure why he wanted to call out to you as you did, wanting to know more about you.

When you looked back at him as you rounded the corner, and he swore he saw a smile starting to form, he felt his heart clench.

After you disappeared from view, and he finally continued on his way home, he wondered if he would see you again. He knew what street you must live on. So maybe, he could make a few more extra trips to the store this week? Just in case he might see you again.

As you grunted, struggling to open your door, arms full of grocery bags, your eyes moved around your apartment before landing on Charm. She was staring forlornly out of the window, which now had a security screen on it.

Dropping a bag, you cursed under your breath before you not so gently dropped the rest of your bags onto the floor. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, a small brown figure darted past.

"Wha-" Looking to see Charm dart down the hall, you almost tripped as you ran after her, slamming your door behind you "Charm!"

You called her in desperation as she made her way down the stairs and towards the street. "What had gotten into you!" You yelled out, though in the back of your mind, behind the panic, was the thought of Minho. Did she see him out the window? Is she looking for him?

As your feet hit the pavement outside, your question was answered as you saw her running up to a familiar figure, who was staring at her with a look of surprise and amusement.

Minho's eyes followed where she had come from, landing on you as you appeared breathless and distraught from the nearby building.

You gestured your arms in bewilderment as you jogged over, Minho couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

This was the fifth time he had walked down this street since he had met you last week. And every time his eyes scanned the area for Charm, and for you, always wondering how nearby you were, and if he might run into you again.

As you approached him, his eyes scanned over you, you were much more put together than last time, though a bit breathless. As you smiled sheepishly at him his heart leapt in his chest.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you approached him "Hello again" You said with a soft breathy laugh.

"Hello." He said with a wide smile, that made your heart jump.

Grabbing Charm and scooping her up into your arms you looked up at your apartment window "She must have seen you walking by, she darted out the door as I was bringing in groceries."

He let out a soft laugh as he looked at Charm who meowed softly. Reaching out to pet her he didn't stop smiling "My existence seems to be causing you trouble." He joked as he met your eyes.

You smiled and shook your head "I don't think I'd call it trouble."

"No?" He asked with a soft tilt of his head, causing your ears to grow hot.

"Maybe...just a added excitement I wasn't expecting?"

He smiled, his own ears growing hot, he hoped his hair was long enough to cover them so you didn't notice.

Shyly looking down at Charm, you smiled softly "I don't know why she decided to grow so attached to you."

"Cats tend to like me. I have three myself."

"Oh?" You showed obvious curiosity at this, which made his heart warm.

He nodded "They live with my parents though."

"Oh." You nodded in understanding, you had only recently found a place to live that allowed you to have cats. "Maybe that's why she likes you, she knows she can trust you. But, she seems to have developed separation anxiety." You added on jokingly.

Minho grinned, speaking before he really though about it "Maybe we should fix that huh?"

Your eyes darted up to his, as he smiled with a raise of his brow. His heart was pounding but he was hiding his nervousness.

"Maybe you could bring her out every once and a while for a visit? Maybe she wont keep escaping."

Your heart was pounding in your chest at the idea. You smiled, hoping your face wasn't flushing too much. "Or, you could come in and visit her yourself on occasion."

You were surprised at yourself for suggesting it, but as Minho's face turned from surprise to a bright smile you felt a bit of relief.

"That works too." He said softly, his eyes staring into yours.

He took a small step closer and you felt your breath catch. He started to pet Charm before he spoke with an added shyness to his own voice.

"She really is a good luck charm isn't she?"

"How do you mean?" You asked curiously, your voice soft.

His eyes slowly left Charm and met yours, there was a softness in his gaze that could have made you swoon had you less control over yourself.

"I was hoping I'd see you again. And here you are. Because of her."

You were speechless for a moment, before you spoke softly. "You wanted to see me again?"

He nodded, a small smile on his face. Spotting redness in his ears, you realized he was feeling as effected as you were. You couldn't help but smile.

"I was hoping the same." You admitted with a quiet voice, that only made Minho's smile widen as he stared at you with starry eyes.

Charm looked between the two of you, before letting out a small meow. You couldn't help but wonder, maybe this was her plan all along.

xx End xx

I think I might write a part two to this soon, let me know what you think, or if that is something you might be interested in~

This blog is still growing so reblogs would be super appreciated!~ <3

Taglist: @bubblesreplies, @halesandy, @why-am-i-sad

[leeknowrecord]

'your eyes' series (ongoing)

synopsis: eight men, eight stories and a glimpse at their love lives.

genre: college!AU, inspired by 'your eyes' MV, genre depends on each story.

warnings: swearing (you know me by now, i can't help it), suggestive for some of them, all are female reader.

note: they can be read individually, but they are all interrelated.

note 2: click on the hearts to read!

status: ongoing.

a/n: am i currently rushing with school? yes. am i already working on 5 scenarios? yes. and yet am i making myself work even more? yes... i'm so excited for this series, though! i hope you'll love it as much as i do.

STRAY KIDS MASTERLIST

♡ "Come live with me."

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader.

genre: fluff, slice of life, neighbour!AU, suggestive.

word count: 9,295

warnings: swearing, cheesy asf.

summary: you've been living in the same apartment building for years now. everything has always been to your comfort; no noisy neighbour, no argument with the landlord, a cozy neighbourhood... when you've come to the realization you could not pay for your sweet home anymore, your friendly neighbour suggests a plan for you to stay. are you going to say no to the handsome man with many charms? of course not.

♡ "Do you trust me?"

pairing: bang chan x reader.

genre: fluff, a glimpse of angst, idiots-to-lovers.

word count: 8,501

warnings: swearing, drinking, slight angst, chan and reader are so oblivious (mostly reader).

summary: your first mistake was to major in music in college. your second mistake was to change classes and end up in bang chan's. your third was to accept his help to pass the class. your last mistake was to push him away.

♡ "This is disgustingly cute."

pairing: kim seungmin x reader.

genre: fluff, barista!AU.

word count: tba.

warnings: swearing, your typical barista imagine.

summary: seungmin has seen you before, but he never bothered talking to you. in fact, he did not care about you. when you came in the coffee shop in distress, he decided to be a good person for once and to make you a caramel macchiato in hopes to help you calm down. surprise: you do not like caramel macchiato, but you do like the young barista.

♡ "Just one bite."

pairing: lee felix x reader.

genre: fluff, fluff, fluff (did i mention fluff?).

word count: 7,641

warnings: warnings, might cause a heart attack of cuteness.

summary: brownie boy was a myth for you. since the first day you have stepped in the campus, everybody would be praising brownie boy. you could not believe that a grown man was kind enough to be giving out free food, good food. when brownie boy heard about your suspicions, he was more than willing to prove you wrong.

♡ "I could use some company."

pairing: yang jeongin x reader.

genre: fluff, slight angst.

word count: tba.

warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of mental breakdown.

summary: jeongin has one job: do the laundry. living with jisung who is a mess maker, he has no other choice but to be the responsible one of their dorm. waiting for the clothes to be dry, he hears cries, yours. how could you be so pretty even while crying?

♡ "I need to see it to believe it."

pairing: seo changbin x reader.

genre: fluff, slight angst.

word count: tba.

warnings: swearing, suggestive, reader is lowkey mean in the beginning.

summary: hearing changbin telling your friend, hwayoung, that he is convinced he can organize a better date than the guy who ruined hers, you can only laugh at him. persuaded he can prove you otherwise, he bets he can make you fall for him by going out with him on a date. the competitive in you accepts.

♡ "I might be a fool too, then."

pairing: han jisung x reader.

genre: fluff, a bit of angst.

word count: tba.

warnings: swearing, drinking, failed dates, suggestive.

summary: being your closest friend on campus, jisung has been through thick and thin with you, and so the opposite. thus, he has seen your multiple attempts at dating, your numerous failed dates and the guys who had never called you back. what can be any better than a night in with him to cheer you up?

♡ "You were the first person I thought of at the moment."

pairing: lee minho x reader.

genre: fluff, angst.

word count: 10,426

warnings: swearing, unrequited love mentioned, minho being minho (savage and flirty).

summary: your relationship with minho has always been tricky. either he is roasting the shit out of you, or he is flirting with you shamelessly. when things start to get complicated with your childhood friend, chan, why is he the first one who come up in your mind?

taglist: @lenilla15 | @muddy-waters | @nanaspalette | @nattisbored | @popcatx0 | @vanblack95 | @aestheticsluut | @thanxxskz | @minhoino

[leeknowrecord]

KISS ME MORE || lee minho

PAIRING: brother’s best friend!minho x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 13.2k

SUMMARY: he's your brother's best friend, and that should be enough to keep him off limits. but he's just a little too handsome, and you're just a little in too deep.

GENRE(S): smut, fluff

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, fingering, degradation, praise, use of petnames (kitten and baby), dumbification, mean!dom minho] minho knows he's hot and is a menace to society

The first time you met him, he was leaning against the doorframe of your living room.

He was visiting your brother, but the fact that he wasn't here for you seemed to slip from your mind the moment you saw him. An infuriatingly pretty smile was planted onto his face, his hand brushing his hair out of his face as he introduced himself as Lee Minho to your family, not even sparing you a single glance. 

Lee Minho. 

It tasted good on your tongue, his name.

You wanted him already.

Lee Minho.

He'd met your brother a few years earlier, since they were both obsessed with dancing. Apparently, Minho was the best dancer on the team. Not that it came as a surprise when Chan brought it up at the dining table later that evening. You had already come to the conclusion that Lee Minho was god's favorite, and, consequently, good at everything he did.

He also lived only a few houses away from you and Chan, as it turned out. Basically a neighbor, your mom had commented when he revealed his address and you nodded along – did this mean you'd get to see him often?

That question was answered fairly quickly as Chan assured everyone they'd spend most of their time at Minho's house instead – so as not to disturb anyone, he had said. Oh, what a caring brother you had. At that moment you wanted to strangle him to death. Didn't he understand that Lee Minho was the most handsome boy you'd ever seen in your life? 

Or maybe he did understand, and that whole 'staying away from the Bang residency' thing was intentional because he, being the logical sibling, knew that if you happened to fall in love with his best friend, everything would become really awkward. 

Which, yeah, sure, makes sense. Lee Minho is, after all, your brother's best friend. You shouldn't like him, and he shouldn't like you.

Having gathered that information, it’s pretty obvious that there is just no fucking way that you have a chance with him. 

Right?

—

Two pm. That’s when his dancing lessons start. You haven’t memorized his schedule or anything – you’re not a creep, obviously – you know this solely because your brother shares that class with him. Yeah. It has nothing to do with the fact that you enjoy every second you can spend outside the dance hall, able to let your stare rest on Minho without seeming desperate. Because if there’s anything you dread more than him not paying attention to you, it’s him thinking of you as Chan’s pathetic little sister. 

It’s fun watching him dance. He’s so good at it that it’s mesmerizing, his movements clean and gaze focused as he learns the choreography way quicker than the rest of the dancers. It’s no secret that he’s better than them, yet it doesn’t seem to bother them. Maybe it shouldn’t bother you, either. If only him being out of your league was the only problem. But it isn’t, so you decide not to think about it anymore, and rather focus on the homework in front of you as you wait for your brother to finish class.

Except it’s very hard to take your eyes off someone who looks like him at that very moment – shirt sweaty and sticking to his body, accentuating his arms a little too well. You almost choke on air as he thrusts his hips forward – something that surely is a part of the choreography but shouldn’t be, because it makes you bite your lip and press your thighs together, thinking that you wouldn’t have anything against having those pretty hands of his wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you like that. 

You sigh and look away when they stop dancing, mentally slapping yourself. You've gone completely crazy, developing a crush on your brother's best friend, that's for sure.

“Hey, did you wait long?” You hear your brother’s voice to your right and you turn around to face him, pushing away your previous thoughts as your eyes land on his frame.

It takes all of your mental strength not to scream when you see that Chan isn’t the only person headed towards you as he leaves class, but that he’s accompanied by none other than Lee Minho – the guy whose dick you were thinking about just a minute ago. Shit, that’s just your luck isn’t it? Obviously, he just had to be here, and obviously, the one time you wish he wouldn’t pay attention to you, he does. You try your best not to look too caught off guard as you feel your face heat up from the way Minho’s eyes are set on you, cursing the world for the awful timing.

“You’re coming with us?” You blurt out in his direction, forcing your gaze to stay away from the way his soaked through white shirt allows you to see everything underneath and to focus on looking him right in the eye. Which is hard enough by itself, because his stare is so strong you fear your legs will give out from underneath you. 

“Yeah,” He says, and you swear his voice has gotten even more attractive since you heard him last. “Is that a problem?” 

“Of course not,” Chan answers for you. “We just need to finish practicing the choreo. We’ll be outside anyway, so we won’t bother you, right, Y/N?”

“Right.”

You’re quick to gather your things, relieved that when your eyes land on Minho’s frame again, he’s no longer looking at you, his face stoic like it usually is. The three of you head towards the bus stop, and you’re happy that it arrives after less than a minute, certain that this is an opportunity to sit somewhere where you can silently admire the dancer without him catching your stare. Unfortunately for you, the bus is packed with people eager to get home and there are no sitting spots available, forcing the three of you to squeeze your way through the crowd and into a corner.

You feel goosebumps spread across your skin as Minho’s shoulder accidentally brushes over yours, clutching your bag a little harder and biting your lip. It’s so unfamiliar, having him this close to you, so close that you can hear his breathing. You’re sure that if you moved only a little to the left, you’d be able to hear his heartbeat, too. A small gasp leaves your mouth as the bus abruptly moves, making you almost lose your balance. Thankfully, you manage to grab the handle above your head to steady yourself before you trip. 

It takes you a total of two and a half seconds to realize it’s the same handle that Minho’s holding. It takes you another three to realize you’re literally holding onto his fucking hand, that your skin is in contact with Lee Minho’s skin.

Holy shit.

You retrieve your hand so fast that you didn’t even know you could react that quickly, and it feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest as you look everywhere just not in his direction. Did he notice that? Of course he did, how could he not? You held onto his hand, for fuck’s sake! And even if he didn’t care about that, he surely must’ve raised a brow at how you reacted to the physical contact. Like a crazy person. God, there is just no way you can ever look him in the eye after this. 

The rest of the ride you just keep your eyes planted to the floor, hoping you don't look as embarrassed as you feel. 

“We’re here,” You hear Chan say after a while, more to his friend than to you.

You wait for them to go first, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself, but your plan fails the moment Minho turns around in the doorway, looking at you expectantly. “You coming?” 

This time, as you’re walking past him, you make sure not to let your shoulder come in contact with his, but it doesn’t change the way your skin tingles when you meet his gaze for a split second. God, it’s going to be a long walk home. 

Fortunately for you, there’s a limit to how long a three hundred meters walk can last, and so after a couple of minutes, you’ve arrived. You waste no time going up to your room while Chan and Minho stay downstairs. The moment you enter the room it feels like you can finally breathe. 

Sitting down by the window, you calm yourself down, for the first time in your life happy to be away from your brother’s annoyingly hot best friend. You even manage to forget him for a while, almost too caught up in your homework to notice the two boys practicing on the lawn beneath your window. Almost.

In your defense, Minho’s impossible not to notice. You catch a glimpse of him – brows furrowed and forehead glistening in sweat – and it’s enough to make you admire him shamelessly from where you’re sitting, homework long forgotten. He dances with Chan for a while, explaining the moves to him and adjusting his shoulders when they’re positioned wrong, and it makes you wish you were in his place right now – having Minho’s fingers touch your skin, his attention set on you and not your godforsaken brother. Then, your eyes follow him as he leaves Chan alone, moving to where his bag lies and taking something out of it.

You can see the muscles on his arm flex as he opens his water bottle, before bringing it to his lips and throwing his head back to drink. Your mouth waters at the sight of his exposed neck and the veins on his fingers that are gripping the bottle tightly. It’s shameful how easy he can get you worked up – a throb forming in between your legs already, despite the action being quite unharmful. To anyone who doesn’t fantasize about him, obviously. Which excludes you.

Your heart gets caught up in your throat when you catch Minho smirking up at you, his eyes looking directly into yours and you’re frozen in place for a second, unsure of what to do with yourself. Finally, you tear your gaze away from him, utterly embarrassed for what seems like the nth time today. 

—

Nothing can top the relief you feel when Minho announces he's heading home after spending a good two hours at your and Chan's house. Unfortunately, he also promises to be back tomorrow after your brother’s swimming practice, so that they can perfect the choreography. (Which is, by the way, so unnecessary, because you've seen Minho dance and that choreography needs no more perfecting on his end.) Usually, you wouldn't have minded at all, but after today's humiliating incidents you'd prefer not to face him in the nearest future. But as usual, the world doesn't really listen to your wishes.

Actually, the world must hate you, absolutely fucking despise you, because the next day Minho manages to arrive too early, knocking on the door a whole hour before Chan's practice is supposed to end. 

“I’m not interested!” You shout as you hear a fist banging against your door, your first thought being that the person outside is some kind of salesman.

“You’re not interested? Aw, why not?” 

You freeze hearing his voice, eyes widening in shock. What. The. Fuck? Why is he here so early? Surely your brother must’ve told him when he’d be home, and you knew Minho wasn’t one to just forget things. Another thing that declared you fucked right now because there was just no way he hadn’t taken pride in the way he caught you staring at him yesterday. But, you had to open the door or you’d never hear the end of it. Besides, Minho already knew you were home since you’d recklessly shouted at him. Shit, you should’ve just stayed quiet. But who knows, maybe you’d gotten lucky and he had actually forgotten when your brother's practice ended, so he’d just leave and come back later. 

“My brother’s not home until seven,” You say the moment you open the door, met with his signature smirk and his hands buried in the pockets of his perfectly fitting jeans. “You’re early.”

“Really?” The way he says it makes you feel like it doesn’t really surprise him. His smirk widens as he eyes you up and down, and you feel very exposed as his gaze falls first on your lips and then slides down to your cleavage, where they linger a little too long than they should. “My bad, I thought he said six. Mind if I wait here meanwhile?” 

He doesn’t really wait for your response, walking past you and into the house like it’s his own, his shoulder brushing over yours just like yesterday. You roll your eyes at him while closing the door as you see him throw his backpack onto the couch you were peacefully sitting on just a few moments ago. He makes himself at home, turning on the tv and putting his arms behind his neck. You can’t help but notice that he looks hot like this, relaxed and sprawled out on your couch. 

But it doesn't matter. He's here for your brother, not you. So you turn your back to him and walk into the kitchen under the excuse of making food, yet in reality, just doing anything so you won't have to look at his stupidly handsome face. 

“You do realize Chan’s not gonna be home for another hour, right?” You say as you start cutting up some fruit. 

“Yeah, why?” You hear Minho chuckle from the couch, and you can almost feel the way his stare is set on you. “Can’t handle my presence?” 

“Didn’t say that. I’m just saying you might get bored.”

You’re so focused on keeping your eyes on the food in front of you that you don’t even notice Minho has walked into the kitchen, before you feel his warm breath fan against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart jumps in your chest and you turn around to face him in reflex. It's embarrassing how loud you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and that sensation is only heightened as he smiles down on you, faces closer to each other than they’ve ever been. 

“Do you find this boring?”

His voice is raspy, with a hint of amusement in it as he lets his hand graze your skin when he brushes your hair out of your face. You suck in a breath, silently cursing your heart for almost beating out of your chest at such a small gesture and hoping to god your flustered state went unnoticed by the boy. But is there really a possibility of anything going unnoticed when two people are in such close proximity? 

Do you find this boring? Such a stupid question to ask. Listening to your heartbeat would be enough to answer it. Looking into your wide eyes would be enough to answer it. Watching how your body reacts to his touch would be enough to answer it. The answer is out in the open for him to see, and you know he sees it. And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you want to run and hide. Sure, it makes you nervous as fuck – having him look at you like that, so intently, yet so carefully – but it doesn’t make you want to run. If anything, it makes you want to stay. 

“No,” You say, uselessly. “I don’t.” 

A smile spreads itself across his lips. Not a smirk, a smile. And oh god, do you feel weak in the knees when he looks at you like that. You want to say something more – hear him talk about himself or maybe ask for his number. It doesn’t even matter, really, you just want to hear his voice, and feel his touch like you did a few moments ago. He’s waiting for you to say something, you can see it in the way his eyes are glancing between your eyes and lips, and it makes you wonder whether he’s thinking of kissing you. Or if he’d kiss you if you asked him to. 

“I…” You trail off, breath caught up in your throat as Minho leans closer to you, tilting his head to the side slightly. He’s so close that you can smell him now, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, and it makes you feel even more intoxicated with him. You’ve smelt his perfume before as he walked by, but this is different. This time, his face is millimeters away from yours as he licks his lips and you swear he’s doing it on purpose just to set you off. And you have to admit it’s working. 

“You…?” His tone is teasing, while his touch is featherlight as he lets his fingers graze your bare shoulder – seemingly innocent, but you know he’s doing it just to see you shiver in excitement. And you do even more so when his hand drops to your thigh, causing you to suck in a breath loudly before you can stop yourself. You can see a small smirk forming on his lips at your actions, and you’re about to say something to defend yourself when you hear the front door open, making you jump slightly.

“I’m home!”

Minho doesn’t even flinch hearing your brother’s voice, his eyelids half closed as his gaze still rests on you, hot breath hitting your lips as he awaits your next move. And it’s half relieved, half frustrated that you turn away from him, walking a couple of feet away so it looks natural. What the hell just happened? You're left to ponder that question as your brother walks into the room and you hear him and Minho talking. 

Even as he's speaking with Chan, he doesn't fail to meet your gaze when you let it linger on his frame for a little too long. And it’s in defeat that you realize there are butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he sends you a subtle wink. 

—

School is hell, but it’s even worse when you catch yourself staring at your brother’s best friend way too many times. Especially since he seems to catch you doing it, too. 

You swear he’s everywhere. In the hallway when you’re walking to class, sitting by a nearby table when you’re in the cafeteria eating lunch and walking out of the building exactly when you’re sitting outside, peacefully reading a book. You just can’t escape him and the amused look he sends you every time he sees your gaze land on his frame. 

And while it probably doesn’t even look like he’s paying you any attention to bypassers, you’ve grown to know him enough to tell that it’s not accidentally that he lifts up his shirt to wipe his sweat exactly as you’re walking by the football field. Or maybe it is an accident and you’re just delusional. Either way, it’s embarrassing how something like that is enough to make your face grow hot and turn your gaze anywhere else than him and his stupidly pretty face.

After all that, it’s obvious that what you want the most is to get some peace and finally be able to breathe freely without thinking of Lee Minho. Which is why you head towards one of the less crowded places on campus when your classes finish, sitting down on a bench and taking out your book that you’ve barely begun reading due to all the recent events. However, you’re not able to relish in the silence for too long before you hear a voice behind you, catching you off guard.

“What book are you reading?”

“What?” You ask, turning around to look Minho in the eyes and being met with a hint of curiosity in them. 

“I asked you what book you’re reading,” He repeats, leaning his arm on the bench like he didn’t just scare the living shit out of you. “You were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice me, so it must be good, right?”

“Not really, it’s my chemistry book. Didn't have anything better to do than study anyway.”

You’re kind of surprised when Minho lets out a snort of laughter at your words, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh while talking to you. You could get used to that, actually – hearing him laugh. The way his eyes light up when he does it makes you feel weirdly happy, it’s like he actually enjoys your presence. Oh god, you really hope he does. You really hope that he doesn’t look at you like Chan’s annoying little sister, because that would completely ruin everything.

“Anyway, I came to ask you whether you want to grab a coffee with me,” He says, a smile still planted onto his face. “Pretty sure that's more entertaining than studying for your chemistry exam.”

“Sure,” For a second, your face lights up, but then it falters again. “Not sure Chan would want me there, though. Wouldn’t wanna ruin his time with his friends.”

“I never mentioned anything about Chan, though, did I?”

You open your mouth to reply and then close it again when he pokes your cheek with his finger. It’s so unexpected that your eyes go wide – so wide you’re afraid you might look like a fish or something – but it also doesn’t last long, because one blink of your eyes later his finger is gone and you’re left face to face with the most handsome boy in the world. He’s very close to you – did he lean forward or were just too busy staring at every inch of him to notice that he was this close to you all along? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He tilts his head to the side with a smirk, and you avert your gaze immediately, making him chuckle. What a nuisance, you think to yourself. You want him so bad it hurts. “Come on, let’s go before the high schoolers take all the best spots.”

You must look a little unconvinced, because he soon speaks again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get boring.”

And he winks – something that makes your heart drop to your stomach and screams at you that this is a bad idea, considering how he’s your brother’s best friend. 

But you don’t really get to think that through because suddenly, he’s walking away with his bag thrown over his shoulder, and you pick up your things in an instant and jog up to him, like you weren’t just considering going home a minute ago. You still make an effort to scoff really loudly as you catch up with him just so he doesn’t think that little wink had any impact on you, but he chooses to ignore it, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he crosses the road. 

Chan would totally freak out if he saw you right now, you think to yourself, walking into a dimly lit cafe side by side with his best friend. Why exactly are you doing this again? You look at Minho and he flashes you a smile that makes you want to cry into a pillow. Ah. That's why you're doing this. 

“I’ll have an americano,” Minho tells the waitress a few minutes later from where you're sitting by a table in the corner of the cafe. “And you?”

The waitress is looking at you expectantly, but your eyes are set on Minho and his t-shirt that looks a little too small and hugs his muscles a little too well. He’s wearing piercings, too – one in his right ear and two in his left. He doesn’t wear them when he dances, so you’ve never really seen him with them on. They suit him. A little too much. 

“Iced latte,” You say mindlessly as Minho asks again, and you can see him raise a brow at your lack of responsiveness. The waitress walks away, and before Minho can ask you what you were thinking about, you ask a question to fill the silence. “Don’t you have dancing lessons today?”

Dumb question. You know he doesn’t have any dancing lessons today. And from how he’s looking at you, it’s not hard to tell he knows it’s a stupid question. God, this is like your first time speaking to him one on one and here you are, embarrassing yourself to no end. 

“You know I don’t,” One corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. “Me and your brother have the same schedule.”

“How come I need to remember everything about his schedule?” You mumble under your breath, fiddling with your fingers because you’re 99 percent sure Minho now thinks you’re just his best friend’s helpless little sister that has a hopeless crush on him. Which you are. But still. If you appear so nervous all the time you’re never going to get that dick.

Right as you’re about to seduce him with your charms, a waiter gives you your drinks. He’s handsome, with sharp eyes and a kind smile. Probably would have landed a role in a kdrama had he tried. When he flashes his pearl white teeth in your direction, it’s like you can’t hold back from smiling back. 

“Here are your drinks.” 

He puts them on the table and smiles wider at you, almost completely ignoring Minho. It makes you giggle, and he winks at you in return, but then, as the waiter retracts his hand from the table, he manages to push the teaspoon lying next to Minho’s coffee cup onto the floor by accident. Seeing his sorry expression, you’re quick to squat down on the floor to pick it up, but it seems like he’s got the same plan – your hands touch as you both reach for the fallen spoon. 

For a second, you’re waiting for that electric feeling to surge through you and for your whole body to grow hot like it did when you touched Minho’s hand in the bus, but when that sensation doesn’t come, you just smile at the waiter instead and hand him the spoon.

“Thank you,” He smiles and lets his eyes fan over your face and dip down to your body. “Is this your first time coming here? I feel like I would’ve remembered seeing such a pretty girl here before.”

You can tell the waiter’s interested in you, and so, upon noticing Minho’s expressionless gaze from where he’s sitting on his chair, you opt to take this as an opportunity to mess with him a little. Why should you be the only one chasing after him, after all? 

“Yeah, it’s my first time,” You blink up at the waiter, letting your fingers trace up his arm until they reach the collar of his shirt. “If it wasn’t, I surely would’ve remembered seeing such a handsome waiter.” 

Your eyes meet his and you smile in an overly cute way, letting your finger trail over his jaw before you place it back in your lap. He grins and extends his hand to help you stand up, and you make sure to stand on your tippy toes to press a small kiss to his cheek as a thank you. You can feel Minho’s gaze on you and it’s with great willpower that you hold back the smile threatening to take over your features. 

“I finish work in an hour,” It’s the waiter speaking – it’s hard not to look in Minho’s direction, but you hold out, ‘accidentally’ fixing your shirt so more of your cleavage is exposed. And surely, it works, because the waiter’s eyes widen just slightly as they dip down to take in the exposed skin. “Do you want to come over and watch a movie with me?”

You can’t keep yourself from doing it anymore, so you look at Minho – only to be met with his eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side in inquiry. Bingo. 

With a sweet smile, you grab at the waiter’s arm. “I’d love to.”

As he walks away, you sit down in front of Minho with a satisfied smile, sipping your drink innocently. And you wait. You wait for three seconds, then four. Seconds turn into a minute, but Minho's still sipping his drink like nothing happened. It’s only when the cup is empty that he looks up at you, licking his lips – which, by the way, makes him look ten times hotter than before, if that’s even possible. 

He leans forward and his knee touches yours – whether that is on purpose or not, you don’t know, but it makes you jump up slightly in surprise. 

“So, are you proud of yourself?” 

He asks this question casually, but the tone of his voice makes your heart beat faster against your chest. You’re not sure what he means or if he’s jealous at all – his eyes hold an unreadable expression and the heat of his leg against your bare thigh from under the table is enough to send your mind into overdrive. It’s safe to say that you’re not able to think straight right now, and his piercing stare doesn’t help much – instead of making you want to concentrate on answering, it makes you want to jump his bones. So, to minimize the rates of embarrassing yourself completely, you opt for a question to answer his question.

“Huh?”

Minho’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk and he shakes his head, smiling to himself for a second. Then, he pulls out his wallet and puts money on the table. He’s getting ready to leave. The moment he gets up to leave, you do the same, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how his eyes fan down to your legs, even if only for a moment. You quickly make your way to his side and he looks down on you with a hint of amusement in his gaze. 

“You really put on a show back there,” He says, finally answering your question. Your heart beats faster at that – so he did notice. Upon seeing your expression, Minho chuckles softly. “Poor guy probably thinks you’re coming over later.”

“What do you mean? I am coming over.”

He stops walking right outside the entrance to the cafe and turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised. The exit doesn’t immediately lead you to the main road, but rather a side alley surrounded by three brick walls and an opening towards the main square that you still haven’t walked through. This means you and him are still in a pretty excluded area – you look around for a second, but the only sign of life nearby is the sound of some people talking inside of the cafe you just left –  and, somehow, that makes his gaze feel much harder than it normally would feel as he stares you down. 

You’re nervous, that’s for sure, but probably not in the way you should be. 

What you should be worried about right now is that you’re in an empty alleyway with your best friend’s brother, who could turn out to be a serial killer or something. (No, he couldn’t – this is Minho we’re talking about. The guy who has three cats and cares for them like they’re his children.) But the only thing you’re thinking about right now is how sharp Minho’s jawline is, and how maybe he’d fuck you against this wall if you asked nicely. 

“No, you’re not,” He says and you’re suddenly brought back to reality. You’re about to object to his claim – excuse him, why is he not buying your act? – but before you get to do that, he takes a step forward and backs you against the wall, resting his hand on the brick wall just above your head. “You really think I don’t know you did that to get my attention, kitten?” 

Oh. Your hearts speed up to an inhuman pace and you almost forget to breathe for a moment there as you feel his breath on your face, his nose mere centimeters away from your own. 

“I didn’t-” 

He doesn’t really cut you off, but his fingers ghosting over your jaw are enough to make you stop talking. You feel your heart beating so loudly you’re afraid Minho might hear it when he leans even closer to push your hair away from your face and whisper in your ear. 

“You’re a little bit of an attention whore, aren’t you? If you wanted me to fuck you this bad, you could’ve just said so.” 

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment – both from how you totally just made a fool out of yourself and from you can feel your panties start to soak through just at his words. Well, maybe not just his words, because the way you can see his arm muscles if you look a little to the left definitely helps. But now you’re just making excuses. 

“Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute how much you’re willing to do to get my attention.” 

Minho’s eyes fall down to your lips and you swallow hard. Is he going to kiss you right now? His hand moves to stroke your cheek and you close your eyes, awaiting him to connect his lips to yours. It’s like an eternity has passed before you feel his mouth lips against the corner of your mouth – touching you so softly you’re not even sure it really happened before the sound of your phone ringing fills the alleyway and he pulls away. 

Fucking phone. You grab it a little too fast, scoffing as you see the caller ID. Of course it’s your fucking brother, who else would manage to call you just when you were kissing Lee fucking Minho? 

“What?” You ask probably a little too harshly upon picking up, and you can hear Minho chuckle quietly from where he’s standing. 

“Wow, no need to lash out on me like that,” He says in response and you roll your eyes, because clearly, there is a need – one that you don’t get to fulfill exactly because of this goddamn conversation. “Can you come home? Dinner’s ready and mom wants us to eat together for once.”

“I need to come right now? Seriously?” It’s not your intention to come off as whiny, but who can really blame you? 

“Yes, seriously,” Chan sighs into the phone. “What are you doing that you can't come?”

That question makes your blood pressure skyrocket. “Nothing. I'm not doing anything at all. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

And you hang up without waiting for an answer. 

“You should get going,” You hear Minho’s voice and turn around to face him. His hands are in his pockets again and his hair is falling into his forehead. You have an urge to walk over to him and push the hair away from his face, but you resist it. “Wouldn’t wanna upset your brother too much. Considering you’re already hitting on his best friend.”

The smirk he sends you makes your heart do a dozen flips inside of your chest. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you start the walk home with a smile tugging at your lips and butterflies swarming in your stomach. 

—

“Minho is what?” You almost scream at your brother when he tells you his plans in a casual tone – like he isn’t ruining your life. 

“Sleeping over,” Chan repeats – like you asked him because you didn’t hear – raising a brow in confusion. “I don’t see how that’s a problem? We won’t bother you, I swear.”

Well, maybe you won’t, but Minho will, you think to yourself. You’re completely certain that he’ll do everything in his power to tease you somehow, especially after that day at the cafe… But you're only complaining for show, because really, you don't mind him bothering you. At all. If anyone were listening to your heartbeat right now, they’d have no problem in confirming that your heart speeds up at the mere thought of spending time with Lee Minho.

“Okay, then,” You sigh. “When is he coming?”

You’re totally not asking so you can run back to your room and only appear after Minho’s arrived so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for him. Nope. You’d never go that far just for a boy you’re not even supposed to like. Like, how stupid would that be? 

“He’s coming about…” Chan pauses as the doorbell rings and your whole body tenses up. “Now.”

You’re about to run up the stairs to your room and hide, but, instead of being a normal human being and waiting for someone to open the door, Minho lets himself in and walks into the house before you can even take a step. 

He looks hot (as always), with his hair and jacket wet – is it raining? you didn’t even know – and blue jeans around his hips. It should be illegal to look this good. He’s holding a bag in one hand, brushing his hair away from his face with the other, and you don’t even realize you’re staring until he rests his eyes on you and flashes you a smile that has you weak in the knees. 

“Hey,” He says in your direction, letting his fingers brush over your hand as he walks inside. 

Your eyes drift to the right to see whether Chan reacts to how his best friend is paying you attention all of a sudden, but even if he did notice anything, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he takes Minho’s bag and tells him to follow him upstairs. 

“I’ll just get some water first,” Minho replies and your brother nods, walking off to his room, leaving you alone with his best friend who turns his attention to you immediately. “You’re not gonna say hi?”

“Hi,” Somehow, even greeting him makes your stomach do a hundred flips, and the way he's looking at you doesn't help, either. His eyes trail up and down your body, sending shivers down your spine, before he meets your stare again. “Why are you staying here all of a sudden? You've known my brother for a few years, but you've never slept over before.”

It's true what you're saying – he's never stayed past midnight, and even those times were rare. Your statement doesn’t surprise Minho, it seems, because he only tilts his head to the side with a smile. 

“Really? I haven't?”

The way he says it makes you certain he’s aware of it already, but you nod anyway. “You told Chan there's no point in sleeping over when you can just meet up early the next day.”

He takes a step in your direction and you swear your heart could beat out of your chest at this rate. Damn Minho and his ability to always catch you off guard… Though maybe the crush you have on him also plays a small part in how you react to every bit of attention he shows you. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and instead of retracting it, he lets it rest against your cheek. 

His lips quirk upwards in a soft smirk. “Hmm, it's almost as if someone made me change my mind.”

You’re about to respond – actually, correction, you’re about to grab his collar and kiss him until you can’t breathe – but then Chan’s voice comes from above and makes you jump in surprise.

“You coming, bro?”

Fuck. Him. Why does he always have to ruin the moment? Upon seeing your annoyed expression, Minho chuckles and you only glare at him in response – why is he so calm when you’re dying to feel his skin on yours? 

“Yeah, coming!” He shouts to your brother, before looking at you again with a wide grin. “Don’t be so impatient, we have plenty of time, remember?” 

And just like that, he leaves for Chan’s room, letting the image of his smile make itself at home inside of your head. But really, you wish it didn’t, because now you’re starting to think this little crush might be more than just that. 

—

The next few hours pass by rather normally. 

Chan and Minho stay in your brother’s room, and you occupy the living room, watching K-dramas and eating noodles. It’s a solid distraction from the fact that Minho’s here – actually, after a while you’ve practically forgotten about him, more focused on the fact that you need to use the bathroom exactly when the most exciting part of the episode is playing. It seems fate hasn’t really been on your side lately. 

Resigned, you pause the TV and head for the bathroom upstairs (the one downstairs smells like the way-too-big amount of cologne your brother sprays on every morning and it makes you want to puke), because really, what else can you do? When you reach the last steps, you can hear music flowing through the speakers in Chan’s room, meaning they’re both in there still. Great, you won’t have to worry about the fact that your hair’s a mess from lying down on the couch. 

At least that's what you think as you open the door to the bathroom, only for your eyes to widen when they land on Minho’s bare chest. 

It takes your brain approximately five seconds to realize what is going on – how you just walked in on Lee Minho changing. Your words get lost in your throat as you take in the sight in front of you – Minho’s raised brows, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his muscles on display for you to see, making it impossible to look away. Not that you want to. He looks so hot that it has heat forming between your thighs, and you wish he would stop teasing you and make your dreams of him fucking you come true instead. 

“The way you’re looking at me is making me think you walked in here on purpose, kitten.” 

“What?” You shake your head vigorously, feeling your face heat up at Minho’s words. “No, I just- I didn’t know you were here and-” 

“I’m just joking,” He cuts you off with a smile. You can’t help but smile, too, when he walks over to you and pulls you closer by your shoulders, leaning his face down so your noses touch. “Relax.” 

And, weirdly enough, you do. Even with his mouth mere millimeters away from yours, you don’t feel like running away. You let yourself admire him for a little longer, and use Chan being busy in his room as an excuse to do so. His lips are just barely parted, eyes fully open as they reflect the light above his head, and you really want to kiss him. 

“Can I kiss you?” The question slips past your lips before you can even think twice about it. 

It takes him a while to answer – his gaze drops to your lips before he looks into your eyes again, and you swear your whole body is on fire when his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Gently. Softly. It’s different than earlier, the way he’s looking at you. Someone looking at the scene from outside, someone that didn’t know Lee Minho, might’ve mistaken his gaze for a sense of surprise or nervousness, but when you looked at him and he looked at you, it was obvious he wanted to kiss you just as badly as you wanted to kiss him. 

“Yeah,” He replies finally.

Your heart jumps at that, and while you’re busy figuring out how to calm down and actually kiss him like you had intended, Minho takes the matter into his own hands. Literally. 

His fingers grab at your jaw as he leans down and connects his lips to yours – fully, this time, nowhere near as gently as he did in front of the cafe. You’re unable to move at first, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling of his mouth moving against your own. He pulls you flush against his body, hand grabbing at your hip and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer – until you feel the warmth from his chest as you’re pressed up against it. 

Your hands wander down to his stomach and trace his muscles, mouth parting in a soft smile when he shivers. Minho takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, groaning quietly as he gets lost in the taste of you – and at the same time making you think that sound might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

He pulls away to breathe, eyes scanning your face – shimmering in the light. But that only lasts a short moment, before he kisses you again, hands on your waist as he pushes you against the door to the bathroom. Faintly, you can hear the music grow louder from Chan's room, but it doesn't matter, none of it does, because you're here, kissing Lee Minho like your life depends on it. And to some degree, you suppose it does. 

Minho’s hands move from your waist to slip under your shirt and you shiver when his fingers brush over your stomach – it's the first time he's touching you like this and it has your whole mind going into overdrive. He must notice the effect he has on you because you hear him chuckle quietly against your neck when his lips move to suck marks into the skin right below your ear. You bury your hands in his hair and tug on it when his tongue swipes over the spots that have you shivering in delight.

“Shit, want you so bad, kitten,” Minho purrs against your cheek before he pulls away, and his words make the heat between your legs even more unbearable. 

His eyes are darkened, hands moving a little lower and grazing your hip. God, he really knows how to drive you crazy. The corners of his lips quirk upwards when you shiver, his smirk showing he's satisfied with the effect he has on you. And there's not really anything you can do to prove him wrong because you're going crazy with every little touch of his. 

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him again, but as soon as his lips touch yours, you hear footsteps shuffling and someone knocks on the door. It takes all of your strength not to let out a startled gasp when Chan speaks up.

“Minho, bro, you done there?”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, eyes widened, but Minho seems totally unfazed, even letting out a small chuckle that earns him a push when he sees your expression. 

“Yeah, I'll be out in a minute,” He says and you hear Chan walk off, letting you breathe.

“What are you so nervous about?” Minho asks and you glare at him.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm scared my brother will catch me making out with his best friend in the bathroom?”

He smiles and suddenly, you're not annoyed anymore. Not even when he walks away from you to get his clothes, though that isn't the ideal turn of events. If it were up to you, you would sit with him in this bathroom for the remainder of the day, letting him fluster and tease you all he wants. 

“You don’t have to ask for permission to kiss me, by the way,” His voice brings you back to reality, and you observe as he puts his shirt on, just a tad bit too intently watching the way his abdominal muscles flex as he does so. “Just so you know.”

“For future reference?” You can’t hold back the smile that creeps onto your face, and your heart skips a beat when he mirrors your expression. He grabs the clothes he changed out of and slings them over his shoulder as he walks over to you and rests his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

Your breath speeds up as his hand slips under your shirt again, fingers stroking your skin softly. His eyes are hooded, lips glistening as he licks them, and then, suddenly, he’s leaning in and his lips just barely touch yours. It’s short, and delicate, you don’t even get to close your eyes before the sensation is gone and his hand is on the doorknob. Right, he needs to leave, or it’s going to raise suspicions.

“See you later, kitten,” He says and you pout, making him poke your cheek with his finger. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

“Why would I miss you?” 

He only chuckles in response and leaves with a wink sent your way. One that has butterflies swarming in your stomach as you wait in the bathroom for a couple minutes. How annoying of him to act like that. Guess there’s no way to hide your crush on him anymore. Though you suppose pretending like you weren’t dreaming about him touching you left the picture the moment you flirted with that waiter to make him jealous. Or, maybe, it was already out of the picture that day he came over too early and you felt yourself melt under his gaze. 

Or maybe it was all over for you when he arrived today and you realized that you were in too deep. Realized that your eyes don’t only widen when you see Minho’s abs, but also when you see his eyes, his hair, his smile. Realized you like watching him dance not because he looks hot, but because he looks happy. 

Realized you’re in love with Lee Minho, and there’s no turning back.

—

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

Minho’s voice makes you jump from where you're half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, watching some drama wrapped up in a blanket. It's way past midnight, but you're not feeling sleepy at all – whether that is because of the kdrama or the fact that Minho is staying over at your house, you're not sure, though the latter seems more likely. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” You say as he walks closer, your eyes lingering on his sweats and shirt a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. “Are you trying to sneak out or something?” 

“Why would I sneak out? Am I being held hostage?”

“You came here out of free will, so no,” You smile at him and he chuckles, eyes crinkling. It’s dark, and his face is partially hidden, much to your distaste, so you pat the spot next to you, looking at him expectantly. “Come sit.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and for a moment, you’re scared he won’t sit down. But then he plops down on your left, hand resting on your thigh that is covered with the blanket and making your heart bang against your chest. You didn’t expect him to sit this close to you, and you’re certain it’s showing from the way Minho smirks at you when you meet his gaze. In response you scoff – as if that’s going to hide the way your whole body is heating up – and let your head fall down on his shoulder. When you focus on the tv again, the drama you were watching suddenly doesn’t seem very entertaining anymore. Not to mention the main lead suddenly doesn’t seem handsome at all.

Minho doesn’t say anything for a while, and so you try to convince yourself this is just a normal movie night with one of your friends. Except your friends don’t smell like cologne for men, nor do their hands rest on your thigh when you watch a movie. And, most importantly, your friends don’t make your heart beat faster and your legs turn to jelly without even saying a word. It’s alright, though, at least that’s what you tell yourself when you hear Minho shuffling next to you, blood pressure skyrocketing from this mere reminder of his presence. 

Though that is in no way comparable to how you jump in surprise when Minho’s hand slips under your blanket instead, brushing over your bare thigh. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to think, your skin burning from the light touch. At least until Minho retracts his hand from your body with a worried look on his face. 

“Are you oka-” 

You don’t let him finish, grabbing his hand and placing it back on your thigh with a pout. He looks at you for a moment and then his face contorts into that ridiculously hot smirk of his as he squeezes your thigh. You try your best to muffle the whimper that’s threatening to slip past your lips, but that only results in some kind of choked sound leaving your mouth – making Minho’s smile widen in amusement. 

“Oh, so you did miss me,” He says and you’re about to protest, but he leans forward and snuggles his head into the crook of your neck, spreading goosebumps all over your skin when he murmurs against it. “Didn’t you?” 

“Mhm,” You mumble when his lips just barely brush over your neck, already making it hard to focus on the TV screen in front of you. 

Minho’s hand squeezes your thigh again as he drags his nose up to your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. You shiver in anticipation, eyes fighting to stay open. There’s not much fighting left to do, though, because your gaze is already unfocused and when Minho presses another kiss against your neck, you lean your head to the side to grant him better access without thinking twice about it. Upon feeling Minho’s smile against your skin when he moves further down your neck you think that maybe you shouldn’t have given in so easily. 

Those thoughts vanish from your mind as quickly as they came when he moves his hand further up your thigh – your skin tingling where he touches you, chest heaving with each breath as your panties slowly start to soak through. His lips find that one spot that makes you press your thighs together and sucks marks into it, fingers moving in circles that, annoyingly enough, don't move towards the spot you need them to be. 

“What was that?” 

He’s referring to how you didn’t answer his question, you realize a few seconds later than you probably should have. If he’s making you forget how to think by just kissing you, how will you feel when he fucks you? Your pussy throbs with excitement at the very thought of that – at the thought of Minho’s cock deep inside of you, bending you over every surface. 

“Fuck,” You whine as his hand plays with the hem of your shorts. “Yes, I missed you, Minho. Missed you so much.” 

“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours as he pulls your shorts down and you help him discard them somewhere on the floor. You can see how his eyes drop down to look at your legs that you've already spread for him, and when his hand rests on the edge of your panties, you think you're going to go crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. “I missed you, too, kitten, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Please, Minho,” You beg him shamelessly. “Want you so, so bad.”

His fingers stop fiddling with your underwear and move further down instead, brushing over the thin fabric covering your cunt. You want to rub your thighs together to ease the heat between your legs, but his other hand resting on your thigh doesn’t let you, so you settle on looking at him with pleading eyes instead. 

“I know you do,” He says, pushing his knuckles against your clothed clit, and you let out a choked whimper, your whole body jolting forward to meet his hand. He tuts disapprovingly and delivers a small slap to your throbbing cunt that makes you moan a little too loud. Your heart is hammering against your chest, and it only heightens when Minho’s fingers start rubbing circles into your panties that are soaking wet. “That’s why you were acting like a slut earlier, right? Flirting with that guy. But he doesn’t make you this wet, does he?” 

You shake your head vigorously, but Minho tilts your chin upwards, raising his eyebrows. Urging you to answer verbally, like your mind isn't already going hazy just from how he's rubbing your panties against your pussy.

“No,” You manage to mumble.

“No?”

You shake your head again and in return, Minho presses his finger against your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from you. His hand holds your hips down when you try to lift them off the couch, but he rubs against you again, watching with a smile as you squirm under his touch. He's barely giving you anything and yet you're going crazy, your arousal dripping through your panties and onto his hand. 

“Minho, please,” You whine at him, your nails digging into his thigh. 

Chuckling, he grabs at your waist and helps you lie down against the arm of the couch so you’re looking up at him from below. He slips his hand into your panties without warning, letting his fingers run through your folds experimentally, the small touch making you shiver. He finds your clit and you let out a soft moan when he rubs circles against it, his other hand leaving your hips to slip under your shirt and grab at your tits. Your back arches, pushing against his hand when his fingers move quicker on your pussy. 

“More, please” You whimper in a tone so desperate it makes Minho’s cock strain against his pants. 

“More?” He asks mockingly. “God, you’re such a fucking slut. Have my fingers on your pussy and you’re still not satisfied?” 

His words make you clench around nothing, a whimper leaving your lips as you buck your hips into his hand. For a moment you’re afraid he’ll pull away or tease you some more, but to your surprise, it seems his patience has worn thin, because he slips a finger into your cunt, curling it and making you let out a choked sob instantly. The corners of his lips lift up in a smirk, but you’re in no state to comment on it when he adds another finger, stretching you out and making every word you’d intended to utter die down in your throat. You’re already feeling full, thoughts all over the place, body shivering in delight as Minho’s fingers tease your nipples. 

When he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out small whimpers of his name, trying your hardest to bite back your moans so nobody hears. 

That task becomes even more difficult when his thumb finds your clit and rubs calculated circles into it, your cunt clenching around his fingers with each thrust. You’re embarrassingly wet, leaking onto his hand, and embarrassingly close to cumming when you tear your eyes away from his hand and look at his face – eyebrows furrowed in concentration, arm muscles flexed right in front of your face. He must notice you’re looking at him, because his gaze moves to yours and he smirks upon seeing your expression, pumping his fingers into you fast enough to make your thighs shake and your back to arch. 

“Minho, I-” You’re cut off when he pinches your clit lightly, making you shiver from underneath him. “Gonna cum.” 

But you don’t get to fulfill that promise as Minho abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, paying no mind to the fact that you’re seconds away from reaching your orgasm. You look at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you whine a small ‘no, please’, reaching for his arm. But he doesn’t let you rab it, pulling away with a condescending smile on his face and you think you might cry if he doesn’t put his fingers back where they belong.

“You want to cum?” He asks mockingly, looking down on you and you nod eagerly. “Hmm, I don’t know if you deserve it, kitten. After that shit you pulled at the cafe just to get my attention? Greedy little sluts like you don’t deserve to cum.” 

“I’m sorry,” You sob as he rubs your clit agonizingly slowly. “I’m so sorry, Minho, just please–”

“You’re sorry?” He tilts his head to the side, retracting his hand from your pussy. “That’s the thing, though, I don’t think you are. I think,” He pauses for a moment, only to push his fingers into you again. You moan when he hits that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, bringing you unbearably close to your orgasm with each push. “You’re just a dumb slut that would do anything to have her pussy stuffed. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes,” You breathe out, a familiar feeling of pleasure stirring up in your stomach when Minho’s other hand comes up to play with your tits, the sound of your pussy squelching with each of his movements filling the room. “Please don’t stop, Minho, please.” 

There’s no way you’re going to be able to hold back from cumming, it’s evident from the way you clench and unclench around Minho’s fingers like crazy. It doesn’t make him slow his movements, though – actually it makes him fuck you harder, fingers curling inside of you and palm of his hand pressing down on your clit.  

It takes a few more skilled movements of his hand before you’re reaching your high, legs shaking as you moan his name – probably a little too loudly, but in your blissful state you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when his fingers fuck you through it, his lips on yours the second you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly. He kisses you roughly, but not messily, and his arm lifts your back off of the couch and presses you against him. 

He’s still fully clothed, you realize, and your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt. You take it off of him, happy he doesn’t protest, pulling away from the kiss to admire the muscles you’ve only seen an outline of during his dance practices. And despite the fact you just came, you can feel another pool of arousal forming between your thighs when you do so.

“You’re staring, kitten,” He comments, and you turn your gaze away, feeling your face heat up. It's not your fault he's hot, after all. You hear him scoff and then he tilts your chin up to look at him again. “Didn’t tell you to look away, though, did I?”

You decide to ignore him and his annoyingly sexy smirk completely, and focus on unzipping his pants instead. He swats your hand away when you try to pull them down his legs and stands up from the couch, taking them off together with his boxers. Your eyes go wide when his cock stands proudly against his lower stomach. 

The sight of him is enough to make your mouth water, hands already reaching out to touch him from where you’re sitting on the couch. He only laughs, though, planting your hands at your sides as he kisses you, tongue swiping across your lower lip. You whine into his mouth at the fact that you can’t touch him, but he disregards it, pulling you closer so your nipples graze his chest – making you shiver. Maybe you would’ve believed this was an accident not meant to make your pussy grow wetter if it wasn’t for how he pushes his thigh between your legs right afterwards, rubbing it exactly against your clit so you let out a broken whimper.

If he wants to drive you crazy, he’s definitely succeeding. 

“Minho, I–” You close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips, dragging your folds across his thigh like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Like he’s not making your whole head spin by just tightening his leg muscles. 

“You…?” He’s thoroughly enjoying this, it’s evident in the way he’s smiling condescendingly, hands holding down your hips so you can’t get rid of the dizziness that comes with your pussy being pressed against his flexed thigh. “Come on, surely you can form words, right? Or have you gone completely dumb just from sitting on my thigh?” 

“N-no,” You protest – albeit not very convincingly since you’re basically whimpering, holding onto his biceps for dear life. “I– Please, fuck me, Min. Need it so bad, please.” 

A sound dangerously close to a growl escapes him at your words and before you know it, he’s turned you around. You’re on all fours now, his bare cock brushing against the curve of your ass as he leans forward so his chest touches your back. He helps you position your hands on the arm of the couch– which you’re thankful for because now you have something to grip onto when his hand moves lower to squeeze your tits. It’s driving you crazy how long it takes for him to position himself at your entrance, so you push your hips backwards to meet his, earning yourself a small groan from him as he spreads your legs. 

“You’re so fucking needy,” He purrs, dragging his cock across your folds and watching as you push your hips back, as if to urge him to fuck you already. Somewhere along the way, when his dick is coated with your arousal, he complies and starts pushing into you – your eyes rolling to the back of your head already as the tip slips past your walls. 

He pushes in further, your head spinning as you feel him fill you up. It’s too much and too little at the same time – you want him to move, to make you see stars, but you’re partially already seeing them when his cock is halfway inside of your pussy. Your fingers grab at the couch as he bottoms out, his dick . You hear Minho chuckle, or maybe he’s saying something, you can’t tell, all too focused on the feeling of starting to rock his hips into yours slowly, his cock sliding against your walls and brushing against your clit in a way that makes you moan. 

“You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?” His mouth touches your ear as he speaks, and when you nod, he rewards you with thrusting into you a little harder. Your cunt clenches around him like crazy, and he presses his fingers into your hips. “Staring at me when you thought I wouldn’t notice, always wearing those short skirts around me. Acting like a slut just to get your pussy stuffed with my cock.” 

You whimper at his words, clamping down on his length in response. “That’s not what–”

“That’s not what you wanted?” You can’t see him, but you can imagine his head tilted to the side, the condescending look that gets you embarrassingly wet in his eyes. That thought only makes you tighten around him again and you can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks again. “Your pussy doesn’t seem to agree, though, kitten. Seeing how it’s begging me to fuck you harder.” 

He doesn’t really leave you any room to respond as he drives his cock deeper into you, your whole body falling forward with his movement, mouth hanging open as you whimper. You half-expect him to take it slow and tease you some more, but it seems he’s grown tired of that, because the next thing you know he’s lifting your leg to the side to get better access, thrusting so deep inside of you that your vision goes blurry. He’s testing the waters, but as soon as he hears you whimper his name and beg for more, he doesn’t hold back, letting his hands draw your hips back just when he draws his hips forward. 

“Fuck, Min–” Your jaw goes slack as his hand comes up to slap your tits, other arm busy keeping your leg up so he can fuck into you at a deeper angle. 

“Hmm?” He hums carelessly, finger brushing against your nipple as he pumps his cock into you faster, your moans getting louder and arms starting to shake. And if it wasn’t hard enough for you to keep yourself up while he’s fucking you, Minho decides to make it even more difficult by dropping his hand to your clit, rubbing small circles into it.

If you were having a hard time forming words earlier, you are incapable of it by now. You try to muffle your moans, but when Minho finds that one spot that makes your toes curl and starts hitting it repeatedly with his cock, you can’t even bring yourself to care if anyone hears you. He’s reaching farther than your fingers – or anyone else’s, for that matter – have ever reached, and you’re almost entirely sure you can feel him in your stomach when he pushes you against him to reach even deeper. 

“Min, feels so–” You’re struggling to sort out your thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence, and his hand moving quicker on your clit doesn’t exactly solve that problem. “So good.” 

“Yeah? You’re such a slut for my cock, taking everything I give you,” He lands a slap on your ass as if to punctuate his words, and you clench around him in response, moans turning into whimpers and sobs that are way too loud. Minho notices, and lets go of your clit to push his fingers into your mouth, successfully muffling the sounds you’re making. You moan around them, and he groans into your ear as you suck on them diligently. “Such a good girl when you’ve gone too dumb to act like a fucking brat.”

His words only make your pussy clamp down on his cock again, a feeling of bliss stirring up in your stomach as you’re pushed closer to the edge with each sharp thrust of his hips. Minho doesn’t miss the way you’re tightening around him like crazy, drooling on his fingers and going completely silent except for the broken whimpers of his name that leave your mouth. 

“Yeah? You like being my good girl?” 

At first you don’t think he wants you to reply, so you only push your hips into his cock in response and take his fingers deeper into your mouth. But then he removes his digits from your lips, and you can vaguely hear him lick them clean off your spit before his hand grabs at your hair and tugs lightly, urging you to say something. 

“Yes, fuck,” He lets go of you and lets you sink down on the couch, your sobs muffled against the pillows as you beg him. “More, please, Minho, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, me too,” He groans into your ear, fingers playing with your clit once again. “You gonna let me cum inside, kitten? Stuff your pussy full of my cum?”

“Yeah,” You sob, nails digging into the couch. 

“Good girl.” 

Minho lands a slap on your clit and it sends you over the edge, your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably. He cums after less than five seconds, letting out the hottest groan you’ve ever heard in your life as his cum fills you up. You swear the feeling of his load coating your walls almost makes you want to go for another round, but as the post-orgasm bliss fades and your head clears, you realize you’re way too exhausted for that. 

You whine when Minho pulls out of you and he chuckles, pulling you into his arms the moment he lies down. 

“You did so well, baby,” He whispers and you hum in appreciation, pressing your face between his bicep and chest. You feel him pull a blanket over you before his lips press against your forehead in a soft kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” You say and kiss his collarbone. 

About fifteen minutes pass in silence before he speaks again.

“I want you.”

His voice catches you a little off guard, eyes fluttering open only to meet his gaze. After having tried to fall asleep it feels weird to hear a sound right next to your ear. Besides, you were certain he'd already fallen asleep, but it seems he's more awake than you are. 

It takes a second for your sleepy brain to register his words and when you do, your eyes widen a little and you laugh nervously.

“Again?”

“Not like that,” He chuckles lowly upon seeing your expression – a sound you want to bottle up and listen to every night from now on. The smile slowly fades from his face as he cups your cheek and you’re left admiring his face, waiting for him to say something more. And when he finally does, you swear his voice shivers a little. “I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

Oh, your heart. Your poor heart. You’re afraid it won’t last very long if you do say yes and date Lee Minho, considering it’s about to jump out from your chest at the very question. Trying to calm yourself down, you almost don’t notice the way Minho bites his lips nervously as he waits for you to respond. Almost.

“Okay,” You say finally, trying to sound as calm as possible and failing miserably. The excitement is too evident in your voice, but at least it makes Minho smile from where he’s lying across from you, his thumb stroking your lower lip.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” You grin, too. “Let’s date.”

“Okay,” Minho presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. He smells like his shampoo and a hint of sex. He smells like home. “Goodnight, girlfriend.”

You don't think you’ve ever smiled this wide.

“Goodnight, boyfriend.” 

—

“Syrup?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You’re currently sitting by the dining table, chin resting on your hand as you observe Minho scurrying around the kitchen, making breakfast. He’s been up for an hour at least, judging from the amount of pancakes on your plate and his hair that frames his face so nicely there’s just no way he woke up like that. Chan’s upstairs (which you thank god for because when you walked into the kitchen roughly ten minutes ago, the first thing you did was pull Minho in for a kiss) letting you admire Minho in silence. And, truthfully, you can’t fight back the smile that appears when you think of the fact that he's making breakfast for you. That he’s your boyfriend. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, pouring syrup over your pancakes, and you know he’s already figured out the answer. 

“Definitely not you,” You reply and he rolls his eyes, closing his fingers around your chin as he tilts it upwards. 

“Brat.” 

You grin. “You like it.”

“Not when I can’t fuck your brains out, I don’t.” 

You’re about to respond, but then you hear someone walk down the stairs and Minho lets go of your jaw, turning back to his pancakes. 

“Good morning,” Chan says, and you sigh, making Minho sport a smirk you only catch a glimpse of when he places some pancakes on your brother’s plate. “Oh, you made pancakes.”

Yeah, not for you, though, you think to yourself. Chan catches your gaze as you glare at him and raises a brow. You ignore him and eat your pancakes, only subtly looking at Minho from time to time. After ten minutes. give or take, he’s cleaned the dishes and practically the whole kitchen, the veins on his arms making it very hard for you to focus on anything else when he rolls up his sleeves. 

“I need to get going,” He says after that and sends you the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. You pout at that and he pokes your cheek with his finger in response. Something that makes your eyes widen ever so slightly, because your brother is in the same room as you two. “I’ll see you around, Chan.” 

Chan nods and Minho leaves, and you’re left sitting in silence, already fishing out your phone to text your boyfriend and complain about how he left way too early. 

“You like Minho,” The statement slipping past your brother’s lips makes your head snap up in shock, eyes wide open. You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. “And he likes you.”

It’s not a question, so you don’t reply. 

“He told me about it, you know. We were talking about some dumb shit in my room yesterday, I don’t even remember what, and then all of a sudden he’s telling me he’s in love with you. Can you imagine?”

Your heart stops at that. Minho told Chan about you? Told him that he’s in love with you? You have to work really hard to keep a smile from forming at your lips when you think of him telling your brother that he wants to date you. 

“And what did you do?”

“I wanted to beat him up first,” Chan admits, and his smile makes your heart loosen up a little. “But then I thought about it, and he’s a really good guy. He deserves to be happy. And so do you. And you look really goddamn happy to me. Even happier than when I took you to Disneyland, and while that’s actually kind of mean, I’m still happy for you.” 

It’s like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. A heavy one at that. You think you might just start crying from happiness any second. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You hug him tightly, jumping up and down before pulling away with the biggest grin on your face. 

“No need to thank me. Just use protection, okay?” He sends you a stern look, and you nod eagerly, not really listening to what he’s saying. “And no fucking in this house.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Right, uh,” You smile nervously, and he raises a brow, when you walk closer to the door. Shit, you’re so screwed. 

“Maybe you should’ve established these rules a little sooner.” 

And with those words, you run off – partly because you’re afraid Chan might kill you, but mostly because you’re ready to jump Minho’s bones after what you hear from your brother. What you don’t expect is for him to stand right outside the door as you sling it open – hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. 

“You guys done talking?” 

You don’t respond, just look at him. Like, really look at him. His eyes, his hair, his mouth, his smile. You take it all in like it’s the first time seeing him – though it’s not, because you’ve looked at him like this plenty of times, felt those butterflies in your stomach as your heart beats against your chest, lips itching to meet his own. Only this is the first time your mind manages to put those feelings into words, and although it’s a tad bit scary, it makes you happy. He makes you happy. 

“Asshole,” You huff in his direction, but he can’t take you seriously, not when you’re just barely keeping yourself from grinning. “You could’ve told me you were going to talk to him.” 

“Then you would’ve freaked out,” He says, pulling you closer by your waist, face leaning down so he can press his forehead to yours. “But look at you now, you’re so in love with me.”

A second passes. Then two. Ten seconds, twenty seconds. You realize you could watch him like this forever. 

“You know what? You might just be right. Maybe I am in love with you.”

His lips quirk up in a smile. 

“Good. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

TAGLIST: @chiefbananaearthquake @minaamhh @vsmz @seungminluv3 @smuchsmut @lmaoracha @allinour @kosmoskookie @newobsessioneverymonth @seung-seungs @smhlino @seochhj @nctdom @stay-here-dont-stray @homelessbozos @cloudyybinin @jusaminki @slinekyu @tokyolhtl @taeriffic @mafegarcia @jellyjelly111 @minhoktty @endzii23 @awesomelycoolworld 

[leeknowrecord]

Worth Your Time (Am I Still) [M]

➤ summary: your apartment would be perfect—if it weren’t for your ex who lives directly across the hall from you.

➤ pairing: lee minho x gn!reader

➤ genre: suggestive content (minors dni!), exes to lovers, angst, neighbours AU

➤ warnings: emotional distress, implications of cheating (not between minho and mc), implications of depression, cursing, a whole lot of self-doubt. suggestive content warnings under the cut.

➤ word count: 7k; part of the paper trail series

➤ a/n: the mc is at their emotional/mental lowest in this part of the series, hence the warnings. this fic has a good ending, but it takes a bit of time to get there.

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[leeknowrecord]

Lee know fic recs

stray kids | Lee Know 

[ updated 230119 ]

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Heart by Heart

LMH

Masterlist

wc: 4.3K

Synopsis: Who knew the rain could bring such lifelike dreams?

warnings: smut, demon!minho, explicit sexual content, some slapping, use of a vibrator, minho has powers but like doesn't?

Part 1: Heart by Heart

Part 2: Soul by Heart

Part 3: Body by Heart

-

There was a time where every ounce of your focus was spent trying to please whoever was in your bed that night, be it the desperate frat boy, the artsy girl that always had the cutest space buns in her hair, or just whoever you happened to stumble upon. You thought it was your duty to please them, hoping they’d return the favor. You’d get compliment after compliment about how good you were in bed, fueling your ego beyond breaking down.

But you were always left unsatisfied. He felt like he was just poking you, she was too tired to keep going to get you off, they had too much to drink and fell asleep before anyone could get naked. Disappointment after disappointment. 

There hadn’t been a single person in your bed to have made you cum, not that you’d ever asked for them to. Circumstances never let you, the universe was the ultimate cockblock.

They say you should be careful what you wish for, you only get three. You don’t know what possessed you to see that psychic, but you just had to know– was it your fault? Were you just so bad at choosing partners? At this point it felt like a curse.

The psychic hadn’t been much help, they told you all the obvious things like money is just around the corner, stop looking for love and let it find you. So you left feeling unsatisfied once again, the sky darkening as you walked down the street. It was an unruly combination of orange, pink, and dark blue, much darker than you’d ever seen the sky before. Even darker clouds in the distance seemed to come closer, their rumbling indicating a storm just ahead, the smell of petrichor surrounded you. 

Hurrying faster now, you turned your back to the impending storm and thought, someone– anyone, if you could just give me one night.

The walk home was accompanied by your silent thoughts, to which you suspected went unheard as the thunder became louder with every step you took. However as soon as you had reached your front door and entered your home, it immediately started to pour, heavy bullets of rain pounding against your windows.

You thought nothing of it as you threw your bag and coat down, kicking off your shoes and heading straight for your bedroom. Usually, you only saved the steamy nights with your vibrator for particularly stressful days. But after looking at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom, you needed it. After all the bullshit the psychic tried to feed you and the days upon days of not being touched, it felt right to turn on just the bedside lamp and reach into the lowest drawer for the toy. You knew how embarrassing it was, slipping off your bottoms and underwear at an ungodly pace and closing your eyes.

There was no one in particular that came to mind as you turned the vibrator on and let it just hang above your clit, playing with yourself lightly. You just imagined hands– pretty, long fingers running softly up your thighs. Lips that would leave burns into your skin as they kissed down your stomach towards where you wanted most. Perhaps they would tell you how beautiful you looked, so needy and desperate for them.

Then your skin grew hotter, almost fever level as you slowly pushed the vibrator harder into your bundle of nerves and your head lulled to the side. Back arching and feet pressing deeper into the mattress, your knees threatened to close– but they couldn’t. You fought against the force, wanting to clamp your legs shut. It almost felt like someone forcing them to stay open, like hands gripping the inside of your thighs. Squinting your eyes, you took a peak between your legs to find no one there.

But they were involuntarily pushed open wider, making you yelp and switch the vibrator off, throwing it to your feet. Your eyes shot open, looking down your body and still not finding anyone holding you in place. As you glanced around, your eyes fell upon the being reflected in the mirror in the corner of the room.

A man was nestled comfortably between your knees, faded silver hair shining in the dim yellow light. You couldn’t see his entire face, only the side profile, his shirtless back, and legs clad in tight black pants. He had his hands gripped to the insides of your thighs, nails painted black as well. You couldn’t believe your eyes, a man you didn’t know– nor could you see– was watching you pleasure yourself in a place you’d thought to be alone.

And a devilish laugh echoed in your ears, “I heard you.”

When you finally looked directly at your lower half again and blinked, there he was. A face so handsome that it was almost inhuman. Plump, kiss-bitten lips glistening as he smirked. And eyes so black that you knew, he wasn’t human. His dark pupils filled where the whites of his eyes should be, making the way he smiled up at you feel even more terrifying.

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to speak as the deadly-looking man began to climb up your half naked body. It was his skin that made your body temperature skyrocket, searing hot to the touch. His eyes stayed glued to yours, the intensity of it making you tug your shirt down to cover your cunt. He smiled wider, “don't be shy now. You were putting on a great show for me.”

As he came face-to-face with you, hands planting beside your head to cage you in, you cowered into the pillows with fear. “Wh– who are you? How did you–”

“I told you,” his jean-clad knee slotted against your soaking core, “I heard you.” Your eyebrows knit together in fear and confusion. Sensing this, the man reached a hand to stroke the side of your face, “someone. Anyone. Just one night.” The way he whispered your frustrated pleas into your ear made your core throb. Leaning down, he let his lips just barely graze your throat, feeling your pulse become more rapid. He smirked against your skin, “let me be your anyone.”

His lips attached to your throat, hand coming down to take yours and interlace your fingers, bringing them back up to the side of your head. Your body couldn’t fight back, paralyzed under his touch. You knew in your head this wasn’t right, something about this was so wrong. You didn’t know his name or where he came from, or how he could’ve possibly heard what you were thinking. But he bit gently into your neck, sucking and licking just enough to leave a mark, making your mind go completely blank. You moaned out as he pulled the skin above your pulse between his teeth, eyes rolling back and arching into him. “Minho,” he mumbled into you.

“Wh–”

“You can call me Minho. Or whatever other title you’d prefer. Master maybe? I know there’s a few you’d like to use.”

It was impossible for him to know what you liked, you’d never met this man before. He came up again to look into your eyes. Eyes that were completely pitch black and terrifying were blinked away, replaced with a deep brown that was scarily human. The switch made you lose your voice again. “Just ask. I know you want to,” he lazily squeezed your hand that was still pinned to the bed.

You examined his face, gentle and boyish from the eyes and up, but so mischievous with the way his grin curled and head tilted. Your eyes traveled down his body, naked chest incredibly hot temperature wise but didn’t break a sweat– in fact, his skin almost sparkled. “What are you?”

“Like I said, whatever you want me to be.” Minho suddenly grinded his knee into your cunt, making your eyes shut and whimper. “I’m here because you asked for me.”

Through the burning friction and pleasure, you managed to question him again, “I’ve never seen your face before. Who are you, really?”

Minho didn’t try to avoid the question, but he took his sweet time answering it. He freed your hand and sat up, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head and discarding it. You were completely naked now, shy and lightly sweaty as his eyes raked slowly over your entire body. “I’m everything you could ever want,” he said low, tilting his head to the side as his eyes found yours again. He licked his lips, dipping back down to finally kiss you. He was gentle with the kiss at first, not pushing you too hard too fast. But you couldn’t stop yourself from tightly gripping his hair, pulling his body closer to you. Then it got messy, his tongue found its way to yours and instantly danced together in a spit-covered waltz.

He pulled away all too soon, inhaling your scent and leaving you breathless. “I know everything about you,” Minho left a kiss under your ear, “I know everything you’ve dreamed about,” another on your collar bone, “everything you’ve fantasized about. I know your heart by heart.” One last searing peck he pressed into the skin where your rapidly beating heart lies beneath.

You were at a loss for words, not that your brain could compute any even if you tried. It was like his kisses were laced with a paralyzing venom, slowly taking over your body the more he touched you– and it felt so good.

He paused, sitting back on his heel and pulling his knee from your aching center. You couldn’t look away from his face, mesmerized. However his eyes trailed down to his leg. Your gaze followed, seeing him eye the wet stain where you were rutting against before. “You made a mess,” Minho said sternly without looking up from the wet spot.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

A harsh slap across your cheek cut off your sentence, making your whimper again. You let out a quick breath before Minho used the same hand to plant another back-handed smack to your other cheek. It should’ve hurt. It should’ve made you feel embarrassed, you were anything but. You were sure your cheeks were red, tears prickling in your eyes in frustration because it had been so long since someone treated you this way. The way you looked below him, so mindless and eager, it made Minho smile.

The grin on his face faded a second later. “Stay,” he commanded, climbing off you and stepping aside to pull his pants down. You did as he said, but indulged the way he let himself spring free in front of you. The sheer size of him made your mouth water, not too big and perfectly hooked. The precum that leaked from the head of his cock was enough to get you to break his one and only order.

You leaned towards him, tongue poking out to have a taste. But before you could, Minho shoved you back into the bed harshly. “What did I just say?” He reprimanded, clambering over you to sit on your torso. Your body was buzzing, almost unable to register the slap he let slide across your face for a third time. It wasn’t until he locked his fingers around your throat and bent down to kiss you again did you feel the sting. As your eyes closed and he kissed you sweetly, warm tears rolled down your face, coating his hand around your neck. Minho pulled again, “already crying? Baby, I’m just getting started with you.”

“Please, more,” you found the courage to ask, encouraging Minho to smile fondly down at you.

“You’re in no position to make requests, doll,” he replied, the loving smirk becoming more wicked.

Without another word, Minho climbed higher up your body, sitting on your chest with both shoulders pinned to the mattress. He reached down to pull your head up by the hair, stinging on your scalp feeling so heavenly. The heat from his cock radiated against your lips, just asking to be touched. With his free hand, he grabbed the base of it and tapped the head to your lips, skin on skin slapping echoing throughout the room. “Since you couldn’t follow orders, I might as well just give you what you want. Right, doll?” He mocked you, intentionally missing your mouth and hitting your cheek with his cock. Now you were embarrassed, but not any less aroused and he knew it.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Yes, master,” your voice is weak and unstable, just like your brain. You were taken over with lust and want, unable to think for yourself anymore.

“Open.” You complied easily, not wasting another second. He chuckled and raised his hip, slipping his cock into your mouth and guiding your head deeper. Minho threw his head back, groaning at the warmth that engulfed him. You hummed, sending vibrations to run through his body. It took everything in him not to buck into your mouth— he knew you’d enjoy it too much. So he continued to move slowly, only using the handle on your hair to bob your head up and down his cock.

It was getting too much for you, going untouched, making you thrust your hips into the air. Minho felt your body wriggle under him and let his full body weight press into your chest, making it harder to breathe. “Shut up and let me use you like the good doll you are,” he ripped you from his cock to say.

“Yes, master,” was all you could get out before he shoved himself back into your mouth. It took every ounce of strength you had not to reach your hand down to play with yourself, given he hadn’t completely restricted your hands. Maybe he wanted you to misbehave, after all, he said he knew everything about you. He had to have known how much of a brat you are.

So you did exactly that, pleasure him while you secretly pleasured yourself. You swiped some of your leaking arousal to use a slick between your fingers, rubbing hard into your cunt. The feeling made you moan, causing unsuspecting Minho to rut into your mouth and groan as well. He sounded so pretty, you wanted to savor the way he called out for you. Sucking harder on the tip of his cock, you swirl your tongue around it and dig the muscle into his slit. “Fuck! Keep doing that and I might just have to keep you around.”

You found yourself proud that you could make him cry out like that, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good. Well— there was one thing you wanted more, and that was to cum.

Somehow, you’d powered through his devilish charms and it confused him. You weren’t supposed to be able to disobey him, not when he’d marked you. Minho had felt you playing with yourself beneath him despite your efforts to suck him off. He groaned extra loud as you hollowed out your cheeks, tugging your hair back the hardest he had all night. He tracked his eyes between your swollen, out of breath lips and behind him to where your hand was still between your legs. How could a measly little human fight his provocative demon ways?

“I’ve underestimated you, doll,” he breathed out, letting go of his dick and thumbing your saliva-ridden lips. Your eyes closed, leaning into his touch, not caring much about what he meant by his words. He gripped your cheeks and forced your mouth open, quickly jamming two fingers down your throat and making you gag— immediately getting off your chest and walking towards the end of the bed. You coughed, sitting up on your forearms the second you caught your breath.

“What was this useless thing you had doing my job?” Minho stood tall at your feet, picking up the vibrator and switching it on. It suddenly looked sad and pathetic in his hands. “What do you want? This piece of plastic or me?”

Your eyes flickered between him and the toy, imagining what he’d do to you if you said you wanted both. But of course, it was a rhetorical question and he already knew your answer. So he left the vibrator on and tossed it towards you, climbing back onto the bed and pulling you by the ankles towards him. “You should be ashamed.” His words were meant to be hurtful, but it only fueled you both. 

“I should be,” you bit your lip, laying back as he tugged your knees up and locked your ankles behind his waist.

“But you’re not.” Minho took the vibrator and leaned over you, holding it above your cunt just as you had when you thought you were alone.

“No, I’m not.” Again, he tilted his head at you like a cat, eyeing as if to get a better look.

Minho willed himself to get you to obey him again, demanding you to. He thought for you to grab his dick and stroke him, testing his powers. When you didn’t, still staring up at him with big and round eyes, his suspicions were confirmed. You weren’t under his trance, not anymore. Perhaps you were at first, when he’d initially marked you and made you his. But now, you grabbed for the vibrating toy in his hand and not his cock. 

You didn’t look away, gently wrapping your hands around his wrist to guide the vibrator down. As soon as it touched you, your head fell back and your arms gave out. The sensation was indescribable, even more so because Minho was the one holding the toy. He watched you writhe in pleasure, he just had to up the speed. Without touching himself, even though all he had to do was push forward and he’d slip in, he slicked the toy up and down just as you did. He’d already memorized how you liked to be touched just from the few minutes he got to watch you. He knew how much pressure to put and where to put it, making your ankles dig into the small of his back and pull him in.

You couldn’t open your eyes as he pinched at the skin of your thigh with his free hand, too lost in the feeling. His warm hand smoothed over the skin, raising goosebumps along your body.

Minho loved every second your face contorted in pleasure. He loved that you took what you wanted from him without shame. He loved how you could make him feel so powerless even though you were supposed to be nothing to him— supposed to be nothing but a plaything.

He’d been around long enough to know humans were worthless, they were on earth purely for a devil’s amusement. And god, was Minho amused.

When your back arched and your hand held his that kept the toy pressed to your clit, coming undone at his doing, he knew he was fucked. He couldn’t help loving the way you cried out his name and locked him between your legs. And shivering as he kept the vibrator on you, not ceasing even though you’d ridden through your high and was becoming overstimulated. His control over the toy followed your cunt as you tried to buck away, but he wanted to see it again.

He upped the vibration level by two clicks. You continued to struggle to get away, making Minho take drastic measures. He took the toy from your skin for a split second, only to grab hold of his cock and push into you. With the first orgasm, you were anything but loose. Your muscles spasmed and forced his hips to plunge into you all the way. Minho laughed, falling over you and catching himself on his arms. You had a fucked out smirk on your face. He stayed put, snug inside your cunt as he resisted the urge to kiss you. 

“You know my heart by heart?” It sounded like a challenge. Minho didn’t know what you were thinking anymore. He knew your wildest fantasies, knew every wet dream you’d had, every dirty thought. But he couldn’t think of anything but you in this very moment, teasing him instead of the other way around.

“I do,” he whispered back, unable to read the look on your face.

You didn’t break eye contact as you reached for the vibrator in his hand, bringing it between your bodies. “Show me.” He obeyed, the first time he’d ever done so.

Minho leaned in and kissed you, simultaneously pushing the vibrator into both your clit and the top of his cock, the feeling shivering through both of you. He moaned into the kiss, grabbing you by the hair again and pulling you to sit up with him. You were perched on his lap and him on his knees, hands roaming everywhere they could. Neither of you wanted to break from the kiss, but the new angle had your head spinning as his cock somehow slid deeper into you— you’d almost forgotten how to breathe.

Your hands wrapped around his neck for stability and threaded through his hair. Minho let the vibrator lay on his pelvis where your cunt would rub against as you rode him, giving both his hands freedom to hold you however he wanted. So he did, sliding them up your back to pull your against your chest. He reached around the backside of your neck to brush your hair away and nuzzle his face into the crook, wanting to drown in your scent.

He peppered kisses along your shoulder, your collar bone, wherever he could as your hips grinded into him and the toy. “I came here to fuck you,” he breathed into your skin, not meaning to speak his thoughts aloud. You listened closely, not slowing down as you searched for another high. “But instead you’re fucking me.”

His words made your walls flutter around him impossibly tight, ripping a strained groan from his chest. Your fingers wrapped around his hair at the root, pulling his face from your chest and looking down at him. He looked beautiful, eyes blown wide and cheeks rosy. “You’re letting me use you,” you mumbled down at him, stopping your hips to slowly grind against the toy and him.

“It’s what you want,” he said through his teeth, almost as if he was ashamed to say it. He was in a way, he shouldn’t be feeling this way, not for a human.

Pulling his hair back and exposing his neck, you leaned down to whisper, “you know what I want?” Minho couldn’t respond, opting to moan instead. “I want you to make me cum. Then I want you to cum,” his eyes rolled back and shut tightly at your words, unable to stop himself from rutting up into you. “Want you to cum inside me. Because I’m your good doll, right?”

“Mhm, my doll,” he gripped your hips harder, knocking the vibrator away as he lifted you so he could thrust up. You fell forward, putting all your body weight onto his chest. Minho untucked his legs from under him, planting his feet and laying back so you were still sitting on top of him. He didn’t realize his strength as he held your ass up and spread your cheeks, one hand raising and coming down to smack you hard. It made your body fall into him more, hiding your face in his neck.

Minho pummeled his cock in and out shallowly, hips making a grinding motion to rub against your sensitive bundle of nerves. The second wave of pleasure was on it’s way to overtaking your body, so close to washing over you. A few more ruts and you were sent toppling into your second and final high, nails clawing into Minho’s chest deeply as your vision went white and your body shuddered. The pain you inflicted on his pectorals, drawing hot red lines made him pump his cum into you, buried to the hilt and paint your walls white. His hips stuttered as he unleashed a heavy load and the warmth spread through you.

Out of breath, Minho dropped his legs and your lower body to rest on top of him, not pulling out. You stayed nuzzled into him as his arms lazily held you, rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

It was quiet like this for a while, not wanting to let one another go out of fear that you’d realize it was all a dream. But you’d have to eventually. So you sat up just enough to look him in the eyes, fingers coming up to play with his lips.

“Will you leave if I fall asleep?” You were tired, but the thought of waking up with him not there kept you awake.

His eyes were half lidded as he kissed the pads of your fingers, “you only asked for one night.”

You shook your head, no. “Are you real?”

“As real as you are.” His hand trailed up your sides, pushing your hair from your face and staring into your eyes. You couldn’t see the terrorizing black eyes that initially scared you, only the brown ones that you wanted to wake up to in the morning.

“Will I see you again?” Your fingers held his cheek, just wanting to remember what his glittery skin felt like.

He did the same, caressing every inch of you he could get his hands on, not wanting to let go of his fragile little human. “When the storm comes again and you smell the petrichor, wish for more than just one night.” Minho pulled your head into his warm chest, fingers carding through your hair as your eyes closed. You tried to listen for his heart beat, but the same way his skin sparkles despite the lack of sweat, the only sign that he was alive was the pink that dusted his cheeks.

You dreamt of him every night, praying for the rain to come again and make use of your remaining two wishes.

-

A/N: I have no idea what possessed me to write this but i'm actually very happy with how it turned out :3

This is me making my stand as a lino lover through and through.

Post-ly song rec!: "Wildfire" by Monsta X. I went to their concert and wowwweeee it was crazy 10/10 recommend!!

Leave some feedback! Asks are always open :3

-momo < 3

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These are not my works! These are recs only! Please support the original authors!!!

STRAY KIDS OT8

how the skz boys ask you for attention stray kids as roommates a fairytale that lasts - masterlist a warm plate of rice Stray kids reaction to sharing a bed with you

BANG CHAN

01:37 a.m. part of you enemies-to-lovers! forever the red string of fate (2) moonlight (so this is love?) someone’s someone nervous [4:35 PM] “go back to sleep” issues in the wolf gang  in hindsight (a broken car isn’t that bad) [3:45PM] “go back to sleep.” my best friend

LEE MINHO

eighteen  give it a chance  youngblood tumbles & turns the silent treatment between the lines moonlit inure wishful thinking  devil’s waltz  i’ll be here, always & forever  rivals  home run  #1218A0 unwell a marriage story  a promise well broken first kiss better than chocolate of ramen and duck slippers second lead syndrome you were beautiful not so subtle [8:14p.m.]  [9:50 pm]  you’re over me?

SEO CHANGBIN

bad boy sticky notes & snowstorms tsundere!changbin kind of soulmates breathing lilacs the moon needs the sun to shine a night to remember  third time’s the…  midnight sonata conditional hug wish you were sober [6:24p.m.] 

HWANG HYUNJIN

[with your hands in the rain]  a golden moment in college  bluff & nonsense  “Are you leaving?”  sleepy kisses  blissful lullaby  the valentine trials  a throne of roses #4148F1  half-dead romance  27 + 95  #372064  purple looks good on you  pas de deux what a feeling celebrity camping || 5:49am: cafe!au ||  2 + 25: coffee shop au! paint by numbers (until I find you) [4:42pm] knife under my pillow nothing special the study of relationships 2:14 pm: “if i told you i loved you” paint by numbers (until i find you)  try again  walk of shame  behind closed doors closing shift the student council president reads shoujo manga?!  confessions of a wilted flower bathroom boy

HAN JISUNG

academic burn out the stars the happiest. give my heart a chance even if things were different  seven minutes driver’s license the tale of silver linings  ever changing fate heart attack!  stray kids fraternity a pinch of the jeekies bird is the word your lover who will never change painless heart so full stray kid fraternity love and where to find it amortentia

LEE FELIX

fifty-seven  //   forbidden fruit  //   bloom  //  friends to lovers  //  #FFF81C  // the stars under your eyes  //  admiration  //  sweet stranger  //  6:04 pm 19:32 parents au/kidfic [19:15] lee felix’s guide to hating you not-so-secret admirer  [19:15] 

KIM SEUNGMIN

[we’re in the rain]  Sweet Chaos //  marjoram and macchiatos // give me love yearbook  //  risk  // in memory // paint & brushes   //  in his room. love-gram [10:50p.m.]

YANG JEONGIN

desert rose  // as love does // the summer horror picture show 5:11pm tell me about love

NCT

OTHERS

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masterlist

my fictional original works are intended for entertainment and do not represent any real person in any way. they contain content that is not suitable for minors.

© tasteleeknow — do not repost, modify, or translate my work.

Keep reading

[leeknowrecord]

— taste

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, soft!dom minho. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 4.3k

summary: your boyfriend has been working out, but when you notice his appeal for praise being ignored by his friends, you decide to show him how beautiful you think his body is.

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[leeknowrecord]

With Love | Before School's Out | Lee Know

pairing : lee know x fem!reader

genre : fluff , lee know being a simp for reader

≡;- ꒰ blurb ꒱ : where club leader, lee know recruits a year 2 who just transferred to his school. When he found himself falling for her in merely 4 months, how would he confess before he graduates from high school?

w.c 6.6k

📎rei's note : this is my 2nd submission (based on the voting after 48hrs) for Before School's Out Series!~ I hope you look forward to our next member submission, chan~ see you guys around~ byebye

≡;- ꒰ masterlist ꒱

You always liked baking which made your classmates quite fond of you. You weren't that surprised. Beside the point, you hadn't signed up for any club since you transferred to this in the middle of year 2.

Being multi-talented in both sports & cooking made you the target for every club leader. Everyone wants to recruit you. However your teacher had already signed you up in a club without you knowing. Why?

Because the treats you brought to school had brought someone' else's attention to you, Lee Minho. He was the club leader of the baking club. Your teacher, well...decided to play cupid this time. She had caught lee know peeking into your classroom. She could tell instantly that lee know has taken a serious interest in you.

"Minho! What are you doing here?", your teacher called him.

Lee know flinched. He rubbed the back of his nape nervously while looking at your teacher.

"O-oh ssaem", he bowed slightly, making your teacher wave her hand in the air in dismissal.

"Are you looking for y/n?", she questioned. Lee know became tensed up.

"What makes you think that?"

"I noticed you always looking at her from outside my class. Oh dear, you definitely heard about her baking skill, didn't you?"

He let out a light chuckle. Your teacher gave him a small smile.

"I can sign her up to join your club if you want".

"Really!?? Thank you so much ssaem!", lee know bowed. A laugh escaped your teacher's lips.

Just then, the classroom door opened. You waved to your teacher who you saw talking to a senior you had never seen before. She waved back before letting you excuse yourself to the restroom. Lee know's gaze followed your figure, making your teacher chuckled at him.

"You sure do like her huh?", your teacher spoke. Lee know's eyes widened.

"Ssaem—", she interrupted him. she placed her index finger against her finger.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me", Lee know let out a sigh of relief. He just hoped his feelings weren't too obvious that you'll notice. He didn't want to creep you out, knowing that you didn't know him that well. These 2 weeks you have been here, lee know found you really interested...and

you're really pretty to him.

*knock knock*

You peeped your head into the open club room. A smile appeared on your face when you saw a bunch of club members looking at you. Some smiled while others invited you to enter the room, recognizing you immediately. The club room was designed like a kitchen. The little decorations put up were totally up your alley. It felt cozy and warm.

"You're y/n, right?", you turned around to look at the male who had spoken to you.

You nodded your head before shaking his hand.

"Yup! you must be lee minho, ssaem told me a lot about you~ You're so cool!~", you giggled, feeling like your usual bubbly self.

Some of the club members cooed at your cuteness. Lee know chuckled. He took his hand out of his pocket before placing something in your hand.

"I wonder what ssaem talked about me to you. But yeah, I'm the club leader here. And~..."

"Here's an apron for you. It has your name embroidered to it. And, it's in your favorite color"

"Thanks!", you smiled cutely at him.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked down at the apron. A smile appeared on lee know's face as he watches you. You didn't even realize that yours were indeed different from the rest of the club members. Unknowingly to you, some of his club members were grinning from across the club room as they watched your interaction between you and their club leader. The smile on his face dropped as he glared back at them, jerking his head to the side, gesturing them to get back to their work. Laughter broke out but you were too busy admiring your new apron.

You and lee know got closer as the months pass. It wasn't a surprise for the seniors club members since lee know was the one who wanted you to join the club (not that you know either).

Since the seniors were going to graduate soon, the teachers had decided that the year 2 and year 1 should bake something for the seniors as a farewell gift. To decide who should do for who, the teacher made a lucky draw, so that the result would be random. Some of the female juniors had a sour expression on their faces when they realized they didn't get who they wanted.

"Who did you get?", somi, one of the seniors asked you.

You showed her your paper.

"Minho~", you smiled widely.

Somi looked at you, surprised just screaming all over her face.

"Woah, lucky you then. A lot of the year 1 were so desperate to get minho", she explained. you furrowed your brows in confusion.

"It's just minho", you spoke nonchalantly.

Somi looked at you blankly. She even questioned herself, how oblivious you were. The year 3 club members could tell how much lee know likes you.

Lee know wasn't the type to have a crush on someone. He thinks he is being slick but...pretty much everyone can see right through him.

For example, right now...

"Oh, y/n! Who did you get?", lee know spoke as he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. The younger female club members, looked at the two of you, with envy in their eyes. Everyone wanted to be in your place.

"You"

"Oh, what are you going to make for me?"

You placed a finger against your lips. A small grin on your face.

"It's a secret~".

Lee know chuckled at your little antics. Your face scrunched up when he pinched your cheek.

Somi looked at lee know with a grin on her face. He knew that she had also found out about his obvious crush on you. He was just glad that you were oblivious to his feelings. At least that's what he thinks...

He was really praying that no one would snitch on him and tell you that he likes you. and...may or may not have purposely cheated to make you draw his name. Oh well, not like anyone was going to find out.

Lee know looked around the club room. A pout appeared on his face when he realized he couldn't find you anywhere. He was pretty sure you were present in school.

The juniors were already passing their gifts to their seniors. His phone suddenly rang, looking at the caller id, he immediately picked up as he left the room.

"Hey, where are you?...", lee know spoke on the line.

"somewhere~, just meet me outside", you teased him. He brows furrow as he looks around the hallway to see if he could see you anywhere.

"Where exactly?", you suddenly hung up the call, making him confused. He walked outside of the school but couldn't find you anywhere.

"BOOO!", you shouted into his ear. He flinched. His eyes squinted at you as he pinched your cheek. You pouted.

"I told you to stop doing that". He only shook his head.

"Then, stop yelling into my ear". You only scrunched your face in response.

The two of you made your way to the bench by the school garden. You nudged him to open the box that you left on the bench. It was wrapped nicely in his favorite color. He carefully opened the box to reveal the little cake that you made just for him.

'ily'

A huge smile appeared on his face. He turned to look at you, cupping your face almost immediately.

"Minho...", you mumbled out barely due to the fact he was squishing your cheeks. He looked at you in the eye, hoping you would get the message.

You nodded your head at him. He leaned down to leave a peck on your lips before moving his hands towards your waist. Both of your faces were slightly red.

Lee know got lost in your gaze. Even a blind man can tell how in love he is with you.

"you know, i wanted to confess to you first but i guess you got to me", he let out a chuckle.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, making him lean his head against your shoulder.

"babo (like a fool) ", you whispered into his ear.

"hm?", he turned his head to look at you. You cheekily smiled at him.

You kissed him on the cheek. Lee know's brows raised in amusement. "it's my second gift for you, made with love", you grinned. Lee know chuckled as he pinched your cheek.

"Yah! when did you learn to be this cute", he questioned jokingly.

"from you. who else would likes me, romantically besides you...so willingly rigged the draw", you mumbled the last part. Lee know's eyes widened in surprised.

"How did you know that!?"

"I'm not that oblivious, lee minho"

The end.

taglist (open) ;; @asfreeastheuniverse @todorokiskitten @kpflyn @ybflkmj @taeriffic @kpoproyal @amara-mars @bananaxsydeee @sweetrabbit @linosthighs21 @lilydaisyyy @hakkaist // send an ask to be added for this series taglist.

© nokacchan 2022

— likes/reblogs/comments are greatly appreciated~ Thanks for reading!~

[leeknowrecord]

Little Do You Know » mlist

Lee Minho is handsome, kind, and successful; yet can’t land a long term commitment.

And when it comes to the skeletons tucked away in his hedonistic closet, you’re going to find out precisely why that is.

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, kink exploration, explicit sexual content. rating: mature word count: 35k+ WARNING: this short series will cover numerous kinks, some of which are difficult to read for many people. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. content will include sensitive subject matter such as: cnc, knife play, free use, under-negotiated kink, name calling, possession play, blanket consent, etc. individual chapters will be marked with their contents.

i. begin/exhibitionism - 4.8k

ii. sensory deprivation - 8.8k

iii. free-use - 8.8k

iv. knife play - 5.7k

v. consensual non-consent - 7.5k

» this is a kinktober exclusive

THERE IS NO TAGLIST!

[leeknowrecord]

when he sees me || Lee Know

Pairing: Lee Know x f!Reader

Summary: Interacting with others has never been easy for you, whether it is talking to them or, worse, flirting with them. As a result, relationships, but also any form of sexual interactions have always eluded you. You had no reason to think that was going to change anytime soon.

And then your hot neighbor’s cat shows up in your apartment, and you think that things just might change. Even if it’s only on one front.

Word count: 13.3k

Genre: Neighbors AU, slice of life, smut, fluff & angst

Warnings & Tags: mention of a dead grandparent, social anxiety, insecurities, loss of virginity, reader doesn’t tell minho that she’s a virgin, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex [female receiving], fingering, very soft sex), unreliable narrator, unresolved romantic tension.

A/N: Hi everyone! After going through a rough past couple of… six months, hence the disappearance, and pretty much not writing/not finishing anything for all of that, I just really wanted to try writing something again. This was long — it basically took me the whole summer to write this piece — but I’m happy that I’ve managed to create something again :) Thank you to all of the people who sent kind messages during that time, I saw them and truly appreciated them. I hope you enjoy this, and I would really appreciate it if you could let me know your thoughts, especially if you like it!

“It sounds like you really needs to get laid,” Nari comments, and the table laughs heartily while you smile. You make the conscious effort of creasing your eyes, so it looks genuine, but hopefully no one can tell. She reaches over to grab your hand, an amused grin on her face, and squeezes it. “We’ll get on that soon, I promise, but in the meantime, being here is the next best thing.”

You smile and nod, but you also shift slightly in your chair.

‘Here’ is the District 9, and it’s, for all intents and purposes, a strip club. There’s no actual stripping happening, but there are scantily-clad men dancing on stage, and rumors flying around about ‘private sessions’ that can happen in one of the backrooms, if you’re willing to pay. You and your friends — coworkers — are here for the men. But, as the lights dim and your friends start clapping, instead of focusing on the stage, you cast a look over your shoulder.

Keep reading

[leeknowrecord]

Parties Don't End at 3AM {skz l.m.}

This is a Lee Know | Lee Minho fan fiction. This story contains smut. Only read if you’re 18+. #'s: Neighbours to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Porn With Plot, Eventual Smut, Minho is Whipped, Minho is a college student and feminist, Minho has a secret crush on you, Dom Minho, Oral sex (fem. receiving), A little fluff, Minho is shy at first Word Count: 15.2k Click here for the Masterlist. Inspired by Neighbors from @btssmutgalore

Fridays shouldn't feel like this. Having two days off work shouldn't feel like this. They shouldn't carry that much weight – they should make you feel excited as you anticipate what sort of fun activities lay ahead of you. You shouldn't feel like you were obligated to endure them, but rather that you were allowed to relax and live a little.

Still, as you were exiting the subway station two minutes from your apartment complex, you felt guilty to yourself. As if it was a crime that all you were gonna do was watch old reruns of comedy shows and eat way more than your body needed to survive. Somehow, you couldn't wait to go back to work the following Monday, and it made you wonder if you were becoming something you had never wanted to become. Old.

As you turned the corner into your street, you saw a bundle of blond hair enter the door to your building, so you started sprinting to make it in time. You were just a few seconds too late as the entrance fell close right in front of your nose, an exhausted sigh leaving your lips. Maybe you should go to the gym over the weekend, seeing you apparently were very much out of shape.

The brown cardboard box in your arms got heavier with each second you held it, but you knew once you set it down, you wouldn't muster the energy to pick it back up again. With the box still in your arms, you tried fetching the keys out of your pocket, which was harder said than done.

Somehow, you managed to snatch the ring between your pointer and middle finger, starting to drag it towards the air. The second the key came into sight, though, you unintentionally let it fall, another groan leaving your pursed lips. As if this day couldn't get any worse, the key landed in a puddle on the dark cement.

"Fucking hell," you cursed, trying your hardest to retrieve the key without letting the box fall as well. That was harder said than done, so when you heard someone call your name behind you, relief took over.

"Let me give you a hand," the familiar boy said as he bent down to grab the key from the ground, handing it to you. It was still wet and slippery, so before you could drop it again, the boy took the box out of your hand, a kind smile on his face. What a helpful young man, you would have said hadn't you been around his age.

"Thank you. You're a lifesaver," you said instead as you opened the door, stepping inside and letting your neighbour enter after you. He had a bag strapped to his back, a second bag in the arm that wasn't currently carrying your box. "Changbin, right?"

"Yup," Changbin confirmed as he gave you back the box. "This is really heavy. Do you want me to carry it?"

Something about his voice told you that he didn't ask because he thought you were too weak. You had obviously been carrying it for a while, so he was just trying to help you out.

"It's fine, thanks," you replied as the two of you started making your way up the stairs. Living in a building without an elevator usually didn't bother you. Still, on days like these, you'd really appreciate not having to walk up five sets of stairs.

"What's in there anyway? Are you carrying your rock collection?"

"Not exactly," you answered as your eyes went down to the brown cardboard. "My ex-boyfriend came by my work today to give me back some of the things he claims I left at his apartment."

"Your ex? I remember him. Wasn't he the guy who went for runs shirtless, even during fall?" Changbin questioned, an amused expression on his face.

"Yup," you agreed as you remembered convincing him to wear a shirt, at least during winter, knowing the last thing he had needed was pneumonia. It had been worse enough whenever he couldn't work out for a day or two, but having to stop exercising for weeks? It would have made both of you go insane. All the whining would have become annoying after just a few hours.

"Didn't you break up with him like six months ago, though? Why does he still have your stuff at his apartment?"

"You're really up-to-date, huh?"

Honestly, you were a little surprised your neighbour knew exactly when you had thrown your ex-boyfriend out. Not that Changbin was oblivious like that, but you had never really talked to him or his roommates. They merely were your upstairs neighbours, so all you exchanged were the usual 'Hellos' and 'How are yous'.

"I'm not a stalker, I swear," Changbin explained with a sort of nervous laughter as the two of you were turning a corner. "It's just that I had an important exam the day after that fight the two of you had. I was awake all night studying, so I kinda heard the two of you yelling. He never came back after that."

"You heard that?" you questioned in surprise, a little embarrassed that your neighbours had apparently all been witnesses to the worst break-up of your life.

"The walls might be thick, but the ceilings sure aren't. My rooms right above your bedroom."

"Oh," you mumbled, hoping that yelling was all Changbin could hear from his room. It was one thing that he had heard you arguing with your ex, but there were other things you did in your room that you'd rather not have anyone else know about.

"So, why'd he give you your stuff back half a year after you threw him out?" Changbin asked again, curiosity written on his face.

"Well, he got engaged to his new girlfriend, or should I say wife to be last night. Apparently, he wanted to make sure I knew that he's doing so much better than me," you explained honestly, with a short shake of your head. You still couldn't believe that someone would be dumb enough to marry someone like him, and you were grateful it wasn't you.

"What an ass!" All you could do was laugh at Changbin's words, agreeing with a slight nod. "Why'd you break up with him anyway? Did his abs get too hard? Or did his biceps take up the whole bed?"

"I wish," you joked with a laugh as you got to the third floor. It was getting a little harder to keep on talking with each step as automatically breathing wasn't a given anymore. You didn't know how Changbin did it so effortlessly, chatting while climbing five sets of stairs and still breathing so calmly. Obviously, he must have been really fit, which you could also tell from his broad shoulders and big arms. "Actually, you were the main reason I broke up with him."

"Me?" Changbin questioned in confusion, his expression falling as he seemed to feel guilty.

"Not you individually. Your whole group," you corrected, referring to Changbin and all the other guys living in the flat-sharing community above your apartment. From all you could tell, a handful of other boys and men lived there, all of them college students or something similar. "Don't get me wrong, we already weren't happy before you moved in. But after he found out a bunch of handsome men were living above me, he just got super jealous. As if I had the time or the energy to cheat on him with a couple of college students. No offence."

"None taken," Changbin said with a laugh as you came to a halt in front of your apartment. Compared to theirs, which must have had many rooms to fit that many people, yours was a small two-room apartment. That was all you could afford, but you were more than happy with it. "Man, I can't believe he thought you were cheating with us. We don't even really know each other, and let me tell you, some of us aren't even into girls."

"I know," you told Changbin as you remembered seeing some of the boys with male partners canoodling in the hallways. "Anyways, he came by today and, apparently, he's super happy with her. And as if that wasn't enough, my boss told me off in front of all my colleges because I made a stupid mistake. I worked for hours trying to solve the problem, hence, why I'm coming home at 8:30."

A small look at your watch told you the time, and it was only now that you realised how dark it had gotten. The whole walk home had been filled with anxious thoughts, so you hadn't even noticed time racing by.

"You seem like you need some time off, then," Changbin pointed out, to which you could only huff.

"As if I can relax, not knowing if I actually solved everything until Monday morning."

Not even a bath or a movie marathon could possibly distract you from the lingering anxiety in your veins. It would need a lot more than that.

As on cue, you heard a door open right above you, and seconds later, a young round face appeared on the stairway. You recognised the boy as Han, one of the residents above you, and probably the person you had talked to the most. At least as of now.

"There you are! What's taking you so long?" Han questioned Changbin before noticing you standing next to his friend. "Oh, hey, y/n."

"Hey," you greeted the young boy back, a smile appearing on your lips. "You guys have something planned?"

"Do we? We're having a party tonight, and it's gonna be amazing," Han told you with an excited expression, his eyes wandering to the bags Changbin carried. "We need to cool the alcohol before people arrive, so you better hurry."

"I'll be there in a minute," Changbin told his roommate, who just shot you another smile before disappearing again.

"A party, huh?" you questioned.

"Not so much a party as a small get-together," Changbin corrected. "You know, if you want to, you can come by. It starts at ten."

"That's nice of you, but I don't really think I'd fit in. Also, I never went to a college party, so I wouldn't even know what to do, let alone how to dress," you explained.

"Wait, you've never been to a college party?" Changbin asked in disbelief. "Well, then you gotta come by. And I won't take no for an answer."

"I don't know-"

"But I do. Come on, you don't want your ex to be right, do you?" It was a rhetorical question, but Changbin hit a nerve there. "He wanted to show you how awesome his life is, so what better way than to party with a bunch of college dudes and dudettes."

"He wouldn't even know about this, though. And I'm not gonna roll up at his work just to tell him about a frat party I've been to," you said, making Changbin roll his eyes at you. As if you had known him for years rather than months.

"But you'd know," he pointed out, and you couldn't deny that he had a point. "Come on, you'll have a lot of fun. And there's gonna be hunks even hotter than him."

Maybe, it was that you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren't old; maybe, it was that you wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, with all the thoughts roaming through your head paired with the loud music coming from upstairs. A party just seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get out of your apartment again. Even if it was just to go upstairs.

"Fine. I'll be there, but I need to eat something and get ready first."

"Be there as soon as you can. And I'll make sure one of us is with you at all times. You won't have to be alone one second." Changbin turned around to walk up the stairs to his apartment. "And if you're not there by 10:30, I'll come down here to get you myself."

"Or you could yell at me through your bedroom floor," you joked, making the boy laugh as he was jumping the stairs up like an excited rabbit.

"That was a good one. You're funny."

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

You checked yourself out in the tall mirror beside your apartment door one last time before deciding that you didn't have time to change again. After going through outfits for most of the past two hours, you knew that there were no clothes better suited for the party than the ones you were wearing.

Jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers.

Maybe you should have asked Changbin if there was a dress code when you still had time, but how formal could it be? It was a college party, so something fancier just seemed like too much.

With an exhale that made your lips roll, you shook your head at how in your head you were before taking the key from the little counter beside you. When you exited the apartment, you locked the door behind you. The last thing you needed was for a bunch of drunk twenty-year-olds to mistake your home as a make-out hotspot.

Even before leaving your own four walls, you had heard the music blasting from upstairs. It was probably for the better that you were attending the festivities, rather than going upstairs only to complain. All the music in the world couldn't have eased your tension, though. Going into an unfamiliar environment without knowing anyone wasn't something you did every day. The only thing that got you through it was knowing that you could go home within seconds.

When you got to the higher floor, you noticed a sign on the door saying 'open'. Simple but effective – nothing less than what you had expected from a community of twenty-year-olds. Without further ado, you pushed the door open, stepping into the dark hallway of what you immediately knew was the hugest apartment you had ever seen. It had to be, to fit so many people, but it surprised you nevertheless.

For a few seconds, you simply stood by the door, taking in the scenery to get a picture of where everything was located. As far as you could tell, the bedrooms were to your right as that part wasn't occupied by people. There were four doors in total, telling you that some of your neighbours must have been sharing rooms. Definitely nothing you would have done, but that was thanks to your own sense of privacy. You had no siblings, so you just weren't used to sharing your space.

To your left, you saw lights flickering to the music as shadows were dancing across the walls. From that picture alone, you knew that the party was already in full swing. In front of you was a doorway that led to a big kitchen, which was also filled with people. It was there that you spotted Changbin, smiling at you as he made his way over.

"You actually came!" the boy exclaimed over the loud music as he looked at his phone. "And just a few minutes late. I didn't even have to send a search party."

"You might have to later, though. I'm so gonna get lost in all these rooms," you joked as Changbin gave you a warm hug. You hadn't expected him to greet you this heartily, but it felt nice. As if his strong arms could protect you from the cold – or danger.

"So, those rooms are the bedrooms. If you're fast enough, you'll still catch one. Though, I wouldn't go in there when a sock is hanging at the knob," Changbin explained, pointing at two of the rooms which were obviously occupied already. It didn't take a psychic to know what they were being used for right now.

"I don't think I'll be needing one of your bedrooms if there's one with my name on it right downstairs," you pointed out with a laugh, looking back at Changbin. From how lopsided his smile was, you could tell that he must have had a few pre-party cocktails or beers or whatever it was that he preferred.

"True," Changbin agreed as he turned to your left. "Well, there's the living room and the rooftop balcony. I think most people are out there."

"Rooftop balcony?" you questioned in surprise, your eyes wandering over to the double glass door which must have led outside. You had lived here for a few years, but this was the first time you heard about a rooftop balcony. Obviously, it was a private balcony, so you couldn't have gone there anyway. That you hadn't even known about its existence, though, still came as a shock to you.

"Yup. It sounds cooler than it is, though," Changbin brushed off. "There are two bathrooms, one beside the balcony door and one right next to the kitchen, which is-"

"Don't tell me, let me guess!" you exclaimed before he could tell you where the latter was located. "The room with the oven and the sink, which people are entering empty-handed and exiting all stacked up on alcoholic beverages."

"You're good!" Changbin admitted with a fake-shocked expression. "I think you just won yourself a free drink."

"I just so happen to have forgotten my wallet, so that is more than perfect," you joked as you followed the boy into the kitchen.

Changbin quickly mixed you a drink, which, apparently, was his speciality before he led you towards the balcony. You had to admit that his mixing skills were better than expected, which was why you had already finished your drink halfway, the second you stepped out into the fresh air.

Summer hadn't yet arrived, and sadly you had forgotten to bring a jacket. You had been unaware of the balcony up until five minutes ago, so how should you have known to bring something to cover your arms?

"y/n, I think you already know them, but I'd like to introduce you to my roommates again," Changbin said as you came to a halt in front of a table full of people. Some of them had girls sitting on their laps, some held the hands of boys beside them, but you quickly made out which of the youngsters were your neighbours.

"Nice to meet you. Properly, at least," a short but bulky guy said as he held his hand out to you. He introduced himself as Chan, and the others reintroduced themselves as well. Fortunately, that is, seeing you wouldn't have remembered half of their names.

"Here, sit!" Changbin told you as he pulled a chair out for you to sit on. You accepted his offer, your eyes wandering over the beautifully decorated scenery.

"I know I've never been up here, but I love what you made of this!" you gushed over the neatly hung lights and perfectly arranged flowers.

"Thank you. Finally, someone who noticed," Felix, a blonde boy with a freckled nose, replied, his eyes staring fake-tauntingly at the young man beside him. His boyfriend, seemingly. "I had a little help, though. Minho doesn't like to admit it, but he has a knack for things like this."

"Right, I knew someone was missing," Changbin noticed as his hand collided with his forehead in a light slap. "Where's he?"

"Probably still in his room," Han pointed out as he took a sip from his boyfriend's cocktail. "Dude failed his last exam, so he needs to retake it in a few weeks."

"Maybe someone should get him. You think he knows the party has started?" Hyunjin, a dark-haired guy with a ponytail, questioned into the round.

"You mean with the loud music and people ringing the bell for half an hour? Geez, I don't know!" Seungmin retorted mockingly, earning a small laugh from the girl on his lap.

"I didn't know sarcasm was on the dress code tonight," Hyunjin answered just as sarcastically as he seemed to notice something behind you. "I swear, Minho's like Bloody Mary. Say his name one too many times, and he appears while you sit in the bathtub."

As you turned around to look at the person coming towards you, you nearly choked on your drink. Perhaps it was the lump of sugar in your mouth that made you cough, or it was just the sculpture of a person heading over to you. Either way, you were at a loss for words and air.

You were sure you had met all of the boys at least once before, though you were even more sure that you would have remembered him. Dressed in a pair of black leather pants, which accentuated his muscular thighs, Minho looked like art more than a person. A white dress shirt was neatly tucked into his pants as a thick belt decorated his narrow waist. All in all, he was a sight for the gods.

On his perfect face, the boy wore light make-up, making him look fiercer than he probably was. His eyes scanned the people surrounding the table as he recognised all of them except for you. When he did, he slowed down for a second – it was so short you weren't even sure it happened. You noticed Minho's tongue running over his bottom lip before his eyes came to look at Changbin.

"Hey, Einstein. Done finding the route to mars?" Changbin asked jokingly, and Minho's eyes narrowed for a moment.

"Sure, you wanna go? I have a one-way ticket with your name on it," Minho retorted as he sat down next to Seungmin onto the couch. His eyes met yours for another second before he quickly looked back at Changbin. "Wanna introduce me to your girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's y/n," Changbin answered as you threw a smile in Minho's direction. The man's lips curled into a thin smile for a second, but somehow it didn't seem genuine.

"I'm not his girlfriend, though. I live downstairs in 5b," you explained as Minho slowly nodded at your words.

"Are you the woman with the weird-ass boyfriend who goes jogging naked?" Something about Minho's words seemed bitter.

"Gosh, is that what I'm known for? I'd like to change that," you answered as you tried your best to ignore his somewhat rude first impression. "I did have a boyfriend who went jogging shirtless, but we haven't been together in months."

"You must remember the yelling coming from downstairs like six months ago," Changbin tried to remind Minho, who looked at him with a stern expression.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you for real? Our bedroom is right above hers. You can't tell me you didn't hear them fighting all night," Changbin told his friend, who seemed like he really didn't know what he was talking about. "I distinctly remember we were up all night studying for some test, and you complained to me about it a lot."

"I'm telling you, I can't remember," Minho disagreed, his eyes focused on Changbin. As if he was silently telling him to just shut up. Obviously, you didn't know what that was about. "I never heard anything coming from downstairs."

"You really wanna tell me that you never heard voices from her bedroom when I remember all your whining like it happened yesterday?"

"Yes."

Changbin looked at his roommate in disbelief – as if he couldn't understand why Minho was denying something so insignificant – when suddenly, you felt a shiver run through your body. The wind was pretty heavy up here, not strong enough to blow away the decoration, but strong enough to make the freezing air known.

Both Changbin's and Minho's eyes went over to you, realising that you were wearing only a thin t-shirt, and it didn't take long for one of them to speak up about it.

"Are you cold? Do you need a jacket or something?" Changbin asked in concern as he was already halfway up on his feet.

"It's fine. I'll survive," you told Changbin as you set down your now-empty drink. Only when you looked at your hands did you notice how badly you were shivering. It made you laugh at the irony of your previous words. "Well, on second thought, a jacket might be nice. Or like a cardigan or something."

"I'll be right back," Changbin told you with a kind smile as he started making his way into the apartment.

"You need a refill," Minho added, noticing your empty glass. Before you could answer and tell him that you were fine for now, not in need of another drink this soon after your first one, he was already on his feet, your glass in his hand.

Your eyes followed the two men until you couldn't see them anymore, which was also when Han decided to speak up.

"Look at that. It's only been five minutes, and they're already competing for your hand," the boy joked as he got a laugh from almost everybody at the table.

You slightly chuckled at his words but couldn't help but wonder what the two of them were up to. Why were they acting so strange?

"Don't let Han mock you," Felix added after a few seconds as everyone else was already in another conversation. His warm smile filled you with ease as you noticed his boyfriend looking at him in admiration. "Changbin's just excited to make a new friend, and Minho, well, he's under a lot of pressure right now. He really did fail one of his exams, so he's stressing himself out."

"Oh," you mouthed as you looked back at the door. "Thank you for the heads up."

"No worries. Everybody here's running on sarcasm, especially Han, who's trying to impress his new flame. You'll get used to it."

You really appreciated Felix for sensing your strange reaction and even more for clearing things up. It had probably not been more than ten minutes since you had gotten here, though you already felt like the group was becoming your friends.

After about a minute, you heard the glass door open, so your eyes went back to the two boys slowly exiting the apartment as they were talking to each other. Changbin was carrying a sweater while Minho held a glass filled with red liquid. You couldn't understand what they were saying to each other, but you could tell that they were arguing a little – Changbin looking at Minho in disbelieve.

It took them a few seconds to hash things out, but when they apparently did, they started making their way back over to the table. Whether they had noticed your staring, you couldn't tell.

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

About an hour into the night, you finally decided to get yourself a third drink. An evening rarely escalated into more than two drinks, mostly wine anyway, but you felt adventurous tonight.

Over the previous hour, you had rejected any offer coming from Minho to fix you another one of his mixtures. The main reason was that one of his counted for two of yours, regarding the amount of alcohol. You didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your new friends, so you were trying not to get drunk already.

As you entered the apartment, a gush of warm, sweaty air hit your face, so you decided to leave the door open behind you. To get the aerosols flowing rather than piling.

The number of people currently dancing in the living room made it harder for you to move towards the kitchen, though, after a minute, you finally reached it.

Slightly fewer people were occupying the room as you could immediately head for the sink rather than mentally designing a path first. You looked through the bottles in the ice-cube filled sink until you reached what you identified as rum. Your favourite. You stole a few cubes out of the sink, knowing it wouldn't bother anyone if you did, and filled a small amount of the brown liquid into your cup before searching for a soft drink to mix it with.

"Cranberry or coke?" a deep voice asked beside you, and when you looked up, a dark-haired stranger was smiling at you, one bottle in each hand.

"Um, coke. Thanks," you thanked him as you tried to snatch the bottle out of his hand. The strangers pulled it back a little, so you couldn't reach it anymore, an amused expression clouding his face.

"Na-uh, what's the magic word?"

"Please?" you questioned, but the stranger unexpectantly shook his head.

"Nope. You have two more tries," he told you with a lopsided grin that revealed a dimple on his right cheek. Had he not been so cocky, you would have called him cute.

"What happens if I don't find the right word? You're gonna throw out all the coke?" you asked him in confusion, well aware of the fact that there was a crate filled with bottles of coke just by the doorway. Why you even bothered arguing with a drunk person, you didn't know. Maybe, for entertainment.

"Well, if you don't find the magic word, and I know you won't, then I guess you'll just have to kiss me."

Your face fell at his words, his lame line earning an eye roll as you finally decided to just ignore him. You didn't need to let some dude come on to you when there was another bottle of coke within five steps. After all, you were a grown woman, not a college girl trying to make the biggest mistake of her life.

When you tried pushing past him to get to the bottles, the stranger took a step to the side, apparently still capable of reacting somewhat quickly.

"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows a little.

"Listen, I'm sure you're a really nice guy, but all I want is a drink, so would you please let me get to the coke?" You should have seen that reasoning with a drunk college boy was not happening.

"Fine. You can just kiss me right away then. No need to keep guessing the magic word, which, by the way, was 'blowjob'." How imaginative! You tried pushing past him again, but he simply prepped his arm onto the counter, blocking your exit. "Hey, what did I just tell you? Kiss me, and maybe I'll let you leave then."

"That's blackmailing," you pointed out as you started to get really pissed off. You didn't have the time or the energy for this. "Just let me go."

"No!"

"She said, let her go."

As you looked past the stranger's shoulder, you spotted Minho standing in the doorway, observing the scene. His face showed a hint of irritation as he had apparently gathered what was happening. You noticed how his tense statue made him appear even fiercer.

"Sorry, man. I didn't know the chick was yours," the stranger replied as he took a step to the side, finally letting you pass. Blame your logic, but you felt a lot safer next to Minho than that douchebag.

"She's not mine because she's not an object," Minho countered as he took a step forward to grab the man by his bicep. "I don't think you read the consent pamphlet that was handed out on campus last week, so you better get to it." As Minho dragged him towards the apartment door, the stranger threw a begging look back at you as if to ask for your help.

"Lady, please tell him to let go of me!" The stranger's pleads earned nothing but a huff from you as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. "Fine, I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' won't cut in court. Just leave and don't come back," Minho told the dude as he opened the door and literally threw the stranger out of the apartment. "Like ever."

As soon as Minho threw the door close, a relieved sigh left your lips. You hadn't even realised how tense the whole thing had made you feel. You had been trying not to let that douche get to you, but apparently, it didn't work.

"Thanks," you told Minho with an honest smile as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"No problem," he replied with a smile just as kind as he pointed towards the kitchen. "I think you were making yourself a drink."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that," you laughed as you realised that your glass was still sitting somewhere on a counter in the kitchen. You quickly made your way back into the room, followed by Minho, who thankfully gave you enough space to move freely.

"If I was you, I'd empty that cup and get a new one," the boy told you as he fetched a new glass out of the cupboard above your head. For a second, you could smell his cologne, a fresh, menthol scent filling your nostrils. It took you a moment to clear your head after that.

"You think he roofied my drink?" you questioned, a little surprised, never having thought of that possibility.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't risk it. Dude might be gone, but I still think getting roofied isn't the ideal end of a nice neighbourhood party."

You laughed a little at his remark, somehow only now realising how funny Minho was. Thinking back to all the different things he had said over the past hour, which wasn't a lot seeing he mostly stayed quiet, you remembered how much everyone laughed at his words.

"By the way, I'm sorry if I came on a little strong before," Minho apologised, referring back to when he had first entered the scene. As he spoke to you, calmly now maybe to relax you a little further, he started fixing your drink. "I know it's no excuse, but I've been under a lot of stress over the past few days. And then the boys wanted to throw this part, and I wasn't in the mood."

"Tell me about it. Just today, I think I had the most stressful day at work," you agreed, shaking your head at the thought. "Honestly, I didn't even want to go to the party, but Changbin wouldn't take no for an answer."

"What happened?" Minho questioned as he handed you your finished drink. You took a sip off it, realising that yet again, it was a little stronger than you would have mixed it.

"I ran into him in the hallway, and he said that since I've never been to a college party-"

"Not with Changbin," Minho interrupted you, a small laugh leaving his lips. "Not that I would mind you telling me how after a year of living here, it is only now that you decided to attend one of our get-togethers. But I was referring to your day. What happened at your job today?"

You felt dumb as he clarified your mistake. Of course, Minho didn't want to know why Changbin wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you snorted as you already felt the effect the drink had on you. "I made an error in an important email to an international partner, so my boss yelled at me in front of everybody. It took me three hours of overtime to fix it. And as if that wasn't enough, my ex turned up at my job to give me back some things I apparently left at his apartment. And he took that opportunity to brag about his engagement to his new girlfriend."

"Wait, running-naked-man got engaged. Didn't you say you broke up six months ago?" Minho questioned to your surprise. You hadn't expected him to remember that detail Changbin had told him an hour ago.

"Well, finding a new girlfriend doesn't take so long when you've been seeing them for half a year during your last relationship." As you took another sip from your drink, you realised that Minho didn't have anything to drink, so you held your glass out to him. "Want some?"

"No, thanks. I don't drink," Minho told you, which surprised you even more. A college boy who didn't drink? No wonder his mix was so strong. "Man, I'm so sorry your ex cheated on you. That happened to me once, and it hurt for so long."

"Actually, the cheating doesn't bother me. I have a bigger problem with my ex-boyfriend projecting his infidelity onto me. I can't tell you how often he accused me of cheating with one, or even a few of you guys."

The shock was written in Minho's face as he looked at you in disbelief. It had taken you a while to finally recognise just how toxic your ex had been, so you could understand Minho's reaction.

"Really? With us?" he questioned with a shake of his head. "But like half of us aren't even into girls."

"Changbin said the same thing," you laughed. "When he accused me of cheating, he always had the weirdest reasons. Like when I greeted one of you in the hallways. As if that wasn't just neighbourly behaviour. Once, my ex even made up a reason."

"He did?"

"Yes, it was the weirdest thing. He watched me leave for work one day and apparently saw one of you hiding from me in the hallways. To him, it was just another way of us trying to hide our non-existent secret relationship." As you thought back to the moment you came home that night, you couldn't help but shake your head at the memory of your ex going off at you. As if he hadn't spent the whole day fucking his side-chick.

"Weird," Minho hesitantly answered as he turned around to grab himself a coke out of the crate. Without looking at you, he continued his response. "Why would any of us hide from you."

"Right?"

For a few seconds, it was silent as Minho came back up and opened his bottle. He took a long sip off it, emptying half of it in one go before he looked at you again.

"Should we maybe head back out?"

You nodded at his words, deciding that it had been long enough that you had stayed within the warm rooms of the house. You needed the air, and seemingly, so did Minho. The redness coating his facial skin had gotten even darker over the last minute. Had you not known better, you'd have assumed he was blushing from how spontaneously it had appeared.

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

The fourth drink of the night happened about an hour after the third one. Four drinks in two hours wasn't a lot, but it also wasn't what you were used to. It didn't surprise you that you were feeling the effects of the alcohol in your veins, your nerves sending shock waves up your body whenever someone touched you.

That you needed a fifth drink just moments later was unintentional. After only ten minutes of dancing in the sea of people, Han had accidentally bumped into you, effectively spilling the content of your cup onto your shirt. Unfortunately, you had taken Changbin's sweater off just minutes before, securing it around your hip for when you decided to head back outside.

Before you could even think about heading home to change, Minho had already decided that he'd lend you a new shirt so that you didn't have to miss out on the fun for too long. Also, you had the feeling that he didn't expect you to come back up once you were in the comfort of your apartment, and somehow, that thought was upsetting him.

"Are you sure? It'll take like two minutes," you told the boy again as he was leading you to his room.

"You said it yourself. You didn't want to come today, so how can I be sure you won't stay downstairs?" Minho pointed out, making you laugh a little. He was just too cute.

When his hand reached for the doorknob, you noticed the sock covering it, suggesting that someone was using his room for privacy reasons.

"Shouldn't we knock?" you questioned, but Minho simply opened the door, leading you inside. Surprisingly, the room was empty.

"No need. I hung the sock myself, so people wouldn't come in here to- you know."

"Impressive thinking," you applauded the way his brain worked as he made his way to one of the two closets. He quickly went through the content, handing you a black shirt with a colourful motive in the front. "Turn around!"

"Sorry," Minho answered as he obeyed, a nervous smile appearing on his lips. The way he was so careful not to make you feel uncomfortable would have made you blush if your cheeks hadn't already been on fire from all the dancing.

As you got rid of your wet t-shirt and put on the new, dry one, you realised that it was not only too big for you, you literally swam in it. A light laugh escaped your lips as you held your arms out to the side, the fabric covering most of them and everything down to your mid-thighs.

"I don't think this works," you pointed out before allowing Minho to turn back around once you noticed him hesitating. For him, consent was apparently written in bold letters – just another reason to like him even more.

"Maybe, you could-" Minho stopped himself as he watched you intently from head to toe. You could tell that he was surprised by how his shirt looked on you and that it wasn't just the size of it. He cleared his throat as he looked back up at your face, taking a step forward. "Can I?"

"Sure," you agreed as his hands made their way to the hem of the shirt, pulling it up a little. You were pretty much unaware of what he was doing until you realised he was tying a knot into the side so that the shirt wouldn't reach as far down.

When Minho started securing the fabric, standing closer to you than ever before, his hand touched your stomach for a second. Goosebumps rose all over your skin, but you couldn't quite pinpoint why. It wasn't necessarily cold in his room, and your intoxicated head didn't even consider his touch being the cause.

It took Minho a couple of seconds to fix the way the shirt sat around your waist, and when he was finished, his eyes met yours again. The depth of his brown ones captured you for a second as you realised that yours probably were bloodshot and blurry from the amount of alcohol in your body. Even though you didn't feel as intoxicated anymore at that moment.

"How do I look?" you questioned, his eyes wandering down your front. You were pretty sure that Minho wouldn't be able to tell from this angle, but he still answered.

"Go-," he spoke up, his voice suddenly breaking as if he was going through vocal change all over again. Swallowing hard to clear his throat, he attempted to answer a second time. "Good."

"Just good?" you teasingly asked as you brought your arms closer to your body now that Minho was done fixing your outfit. "Maybe I should try another shirt then."

"No," Minho disagreed, his brows furrowing for a second. "I mean sure if you want to. But you look great. Pretty."

"That's more like it," you accepted his specification with a grin. "Thank you for the shirt. I'll give it back first thing tomorrow if that works for you."

"Perfect."

You couldn't shake the feeling that Minho's words weren't referring to your time-management skills. The way he allowed himself to look at you for a little longer this time made you interpret his word as an addition to your previous discussion on how you looked. But maybe, that was just wishful thinking. Alcohol made you crave human intimacy after all.

Obviously, you couldn't trust your drunk self. You were sure that Minho wouldn't take advantage of you in any way, his constant longing for consent told you. Still, you couldn't be sure you wouldn't use your own intoxication as an excuse to make rushed decisions. You barely knew the guy, and you wouldn't want to drive him away already.

To quickly shake off the intimate atmosphere, you took a step away, taking a look around the space. It was bigger than you had expected, but still small considering two people lived here. Especially if those two people were two grown college students.

"So, you really share this room with Changbin?"

"I do," Minho answered after a short second of surprise at the sudden break of the previous conversation.

"Not to be stalker-y or anything, but how do two grown men share a room? Don't you need privacy for when you bring home – people?"When your fingers touched the surface of his mattress, you noticed how he shifted a little, so you quickly retrieved your hand.

"Believe it or not, but we hang socks on the knob when that happens," Minho explained as he watched you inspect the room some more. "Well, the others do anyway. I never had to hang a sock at the knob. Or anything for that matter."

"No way! You're a virgin?" you exclaimed in surprise, covering your mouth a second later. This was a personal matter, not something you'd talk about with someone you just met. Still, the thought of it seemed so unreal.

"No. What I mean is, we've only lived here for a year," Minho corrected your assumption. Quickly, you realised that he had never hung a sock before because he hadn't taken someone home over the last twelve months. The light chuckle escaping his lips decreased the tension in your back. "I'm not- most definitely not a virgin."

"Of course, I'm so sorry," you apologised at your quick and false hypothesis. Maybe you should think before you speak. "I must be drunker than I thought."

"It's fine."

As you made your way further away from him, you reached the window at the other side of the room. When you took a look outside, you noticed that this wasn't too different from what you saw when looking out your own bedroom window.

"That's weird. I can see into Mr Kim's kitchen from up here just as well as from my room," you pointed out, looking back at Minho. "Are you sure you never heard any voices coming from downstairs? I could swear your bed is right above where I sleep."

"I-" Minho cut himself off, apparently unable to answer that question. It seemed almost unbelievable that he couldn't hear you yelling at your ex when it had been loud enough for Changbin to hear during late-night study sessions. "I think we should head back. The others are probably waiting for us, and if they notice the sock-"

"You think they'll assume that we're doing something?" you questioned, falling for Minho's desperate try to distract you.

You couldn't hear his thoughts, so you were unaware that your previous query had made him feel more than uncomfortable. It wasn't your question itself that made him nervous but that Minho didn't know how to answer it truthfully without sounding like a creep.

"If you're drunk enough to assume I'm a virgin, it's not too far fetched for them to assume we're doing something, is it?"

You couldn't argue with that sober and logical premise, so you nodded your head as you followed him back out of the room.

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

The next few hours were like a blur. At around 1 a.m., you decided to not get another one of Minho's mixtures and settle for softer drinks so that you could sober up a little. Even though it was the weekend, you still needed to get things done the next day, like grocery shopping and- well, that was it. But you still didn't want to spend the next two days fighting off your sleep deprivation as well as the inevitable hangover that was awaiting you.

At around 2 a.m., all the couples decided to call it a night, effectively leaving only the singles on the dance floor. Admittedly, Hyunjin and Changbin were a lot of fun to watch, so you mostly did that rather than moving yourself.

As you were sitting on the full couch, surrounded by couples making out, your eyes soon focused on Minho. Though moving less enthusiastically – probably due to the lack of alcohol in his system – he seemed to have some skills as well. Even if he wasn't really dancing but swaying, he must have had some moves to his name.

You expected yourself to get tired just sitting on a couch and watching people move to the loud sound of the newest hip-hop track, but somehow, you were wide awake. Blame the amount of coke you had drunk throughout the past few hours. Nevertheless, you felt yourself longing for your bed and a cup of hot milk at around 2:30, deciding that it was more than fair to leave at that time.

You had spent about four hours at the party, and you were drained. It had been a while since you had had that much social interaction, and all you could think about now was solitude. Maybe it was the couple next to you who was practically dry humping each other, but you suddenly felt the need to get out of here. Especially now that you were sobering up, the quantity of noise you could still take decreased.

With that thought in mind, you got up from the couch and made your way towards the group of hosts that were still awake. You tipped Changbin on the shoulder to get him to notice you.

"Hey, so, Imma head home," you told him with a slight smile. You just hoped that he could sense how beat you were.

"Already?" Minho interrupted, stopping all his movement to look at you. "But it's only like 3 a.m."

"Exactly," you pointed out the irony of his statement. Maybe you should have waited for Minho to leave the room before announcing your departure, seeing as he obviously had a problem with you heading out. As if you were the only thing that made this party worthwhile. "Anyways, thank you so much for the invitation. I had a lot of fun."

As you hugged Changbin goodbye, you felt his chin move against you as if he was mouthing something to someone. You ignored it, brushing it off as your imagination as you went on to Hyunjin. You noticed some commotion going on behind your back, and you could make out the words 'do it, or I will' being spoken to someone. The second you turned around with a questioning look on your face, everything seemed normal again. Changbin smiled at you as you turned to hug Minho goodbye.

"I'll take you downstairs," Minho explained as he held his hand out to lead the way. Honestly, you were more than able to find home yourself, but you figured he was simply trying to be a good host. And you couldn't really argue with that. Also, you didn't hate the thought of being alone with Minho again after having had that moment before. Just to see if your sudden attraction to him was caused by the alcohol or simply by him being so damn cute.

"Okay," you agreed as you waved at the two remaining hosts. "Bye. I'll see you around."

Slowly, you started making your way towards the exit, followed closely by Minho. You couldn't help your wandering mind, questioning what it was that made him decide to take you home. Did Changbin say something to him? And if so, what, and why?

As you walked down the flight of stairs, your shoes screeching against the marble floor of the hallway, there was not a word spoken. The silence made you feel uncomfortable as much as relaxed, knowing that you were out of the room filled with 50 college students exchanging fluids. The music was still very audible, but it was far less distracting. You could finally hear your own thoughts again.

When you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned around, looking at Minho for the first time since you left his apartment. You quickly noticed the nervous smile on his face as well as his fidgeting fingers.

"So, that's me!" you stated the obvious, looking back at the door behind you. "Thank you for taking me home. I felt very safe."

"That's good. I just wanted to make sure that the guy from earlier wasn't still here, waiting for you or something."

The moment Minho said that you knew it was a lie. Sober you did anyway. There was no way this was the reason he took you home for. You couldn't help but wonder why he had lied when he could have simply not said anything.

"You mean the guy who left four hours ago? I don't think he'd be waiting that long just to get another shot at slurring his lame lines at me," you pointed out with a laugh. "But thanks anyway. And thanks for earlier. That guy really made me uncomfortable, and if it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be trapped in the kitchen."

"No problem," Minho spoke, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It really worries me, though, that in 2021 it still needs another guy to get a man to stop talking to you. A simple 'no' from you should have been enough."

"It's strange, isn't it?" It was a rhetorical question, so Minho simply nodded at that, agreeing with your words. "I had a lot of fun tonight, really."

"I'm glad you did. Especially considering you didn't even want to come," Minho pointed out as he put his hands into the pockets of his leather pants. You remembered seeing him in them the first time tonight, how in awe you had been about his looks. It had turned out that there was much more to like about him than just his appearance, though. "But then again, I didn't really want to have the party either."

"I barely noticed. You seemed to be enjoying yourself up there," you told Minho honestly, trying to focus on your conversation rather than how likeable the guy was. That was harder said than done as he was just such a feast for the eyes and the brain. Maybe it wasn't the alcohol that had made you feel attracted to him after all.

"Well, with my test coming up, I wasn't really in the mood. But as it turns out, the party was still a lot of fun."

"It's not over for you anyway. You're probably going right back up, right?" you questioned.

"I don't know. I'm kinda drained myself, so maybe I'll head to bed as well," Minho explained with a reaffirming nod. And yet again, you got the feeling, or maybe a wishful thought, that you had been the reason he had stayed up. Minho just didn't strike you as the avid party-goer, so there had to be a reason he had not headed to bed earlier.

"Can you even sleep with all the music?"

It was a long shot, really, but right now, all you wanted was to invite Minho in for a tea, or hot milk, or just anything. You didn't dare ask him directly, unaware if he'd say yes. For all you knew, every hint over the past hours that he was willing to get to know you more could have been the product of your imagination. Even now that you were sobering up, you still couldn't tell if any of the hints had actually been hints.

"I guess I have to try," Minho simply replied with a shrug. "It's not like there's anything else to do anyway."

Was that his attempt to get you to invite him in? You just didn't know what to think anymore. Had you just been given a quick peek into Minho's head right that moment, every doubt you had would have most likely vanished.

You would have realised that Minho had lied about not being able to overhear your bedroom, simply cause he felt bad for doing so every night. Be it you talking to your friends at night or you crying after finding out your stupid ex had cheated.

You would have realised that Minho had told Changbin about his secret crush on you while getting you a drink and a sweater, respectively. When Changbin had brought you to the party, Minho had assumed that you were now seeing his friend. And when he told Changbin about his crush, currently single for the first time since he had moved into the complex, his friend was quick to take a step back.

You would have seen that your ex-boyfriend hadn't made up the story about one of your neighbours hiding from you in the hallways, but that it actually happened. That it was none other than the guy standing in front of you. Minho had never wanted to interact with you, scared he might catch real feelings while you were in a relationship. It wouldn't have been the first time anyway.

Knowing all of this would have made you asking Minho in a lot easier. You wouldn't have had to tiptoe around the question. Things would have been more sure, more secure. But you had no idea any of it had happened, so you were simply stuck in this uncertain situation.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you told Minho as you decided to give him a hug you had been looking forward to giving him for a while. As his arms wrapped around you, you noticed the firm muscles in his back.

"You will?" Minho questioned in confusion, pulling away to look at you.

"To switch shirts," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, right," he agreed with a short shake of his head as you slowly turned toward your door to unlock it.

You turned around one last time in hopes that you would bring up the courage to ask him in, but then you noticed that he was already on his way back to the stairway. In disappointment, you quickly headed inside, leaning back against the door with a sigh once you had closed it.

You should have asked him. You should have just gotten over your fear of being rejected. You should have-

"Are you kidding me? Why didn't you ask her if you could come inside? She obviously wanted you to."

You had always been well aware of the fact that the doors of your complex weren't that thick. You could easily hear someone talk behind them, though, until now, you had never understood the content of the conversations held in privacy. Right now, the two voices outside were clear as day as you recognised them to be Minho and Changbin.

Maybe you shouldn't have, but you decided at that moment to press your ear up against the dark wood to not miss a word.

"She did? Man, I don't know what's going on with me. I'm usually really good at this."

"You better turn around and knock on that door right now!"

"I can't. It would be weird to just knock again when we just said goodbye."

"I won't tell you again. Do it, or I will."

So your ears hadn't betrayed you earlier. Changbin really did say something to Minho when you had said goodbye to them.

"You wouldn't!"

"But I would. Just stop whining and get your ass back over there. You've been crushing on that woman for like a year now, so it's about time you do something about it. Don't be a wimp!"

As those words left Changbin's mouth, you took a step back in realisation. You shouldn't be listening in on their conversation when they were talking about you, though you were glad you had heard at least the last part. Knowing that you hadn't imagined all the hints before was a relief, and you couldn't deny that it made you excited. Minho had a crush on you, at least according to Changbin, so all that mattered now was how you wanted to play it.

From your current perspective, there were two ways to go from here. You could let Minho dangle a little, or you could make things easier for him. Had you really identified all the hints correctly, he was somewhat nervous around you. Playing hard to get never made sense to you anyway, so you decided to go with the second option. To help him out a little.

Without a second thought, your hand came back to the doorknob, pulling the door open immediately. To your surprise, you were met with Minho's face right there in front of yours. Apparently, Changbin had gotten his way, pushing his friend to finally do something. Had you not opened the door, Minho would have knocked. Either way, this moment would have happened.

As you were smiling at Minho, a blush appearing on both your faces, you noticed a giggling Changbin heading up the stairs behind Minho.

"Hi," you said shyly, as you couldn't get your eyes to look anywhere other than him.

"Hey," Minho repeated, a shy smile also playing on his face. His hand came to the back of his neck as he scratched it anxiously. "So, I've been wondering – and it's totally okay if you're like too tired or something – but would you mind, maybe-"

As the boy was stumbling over his words, you felt the sudden urge to just shut him up. He was like a deer caught in headlights, and all you wanted was to lead him out of the beam and towards safety at the roadside. So, before he could ask you the question he was apparently dreading to ask, you pulled him down towards you.

The first few seconds, you could tell Minho was overwhelmed. You must have really taken him aback by suddenly kissing him without warning him first. Had you not known it to be incorrect, you would have assumed that this was his first kiss. Though the second he came out of his trance, you could tell that you were wrong. So wrong.

Minho's hands came up to your flushed face, cupping your jaw as if to keep you from drawing away. Obviously, that was the last thing you wanted at that moment. The way he moved his soft lips against you made a warm feeling spread inside you as if he was setting every vein on fire in a matter of seconds. You caught yourself wondering if Minho could taste the alcohol on your lips, mistaking the sweetness as you.

Automatically, your hands came up to his chest after a while, gripping his shirt to keep yourself steady. His taste was so intoxicating that you just needed the extra leverage to not fall and break the kiss. Your disappointment when he pulled away after not even a minute was understandable.

In more than just disbelief, Minho's eyes were staring at you. He scanned your face for any sign of regret or something else that couldn't have been further from what you actually felt at the moment. Maybe he was also trying to detect whether you were still drunk. When he realised that you had genuinely enjoyed kissing him just as much as he did, something within him visibly shifted.

"So," Minho spoke up with a smirk on his face. "Are you gonna invite me in or what?"

Honestly, you were surprised by Minho's sudden confidence. It was a side of him he hadn't shown you yet, and you couldn't help but interpret it as him recognising that you liked it, and more importantly him. Just like he had apparently felt for you over the past few months.

With a smile decorating your lips, you stepped to the side to let him into the comfort of your own four walls. The second you closed the door behind you, you found yourself in the darkness of your living room, so you quickly turned on the lamp beside your couch. It made the room appear in just the right amount of light – not too bright, but bright enough to see.

"You wanna have something to drink?" It was the politeness that you had been taught as a child that made you ask that question. Honestly, after having kissed Minho in the hallway, there were other things you wanted to ask him rather than if he was thirsty.

"I'm good," Minho quickly answered as he took a step closer to you. His hand came to your waist, pulling you towards him hesitantly. "So, you wanna talk, or-"

Admittedly, it was the logical next step. Finding out that your neighbour had been secretly crushing on you for a year when you had just found out he even existed called for a conversation. Had you been less on edge from just having kissed him, you would have probably asked for a talk yourself. Blame the last drops of alcohol still lingering in your system, but right now, talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Why don't we get to that later-?" Before you could even finish the sentence, Minho had already closed the gap between you, his lips hungrily attacking your own.

He almost knocked you off your feet as you stumbled backwards, your body only caught by his arms and the door behind you. This time neither of you broke the kiss as you simply tucked him closer by his shirt before wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hands came to his hair, fingers softly entangling with a few strands of it.

Minho's hands seemed to be acting on their own when they made their way under your shirt, gripping your waist. It reminded you of when he had accidentally touched your stomach earlier, though this time, it was intentional. It sent a shiver up your body as he silently smiled into the kiss.

The second your tongues started playing with each other, you knew where this was heading. There was just no way you could still come down from the feeling Minho was causing within you. You just needed to feel him closer. Your body was longing for him as though he was the drug that kept you alive.

When Minho's hip pressed against yours with no way to escape due to the door your back was currently pressed against, you decided that you couldn't wait any longer. As hard as it was to pull away from him for even just a second, you needed to so that you could voice your wishes.

"Bedroom?" was all you could get out with those beautiful eyes staring at you as if to devour you alive.

"Bedroom," Minho agreed as you took his hand in yours and started leading him towards it. When you entered the room, you noticed Minho scanning it for a few seconds. "Interesting. This is just how I imagined it."

"You imagined my room?" you questioned in surprise as you closed the door behind you. It was unnecessary but a habit nonetheless.

"Many times," Minho confirmed as he came closer again, your back once more hitting the door behind you. He came close enough so you could feel his breath against your mouth, though he didn't yet kiss you. "Every night, I lay in bed and listen to your conversations or your laughing at whatever movie or TV show it is that you love so much. Honestly, your laugh might be the second most beautiful sound I ever heard."

"What's number one?" you questioned curiously. Hearing how Minho had listened to your private conversation while you were unaware of it should have probably made you feel uncomfortable. Somehow, it made you like him even more.

"Well," the smirk on Minho's lips as he leaned down closer made goosebumps appear all over your body. "I'm not proud of it, but I touched myself many times to the sound of your moaning. I used to be so jealous of your boyfriend for being able to touch you and make you feel so good. But now that I know you haven't been with him in half a year? Tell me, who made you moan the past six months?"

The atmosphere noticeably shifted after his confession. You gulped at his words, your eyes flickering down towards his lips. Minho didn't need an answer for him to know who it was that made you feel good over the last few months.

"It was yourself, wasn't it, kitten?" Minho questioned, and again, he didn't need a reply. The way he used that nickname for you without another thought drew you closer to him as you pressed your lips against his.

Up until now, you hadn't perceived Minho as much of a dirty talker. Hearing him say all these things to you without a hint of reluctance turned you on to a point you've rarely been to. Every vein in your body wanted- no needed, to feel him closer, which was why you pushed him towards your bed after just a handful of seconds.

"Take off your shirt!" you ordered Minho as he plopped down onto the sheets of your bed. Immediately, his hands came to your thighs, fingers roughly gripping at the jeans-covered flesh.

"So, you're not denying it?"

"I said, take off your shirt," you repeated, a little fiercer this time. Maybe not a good decision, seeing Minho obviously was used to taking the more dominant role.

"Careful, kitten. You might burn yourself on that fire you're playing with," Minho whispered seductively, though you could tell that he liked your enthusiasm. "By the way, demands like that only get you so far when they're properly compensated. Say, my shirt for your pants."

You rolled your eyes at him, taking a step back and eagerly undressing the lower half of your body. Minho appeared to be surprised you gave in so effortlessly, though he apparently was a man of his words.

Once he had gotten used to seeing this much of you, your black lace panties needing a second longer to be fully processed, Minho pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. The second he had rid himself of the fabric, your fingers were already on him. Your hands started down by his caramel abs before coming all the way up to his pecks, roaming over every centimetre they could. Michaelangelo's David had nothing on him.

Seeing you took your sweet time in taking him all in, you gave Minho the perfect opportunity to take back the upper hand. Within moments, he twirled you around, got up from the sheets and had you positioned in the middle of your bed, himself located right there above you. How he had managed to get you into this position this fast, you had no idea.

"You're good!" You hadn't intended to blurt that out, but it was the truth.

The more minutes passed, the more surprised you found yourself by just anything he did. Before he had realised that you wanted him as much as he did you, you had expected him to be nervous throughout all of this. After the past few minutes, though, not much of his hesitation was left.

"It's a team effort, really."

With those words, Minho attached his lips to your neck, biting softly at the flesh. It earned a quiet moan from you, your eyes closing on impact. Your hands trailed towards his muscular upper arms as you held onto them tightly. They twitched at the sudden interaction with your fingers, though it didn't stop him from attacking your flushed throat.

One of Minho's legs was situated in between yours, just centimetres from where you needed to feel him the most, as he kept you spread for him. Call it devastation, but when you noticed just how close his thigh was to your core, you couldn't help but grind yourself against it.

Both of you were surprised by that unexpected action, though soon enough, Minho positioned his leg even closer, apparently loving the reaction he got from you. You repeated the previous movement as it was the only opportunity for you to get some friction. His helping hand – or thigh, for that matter – therefore, was gladly accepted.

"God, you're hot," Minho breathed against your skin, your moans escaping your mouth like a mantra. You didn't answer, mainly cause you were in no position to do so as you kept on grinding against his clothed leg. "Arch your back for me! Can you do that, kitten?"

As if his wish was your command, you pushed your back off the ground, realising what he was doing only when his fingers reached the clasp of your bra. With an impressively quick motion, Minho opened it, his fingers immediately finding one of your perched nipples now that they were freed from their restraints.

The moan that escaped you from just that movement made him bite the inside of his lip to a point where you thought he would draw blood.

You wanted to make it easier for him, to give him more access to your chest, so your hands went to the hem of your shirt. You started dragging it up your body just to be stopped by him.

"Leave it on!" Minho ordered. "I'll work my way around it, but you have got to keep my shirt on." Obeying his orders, you simply removed the bra from below your shirt, keeping everything else where he wanted it.

It didn't take a psychic to know that it wasn't as much the shirt itself that made him want you to keep it on, but the fact that it was hisshirt. Apparently, he loved seeing it on you as though it was marking his property. Though you knew he would have never addressed you as such.

The moment Minho's knee drew away from your core, a frustrated groan left your lips. It was a sudden stop to the small amount of friction you had felt before when all you wanted was to feel more.

"Easy there," Minho chuckled at your desperate behaviour, his lips engulfing yours in a short but equally rough kiss. "I have a plan, but you've gotta trust me."

A simple nod from your side formed a smirk on his lips as Minho made his way further down your body, his hands never leaving your sides. Soon enough, his face was positioned above your stomach, kissing a trail around your navel and, eventually, down your panties. The little fabric between his lips and your core didn't stop him from licking a stripe up, making you groan louder than before.

Minho quickly moved away again, his teeth now meeting the soft flesh of your thighs. Usually, you would have gotten a little self-conscious at how close he was to one of your least favourite body parts. Due to the level of frustration within you, there was little to no time to try and hide any imperfection he might have witnessed down there.

For a while, Minho simply grazed his teeth against your skin, leaving what you were sure were love-bites that would stay with you for days. The markings themselves were no problem, but you surely didn't like how long he was dragging this out when he must have known just what you wanted him to do.

"Please," you moaned when Minho got closer to your core yet again. By now, you were sure he was doing this on purpose.

"Please, what?" he questioned as his mouth met your thigh once again. "What do you need?"

"More," was all you got out as you threw your head back at one particularly harsh bite.

"You mean like this?" he asked as he bit just above your core and through your panties. If he kept on doing this, you could throw them away the following morning.

"More," you repeated, the frustration more than evident in your voice.

"So, like this?"

And finally, after too much teasing for your liking, Minho's mouth met your covered nub, his lips engulfing it in a strong suck.

"Fuck!" you groaned louder than intended, his fingers slipping beneath your panties. "Yes, like this."

"Why didn't you just say so? It would have made things a lot easier for you."

Had he not started to drag your underwear down that minute, you would have said something to that. You would have complained about how he must have known what you had meant before. You would have told him off for teasing you so much. The cold air hitting your wet folds stopped you as a hiss escaped your lips instead.

Before you could get used to the new temperature, Minho's mouth was already on you, sucking on your nub like he hadn't taken his sweet time mere seconds prior. It was that action that totally threw you off the edge, your moaning and whimpering becoming louder with each and every one of his movements.

Minho's strong hands were harshly gripping onto your hips, keeping you as steady as he could. You were sure that the imprints of his fingers would stay with you for as long as the markings on your thighs would, but right now, you had no capacity for thoughts about the future.

The way Minho was working your body, the way he knew just where to lick and where to suck, made you see stars. The air entirely left your lungs as you struggled to take just one single breath. It was a deadly combination, though you wouldn't have died right now under any circumstance. Too good was the feeling of Minho taking care of you as if he had never done anything else.

Your hips bucked up against his mouth, too overwhelmed by what he was doing to you. Apparently, his hands weren't strong enough to hold you, so without looking up, he grabbed one of the pillows beside your head, positioning it under your arching back. That way, you couldn't move your waist as freely, effectively keeping you in one spot.

For Minho, that was an advantage. For you, it was torture.

The new angle worked like a torture device as he had better access to all those spots that made you feel so good. Too good, even. Never had it taken this few minutes to get you this close to your high, and when he entered one of his long fingers, you were over and done with.

Almost animalistically, the groans fell out of you as your body was working on its own. As much as you tried controlling yourself, there was no way you could make it any less overwhelming when it was Minho who had total control of you. With every roll of his tongue, every bend of his finger, you got closer to your high.

"I- I'm-" It would have been only fair for you to warn him of your approaching release. Though the words just didn't want to leave your mouth. They couldn't, with the amount of whimpering your mouth was occupied with, and still, he understood you just fine.

Apparently, you finishing wasn't on his mind right now as his lips withdrew and his finger slowed down, slowly guiding you away from your release. The edge had been so close, and still, you came down from it faster than usual. Way too fast for your liking.

"Sorry," Minho apologised as he came further up your body again, kissing your lips once he was close enough to reach them. As you tasted yourself on him, you couldn't help but hum at the wetness of his lips. "I just wanted to feel you around me when you come."

You didn't reply, unable to do so for more reasons than not knowing what. Right at that moment, you were sure any words coming out of your mouth would have simply sounded like gibberish. Minho wouldn't have understood you anyway, so why try?

"I bet you feel amazing," Minho pondered as he kneeled over you, undoing his pants right there in front of your eyes.

It didn't take him more than ten seconds to rid himself of any restraint – the only fabric between you was now his shirt which you wore. Though that hardly mattered for what was about to come.

"Condoms?" Minho questioned as if to ask where to find them. You softly shook your head, unable to do much more moving.

"No need," you replied with a soft smile. "I'm on the pill, and I'm clean." You didn't have to tell him that twice as he immediately lined himself up with you.

"I should have talked to you months ago," Minho simply stated as he pressed his lips against yours to weaken the effects of his entering.

And just like that, just by that simple movement of hip against hip, you were back where he had left you mere minutes ago. Whimpering beneath him as you knew it wouldn't take much longer for you to make a mess around him.

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

When you woke up in the comfort of your warm bed, the sun shining into your room through the windows, a smile immediately spread on your face. How couldn't it after the events of last night? It was as if a reset button was pressed, your whole weekend now appearing in a much brighter light. Whatever you decided on doing with it in the end, somehow, it didn't go to waste.

The memories of last night came crawling back, one by one, as your head automatically turned to look at the handsome man beside you. Though, when you spotted the empty pillow, you for a second believed it had all been dream.

You sat up in your bed, eyes narrowing as you realised that not only was Minho gone, he must have been for a while, guessing from how the sheets were cold. You knew for a fact that he hadn't left in the middle of the night, seeing how you remembered him pulling you closer to cuddle a few hours earlier. The sun had already risen at that point, so Minho couldn't have been far.

Still clad in his overly huge shirt, you got up from your bed, stretching your back and hands for a few seconds as you made your way out of the room. Maybe, Minho was just using the bathroom or making himself a coffee in the kitchen. Though you soon realised that every other room in your apartment was empty.

With a confused expression still on your face, you walked back into your room, only now spotting a small piece of paper sitting on your nightstand. You knew you hadn't put it there, so the note must have been from Minho.

I'll be back soon. Don't move! You probably can't anyway ;-)

You shook your head with a chuckle at Minho's words. Frankly, walking was more painful than usual, with the soreness lingering in your leg. The bigger problem, though, was the bruises all over your thighs that touched whenever you took a step. The burning sensation indeed did make it a little uncomfortable to move. You were willing to take all of this for what had happened the previous night, though.

The note was quickly forgotten on the bedside table as you put on a pair of clean sweatpants before heading out of the room. When you spotted Changbin's sweater lying abandoned on the floor, you picked them up before heading for the door. After fixing your hair in the mirror beside it, you left your apartment. Realising your keys were missing from the small shelf next to your door only solidified your assumption that Minho couldn't have been far.

The moment you came to a halt in front of your neighbours' door, you gently knocked on it to not wake any remaining late sleepers. It didn't take more than a few seconds for the door to be opened, Minho appearing behind it. He had traded his dress shirt for a t-shirt, his legs now clad in low-hanging sweat pants. Despite his change of clothes, he still looked amazing.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you read my note not to get up?" he questioned, a little surprised to see you.

"I did, but I wanted to make sure you hadn't run out on me," you joked, making a smirk appear on his lips.

"Cute. You really think I'd leave after you sounded that amazing last night."

Minho's honest response was followed by him leading you into the apartment and straight for the kitchen. You noticed a few people sitting on the couch in the living room, mindlessly looking at the TV or individual phone screen.

"How's everyone feeling?" you asked Minho as you noticed the faint scent of cooked eggs emitting from a pan on the stove.

"Worse than expected. Felix and the others are doing okay, I guess, but Changbin and Hyunjin not so much. I don't think they'll be back to normal for a few days," Minho told you as he stirred what you identified as scrambled eggs. "Apparently, the party didn't stop after we left."

"How nice of you to fix them some breakfast. That's one good roommate quality," you told Minho as you noticed the two cups of coffee next to the coffee machine.

"Oh, this?" he asked, nodding at all the goods beside the stove. There were buttered toasts, a few peeled oranges, two cups of coffee and two plates which you assumed were for the scrambled eggs. "That's not for them. I'm making breakfast in bed for us. That's why I didn't want you to get up. I was trying to surprise you."

"Really? All of this, for the two of us?"

"I didn't know what you liked, so I made a bunch of stuff," Minho explained. Honestly, you hadn't expected him to do something as cute as this. For all you knew, Minho wasn't really the soft type, but more like the slightly cocky, more-or-less dominant one. Seeing how he apparently cared this much for you, your stomach erupted in a few little butterflies. "By the way, nice shirt."

"Oh, this old thing?" you asked as Minho's hands came around your waist, pulling you a little closer. You had totally forgotten that you were still wearing the shirt he had lent you yesterday. "Some guy gave it to me."

"Oh, I sure did," Minho smirked at his somewhat lame joke as he pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your hands came to his neck, Changbin's sweater abandonedly lying on the counter as you tangled your fingers with the short strands of Minho's hair.

As he pulled you in closer to his body, you felt his fingers brushing over your hips, a hiss escaping your lips as you remembered the bruises all over them. Apparently, so did he, as he smiled into the kiss.

"I hope I wasn't too rough last night," Minho spoke as he softened his hold on you.

"I liked it. It was all worth it in the end anyway," you told Minho with a smirk as you pulled him down again, instantly deepening the kiss by brushing your tongue against his.

Minho seemed to enjoy this, a hum escaping his lips as he picked you up a little to sit you onto the counter. It allowed him to come between your legs, pulling you as close to him as possible as he kept a firm grip around your waist. You couldn't deny that, though it was a little painful, you loved how impulsive he was being with you. It made you feel like he couldn't control himself around you, which made you feel proud somehow.

A light moan escaped your lips the moment Minho's lips went further down to your jaw before making their way down to your neck, lightly sucking at the skin. From what you could tell, you didn't have any love bites there, at least yet. His hands slowly made their way below your shirt, running over your bruised stomach as you whimpered into the kiss. It only spurred him on.

You could have done this all day, just make out with Minho, be with him, talk to him, and you didn't even think about stopping at that moment. He could have dragged you to his room to continue the previous night for all you cared. Though when you heard a throat being cleared beside you, everything came to a sudden halt.

Minho's retrieved his lips from your neck, running his tongue over them once as his face turned to look at the doorway.

"Remind me, in what language does 'going to the library all day' mean 'making out with our neighbour in the kitchen'?"

Hyunjin chuckled at Changbin's words, an amused expression on both of their faces. They had apparently been watching the scene for a while. It took you a second to spot the shocked expression on Jeongin's face as he was standing beside them. You felt bad for the poor boy, obviously not having expected to see this much action this early in the morning.

"How- What- Huh?" was all he could say as Changbin obviously noticed his friend's confusion.

"Remember what I always say? A good party either ends at midnight or at like seven in the morning," Changbin explained, only confusing Jeongin even further. "Well, y/n went home last night at 3 a.m., and the party most definitely didn't stop there. I don't have to explain the birds and the bees to you again, do I?"

"You don't. I have a girlfriend, remember?" Jeongin asked as Changbin realised that his young, innocent friend wasn't so innocent after all.

"Let's just ignore the fact that our little Innie here has grown up for a second," Changbin pointed out with a somewhat disgusted expression as he came back to look at the two of you. "You do you, but please do so in the privacy of your own room. You know, where there's no food around that could possibly get ruined. Also, I need to use the coffee machine, so you have two minutes."

With those words, everybody left the kitchen again, leaving only you and Minho in each other's company.

"He's probably right, you know," you said to Minho as you retrieved your hands from around his neck. "We shouldn't make out in the kitchen where everybody can just walk in."

"You're right," Minho agreed as he helped you down from the counter. "So, how about we get to breakfast in bed now? Or is there something else you'd rather use your bed for?"

You knew what Minho was hinting at, so a chuckle escaped your lips. After last night, there was no way the day wouldn't be filled with all of the same things that had made you realise the beauty of the weekend just hours earlier. Eating, cuddling, making out in bed. There was probably nothing you didn't want to do in the comfort of your own four walls.

"Why choose when we can do both?" you asked Minho as a smirk immediately appeared on his face.

"Interesting," Minho pondered as he leaned in further, his face close enough so he could almost kiss you. "I never thought I'd say this, but Changbin was right. Parties don't end at 3 a.m."

[leeknowrecord]

Hi! I'm so happy requests are open, I didn't see a guidelines of what you don't write so I'll include something & hope for the best.

I would love for you to write a situation where Lee Know & y/n are having half-asleep, middle of the night sensual love-making missionary style.

Please include praise, hand holding & just downright complete sickly, gross fluff.

Thank you, can't wait to see what you write xx

What Happens at Night...

Minho x female reader

Word count: 2.9k (it's 2990 to be exact and it's killing me that I couldn't find 10 more words to slide in somehere 🤣)

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY! Unprotected sex/piv (please use your noodle and wrap your doodle) Cum eating (kinda) Praise/pet names (baby,kitten etc.) Slight dom/sub dynamic (if you REALLY squint) There really isn't much as far as warnings on this one I don't think but let me know if I missed something and I'll add it!

A/N: I hope this is okay and meets expectations. I made sure to put everything you asked for. It's disgustingly fluffy and sweet and you didn't specifically say smut but you mentioned love making and missionary SO... there's definitely smut. Thank you so much for sending this request it really inspired me and I hope you enjoy reading it! Also tagging @seospicybin and @ballelino 😘

You started to stir from your sleep when you felt Minho’s arms sneak around your waist and pull you closer to his body so he could spoon you. Still mostly asleep, you attempted to help him cuddle you by scooting back into his embrace. You woke up a little more when you felt it, his erection pressing against the supple flesh of your ass. You opened one eye half way and looked at the clock. You sleepily groaned a little and yawned as Minho buried his face in your hair and neck, pulling you tighter to him, nuzzling his nose against you like a cat, breathing you in deeply and exhaling. His breath warmly fanning over your skin.

“MHmmm… It’s 2 am Min...” your voice was sleepy. Minho’s fingers gently grazed and trailed along the skin of your tummy. Your hands moved to hold on to his, trying to halt his soft touches that tickled making you squirm and press harder against his aching cock.

“My pretty little kitten is just so gorgeous. You make my cock so hard it hurts baby.” Your eyes still closed you hummed sleepily again loving the compliments and the use of his pet names for you. Giving in just a little you slowly rubbed your ass against his strained dick. His hand came to rest against your hip and guide you as he softly rutted against your plump ass, his breath starting to quicken, coming out silently in warm puffs against your neck and shoulder. Your hand reaching up and back, you threaded your fingers into Minho’s hair as you pressed into him further letting him continue to rub his smooth cock against your ass. You pulled his face closer into your neck and Minho pressed his soft lips against the ticklish spot under your ear. You scrunched your eyes closed tighter and started to giggle but then Minho’s bunny teeth lightly grazed against that same ticklish spot making you let out a quiet breathy moan.

“Kitten, your soft skin feels SO good against my cock. You feel so so good baby, but… I NEED you.” Minho’s lips were pressed to the shell of your ear now as he groaned about his need for you, continuing to steady you with his hold on your hip while slowly thrusting his cock against you. You loved when he told you that. That he needed you, not want, NEED. Like water or air, like he couldn’t live without you. Minho gently suckled at the fleshy part of your ear before taking it lightly between his teeth and giving a little tug. He let go and his lips ghosted your ear again. He whispered like someone unseen may over hear the two of you.

“Are you wet for me beautiful? I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you kitty cat?” Minho’s hand came off your hip and gently took hold of your chin turning your head back towards him, his fingers gently squeezing, squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker out a little. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him quirking an eye brow up. He chuckled.

“Cute kitty.” He pinched your chin between his thumb and finger, tilted your face towards him more, and slid his wet tongue directly into your mouth, softly sucking and biting on your lips as you still gripped his hair and rubbed your ass back against him harder, trying to give him more friction. While you were distracted by Minho’s mouth his fingers traced back down your body in search of your sex. He HAD to know how wet your pussy was for him. He just KNEW you were drenched already. He slipped his hand between your legs and drug his fingers through your folds. Naturally, he was right. You were soaked for him already. Grinding against him was making your pussy leak your arousal profusely. Sensitive to his touch already, you tensed against Minho’s body, fisting his hair a little tighter, grinding your ass against him slowly, moaning into his kiss as he collected your juices on his fingers and parted from your lips just long enough to stick them in his mouth and suck the taste of you off. The sight made you close your eyes again biting at your bottom lip as another flush of arousal pulsed through your core. You pulled Minho into another lazy kiss full of tongue and teeth. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it slid across yours slowly. His wet fingers trailed back down your torso stopping to cup your breast, giving it a light squeeze. He gently pinched and tugged at your nipple rubbing the pads of his fingers over it softly after it hardened and continued his journey to your mound. This time the tips of his fingers pushed passed your slick folds and traced around your clit sending electricity buzzing through your body. You couldn’t resist him anymore. The hand you had threaded into his hair reached down behind you and grabbed his cock lightly squeezing but not stroking it yet.  

“God! You’re so hard for me Min.” He was, he always was. Your words were just breaths against his spit slicked lips. His fingers worked over your bundle of nerves and just like everything else you had been doing, it was slow, neither of you in a rush for the climax. You both just relishing in each other’s hold, in your soft touches. You let go of Minho’s dick and licked your hand so you could slide against him easily. You reached back and grabbed his cock again, a little tighter this time, and you focused on pumping the head of his cock in your slick palm. Minho’s fingers left your clit and slid through your soaking cunt to tease your entrance with his fingertips. Well, if he could tease so could you. Gently gripping the head of Minho’s cock, you hooked your pointer finger rubbing the side of your finger softly against the underside of the head of his dick, your stroking movement more from the wrist now as you gently twisted your hand while pulling on his cock. He gasped and moaned against your neck with his eyes screwed shut as he slowly rocked into your palm. He started to leak precum, drops forming on his slit. Every time the head of his cock slipped in between your fingers a little, causing that delicious friction, he thought he was going to explode. You jerking him off slowly from behind like that felt so good, too good. Minho couldn’t take it anymore. He rolled away and out of your grasp just enough to lay you on your back, your arms resting above you, your hair laid out like a halo on your pillow. Minho laid back on his side with his head propped up on one hand. He hooked a leg over yours pressing his dick into the side of your thigh. He placed his free hand, palm down, flat against your sternum where your heart was, right between your breasts. He looked down at you, his brown eyes sparkling even in the dark, he looked at you and he swore to himself he fell in love with you all over again. You were looking up at him with those dreamy bedroom eyes, your face and eyes still a little puffy with sleep, your lips red and swollen already from his kisses and nibbles. You lay there, arms draped on the pillows, chest open, blushing, and exposed, your nipples pebbling from excitement. You were absolutely breath taking and you were his. How?! To him no one would ever compare to you and he knew he was the luckiest man alive to get to have you. Minho could feel your heart beating through your chest. The heart he knew belonged to only him just like he KNEW his would always be yours. He let out a puff of breath in astonishment and laughed a little.

“Fuck.” He whispered, more to himself than anything. You cocked your head a little and furrowed your brow, the little crease between them forming.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked him softly, sleep still present in your voice. Minho leaned over closer to your face.

“Well kitten… I’m absolutely. Totally. Madly, in love with you.” He gave your lips quick pecks after each word.

“We may need to call the doctors. I think this madness is terminal but what a way to go…” You laughed bringing one of your hands up to push at his chest.

“Oh clown. Hush!” Minho laughed again and leaned down sweetly placing his full lips on yours. Your mouths slotted together perfectly as if made for each other. It was a lingering, loving kiss. One he hoped you could feel the intensity of his love in because he would never be able to put it to words. One of your hands found and cupped his face as you slightly pulled him in to deepen the kiss. When he broke away from your lips you let out a content sigh as your arms went to rest above your head again and Minho moved to kneel between your legs. Both of his hands slid up the sides of your body before pushing up on your breasts, cupping and squeezing them a little harder than he had the last time, his cute bunny teeth tugging at his bottom lip at the sight of your perfect breasts in his hands. He gave them another little squeeze and his hands traveled back down your torso, your skin on fire in their wake goose bumps prickling your skin. Minho held onto your waist as he gently nudged your legs wider with his knee to give him better access to your wet core, the gentle but dominate act soaking your pussy further. Kneeling in front of you he lined himself up with you and slowly rubbed his cock between your folds collecting your wetness. The contact of his dick rubbing against your clit, smearing your essence over it, made you let out a quite gasp of breath. Minho teased your opening with his cock and you squirmed underneath him.

“Oh, kitten are you desperate now? Want me to fill you up? How bad do you want my cock baby?” He continued to slowly rub is cock head around the entrance of your dripping hole making you groan out in frustration.

“Minnieeee, you woke me up to fuck me so… fuck me.” You whined at him. Minho shot that smirk of his and quirked his brow up at you but decided not to tease you further. He leaned over your body propping himself up with one hand, hooking his other arm under one of your legs and pushing it up and out gently before finally easing the head of his cock inside you. The stretch felt unreal as he continued to sink deeper into your heat until he was bottomed out inside you. Once he was buried inside you Minho let go of your leg letting it rest down on the bed again and spread your other leg out for him. His hips pressed firmly into yours as he came down to rest on his elbows, one on each side of you, caging you in, his face hovering closely over your own. His hands found their way to your face and he cupped it in between both of his hands. He gently ghosted soft circles with his thumbs at the hair line by your temples. You closed your eyes and bit at your lip again the gesture painfully sweet. Then Minho slowly drug his throbbing dick out of you before pressing his hips into yours again, deeper than before. You gasped in pleasure.

“God yes Min… just like that baby…” His finger-tips tenderly grazed the soft skin of your face as he pushed any stray hairs away. He wanted the view of how much you loved his cock to be unobstructed. Minho leaned down giving you another soft kiss before he propped himself back up on his hands and started rotating his hips while lazily thrusting into you, his pelvic bone pressed against you, causing delicious friction against your clit. The feeling was indescribable. You held on to him, your hands gently gripping his back, his soft skin on fire under your touch.

“You’re so good for me kitty cat. So wet and warm. I could live buried in your cunt.” His words made your body hum. The back of your thighs rested against the top of Minho’s and you wrapped your legs around his midsection, rocking into him as he slowly thrust himself deeper in and out of you. The tender way he fucked you and how insanely good it felt played with your head. You whimpered under him as you tugged at your lip with your teeth again, your hips pushing into him, meeting him with every push into you. Minho’s pace quickened and he started to hit that soft spot inside you that made your pussy thrum with excitement.

“Fuck Minho. Right there. Mmmmmyes fuck…” Your arms fell against the bed again, your legs still wrapped around him pulling him in as Minho’s hips kept rubbing and pushing into you. He grabbed your hands and thread his fingers between yours before taking them and holding them against the mattress over your head, leaning over you, rocking a bit faster into you as he gently held you down.

“Min… baby… I’m gonna cuumm…” You hummed out the warning but he already knew. Minho knew your body and he could feel your walls closing around his dick tighter with each pump into you. He could feel your drenched pussy coating his cock in your wetness more with every thrust. He gently squeezed your hands that he still had pinned above you, leaning closer to peck your lips again. His full lips ghosted over yours as he began to coach and praise you into your orgasm.

“I know baby… fuck! I know my sweet little kitten… ugh. Feels so good yea? Mhm…let go for me, cum for me love.” You didn’t dare deny his request. Minho pushed hard and deep inside you as your climax took over your body. Your cunt throbbed and tightened as the nerves of your body shot electricity through you, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes making them go numb and your head buzz. Overwhelming waves of euphoria washed over you caused by Minho’s deep thrusts into you, working you gently through your orgasm. When you arrived back on earth after the out of body experience Minho just gave you, you were met by his big brown eyes watching your face.

“God you’re so gorgeous when you cum kitten. You know that?” Your face flushed in embarrassment at the praise and Minho gave you a little smirk.

“Cute.” He then started chasing his own high pumping into you the fastest he had that night. It was still a fairly lazy pace but it was all he needed, especially once you started talking to him, edging him closer to his climax.

“Min… baby god it’s so big. Fuck me good baby. I want your cum… I NEED it…” You whined and he groaned out at your words. As much as you loved when he said he needed you Minho loved hearing it just as much. He pushed your hands further against the mattress and kissed your lips hungrily as he buried himself deep inside your cunt and came, moaning and panting against your parted lips.

“Yes, pretty thing. Take my cum… fuck. Am I filling you up good baby? Can you feel me inside you kitten? God it’s so much! Such a good girl taking all that cum for me.” He pumped every drop inside you before pulling out. Minho let go of your hands and sat back on his knees, he spread your pussy out and looked at his cum starting to drip out of your hole. He scooped it up with two of his fingers and pushed it back inside.

“Ah ah ah kitty, hold that for me yea? Be a good girl and keep it inside.” He pushed his fingers deeper making you moan out.

“Mmmm yes Minho I’ll be a good girl.” He smiled at the purr of your sweet sleepy voice. He pulled his fingers back out of your hole, bringing them to your mouth and sliding them between your plump lips, letting you suck both of your cum from them. Minho pulled his fingers from your mouth and ran his hands gently up and down your sides soothing and calming your still buzzing body, your eyes started getting heavy again. After a moment when he was certain he had you relaxed completely, he got up and went to the bathroom. Minho cleaned himself up and grabbed a warm wash cloth before coming back and kneeling next to you with the cloth in hand. He looked at you laying there like a blushing angel before going to clean his cum off you.

“Open up for me baby.” His warm hand softly caressed your thigh. Almost half asleep again already you spread your legs for Minho so he could wipe you clean. Once he had he tossed the rag in the hamper at the foot of your bed and crawled back up beside you, pulling you in to be his little spoon again. His hand finding yours and slotting his fingers between. He laid there basking in the warmth and smell of you and he slowly started to fall asleep.

“I love you, Lee Minho.” You squeezed his hand and relaxed completely against him. Minho was so close to sleep he wasn’t certain if your words were a dream or real but regardless, he replied the same way he always did when you said those words to him.

“I love you more kitten.”

[leeknowrecord]

Bold | Lee know fluff

Genre: Fluff, Short scenario

Pairing: Lee know x female reader

Word count: 1.190

Warnings: self doubts (Minho), mentions of food

Getting through to Lee know wasn't particularly easy. Having had a crush on him for a quite large amount of months, you've tried so hard to let him know it, but it all went on deaf ears. You've given him signals, showed him all your sides, built up a connection so strong it's bursting at the seams - and nothing. He's either extremely oblivious or ignoring you on purpose. But you weren't about to give up.

You went for Jisung to help, albeit probably not the most ethical thing to do. He agreed to help you eventually and on one of his days out with Lee Know, subtly convinced him to start talking about you - and he poured out his heart to his best friend. Turns out, Lee know is scared he wouldn't be the right person for you. He's pretty much put you on a pedestal, a special place in his heart, and he's terrified he's too cold, too distant - and that he just doesn't have it in him to take care of you and treat you right, as you deserve. Hearing that absolutely made your heart break to pieces, of course. To you, Lee know was such an amazing soul, a mentally strong person, a kind heart hidden behind a wall of confidence he puts up to avoid hurt. You couldn't stand around knowing the person you fell in love with was doubting himself.

Eventually you went and spelled it out to him, straight to his face, "Minho, I like you. Romantically. I want to be in a relationship with you." His whole face went beet red and he couldn't mutter a word back to you. The silence was painful, so you told him he doesn't have to answer right away, so he just didn't. "Okay, thanks." He replied with a half smile, and you just went on with your night. But it was absolutely killing you.

He invited you over the next day to eat some of his famous steak. You figured it was time you become even more cunning. You were sitting down at the table in the kitchen, Felix was somewhere next to you, and Lee know right across - you were talking but you refused to take your eyes off of him. You stared into his orbs, watched every single lip movement he did, one could even think you were glaring at him - Felix for sure thought so. Eventually Lee know couldn't stand it anymore and had to ask you about it.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're handsome." You boldly reply, viciously watching his ears turn red. Despite his confident act, he was actually really easy to fluster - he gets really shy, especially when complimented.

He didn't answer you, he simply went towards the counter to start cooking. You continued to stare at him, almost as if you were eating him up with your eyes, as he struggled with his ingredients and utensils. He turned around from time to time and noticed your glare, but you didn't shy away when he caught you. You just smiled every time your eyes met. Few minutes later and Lee know comes over to you, all frustrated and flustered.

"Can you please stop that? I can't concentrate if you keep staring at me."

"Why?" You inquire.

"You just.. it's distracting, okay?" He blabbers, trying to come up with an excuse. You could see his mental slowly break.

"Then I'll look away when you look my way! Pretend I wasn't looking. Is that better?" You half state half joke, and he becomes exasperated. He goes back to the counter and begins work on frying the meat, with some intricate technique with a weird name you didn't remember. In a different pot, he was boiling potatoes. But your eyes on him, they were making him feel hotter than the stove itself. He was trying so hard to resist but you weren't making it easy for him. Even when Felix was talking to you, you still stared at him and him only - eventually Lee know snapped.

"Hey Felix, can you please leave the kitchen for a bit? I wanna talk something in private with her and I can't leave the stove." Felix got up from his chair and headed to Seungmin's room, but not before giving you a sneaky smile and an eyebrow wiggle.

Lee know then called you over since he couldn't fully take his eyes off of the meat.

"If I kiss you, will you stop staring at me?" He boldly asked you, but you can both see and hear the fluster that overcame him by saying that.

"No, actually. It'll make me stare at you with even more love in my eyes." You denied him playfully, and he sighed.

"What do you want, then?" He asked, thinking this is all part of some plan of yours or something, and it was, but not the way he thought it to be.

"Nothing. I stare at you because I love what I'm looking at." He once again went silent, this time around avoiding your gaze altogether. His eyes were wondering, and suddenly they landed on the mustard jar.

"Should I cover my face in mustard then?"

"Mmm." You replied jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows at him to signal he'd taste good with mustard on his face. He furrowed his brows but couldn't help the smile forming on his face at your joke. Eventually, with another big sigh, he spoke up.

"Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want me, out of all people, to spend your time with?" There was a lot of weight on his words. You could sense the insecurities that laid deep inside him.

"Yes." You answered promptly. This bold side of you was making his heart race - it was something so special of yours that attracted him to you in the first place - just one word and he already felt himself lose his mind. He swallows hard to try and soothe his dry throat, gathers his courage and leans down to kiss you. You lean into him happily, and although it's a short kiss - more of a peck - your lips barely touching for a few seconds, because he's scared; when he pulls away and looks at you, there's an insurmountable amount of love and softness in his eyes. The man was practically melting over you.

"I like you too." He says, gently. You give him the brightest smile you can muster and he pretty much goes dizzy in the head. "Now scurry off or the food's gonna burn!" He suddenly announces, and he's softly pushing you away so that he can lift up the lid of the pan, trying to defend himself from the oil spray with the lid. You laugh and go back to your seat, chin rested on both hands, looking at him like he's the only man in the world.

Minutes later, Felix peaks his head into the kitchen, saying he wants a glass of water, but brushes past you and mutters a 'nice' to you before running away, cackling.

[leeknowrecord]

I'm my mother's daughter

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader // ex!bang chan x fem!reader

song: miley cyrus - mother’s daughter

themes: fluff, angst, smut (+ general warnings below)

snippet: “No, seriously. I’m sorry that I upset you, and I’m sorry you had to see it.. to hear it. But I’m more sorry I ever had to, because you shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve any of it. And if you thought for a second that anything you’ve done deserved any of that? Then I’m going to spend every day undoing that.. because it’s me and you now, okay? If someone has something to say about you, they’re saying it to me too. And that’s it.” 29k

general warnings: fem!reader struggles to get pregnant and does get pregnant; reader’s mother is dead; mentions/descriptions of mental health disorders: narcissistic personality disorder (reader’s mother), postnatal depression (only symptoms of; not diagnosed or treated; only talked out); reader’s mother is incorrectly diagnosed with: bipolar disorder, pathological lying); reader refers to chan as controlling (his actions) and he can be read as manipulative; mentions of low sperm count and infertility (insults referring to these are made); violence (a quickly ended fist fight); blood mention; arson mention; mention of fem!reader’s period; user dissociates a few times throughout fic; possible food/diet/weight related triggers in reference to pregnancy; game of thrones incest joke (one); christianity.

smut warnings: thigh riding, nipply play, fingering (f receiving); oral (m + f receiving); piv; cum eating; pregnant seggz happens.

a/n: ATTENTION: LEE MINHO IS A SOFT LOVER AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL. Also, this is me trying to prove to myself that someone can have good intentions, be the sweetest angel ever and still be the main antagonist of a story. With that being said… BANG CHAN HAS NOT A BAD BONE IN HIS BODY. GOODNIGHT. This was.. a lot. But also the best thing I have ever done and I hope you love it. Thank you if you do read it. Have a GREAT day.

0 MONTHS

“Y/N! Open the door!”

The first thing your mother taught about love was that it can’t fix everything. Of course she lied, your mother always lied. She lied about a whole manner of things, no matter how great or small. If she could lie about it, she would. Whether it be the tooth fairy, Saint Nicholas, the Easter bunny. Her string of pre, post and during extramarital affairs, the reason your father left, his real identity. That being said, you always believed her worst offence was her insistence that she ever really loved you, the lie easily slipping out between her dry, gnawed lips before a kiss goodnight, every wave goodbye. But you were wrong. Your mother’s most heinous offence was the first thing she ever taught you about love.

“Y/N,” his voice is soft now, almost soothing. You recognise that trick a mile away. Ears already numb, you dig the heel of your palms further into them, your eyes squished against your knees. “I didn’t mean what I said before. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault. So just- just come out so we can talk. Please?”

“Chan, just go!” You can feel him, his hands shaking the handle as he kneels at the sound of your voice. “Just- get out!”

“Y/N, please.” You think you might scream just to drown him out. Scream until you can’t anymore, scream until he gives up on you. But you’re no longer a kid, you’re an adult, and adults don’t scream just to be heard. “Just talk to me.”

Chan can’t take back what he said. About your mother, or your many failed attempts at becoming the very thing you feared being the most. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m the reason this isn’t working, you said so yourself-”

“I was wrong. I didn’t mean that, I was just angry. It’s not your fault-”

“What difference does it make?” He tries the door again when he hears you begin to cry, the handle stiff beneath his palm. “I can’t give you what you want, so just go.”

“What I want is you, Y/N. I love you.”

“Why? Just get out before it’s too late-” It even hurts to speak, your chest tight, throat dry as you think back to just minutes ago. “That’s what you want right? Then go!”

Your mother always lied.

Love can’t fix everything.

“I’m over this. I’m over trying- I’m over you! I’m done! So just- get out!”

Love can’t fix everything, love can’t fix a damn thing.

+

‘Breakup advice: Five foolproof tips for getting over your ex. Add your own in the comments down below.’ When the words glare up at you from your phone screen, you stiffen. As naturally as you can, you look around your empty, larger than usual apartment, wondering how your timeline just.. knew. Your eyes skim over the spot where Chan would usually sit, on the cream couch opposite, scouring prenatal care sites. You keep reading before the tiny well in your eyes swells into a full blown stream.

‘In the wise words of our Lord and Saviour: If you’re under him, you ain’t gettin’ over him.’ That was easy enough. Of late, the very idea of fucking Chan made you want to set yourself on fire on a regular day, let alone now. That’s not to say the sex wasn’t great before. It was. At times you thought Chan had your bodymap tattooed to the inside of his eyelids. He knew you like the back of his hand, right next to the entire arachnid family. That’s when you knew you had it bad: when Chan could go on for hours debunking all the myths about his beloved black widows, as if the conversation alone didn’t make you want to set yourself on fire. You wonder if there is a tip about how to stave off the sudden urge to commit self-arson when your eyes catch the time. As of eight minutes ago you have gone a full twenty-four hours without speaking to Chan. Not without great effort on your part. He has called too many times to count, your voicemail full to the figurative brim, pixels pouring out the sides of an imaginary, digital mailbox, his apologies tumbling out into the abyss.

‘As cliche as it sounds: Do some stretches! Stay healthy!’ You laugh aloud. You’re in better shape than you have ever been your entire life. You’re even bingeing on fruit bars and spoonfuls of peanut butter, too lazy to leave the house for any real junk food. Chan had you on a diet so strict, he cleared your cupboards of any and all food deemed remotely enjoyable. You remember a fight that ensued the day Felix called in a rage, asking why he had to hear from Jisung who heard from Changbin that you and Chan were trying for a baby, after the anything but subtle Chan asked the sports nutritionist of all people for a prenatal diet ‘for a friend’. Chan even went as far as cancelling any date nights that meant so much as driving by a fast food place, and considering your apartment building was wedged between a bakery and an Italian place, you weren’t too surprised when he started cooking for date night. Damn those prenatal care sites.

‘*Trigger warning to those without a bath tub* Fill that puppy to the brim and give yourself a good soak! You deserve it!’ This one is less a tip, but rather a need. It should go without saying that too lazy to leave the house went as far as not bathing. In fact, you’re still in your outfit from the night before. It had been date night and to Chan’s credit, he covered your eyes as he guided you off the temptation plagued street before taking you to an ice-cream parlour. To Chan’s discredit, he hadn’t said the ice-cream there sucked. It’s what started the argument, why you weren’t up for sex on sex night - which, bar the few fleeting days of your period, was every other day without fail for the last six months. Anyway, the ice-cream sucked. Of course this escalated, Chan’s positive and down right aggravating facade crumbling as you kept complaining. You think it’s a defence you’ve always had, projecting. You learned it from your mother. It wasn’t her fault the tooth fairy didn’t visit, but yours because the poor thing couldn’t get the tooth out from under your big head. It wasn’t her fault you didn't have money for college, but yours for thinking you could afford to go in the first place. It wasn’t her fault your dad left, but yours - for not being his to begin with.

‘Step one: Pick up that phone; Step two (unless you’re using your phone to read this, then wait until after you finish): Call your bestie.. bestie!’. You haven’t found the courage to call Felix yet. Instead, you count down the seconds until Chan finally caves, accepting that maybe you’re serious about your breakup and does the job for you. You can picture it now, Felix’s sweet concern pouring through the receiver, overpowering his anger for being the last to know everything. His soothing voice drowned out by his laboured breaths as he sprints straight to your apartment. It might make you feel better, you think, seeing Felix. It would feel better than spending the night wallowing in self pity, in your own filth. It might even fix the ache in your chest, having someone hold you that wasn’t doing it just to put a baby in you on the day an app told them to. The idea quickly evolves into an action as you decide to call him. But then your door knocks, making you give your apartment another once over.

“I swear to God, if Felix is at the door I’m checking for bugs,” you mutter threateningly, though a little bit hopeful.

‘Hey.” The thought of Chan being on the other side of the door crosses your mind a few seconds too late when you’re met with someone who isn’t your bleach blonde best friend. Though disappointed, you’re still relieved it isn’t Chan. “Chan here?”

“No.” Even with all the time you have spent crying over him these past twenty four hours, you still hadn’t said his name aloud. Hearing it jars you in a way you can’t ignore. And neither can he.

“You good?”

Concern isn’t a word you would attach to Lee Minho. Though you’re not sure of many you would. You don’t know him as well as one would know one of their boyfriend’s best friends, though you used to. Kind of. You all went to college together, once you took out a loan the same cost as a suburban house deposit. Funnily, you had met Minho first. Though initially an unusual choice of friend for your childhood best friend, you met him at Felix’s first dance showcase. Described by the entire dance team as the Terpsichore of their squad, the then Sophomore’s abilities really hadn’t been exaggerated. Minho danced like his namesake willed it. The only solo of the night, Minho moved like his feet were at the piano’s command, music flowing through him as he glided across the stage, memory alone guiding his steps. As if the dance were embedded in his very bones, his muscles twitching from the tension but soothed by his skill.

You never said so. You never got the chance. He was an ass then, and he’s an ass now.

“Oi!” It took Minho’s hand waving in your face to realise he was still standing there, waiting for a response. When you just blink, staring at him, he sniffs in obvious exasperation. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“He won’t be.” You say stupidly, though you only realise this when his brows knit, rushing to add- “For a while. He won’t be back for a while.”

“Okay.” There’s another stare off before he sighs. “Do you even know why I’m here?”

A lie rests on the tip of your tongue before you bite it back. You promised yourself a very long time ago that you would never be like your mother, that though lies never hurt in the moment, they did in the long run. But then again, you have just spent the last few months of your relationship pretending. And everyone knows the difference between a lie and pretend is imagination, which you think you have plenty of. You think you might comment a tip of your own: ‘Do all the things you wanted to before your ex came and ruined everything.’

“Of course,” you nod, giving him a once over you see the huge tool kit he has by his feet. “To fix the..”

“..the coffee machine.”

“The coffee machine! Yes! Of course!” Moving aside, you let him in, missing how his eyes linger on you as he removes his shoes. Following him to your kitchen, again, you realise seconds too late what you’re sure Minho knows too. You don’t have a coffee machine.

Chan sent him.

When he places, or rather drops Chan’s industrial tool kit on your laminate floor, you glare at him as he turns to face you. “Minho, if you’re here to talk about Chan, you might as well leave-”

“I’m not.” He says simply, removing his jacket as he stares into your red rimmed eyes. “I’m here to babysit.”

You wonder why the word irks you. Less because you know he means you, more because that could- or rather should be a reason he’s here one day. But it won’t be. “Chan sent you to babysit me?”

“Not his exact words,” his voice is muffled by your cupboards, cupboards he is scouring for anything remotely tasty. You wonder who's going to tell him. “But he might as well have- why do you guys always have such shit food?”

“Minho, go home.”

“Can’t do that.” Squatting with only a dancer’s ease, he continues his futile search before reaching for his phone. “Chan’s weeping kept me up all night. And I’ve heard you cry, you’re not nearly as loud- want anything?” Shoving his phone in your hand, he walks around you and out of the kitchen. Looking at the screen, you see a delivery app open. You never thought to order in. You never do.

Just then, you hear the television in the other room and think you might scream.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Entering your living room, you find him lounged on the opposite end of your couch, his feet on the dent your body had made. “You’re not staying here.”

“Look,” he starts, spitting out the bite he took of your fruit bar. “He tried calling Felix but he’s not picking up and thought it’s because he’s here. But evidently-” he declares, waving his hands around your empty apartment. “He’s not. And you’re clearly in no state to be alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Right,” he says, grabbing his phone out of your hands and eyeing the app. “And you also didn’t almost cry when I said his name earlier- pick something, I’m not picking for you.”

“I ate already..” Minho isn’t a particularly intimidating person once you get to know him. But given how little you do, you roll your eyes before taking the phone back and adding food. You won’t deny your excitement. It would be your first takeout in a while. Your first unhealthy, unplanned meal for months. You stave off thoughts of what that was meant to mean before. When you’re done he reads through it before looking up. “What?”

“Is that it?” When you nod, he shrugs, probably adding on some extra sides for good measure. It’s a few more seconds before he realises you’re still watching him, unmoving. “You gonna sit?”

“You’re in my seat.”

“No,” he says, pointing at the stretch of emerald beside him. “That’s your seat.” Glaring at him, you wonder whether it’s worth a fight. You decide against it. You’ve got no fight left. It’s suddenly quiet, minus the sound of the show on the television. Until Minho ruins it, of course. “It’s on its way.”

Ignoring him, you keep your eyes on the screen, taking nothing in. All you can think is how does he do it? Chan. How has he found a way to be controlling from all the way across town?

“Where’s Felix?” You nearly jump, his voice loud in the otherwise silent space. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Not everyone goes crying to their best friend after a breakup.”

“Don’t let Jisung hear you say that,” he laughs, unperturbed. “But a breakup you say?”

“Sorry,” you mock. “I know you’re not familiar with the term. It happens at the end of a relationship. Should I explain that one too?”

“Oh, I know about those,” you hate that he’s enjoying this because you know he’s goading you. “I just know he’s not calling it that.”

You also hate how good he is at it. “What is he calling it?”

“A misunderstanding.”

“A what?” Minho might regret saying that. No, actually he does, especially when your eyes start to fill with hateful tears, your nails nearly cutting your palms. “A misunderstanding?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he tell you what he said to me?” You nearly cry, seething at the idea of Chan belittling what was meant to be the end of your almost six year relationship. “A misunderstanding? There was no misunderstanding! Does he think I’m stupid? A misunderstanding? How can I misunderstand when he kept saying it to make sure I didn’t fucking misunderstand?” You turn to see Minho watching you, his face expressionless bar the growing concern behind his eyes, sprinkled with a pinch of fear. “I have tried- for months, months- to give that prick what he wanted. Months! Months of no drinking, no smoking, no nothing! Months of fucking crystals and fish oils, and vitamins, of- of counting calories, of dieting! Of his constant nitpicking, months of lying, of being blamed, being babied, of being a fucking sex doll! Months of fucking hating my life!”

“Hey, I’m sorry I-”

“And he calls it a misunderstanding!”

“Y/N!” He’s on one knee in front of you at this point, hands on your shoulders. He has to shake you a little bit, his eyes wide as he stares right into yours. They’re streaming, right down your cheeks into your lap. It’s quiet for a while after, his hands awkwardly squeezing your shoulders as you pant, your body weak from a full day of barely moving to such an intense excursion of energy. When he raises his brows in silent ask, you nod, watching him stand before he quietly asks- “You been outside today? D’you need some air?”

Grabbing his coat, he pats his pockets as he waits by your kitchen door. You don’t say anything, you just sigh and get up, leading the way to your fire escape. Unlatching the kitchen window, he climbs out first, moving along to make room for you. When he moves to shimmy the window back down, you almost yell when he rushes- “This isn’t my first time, chill,” before wedging a broken piece of wood in the gap. Digging around his pockets, he explains- “You guys have alright parties but I’m not doing two flights of stairs just for a cigarette.”

Eyeing the cigarette he offers you, you’re hesitant as you take it. As much as you hated Chan when he suggested you quit, stopping was one of the only choices you don’t regret making. “You’re smoking again?” You’re not sure why it surprises you so much. Minho smoked in college, not often sure, but often enough to deem him a smoker. You hadn’t seen him smoke since he graduated though, when he took up dancing professionally. So the sight is slightly jarring.

“Not really,” the wind blows when he sparks up, so you cup your hands to protect the flame. “Cheers- I just have them for when I’m stressed.”

“Oh.” He lights yours with far more ease, pocketing his lighter when you ask- “So, you’re stressed?”

“No, I just haven’t slept in twenty four hours.” He says, staring out at the street below. Taking another drag, the smoke billows in the wind when he admits- “And I’m not having this for me.”

“I’m not stressed.” You see his raised brow from your peripheral, forcing you to add- “I’m angry.”

It’s silent for a moment before he reluctantly asks- “Do you want to talk about it?”

You’re not dumb. You know whatever you say will go straight to Chan. “Not particularly.”

“Okay.” It’s silent for another moment before he adds- “You can if you want. I won’t tell him.”

“Sure.”

“Seriously,” and to his credit, he does sound serious. Which is another word you wouldn’t attach to him. Minho wasn’t a serious guy. Sure he looked it, while dancing, while listening, while doing.. anything really. Actually, based on first looks alone, you wouldn’t think Minho was anything but. You forget your point when he speaks again. “Look, I know he’s my friend, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Chewing your lip, you consider it. But this is Chan’s friend, one of his best. He’s at his house for god’s sake. They’d been friends a whole lot longer than you’d even known them. What loyalty does he owe you?

“Plus, you’re quite scary when you’re angry,” he admits. Tempting, you think, but not enough. “And..”

“And what?”

Straightening his back, he stands, leaning over the railing, he looks down onto the street. Voice slightly muffled by the light traffic below, he sighs. “I’ve been trying for years and I still haven’t gotten under your skin. So if Chan can do all that-” he pauses to nod his head towards your kitchen, to your living room more specifically. “In a few months? I wanna know about it.”

“And what?” You scoff, feeling light headed as you take a long drag. “Take notes?”

“No.” Looking at him, you see something new. Annoyance. Though you think it might be misdirected when he continues- “So I can check him for it.”

You stare at him for a second. A long one. Or it feels that way as he holds your gaze, letting you decide whether you trust him or not. You decide you do, even if it’s on Felix’s merit alone. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“We’re- we were- Chan and I. We were trying for a baby.” He doesn’t seem surprised, but you reckoned he knew as much. Every other fucker did. “It has been a while since we started,” you lie. Well, not exactly. It has been a while, but ‘a while’ suggests you don’t know how long. You do. You always counted the days in your head whenever Chan said something that made you want to quit. “And it hasn’t been working. I had enough.”

“Right.” Ashing out his cigarette, he reaches for a manky tea cup before offering it to you. “And that started the fight?”

“No,” you laugh. “The shitty ice-cream did.”

“Right..” Watching you oddly, he asks- “How?”

“Well, I was just sick of everything. So I said, ‘is this our life now? Shit sex and ice-cream’?” You laugh when he does, joining him at the railing. “I couldn’t do a thing for myself anymore. It was like I went from a mother who didn’t give a fuck to one who did, in every sense of the word. I was suffocating. So I said enough.”

When you don’t say anything more, he turns to you. “But what did he do?”

“Nothing.. bad bad. Just- said things I didn’t like. About me, my mom..” You swallow, realising you don’t ever talk about her to anyone. Barely to Felix, even less to Chan. Because even with as little as he knew, he still managed to weaponise it. “She was bipolar, lied a lot. She wasn’t a terrible mom, just shouldn’t have been one. I guess it’s made me feel like.. like maybe I shouldn’t either. Like all our issues was a sign of that. That’s what upset him. That I wasn’t looking at it how he was, that I wasn’t letting go of that, wasn’t believing everything would work. And I said because I didn’t. I don’t. Not anymore. I was done trying, and the worst bit is it wasn’t because of my mom, or me, or anything else making me want to stop. Just him.”

You don’t realise you’re crying until the wind blows because it’s sharp, like little knives to the cheek. Minho doesn’t say anything for a while. What is there to say? You think what Felix would say were he here. ‘Babe.’ It always started like that. He wouldn’t mention you not telling him. Felix wasn’t like that, not when you needed him. He’d just hold you. Chan would do the same once upon a time, words tumbling out of his mouth to calm you down, bring you back to him. Your mother? She never saw you cry. You never let her.

But Minho? What will Minho say? Something funny maybe, something about your poor taste in men and his likewise poor taste in friends. You’ll probably correct him, ‘you know Felix, you prick’, to which he’d agree, before reminding you he said ‘friends’ as in, in general, not all.

But he doesn’t. He just says- “I’m glad you did that.”

To which you say- “What?”

Zipping up his jacket, he shrugs. “What what? I’m glad. No one should do something they don’t want to, especially something so serious. And whether you’re to ‘blame’ or not, whether he’s sorry or not, what he said was wrong. Deal with your shit in your own time, it’s not up to anyone else, not even you. If it was, you wouldn’t be so unhappy.”

Blinking at him, you watch him look away. You both stay like this for a while, a long while, letting the cold air bite your skin as you bask in the night air. An unpeaceful peace.

“Oh,” Minho says, digging his phone out. “Foods here.”

+

It wasn’t spring rolls or prawn toast Minho was adding. It was booze.

Though maybe he should have, because he did say for you not to touch his extra order of vegetable chowmein, before giving up after thirty long minutes of your annoying pleas, and now you’re feeling all kinds of tipsy. You’re both only a bottle and a half of red wine deep, but you hadn’t drank in a while. Which explains why the sight of him on your upholstered couch doesn’t bother you as much as it did before. You also don’t know how you got onto the topic of your diet plan, but he’s cringed from start to end.

“So, wait-” forgoing his glass, Minho reaches for the bottle, drinking straight from it. “You’re telling me, you couldn’t eat steak?”

“Not unless it was well done. But who’s-”

“Who’s eating that?”

“I know. Yeah, he didn’t let me do a lot. Which is crazy because I wasn’t even pregnant, and I was like, ‘can I do nine months of this?’”

“Of what?”

“I’ve been eating like an olympian for the last six months. You know, I can’t even look at Changbin without wanting to scream. Which is unfair but you know what else is? I have muscles in my jaw, Minho. My jaw, from biting my tongue every time I heard ‘Changbin said’. One time I was just gonna ask if Changbin wanted to join us one evening. Make sure he wasn’t fucking me wrong.” Minho splutters at that, but you’re on a roll. “No word of a lie! One time, I’m geared up, you know? I’m ready to go, actually in the mood for once and this idiot goes- ‘Oh! Changbin said..’ while he’s fucking sliding in.. and I’m like, you know what, he might as well fuck Changbin seeing as he loves him so much.” If you stopped then, you reckon that would’ve been fine. But it’s not the first time you didn’t stop something you thought wasn’t right before unthinkingly adding- “By this point, I was already imagining other people, he was this close to sticking Changbin’s face up there and I couldn’t imagine you guys while fucking, what if I said your names?”

By now, Minho has mopped up as much red wine as he possibly could without you noticing, but even if he hadn’t he’d have stopped at that, watching your face quickly disappear behind your empty glass. “So what..” he starts, question forming as he goes. “If you- if you weren’t scared you’d moan our names you’d do it? Imagine us?”

A bit slower on the uptake than usual, you still clock on. He’s goading you. You know it. He’s looking for a reaction.

The issue is, what reaction is it? Does he want to embarrass you? Or get under your skin?

You could never tell with him.

So you do what feels most natural. Most true to you.

With a shrug, you quickly snatch the bottle before he can, refilling your glass carefully as you eye the mess you watched but ignored him make. “Yeah.”

Minho always had no tells. You realise nothing has changed while you watch him wait for the bottle, taking a long sip before asking- “Who?”

Your shrug is less natural this time, you can feel it in the stiffness of your back. Your words are even less so. “I dunno.” You take an emergency sip, before adding- “Hyunjin’s cute.”

Hyunjin is a natural first. Who wouldn’t want to fuck Hyunjin?

“He is.” Minho agrees, staring blankly at you. When he doesn’t say anything more, you feel the urge to continue. To keep proving him wrong.

“And Seungmin,” you admit, thankfully a little less timid, though you think the drink is to thank for that. “I don’t think I’ve got a type, but I dated a lot of guys like him before Chan.”

“Like him how?”

You don’t shrug this time in fear you might get stuck that way. “Just chill. I feel like he matches my vibe.”

Minho nods at that, watching as you down the last of the wine. It’s quiet when you see him remember something. Something you too remembered. Something that if you had remembered sooner, you reckon you would have steered clear of Seungmin’s name the whole night.

“Wasn’t there this time you said,” Fuck. “And I quote-” Double fuck. “‘How are you two so alike, yet I don’t want to punch Seungmin everytime he opens his mouth?’”

“Cute that you remember.”

“Cute you think I’d forget.”

“Remind me why you’re in my house again?”

“I’m babysit-” The joke ends as soon as he cuts himself off. All of it. The banter, the light mood. The term wouldn’t have bothered you this time. It wouldn’t be personal, it wouldn’t be a dig, it’d just be a word. But when you see concern flash over his eyes, you feel them coming. Tears. Hot tears. Hateful tears. “Hey, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s fine-”

You don’t think you have ever hugged Minho. Not once. Of course, you have seen him hug everyone else, but you pitied them all, even going as far as refusing to hug Felix after he did so. It wasn’t only something you had never imagined happening, but something you never once imagined needing. But even though you deny it, you have always craved attention, or rather affection. You realise this as soon as you’re engulfed by him, finding it impossible to forget him and just focus on the feeling. His arms aren’t as big as Chan’s, and they aren’t as slim as Felix’s, Minho’s resting at a happy middle. They’re.. good. The hug feels good in the way Chan’s feel safe, and the way Felix’s are affectionate. It feels good, though fleeting. As if you don’t need them around you forever but just long enough to make you feel good, feel better.

Minho holds you like he will for as long as you need.

And he does. Some time passes as Minho just cradles you in his arms, sitting there, limp though gripping as you cry, a palm firmly rubbing up and down your spine. It’s surreal in a way, how fast things change. How one day, Minho was the elusive friend of a friend, then suddenly your anchor. A stranger at times yet so familiar too. How he could be the last person you look for in a room, though the safest place when you need him to be. Like now, as he slowly purges you of all anguish, with nothing but his touch.

Minho holds you like he will for as long as you need. Which is about ten minutes, your warm tears soaking his shirt through to the skin. You can imagine the feeling, the discomfort. It’s what pulls you together, sniffling as you rest your head on his firm chest.

“You did that on purpose,” when you feel him stiffen beneath you, imagining his defensive face, you clarify- “You obviously just wanted to make a move.”

You relax when he does, his words wedged between a scoff. “You act like I have shame,” pulling away from him, you look up to find him smirking. “Like I need an excuse-”

Only then do your eyes meet, his full of guarded concern, yours red, wet, tired. He’s close, close enough to see where the warmth in your iris’ end, and the red begins. When he doesn’t waver, just holding your gaze, you clear your dry throat, thinking of something to assuage the awkward air.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you say suddenly, throwing yourself off the couch. “Get ready for bed.”

“Cool.”

+

When you return, you find him sitting in the same place, your dent more or less gone. Your eyes almost meet when he looks up from his phone, yours still focused on the spot over his shoulder, a question forming.

Where would he sleep? The obvious answer is the couch, but would he be comfortable? ‘What choice does he have?’, you ask yourself. ‘It wasn’t me who displaced him-’

“I’m not-” again, you have to stop yourself jumping when he speaks suddenly, his spine straight, face unreadable. “I’m not.. texting anyone if that’s what you’re-”

“What?” His sudden assurance comes at an odd time, especially when the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “I-I didn’t.. I wasn’t thinking that.” He raises a brow, locking his phone before he tosses it aside, waiting. “I was just thinking where you’d sleep.”

“Oh.” When you look at him, you think he’s- and it could be a trick of the light but.. he’s blushing. Was he being defensive? He couldn’t have been. Not for no reason. But if he thought you were accusing him, maybe he was worried.. offended? Maybe concerned. He doesn’t give you more time to think when he clears his throat, ‘solving’ the issue. “Well, here’s fine.. though Chan is in my bed, so I would think an eye for an eye-”

“And I would think I missed the part where that’s my problem,” you hum with a faux pout, pointing a thumb down the hall. “Come, I’ve got pillows and stuff.”

Groaning, he still stands and follows you to the end of the hall, watching as you open a door to the tiniest nook you call your utility room. It’s nothing exciting. Just a washer, dryer, sink and storage. Swinging a little cupboard door open, you reach for two pillowcases and pass them to him. Stepping up onto the nearest machine to the wall, you grab two pillows and a blanket from a little gap in the wall you’d stuffed them in. When you move to sit, you feel his hands hovering by your hips, steadying you. “I got it,” you say, sitting before taking a pillow case from him.

“I didn’t know this existed,” he says, a little too loud for the small room.

“We call it Felix’s room,” you joke, remembering when you first dubbed it that, imagining him one day haunting the small room, kindly turning the pillow case outside-in for future owners. When he just stares at you, you huff. “You don’t think he looks a bit like a cat?”

“No.”

“Whatever.” Looking at a little corner by the dryer, you explain- “When I first got this place, I always pictured a litter box tucked in right there.”

“You like cats?” He asks, watching you nod. “Why don’t you get one?”

“Chan’s not a fan..” when he raises a brow, you laugh. Oh yeah. It feels awkward for just a second before you remember- “You have a cat right?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile, trading you the second pillow case for the first pillow. “Three.”

“Three?” You don’t realise you’re smiling until he tilts his head. Shaking your head, intrigued by the softness on his face, you quietly mumble- “That’s sweet. I didn’t expect that.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

“What?” Aghast, you ask mockingly, “You mean there are other people who don’t think you’re a cat person?”

“Har har”, hitting you with the pillow before he looks around the room, he points out- “It’s really warm, mine would love it in here.”

“Stop, you’re tempting me.”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “What’s stopping you?”

What is stopping you? Not Chan.. though you’re not sure the two are unrelated.

“I guess it’s just a bit.. weird,” explaining as you roll your neck- “You know, downgrading from a kid to a cat.”

“Downgrade.” He scowls with an eye roll. “Sure.”

“I take it you’re a cat dad?”

Shrugging again, he agrees kind of shyly. “Basically. Feels like having kids sometimes.”

“That’s cute.”

“Woah,” when you look at him, he’s smirking. “Sweet and cute. Stop flirting with me.”

“Shut up, that’s not how I flirt.” When his eyebrows raise, you roll your eyes. “I’m more of a tease,” you explain, straightening out the pillow in your lap. “I like making them think I hate them.”

“Hm.”

It’s quiet for a second before you realise what you’ve said. What you’ve confessed to.

“What?”

“What what?” Finally hitting him back, he jumps out the way, laughing. “What? I didn’t say anything. Don’t get mad at me because you admitted you’ve been flirting with me for the last six years.”

“As if!”

“Then what would you call it?”

“Not flirting!” When he just laughs harder, you groan. “And you’re one to talk! You did it back!”

Then, like the most casual, simplest thing in the world, he says- “That’s ‘cos I liked you.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs. “I liked you, before obviously.”

“Before what?”

“Before you and Chan.” You blink hard, silently urging him to continue. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Felix did.”

“He did?”

When he shrugs again, you realise something that would’ve helped you these past six year. You might both have the same tell. He’s shy. “I mean- it was nothing. Left as quick as it came.”

“Which was how long?”

“Dunno,” looking around the room, he counts the dates on an invisible calendar. “A few months.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” At that, Minho looks at you like you’re an idiot. “Ah, right.”

He wants to say Chan. You almost laugh. Maybe Chan is the ghost that’ll one day haunt this room.

“Well, you should’ve.” You say. “Things could’ve been different.”

“You say that now..” When he laughs, you frown in confusion, making him roll his eyes. “Come on, you fell hard for the guy.” That is true. What you could contest is what he says next. “No one could compete.”

“You don’t know that..”

Crickets.

“..You were flirting, weren’t you?”

“No.” You say, averting your eyes when you add- “I mean not- not the whole time. That’s just how we were, you know?”

“Sure.”

“You’re annoying.”

You always knew how small this room was. But only now do you notice just how small when you recognise the warmth on your legs is his body pressed to your knees as he places the other pillow on your lap.

“You say that.. but I wasn’t the one flirting with you.”

“Yes you were!”

“But you did it first.”

“I didn’t!”

When he just laughs at you, a smile lingering, you hit him. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just flirting.” You want to scream, because you know he doesn’t mean before. He means the whole time. “I mean, if it was just flirting like you say..” When you don’t say anything, you groan at the smug look on his face. “I knew it.”

“Well if you knew, then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I already told you why.” Chan. The ghost haunting this conversation. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, you wonder aloud if Felix was the only one who knew.

“Did Chan know?” Met with further silence, you blanch. “He knew?”

Coming to his friend’s defence, he shrugs. “I dunno. I mean I reckon he must have had a clue, I talked about you a lot.”

“You did?” You watch him force a glare at the softness in your voice.

“Only bad things of course.” He adds for good measure, visibly pleased by your timely eye roll. “But..” he starts looking away. “I never talk about anyone.. so yeah.”

All press is good press you guess.

“Wow.” Chan knew Minho liked you. And he still went there. “Well he’s not a very good friend is he?”

Minho just shrugs again. “I would’ve done the same.”

“Really?”

“Have you seen you?”

What is happening?

“What do you mean?”

He doesn’t shrug fully this time, you can see him stopping himself. Oh he’s definitely shy. “I mean just that. You’re-” Oh, he is so shy. “Stop fishing for compliments.”

“It’s hardly fishing if you’re just handing them out.”

Tongue in his cheek, he nods, “Right. Speaking of hand outs..” He’s fully resting on you now, folded arms on the pillows in your lap. “If I asked you out back then, would you have said yes?”

You feel yourself warm as he watches your lips. How the words start then stop forming, how your tongue rests on the back of your top incisors, the ‘no’ struggling to materialise. Why should I lie, you have to ask yourself. Though you can hear your mother’s unusually righteous voice urging you to do so. “Yeah, I would’ve.”

Still staring at your mouth, looking annoyingly pleased by this, he says- “Guess I shoulda done then.”

“Guess you should’ve.”

Aside from your hug earlier, this is the closest you have ever been to Minho without your fist swinging into his arm. Now, and in the insanely warm room you’re both in, you can almost feel his breath on your lips. “Guess I lost my chance.”

That holds weight and rightly gives you immediate pause. He guesses? Is he saying it as in the chance is lost, or is he checking? Is he even serious? Is this Minho taking a joke too far? Is this Minho goading you? Or.. or is this Minho finally taking that chance?

Why should I lie?

“Yeah..” you swallow, eyes on his. You have to clench your fists to stop from trembling when you find his eyes still stuck on your parted lips. “I guess.”

“You guess?” He hums, finally looking up just as your eyes fall. “Or you know?”

Oh. He is definitely taking that chance.

It’s silent for what feels like hours before you breathe- “I guess.”

So. Today, you have gone from avoiding being around Minho for longer than a few minutes at a time, to letting him stay in your home, to hugging him, to kissing him.

And while that seems like a misstep on your part, you can’t find it in you to care. Not when for the first time in what feels like years, someone is kissing you just to kiss you. Just because they want to.. because they want you.

And it’s nice. It isn’t rushed, or urgent, it’s just a kiss. It’s oddly gentle, Minho always seeming like the clashing teeth, bitten lips kind of guy. It jars you how slow his kiss is, how timed it is. As if he’s waited years for it. And then you remember he has. Minho liked you first. Before you ever got with Chan. Maybe before you ever met Chan. Seconds pass like this, his lips moving against yours, his breaths shallowing when you lean into him, your hand on his jaw. You nearly mewl when he hums into it, his tongue licking a slow stripe along the seam of your lips, sliding it in before you finally push the pillows onto the dryer, letting his arms wrap around your waist.

Now would be a good time to stop, to regroup. Realise what you were both doing. You - making out with your ex’s best friend. Minho - making out with his best friend’s ex.

But you don’t. You just let him pull you closer, pressing your chest to his, a hand pressed flat to the top of the machine, leaning his body over yours as he moves his lips to your jaw, pressing them down your neck before sucking. He grins against your skin when you whine, your hips rising up to his, your thighs stuck either side of his.

“What do you want?” He breathes over the cool spot he’d left on your neck. Laughing when you just grind into him again, nearly keening, he repeats- “Tell what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“I-” he places both his hands either side of your neck, thumbs stroking your jaw, silently coaxing the words from you though unknowingly pushing them down. “I just- I just want to-”

You try to think this through. What do you want?

On the most animalistic, instinctual level - you want to come. For the past six months, maybe more, you have just wanted someone, anyone, to give you the most mind blowing, limb numbing and hip breaking orgasm. You used to want it to be Chan. But now? Now, it could be the delivery guy who left what feels like hours ago now. So you think what’s wrong with it being Minho? What’s left of your sound mind is telling you that you know what’s wrong with that. It’s Minho. Lee Minho, Chan’s best friend. Chan, who you were devoted to. To the point you were prepared to put your whole life on pause to start a family with him, to spend the rest of your life with him.

On the same instinctual level - you wanted a family. You wanted everything Chan did. As a kid, it used to be with a faceless person, the boy down the street. Whenever you played together as kids, it was with Felix when the game suited. Him in a crooked, double knotted tie and oversized dress shirt, you in a stained and tattered white dress with a cushion stuffed under it.

On an emotional level - you just want to feel something. Anything.

What do you want?

“I want you.” You whisper, hoping he just gets it, hoping he just does it.

If he sees the tears forming in your eyes, he ignores them. He ignores them along with all the sirens screaming in his head, telling him this is not why he’s here. This is not why Chan sent him, this is not what Chan said when he meant to take care of you. He ignores that in favour of nodding, a small- “yeah?” falling from his lips as his fingers pinch the ties of your shorts. “In here?”

Where else? You hadn’t changed your bedding. It still smelt like Chan. It didn’t feel right.

“Living room.”

You don’t have to tell him not to go to Chan’s couch. You don’t think he knows the intricacies of your relationship to that level, you don’t think he cares. You just gasp when he drops you on your couch, the one you’d both spent the last few hours undoing all the wrong Chan did just to do some wrong of your own.

You - letting your ex’s best friend kiss a path down your jaw, neck, chest. His fingers slipping into the waistband of your untied shorts, dragging them down your thighs to your knees before trailing them back along the bare path. Minho - letting you, his best friend’s ex, knot your fingers in his hair, reeling as he groans against your skin, his lips sucking a path up the inside of your thighs. His tongue lapping at the sore skin, soothing it as he did the ache his best friend left in your core and chest.

There’s a second where your heart sinks, when you feel him hovering, lingering, praying his second of clarity assuages when the filthiest moan leaves you, his lips sucking gently around your clit.

Love can’t fix everything. But fucking might.

+

You wake up alone.

Fighting through the pounding in your head, you slap around the coffee table for your bleating phone, turning off the alarm before unlocking it, eyes squinting as they land on the final tip.

‘Finally, always remember the golden rule of breakups: The easiest way to get over someone, is to get under someone else!

You dislike the post.

2 MONTHS

Sixty seconds.

There are times when minutes pass like seconds.

During that one minute count of hide and seek at your rich cousin’s house. During that last minute of pregaming before the cab arrives. During the last minute before bedtime on the night before the summer break ends. During the last minute of your favourite band’s encore stage. During the last minute on the last day of the year. The list goes on. There are times you think it cruel, time. How it slows and speeds at its leisure, both just as torturous, as dreadful. Time always seems to fly by when you need it most, and drags when you don’t.

Like now.

“How long has it been?”

“Uh-“ with his mouth hung open, Felix taps his phone back to life before answering- “Three seconds.”

Fifty-seven seconds.

“And now?”

“Um- six.”

Fifty-four.

“What about-”

“Y/N.” Kneeling on the cool tiled floor, he lifts your head from where it rests in your palms, taking your clammy hands in his before offering them a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

“Too late.” You whisper, dragging your eyes up to meet his. “It’s like- I feel like I’m going to be sick.. but I’m not sure if that’s because I’m so nervous or..” He follows your gaze down to your lap. Well, your belly to be exact. Your belly where your fate currently lies. “How long now?”

“Y/N..” He taps on his phone screen anyway, calling out forty-five seconds left on the timer before leaving it on the ceramic tub edge. “You have nothing to be nervous about, this is exciting!”

“For you maybe. Time?”

“Twenty.” Forty seconds. “Listen. You’re going to be a wonderful parent, Y/N. Come on, you have your own place, a growing little business, and I know you and your family aren’t that close-”

“Felix-”

“Twenty-eight seconds- but you have an amazing best friend-”

“No, it’s not that-”

“And a boyfriend who’s crazy about you.”

“Chan and I are done, Lix.” In the silence, you think you could hear Felix’s heart break again, the notion of true love dying behind his eyes everytime you say it. “We’re done and nothing is going to change that. I love Chan, I do, I just- I can’t be with him. Not anymore. Not after.. Not after everything that’s happened.”

‘Everything’ is a topic you and Felix have mixed views on. His view of it being the forgivable - though the jury is still out on whether Felix is the right person to deem it such - drunken night of sad, passionate sex you had with his friend. Your view being the one night stand you had with a now estranged Minho.

“I know that- Y/N, I know that. But this-” he pauses, pointing to the window ledge with the tests on “this might change things.”

“And if it can’t?” He almost argues when you groan- “Lix! What if it isn’t.. What if it’s his?” You don’t have to say it. He knows who he is. “If I- if I am pregnant? This baby is not going to change anything, okay? So can you just drop-”

You’re nearly thrown off the toilet seat by the jolt Felix’s alarm sends through you, his phone sliding into the tub as your bodies rise at the obnoxious bleat coming from it.

“Hey,” he whispers when your hands begin to shake, eyes welling as his fill with understanding. “I’m with you whatever happens.” Grabbing your hands, he smiles. “No matter what, okay?”

Sixty seconds seemed to drag right until you needed them. You think back on the other seconds you’d spent in this same position. Hoping, praying for the opposite of what you did today, only to go unanswered.

And why would today be any different?

You hear Felix muffle his gasp from over your shoulder, his hands landing on your shoulders as yours cradle the two tests.

Two positives.

It’s a funny time to, but you think back to religious studies. The cup of milk. You think back and wonder if maybe God had misheard you, maybe He was the one who misunderstood. Because, yes, this is what you wanted all those months ago. A baby, half yours, half Chan’s. With your warm eyes and his defined nose, dimpled smile. Tufts of tight curls, pointing out in all directions. Small wrinkled fingers clinging to yours. Healthy. Happy. All the things a parent wishes for their child. All the things you wished for yours.

All the things you still wish for.

“So.. do I say congratulations or..”

“I’m gonna be a mom.” You breathe, the pad of your thumb swiping over the two parallel lines. A baby. Your baby.

“Guess that means I should cancel our booking at Levanter this weekend, huh?” Felix jokes, giving your shoulders a small squeeze. When he feels the beginnings of a sob rip through you he coos, “Hey, come here.”

Just as you turn to hug him, you get interrupted, almost dropping the test when your doorbell rings, your eyes snapping to Felix who flinches under your glare. “Who is that?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“Who did you tell?”

“No one!” When the door rings again, the wood shaking under a pounding fist, he adds- “I mean, I may have mentioned it to Jisung when I was leaving- he asked where I was running off to and he swore he wouldn’t- I’m sorry!”

Slamming the bathroom door behind you, the incessant ringing drowns out Felix’s apology.

‘Calm down,’ you tell yourself. ‘It’s just Chan. Just- tell him the truth. Tell him you’re pregnant.’

‘Don’t tell him’. You ignore the haunting dissuasion from your mother’s voice as you swing the door open with a deep breath, but feel it catch when your eyes land on him.

“Is it true?”

Because it’s not him.

“Are you pregnant?”

It’s Minho.

“Is it mine?”

Sixty seconds. Where are they when you need them?

4 MONTHS

There’s an awkward air permeating Changbin’s apartment for a number of reasons.

The first being it’s your first time in a room with them all since you found out. After Felix told Jisung, the line of communication easily gets a little bit fuzzy. You know Jisung does wonders with a story, so you’re certain Felix’s quick bit of news was spun a hundred different ways before it finally reached the second point of contention.

Minho.

Minho who now stands beside Jisung, the two talking in low voices, the latter blatantly tilting his head towards you before the former follows. The second his eyes find you, they drop to your stomach, softening a touch before they find yours then look away. You wonder if you can blame Minho for this, because you’re the one who demanded he keep this a secret - though you’re unsure how well he did such - for a little while longer. But it’s hard to care abot that right now, especially when he’s the reason why the awkwardness is a trifecta.

Chan knows you’re pregnant because of him. Chan had heard some news regarding you going around, and now without a direct line of contact, his first port of call had been Changbin, who directed it to Jisung who - sworn to silence by Felix’s kind pleas and Minho’s threatening warning - couldn’t see a reason not to inform the most likely father of your child. So.. it wasn’t directly Minho’s fault but, you weren’t going to blame the self-titled godfather of your future child for this. And for someone so terrifying, you’d think Minho could handle keeping his best friend quiet.

You don’t need to see Chan to know he’s here. His eyes have been glued to you since you walked in, and the whisper of what can only be your no longer barely there, but rather definitely there baby bump seemed to come with senses to the most heightened level. You feel all the eyes on you, but most of all his as Felix holds his arm out to you, failing to guide you away from every watchful eye, around the drinks table and straight for the snack table.

Seungmin seems to be the only one without a sensor on you, displaying genuine surprise then elation at your arrival.

“Hey,” he says, holding his plate out to you. “Cucumber?”

“Thanks.” You stiffen when Felix leaves to grab two beers for them and a club lemon for you, the seconds following his departure ticking by slowly in your head. Seungmin, always more observant than most, seems to sense this, standing in a way that forces your eyes away from the room full of staring eyes. Relaxing a little, you ask earnestly- “How’ve you been? How’s freelancing treating you?”

“Good. Thanks to you,” he nods with a humble shrug. “I got a few weddings booked from spring through to summer which should keep me fed until winter at the very least.”

“Oh shit, that’s amazing! They all got back to you then?”

“Yep, they loved my portfolio, may need some extra help but Jeongin’s up for playing caddie for some free booze so-”

“Hey.” You can’t make yourself turn towards him, not when you see Seungmin’s eyes widen a touch, quickly searching for someone you assume is Felix before they find yours. He knows. “Sorry, Min. Can I borrow her for a minute?”

You have an excuse readied on your tongue when a body slips between you, a head of dirty blonde hair filling your vision. “Hey, I got you a drink.”

“Should she be drinking-”

“A coke?” Minho jokes, voice empty. “Yeah, I think she’s good.”

“Y/N,” Chan calls, glaring at the cup, easily ignoring his friend. “Can we talk?”

“I said she’s good.”

“Minho.” His eyes are unnaturally soft when they meet your hard ones. Soft for him at least. “I’m good.”

Following Chan to the backyard, you force a smile when he holds the messily scrawled and crookedly hung ‘Happy Birthday Hyunjin’ banner up for you to pass under. The signs of early spring and open air flood your lungs as he guides you past the drinking games set up, to the rattan garden set.

Naturally, everything is weird, given your recent break up and growing bump. It’s especially weird because his eyes won’t leave your lap where your clenched fists lay, pressed to the no longer baggy t-shirt you opted for today.

Given the past few months - his departure from your life, your radio silence and what he must have heard through the grapevine - you know what’s coming. Chan knows it isn’t his. So you just brace yourself for the inevitable when he clears his throat, his voice coming out in a low whisper-

“I’m sorry.”

Looking up, you find his soft eyes have finally found their way to yours, admiring the faint glow.

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, for-” you blink a few times before you realise.. he’s crying. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.” Either he ignores your confusion, or he just can’t place it when he continues- “I know what I said wasn’t fair, blaming you for all of it, for everything. It wasn’t fair and I know it’s my fault you didn’t tell me, that you didn’t think you could tell me. But I thought if I gave you space you would eventually and- I’m sorry.”

“Chan-”

“But- but I’m here now. And I want to be here for you, for him..” Him, you think, watching in a sick slow motion as Chan raises then lowers his outstretched hand to your belly. “I’m ready for us to be a family.”

Fuck.

“Chan,” you start, words jumbling in your head, sticking in your throat as you catch on. “Chan, I-”

“Listen, I know. I know it’s not how we planned.” His eyes shine when he smiles at you, thumb rubbing over your t-shirt slowly. “I wasn’t there for you and I should have been but I am now. I’m here now.”

“Chan-”

“And I’ll spend everyday making it up to you,” he promises, wiping his cheek with his other hand. “To both of you.”

Could you do it? Say the words to ruin this undeservingly tranquil moment? The love of your life, beaming at you as you carry what could’ve very well been the ticket to your future together, his eyes wet as he strokes the bump of what he thinks is his son. Chan’s son. Chan’s baby. Your baby with Chan, the love of your life. You wonder if you could lie. Pretend. Act as if there isn’t a hateful truth kicking down the door of your perfect life together - a paternity test you’d quickly and embarrassingly asked for nearly two months ago. Even with that, you consider it. Could you act like you didn’t destroy everything the second he left? You think you could.. But when your mother’s voice in your head even agrees, the idea dies in your head right as the very reason you couldn’t decides the same.

“Get your hand off her.” Your head snaps to Minho when he speaks, his presence and voice too hard for the moment you’re trying very hard to cling to. Chan was right. This isn’t how you planned it. And you’re only now realising that maybe that’s what you deserve. “Now.”

“Minho, man,” Chan laughs emptily, clicking his tongue. “What is your problem?”

“Right now?” Minho asks, eyes stuck on Chan’s hand. “It’s you.”

“Listen,” Chan sighs, the veins in his now awkwardly placed hand rippling. “This has nothing to do with you. So can you just-”

“It’s not yours.”

In your last few seconds of peace, you wonder. How the words that have spent the last minute screaming in your head suddenly make their way into the air when your own lips couldn’t make them. You wonder, as you stare at Chan, his head turning from his friend back to you, wondering the same, your shaky breaths and the tears welling in your eyes slowly making sick sense. You wonder if things will ever be the same.

“He’s-” Chan tilts his head, withdrawing his hand as the words sour on his tongue. “He’s not mine?” The mood drops in a flash, the warmth in his eyes vanishing as you shake your head, shame flooding you. “Then who-”

Your eyes drop to your lap when you see his gaze flicks back to Minho, his presence and growing discomfort the final clue.

“It’s his?” ‘It’. The term grates at you. How readily he’d been to claim his child, to call ‘it’ his. “You fucked Minho?”

“Chan-”

“Did you?” He spits, venom coursing through him as his blood seeps to his cheeks, chest, ears. “Did you cheat on me?”

“No! No, it wasn’t like that!”

“So, what? I didn’t give you what you wanted so you went and fucked my best friend?” With every acute inflection in his tone, you feel Minho draw nearer. “How could you do this to me?”

“Chan, I didn’t- I just-”

“Were you even going to tell me?” He yells, his voice cracking with every word. “After everything we went through? After everything I did for you? After everything I did for us to be a family and you were fucking around? With him?”

“Chan.” You would envy him right now if you weren’t so angry at him. How calm he seemed, Minho’s firm, grounding presence stood between yours and Chan’s. “Don’t raise your voice at her. She told you, it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Though so uncharacteristic of him, you don’t have time to flinch when Chan curses, because his face is in Minho’s and two small hands are pulling you away, Felix’s face filling your vision as Minho steps in front of you. “Who the fuck-”

You try to listen over the sound of Felix’s rushed checks, looking you over as you watch them over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Bleeding into- ‘..advantage! I knew you always wanted-’. “You should come inside, Y/N/” Merging with- ‘You’re just mad you were the problem-’

“Lix! I’m fine!” You try, pushing him off of you when Minho threatens Chan.

“Or what?” Chan laughs, the sound stuck between a growl and a chuckle. It’s almost frightening. “Am I wrong? She’s a fucking mess!”

“I told you to stop calling her that.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t, hm?”

“I’m gonna make you.”

“Make me? Make me then.” Chan scoffs, glaring at your trembling form in Felix’s arms before growling- “Y/N, you’re a fucking messed up whore-”

Time slows to a complete stop when Chan falls straight through the rattan table, his body landing in a heap as the wood snaps around him. If it had stopped there you could’ve sworn you saw nothing. Because one moment Chan was standing there, a snarl curling his beautiful lips and the next he was on the ground, a halo of wood circling his head. But it didn’t stop. Before anyone could think to stop him, Minho was on him, Chan’s wits slowly returning to him as his friend landed punch after punch, his knuckles surely splitting with every smack. You hear Felix call for someone behind you but it’s hard to hear over the sound of Chan’s grunts, his hands almost circling Minho’s neck before a blur of bodies appear, Changbin and Jisung dragging Minho off their elder.

Shoving him off of you, Felix nearly tumbles when you throw yourself down beside a dazed Chan, ignoring Minho who tries to fight his way out of his friends’ hold. Your fingers stroke along his bloodied cheek, the skin hot, wet to the touch. He hisses before he looks up at you, strength waning as he struggles to push your hand off of him.

“Don’t touch her!”

“Minho, just stop! Please!” You can see the rage pouring out of him before he slowly relents, watching with hateful eyes as you turn back to Chan. “Chan, please. Just- just let me help you. We can fix this- I can fix this.”

“You?” He scoffs, spitting blood out of his mouth. “You can’t fix this. You couldn’t even fix yourself.”

“Uh-” call it awful timing, but maybe looking back, you would call it comedic that this is when Hyunjin decides to walk into his surprise party. Minho restrained, Chan bloody, you knelt beside him four months pregnant. Call it ‘the world’s most depressing freeze frame’. “The fuck is going on?”

You’ll find it in you to apologise one day. You’ll add it to the list.

+

“That fucking hurts- Y/N!” You don’t look up, deciding instead to press harder against the wound on Minho’s split knuckle. It’s laughable. Him now leaning on the same dryer you also blame for the fight that had ensued just a few hours ago, sink basin swirling with a mixture of blood and floating splinters. When he pulls his hands away from you, you finally look at him, glaring before throwing the rubbing alcohol and clean cotton wool back in the open first aid kit. After shoving it back in the cabinet, you turn off the lights and shut the door on your way out, pettily leaving him in the darkness of Felix’s room. “You can’t ignore me forever, Y/N.”

You almost laugh. If you ever talk to him again, you’ll do better to explain the relationship you had with your mother.

You hear Minho groan from inside the utility room before he pushes the door open, following you into your living room. It has only been a few hours since the fight but apparently you’re really the only one still reeling over it, evidenced by Felix, Jisung and Seungmin eating snacks they stole from the party on your couch. Well, not your couch but the other one. You walk straight past them, seething as you head into your kitchen with no intentions but to be alone. Minho doesn’t give you that though, following you straight inside, forcing you to pretend to look for a snack. Scouring your cupboards, you silently pray they hadn’t gotten their hands on your peanut butter when Minho speaks. Big mistake.

“Is that mine?”

“Is what yours?” Glaring over your shoulder, you glance down, following his eyes to the t-shirt you’re wearing which is in fact his. “Do you want it back?”

“No, dummy,” he’s right behind you, both hands at the ready if you fall. When you first noticed this strange habit of his, you ignored it. Until you felt his hand always hovering near the small of your back, his hands usually free for possible impact. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head when he dared mention that scene from Twilight. “I’m making conversation.”

“Well, don’t.” You have half a mind to push him away from you. If you didn’t hate him right now, you would even find the gesture quite sweet, like you had gradually come to. You decide instead to continue digging through your cupboards before quickly changing your mind. “Actually, seeing as you want to make conversation, how about you tell me what the fuck that was?”

“What what was?”

“What what- are you fucking stupid?” With all the audacity he can summon, Minho frowns cutely. It’s not on purpose, but that isn’t the point. “At Changbin’s! What is wrong with you?”

The idiot shrugs, helping you down from the counter before going into another cupboard, taking the peanut butter out and grabbing a spoon before handing them to you. “Nothing.”

“Minho. You beat up Chan.”

He fails at fighting off a smug smile when he says- “He was being rude to you.”

“You think I couldn’t handle him?”

“Wait,” it irks you to no end, how he raises an eyebrow before taking the jar from you and opening it with ease before handing it back. “Are you mad because I beat him up? Or mad because I thought you couldn’t handle it?”

“Both!”

“It can’t be both,” he frowns, his ultimatum hanging in the air. “Because for the past hour you’ve been all, ‘Minho, how could you do that?’, ‘Minho, what were you thinking?’, and now you’re mad because you wanted to do it yourself.”

“No, I’m mad because you made this already bad situation worse!”

“Oh,” with a low chuckle he gazes up at you. “Listen, if you still feel guilty about what happened, you need to drop it. And if you thought I was going to just stand there while he ripped into the mother of my child..” You almost soften when his voice trails off, his eyes quickly looking away from you. “Look. As soon as we decided to keep it, we became a family and you signed up for all this, alright?”

“’It’?”

“Well, you don’t want to know what it is so-”

“Don’t call our baby ‘it‘!” You seethe before taking a deep breath, placing a hand under your bump. Sighing, you miss his fleeting smile. “Minho, you can’t just fight everyone who has something bad to say about me.”

“Watch me.” When you glare, he just blinks back, resting his head on a cupboard door. “In a few months, it’s going to be you, me and-” when your glare hardens, he makes himself stop. Your blood pressure has become a concern of his after your last check up. So he slows his mind down, thinking out his words. “Our baby. Meaning I’ll only get worse, so try and get used to it, yeah?”

“Worse than this? Are you insane?” When he just shrugs, smirking as your fingers tighten around your poor spoon before you point it at him, warning- “Don’t piss me off, Minho, I’ll kick your ass. Pregnant and all.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“Minho. Don’t play with me.” If you weren’t so irate, you’d realise he wasn’t joking, but he had never taken you seriously before. Why would he start now? “I’m not kidding.”

“I know,” he shrugs, pushing himself off of the counter. “At least I hope you’re not.” Taking a few careful steps, you squint as he approaches you, stopping a foot away. “You know you’re kinda sexy when you’re mad?”

Staring dumbly, you watch him lean in before you glare at him mustering all the anger you could to turn him down. “You better not think because I’m having your baby that we’re a thing. Because we are not a thing. Not even close. So don’t even act like we are when we’re not.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Minho, shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.” You think you might scream when he rests his palms on the counter behind you. It’s only then you ask yourself the big questions. What game is he playing? Does he win if you pull away? Does he win if you don’t? Do you want to pull away? Is there any version of this where you come out on top? “Make me then.”

“I swear to God, I will.”

“You will?” The answer is yes. To his question, and your own. There is a way to win this. Whatever this is. You’re just not sure you're happy with such a murky victory. You go with it anyway, Minho watching as your glory and inevitable defeat merge into one, darkening your angry eyes, his taunt fanning your lips as he bumps your nose with his. “Go on then.”

You have to keep reminding yourself you’re meant to hate this man. The father of your child. The best friend of your ex. It’s hard though, especially when you’re the one to close the space between you, your lips closing around his smirk, drawing the softest hum. Hands firmly on the counter he leans into you, avoiding your bump with effortless skill, sliding his tongue into your mouth as your hands find his jaw and nape pulling him closer. When you push up into him, wanting to feel him on you, nails scraping along his scalp, he swallows a groan before he turns you, resting his back on the counter, pulling you flush against him. Again, he takes care. Moving his mouth against yours as he savours you, every lick, suck and pant, angling and cradling your face with the same hands that bled just hours ago. Minho handles you like the most valuable, most revered, most important thing in the world to him.

Fuck. This is a thing.

The realisation has you reeling, mindlessly pawing at the waistband of his sweats, fingers trailing to the small tent forming. He groans into your open mouth, pushing his hips up into your closed fist before pulling away, watching you with an unfitting softness, one you’re no longer able to detach from him. It’s all you think of, all you see when you look at him. When you lean back in, he smiles, pecking your lips before resting his forehead on yours, running the tip of his nose along your bridge, whispering softly- “You want me?” When you nod, he nods gently, kissing you a final time before moving to leave. “Let me get rid of them.”

“What?” He points at the door, the living room. Right. “No, don’t. Leave them.”

When he smirks, skin slightly flushed, you frown. “You wanna do it with them here?”

“What? No!” Flustered, you glare when he laughs. “I just-” returning to you, he kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back. You think he knows he was being unfair, goading you at a time like that. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sigh- “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah?” Nodding against his neck, he hums. “Cool. Go sit down, I’ll order something.”

Only when you slip away do you notice his hand was in yours. You notice it more when you stare at your linked fingers, feeling him pull away as you walk away. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?” You look down when he points, laughing as he pulls his phone out his pocket, trying and failing to readjust himself. When you pout, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll go away. What do you want?”

You blink.

“One of everything?” When you nod, he nods back. “Okay.”

This is when anyone else would say thank you. You don’t. Instead you walk back to him, kiss him and say- “You’re still a prick,” before trying to walk away again.

Trying, because he pulls you back, holding you in his arms for a second before staring right at you. “I need to say something.” Confused by the sudden pensive look of his gaze, you frown. It’s funny, how seeing Minho so serious has become so worrying in as little as a few months. Funny how much can change in a few short months. “I’m never going to apologise for what I did.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know-”

“No, seriously. I’m sorry that I upset you, and I’m sorry you had to see it.. to hear it. But I’m more sorry I ever had to, because you shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve any of it. And if you thought for a second that anything you’ve done deserved any of that? Then I’m going to spend every day undoing that.. because it’s me and you now, okay? If someone has something to say about you, they’re saying it to me too. And that’s it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, unsure why your immediate response to this all is to kiss him, cry and run to Felix all at one time. Of course, you do none of that. “You’re just saying that because of the baby.”

“No.” He says firmly, holding you tighter when you try to pull away again. “That night? When you told me everything? When you decided to trust me? I was on your side. And I’ll always be. Nothing’s going to change that. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He softens when your eyes well, his thumb wiping the apple of your cheek. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Letting you go, he asks again- “One of everything, yeah?”

“Yeah, but no-”

“No fish, yeah I know.”

6 MONTHS

Tonight is the night you decide Changbin’s home is cursed. Its inhabitants, its parties, its gatherings, the lot.

It starts off like any other night. You’re perched on the edge of Changbin’s couch, Minho behind you, his knuckles digging into the knots in your lower back, eyes focused on the television. Jisung is chewing his ear off about the film on the screen, probably fueling the strength he’s using to undo the tension that’s been gradually tightening around your spine. Pausing, he shuffles forward for his beer, one you coerced him into having after hearing he refused the drink in solidarity with you. When he rests his chin on your shoulder, you nudge him off of you, whining when he digs it into your skin. Placing his beer on your knee, he lingers there, finding reprieve as Jisung turns to Seungmin in his absence. It’s then your phone lights up, a text coming through. You miss it, eyes glued to the screen ahead. Like you assume his are. But alas, no. No, Minho’s eyes, distracted by the sudden glare from your phone, have flown to your lap, reading the preview of the brand new message.

“Aren’t we?” Minho says suddenly, taking another sip from his beer when you look at him, eyes looking across the room. When you follow his gaze, you find the person he was addressing staring back with wide eyes, the round pair flicking down to your lap. Looking down you see the silent observation he responded to aloud.

[20:23] Lix: you two are so cute :(

You swallow a groan, digging your elbow in Minho’s chest. The others look over when Minho chokes, fixing you both with a glare. “Stop being loud,” you say to him, gesturing to the room.

“You two are cosy..” Hyunjin coos, looking equal parts disgusted and intrigued.

“That’s what I said.” Felix agrees, the brave fool.

“No,” Minho corrects, back cracking as he straightens up to lean back into the couch. “You said we were cute.”

“Well-” when you glare at him, Felix swallows as he realises he played into Minho’s game. “I mean, of course you guys are cute! You’re going to be parents.. together.”

“Speaking of-” Changbin says, smirking. “Are you?”

“Are you what?” Call it pregnancy rage, call it months of Changbin being the object of your misdirected hate, you glare when his smirk widens, eyes squinting.

“Are you together?”

Your answers blur into one, the rest hearing a ‘yo’ and ‘nes’, which really just sounds like a maybe. And a maybe might as well be a yes. You huff when they all coo mockingly, their teasing drowning out the film on the screen.

“You guys are so annoying.”

“Us?” Hyunjin gasps, a hand flat to his chest before he points an accusatory finger. “Not the two of you pretending you’re not a thing for the last two months?”

“Yeah,” Jisung’s smart ass chimes in, turning his head to look you in the eye, revealing- “Minho doesn’t fight for just anyone, you know?”

“Speaking of-” always fucking speaking of- “You owe me a new rattan table.”

“Put it on my tab.” Minho says simply, squeezing your thigh when you scowl at Changbin.

“You know, it wasn’t funny the first time and it’s not funny the tenth.”

“Can we watch the film?” Seungmin asks over the laughter filling the room.

“Yes, can we?” You agree, making the mistake of reminding everyone of your presence after staying so close under the radar.

“Hey,” pointing toward you, Changbin decides- “if you two are together now, you owe me a table too.”

“Oi, cool it.” Minho says stiffly, his hands returning to work on your back. “Before I send you through a fucking table and all.”

“Chan’s a better man than me,” Changbin groans, shouting over the volume Seungmin just turned up. “I would’ve rocked your shit.” Minho laughs at the idea, rolling his eyes when Changbin smirks. “But to be fair, every man and his dog could see how you felt about Y/N, so even you’re a better man than me.”

“Wow,” Seungmin deadpans, eyes not leaving the screen. “Everyone’s a better man than you, we are so surprised.”

“What- I- mean- is-” Changbin whines, hitting Seungmin with a cushion, warm at the sound of everyone’s laughter. “If you two are together, I hope the reason you’re not telling us isn’t because of everything that happened. We’d be happy for you.”

When he gives you a warm smile, you think tonight could be the night you forgive Changbin. The night you realise maybe Changbin was doing what he thought would help, that he was being a friend. You try to keep this in mind after he stands at the sound of his doorbell ringing, announcing Jeongin’s arrival halfway through the first film of the night. But then suddenly he stiffens, standing straight as a board. Jeongin enters with a big smile, slapping Felix on the shoulder. Felix, who looks aghast at a sight beyond the threshold, Jeongin’s smile dropping as his gaze falls on you. When you feel Minho stiffen behind you, his hands stilling as they journey up your sides, you remember why you hate Changbin.

It isn’t him, or his house.

It’s Chan.

“H-Hey man,” when Jisung stands to greet him, you feel Minho’s hands tighten, pulling you closer towards him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” he sounds strangely calm, as if he just spent the last ten seconds listening to Changbin’s rushed rundown of what he was about to walk into. Or maybe he’s just calm. Something you’re not right now. Your heart is threatening to hammer a hole right out of your back and straight through Minho’s chest. He must feel it because his hands continue rubbing up and down your sides, trying to calm you as Chan turns to you both, pausing for just a second before he speaks. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, feeling Minho nod, his hands still running along your sides. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, lips pursed as he nods. You’re sure he can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, you definitely can. Jisung is hovering close behind, as if scared that Chan would lunge on Minho at any second, even with you sitting between them. “You? How you doing?”

You think this is the time your mother meant it was okay to lie. Because the truth is.. you’re fantastic. You’re the happiest you’ve been for a long, long while. But that feels like gloating, and that’s unfair considering you’re pregnant and the father of your child - his best friend- well, ex best friend - who beat him up just months back is holding you firmly to his chest.

So you lie. “I’m good.”

“That’s good..” with a small smile, he quickly turns away, looking for Changbin, saying something about putting drinks in the fridge before he disappears into the kitchen, Changbin following close behind. A few seconds pass before your ears start burning.

As soon as he’s gone Felix turns to you, mouthing ‘you good?’. You nod, because you are. Sure it’s sudden, and weird, and down right fucking awkward, but you’re good. Especially with Minho’s lips on your shoulder, his fingers slipping into the gaps between yours, kindly ignoring the clamminess lining your palms. You wonder if you should leave. Minho wouldn’t refuse if you asked, but he hasn’t asked, which tells you he too knows this was inevitable.

You couldn’t spend your lives avoiding Chan, it wasn’t feasible. You have all the same friends, things like this are bound to happen time and time again. And besides, Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know. You like to think you wouldn’t have fallen for someone anything less than. You try not to think what life would be like had none of this ever happened. Not you and Minho, but rather all of your complications. What would life have been like if you tried and succeeded. If you hadn’t-

“Oi,” you turn at the poke in your side, finding him glaring at you. It isn’t hard to see what hides behind it. “Stop thinking so hard, you’re not that bright.”

“Fuck off,” you huff, slapping his thigh as you lean into him further.

“Felix text you.”

[21:01] Lix: chans here

[21:02] Lix: look alive

[21:03] Lix: i wanna be you when i grow up

[21:03] Lix: cos i could neverrrrr

[21:04] Lix: will you stop fucking spacing out!!!

[21:04] hey bestie: You’re worse than Jisung sometimes

When Chan walks back in, your phone lights up again and you glare at Felix whose eyes follow Chan as he texts hurriedly.

[21:04] Lix: how are you not throwing up right now?

[21:04] Lix: do you wanna leave? fake a baby thing

[21:05] Lix: omg hes back

[21:05] Lix: go into labour or something

[21:05] hey bestie: I’m fine don’t text me again it’s obvious

[21:05] Lix: kl kl kl x

This is going to be a long night.

+

Seungmin gets his wish to finish the film in peace. But at what cost? Because it’s hard to think this silence is peaceful when every heart in the room, bar maybe Minho’s, is beating a mile a minute. His chin on your shoulder, you feel his hand under your shirt, thumb drawing small circles on the side of your bump. It’s not too unlike a night in at your place, minus the added tension and bodies of your friends and ex. For the most part you’re alright, and you know that has everything to do with Minho, and nothing to do with your best friend whose eyes haven’t left you since Chan walked in the house. And they don’t leave you when you pat Minho’s knee, his warmth leaving you when he shifts to help you stand.

When Felix gets up too, you groan when he follows you. “I’m going to pee you creep, go watch the film.”

“Meet me in the kitchen!” He whispers, practically sprinting towards the rendezvous point.

Sitting with a huff, you realise you haven’t given much thought to your actual pregnancy. The science behind it, the feeling of it, the instincts that come with it. You’re growing a life in you. A baby is sitting on your bladder, forcing you to pee at least ten more times a day. The baby is heavy, resting on your knees when you sit. Your baby is.. your baby. You want to protect it. You have to protect it. You tell yourself that’s what fuels your calmness in light of the evening ahead. The humbler part of you tells yourself it’s Minho. How relaxed he is when faced with adversity. He doesn’t run from it, or repel it. He faces it head on. Maybe a bit proud, maybe a bit deranged. Whatever it is, you thank God for it. You thank god for Minho.

What you don’t thank God for is your best friend who stands at the island, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for you to meet him in the kitchen like he asked, just to find him nervously talking to Chan whose head is in the fridge, digging out another beer. You haven’t run in months and think you might before you see him turn, closing the fridge to find you standing there.

You can’t think of anything to say, so you look to Felix. Big mistake. He’s just standing there looking between you both, nervously worrying his lip. When your eyes find Chan’s, a small smile on his lips, you swallow. Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know.

“Lix,” you call, reluctantly deciding to save the poor guy. “Can I talk to Chan for a minute?”

“Huh?” When you just raise your eyebrows, he nods his head in agreement. “Uh, okay. I’ll keep your seat warm.” He jokes, squeezing your arm before running to tell everyone.

If the last six months have taught you anything, which they clearly had not, you’re not one to think of the consequences of your actions. You realise this when you just stand there, not at all prepared to talk to Chan. It’s not like you knew he would be here. But if you had, would you even be here? Would this conversation ever happen? Is this the kind of thing you can plan? Why is this so hard? You think he sees your panic, because he says- “Let’s sit down.”

“Hm?” Your eyes follow him as he pulls a chair out for you. “Oh.. thanks.”

He just smiles back, turning a chair towards you before saying- “I actually wanted to talk to you.” When you tilt your head, he rubs his hands down his jeans, his eyes falling to your bump, a sad smile on his lips. “I went-” when the words stick in his throat, you frown, placing your hand over his. Scooting forward, he flips his hand palm up, holding your hand, staring at them joined on his knee. “I saw my doctor. I told him everything, you know. About us, and- yeah. There are these kits, like for-” He laughs then, scratching his neck. When you squeeze his hand, his eyes fly up to yours, calmed by the softness there. “It’s literally a sperm counter, I-I mean a test kit for it.” When you nod, he scoffs, “he was saying if we’re not actively trying right now, why am I doing it? And I didn’t really have an answer, but I think he got it. Anyway, he said it wasn’t too bad, but way lower than it should be.” At the worry on your face, he squeezes your hand. “Nothing to worry about, it should be all good. There’s nothing else to it, just a low count.”

Nodding, you smile. “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“No,” he frowns suddenly, laughing bitterly as he pulls his hand away. “You shouldn’t be glad, Y/N. It was me.”

“What?”

“I’m the one with the problem.” He says, eyes on his lap. “I kept focusing on you, and what you could be doing better, what was wrong with you but it was never you, it was me.”

“Chan, it’s not anyone’s fault-”

“How can you say that?” Pulling away, he holds his head in his hands, sniffing. “I blamed you for everything. I-I ruined everything. If I just took a step back, if I just stopped trying to fix you-”

“Chan, can you just-”

“I kept trying to fix you when it was me, it was me who was broken.”

“Chan!” Pulling his head up, you hold his head in your hands, ignoring the tears on his cheeks, staring right into his wet eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. It might feel that way, but there isn’t. You don’t need fixing, you’re not broken. You’re Chan, okay? You’re more than this. You’re not a measure of your fucking sperm count, or your ability to make a baby. Even if it’s what you want. It doesn’t make you or break you. It’s just something you have to face and deal with. And, god I wanted to do it with you. I wanted all of that with you, I wanted you. And if we knew we would have dealt with it, we would have found a way. But we couldn’t, and nothing’s gonna change that, but that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself.”

“But it’s my fault..”

“It’s not anyone’s fucking fault! You’re not to blame for wanting a family and not being able to get it. You didn’t know, you didn’t choose this, it’s just life. It’s shit and painful, and it’s not up to anyone, not even you-” the words get caught when you hear them loud and clear in your head. His voice. Turning to the door, you find him there leaning against it, Minho’s eyes on you, watching you with a small smile. “If it was up to you, you wouldn’t be so unhappy.” Turning back to Chan, you see he’d followed your gaze, his eyes on Minho. You bring him back, wiping his cheeks with your palms, before dropping them to his fists.

“You know, I actually wanted to apologise, when I said I wanted to talk.”

“Y/N, no-”

“No.” You say, groaning with a laugh. “You’re done talking, it’s my turn.” His eyes dart to the door, flushing at the proud smirk on Minho’s face. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how this all went. That I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, sorry for..” You swallow then, the idea of apologising for how things turned out curdling your dinner. “But I’m not anymore. I’m not sorry, because I don’t regret any of it: pretending I was happy, lying as if it was what I wanted.. because at first I did, you know? I wanted all of it with you, but after a while I realised I just wanted it because you did, and I wasn’t ready, I was terrified. I’m still fucking terrified. Maybe a little less, but it’s still there. The idea I’m making a big fucking mistake thinking I could do this. Be a mom.. but at the very least, at least I don’t feel alone anymore, I don’t feel like an extra, like a- a willing surrogate. I mean, yeah, I’m still fucking scared, but I’m ready. Ready to do everything I can to give my baby everything my mom couldn’t give me. And I don’t think I’d ever be if we didn’t break up, if all that didn’t happen, if I didn’t have-”

He knows who you want to say. His eyes fly to him, a sad smile on his lips when he watches you copy him, your smile growing when Minho winks at you. You gulp down your guilt, deciding pretending does count as lying, letting Chan see your wide smile, your gleaming eyes.

“I am so sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry you’ve had to do this all on your own. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like you always have been for me. And I know it’s selfish and unfair and just fucking shameless, but I miss you. And I want you in my life, to whatever extent you want. If you want to say hi and bye, that’s cool. If you want to go for coffee, that’s cool. If you want to talk about- you know, anything- that’s cool too. If you need a friend, I’ll be there, okay? If you can forgive me, I promise you that I’ll be here.”

Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know.

“Only if you can forgive me, too?”

You can’t speak, you just nod, lips pursed, salty with tears. “Of course.”

“Okay.”

+

It pays to have your own personal masseuse. The pain in your back has pretty much subsided by the time you get into bed, your head on Minho’s arm as his free hand works the last of the knots. He digs a bit harder, when you laugh at him, defending himself. “I didn’t laugh at you. What kind of name is Renesmee?”

“I didn’t say I wanted it for us, I just said I didn’t get why everyone hated it so much.”

“Because it sounds like a virus.”

“You’re a virus- okay! I’m sorry! Ow!” When he snickers, you whine. “Mean.”

Rubbing the spot sweetly, he asks- “Okay, what about a colour?”

“Like what?”

“Vermilion?” When you say nothing, he agrees, “Yeah, maybe not. Sounds too much like vermin.”

“What about something religious?” He laughs then. “What?”

“That’s pretty broad, dummy,” shuffling towards you, he slips his hand around your waist, letting you lean your head further up his arm, wedging his thigh between your two. It came as a big surprise to you how clingy Minho was. At least behind closed doors. When you were with the guys, it was always under the guise of you needing a back massage, or somewhere to rest your head. But alone? You’re touching more often than not. Like now, when he clings to you, engulfing your body with his own. His lips press to your shoulder when he jokes, “What about Christian?”

“Har har.” You wheeze, shoving him. “That’s a little too on the nose.”

When you say nothing more, he sighs against your skin- “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“What about Samson?”

“Doesn’t he die?” It’s quiet again. You can picture his eye roll. “I know they all die, dummy. I just mean, isn’t his death the worst?”

“Crucifixion is definitely worse than getting crushed by rocks.” You have a brainwave. “Oh! What about Jaime?”

“What, like Lannister?” When you nod, he refuses. “We’re not naming our kid after someone who fucked his sister.” When you don’t respond, he kisses your shoulder. “What happened to not wanting the kid to burn in hell?”

“..Did you say our kid?”

“That’s what you’re having right?” He jokes. “Because if you tell me it’s Chan’s this far in-”

“No, dickhead.” Though reluctant, you let yourself laugh at that, suddenly overcome by the fact jokes like that might get made, or rather, the fact jokes like that could be made now that Chan is back in your life. “You didn’t say ‘it’.”

“I mean, that was just a slip of the tongue, it’s still an ‘it’.” When you bite his bicep, he yells- “Fine! I said it! Whatever. So?”

“So.. nothing,” you hum, kissing the same spot on his arm. “It’s just nice.”

“You’re so easily pleased,” he says. “This could get boring real quick.” When he feels you smile against his skin, he sighs, hand wandering back down your spine. You’re spun by how quickly he quells the dull ache, his thumbs dipping into the skin. You spoke too soon. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a sharp pain.”

“Pain like back pain, or a me pain?”

“You pain.” He ignores the double meaning, laughing against your skin. “What now?”

“So, you’re saying I’m strong?” He thinks he hears your eyes roll. “Good to know.”

“You’re so fucking annoying. What does that even mean?”

Shrugging as best he can, he puckers his lips, letting them drag up the length of your shoulder towards your neck, sighing when you lean into him. “Better?” When you hum, he continues, letting his thumb work your spine as he kisses up your neck, lips closing just below your ear. Try as you may, you can’t stop yourself purring, his body pressed firmly into your back as he moves his hand to toy with the hem of your t-shirt. “You know..” he halts when you gasp, his hand parting your legs pushing his leg up further. “For someone who says we’re not together, you sure don’t act like it.”

“Well, we’re not.”

“Let me change that.” You may not hate this man, but you sure don’t like him. Not when he presses his thigh to your heat, his hand on your hip pushing your weight onto him. It’s embarrassing how easily you follow his lead, rolling your hips slowly against his tensed thigh as he kisses a path back down to your shoulder. “It’s kind of inevitable.”

“Get over yourself.” You agreed to a thing. Yes, mentally. But now that he’s said that, he’s really given you no choice but to refuse. Even if your brain and mouth don’t connect, another major organ getting in the way. “I don’t see you like that.”

“Come on,” he breathes, smiling softly as you struggle to grind against him. “You can do better than that.”

Pressing his leg up higher, a particular grind forces you to mewl- “I’m working on me right now?”

“Good job, anything else?”

“I just- fuck-” the excuse catches when his hand slip under your thigh, fingers working you clit as your hips faulter. You can’t lose Y/N. Not again. “I just broke up with my ex.”

“Ding ding ding.” He laughs, letting his hips meet yours, his desire pressed hard to your thigh. “Almost thought you were short circuiting then. That one was right there.”

“Minho,” you whine, half annoyed, half turned on, fully exhausted. “Stop playing.”

“Who’s playing?” Pulling his sweats down, you think he rises to angle himself but instead just crouches over you, turning your face to his. There’s a subtle flush to his cheeks, even in the low light, the lamps illuminating his skin perfectly. When he leans down to kiss you, his hips resting ever so slightly on yours, lips moving slow as he draws moan after moan, you think he’ll take mercy on you but he instead just breathes- “Be my girl.”

With a whine, you huff- “If I say yes, will you fuck me?” He nods. “Fine.”

You take that as a win. You would’ve said yes regardless.

8 MONTHS

It’s pouring when you arrive, both feet in a shallow puddle as you duck under Felix’s ready umbrella. Tall, mossy gates greet you all, a short cobbled path disappearing somewhere in the thick morning mist. The sudden shower clears a way through it, your feet heavy as you swallow before moving forward, Felix in step with you, Minho a few steps behind. You had never visited the graveyard before. A few miles out of the city, though far enough to deem it a bit too far, your mother’s final resting place was still close enough to fill you with an unquellable guilt. Felix often defended your decision with a few easy truths: you didn’t talk while she was still here, why should death make a difference? Which was true. What difference did death make, minus its insistence on a final goodbye?

When you left your mother’s house, your childhood home for the final time, you didn’t exchange a word. She just sat there, watching with lifeless eyes as you packed up, poor Felix trembling every time he passed her unmoving figure in your living room to fill his parent’s minivan waiting outside. After a final look over the room you had once called yours, you went to say goodbye, only to watch her pass you in the hallway like a stranger in the street, before entering her room and shutting the door.

That was the last you saw of her. That was your final goodbye.

Until today.

You think the July sky had opened just to show it's displeasure with you, God slicking the path up to your mother’s grave. It’s only then you realise. “I don’t know which one it is.”

Turning to you, Felix nods, mumbling something behind him before passing Minho his umbrella, forcing his denim jacket over his head. It’s quiet for a moment before Minho speaks.

“He’s going to find it.” When you just nod, you feel his fingers slip between yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Do you want to sit down?” Shaking your head, you look around, seeing the wet petals on every other grave. It shouldn’t take him long. Just then, you hear him shout. Turning, you squint through the fog to find him just a few yards away knelt before a headstone, the flowers he insisted on buying resting on it. “You ready?”

You don’t answer, you just let his hand go, feeling the rain kiss your cheeks as you walk towards him. With a hand under your belly, you immediately feel heavy. The weight of the rain on your cardigan, the mud under your boots, the dread in your chest. That’s when you feel it, the bile rising in your throat, a wretch pushing itself out. You swallow it down along with the sudden urge to turn back, strengthening with every step you take. Felix reappears through the mist, his hair and shoulders drenched. He turns when he hears you, a sad smile on his face.

“It’s not so muddy here,” he says, holding his hand out to guide you to the spot by his side. You don’t take it though. You don’t move. You can’t. Because hot, angry tears are spilling onto your cheeks, mingling with the cooling rain, eyes dark as you read then reread the words on your mother’s headstone.

‘Life is not forever, love is.’

A liar in life, and a liar in death.

“Where are you going?” Minho calls when you move to walk past him, headed for the gates mere minutes after you’d arrived. When he grabs your arm, you pull it away. “Hey.”

“Let her go, man,” you hear Felix sigh, seemingly expecting your reaction. “We can come back.”

“No,” Minho laughs, moving to stop you again. “We just drove through two hours of traffic to come here.”

“And we can do it again-”

“We’re not leaving.” Like hell you’re not leaving. It’s what you do, leave when things are too much. Your mother knew it, Felix knew it, Chan knew it, and now Minho was going to learn it. “Y/N-”

“Get off of me.” You move to walk around him, his body slipping in front of you before you can reach the path leading back to his car. When he stops you again, you groan. “Look, I’m sorry I made us come all this way, it was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He says, voice annoyingly soft for how hard his eyes are. “You wanted to do this, so you’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing anything!” He squints when you shout, the sound shrill in the quiet churchyard, a silent warning in his eyes. “I’m going home.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

Yes.

“No, and I don’t care-”

“You said not to let you leave before you said goodbye.”

“And now I’m telling you that I’m going home!”

“And I’m telling you-” he says, gently leading you back towards the grave. “That you’re not.”

“Minho, don’t upset her, if she isn’t ready-”

“No,” he says firmly, pulling you past Felix, bringing you back to the her. “What will upset her, is if we let her back out after making it this far. Look-” ignoring your scowl, he holds your shoulders, letting Felix take his umbrella back. You hate that you can’t help but notice how pretty he looks, drops of rain resting on the tops of his lashes, hitting his cheeks when he blinks, looking you in the eye. “I know this is hard-”

“You have no idea how hard this is-”

“Fine. I don’t. I don’t know how hard this is for you. I’ll never know, and neither will he-” he admits, nodding his head towards Felix. “Neither of us do. We don’t get what you’re feeling, why you wanted to do this in the first place, why you had to come here to do it. I don’t know. But I do know you. And I know you wouldn’t have asked us to come all this way if it wasn’t important to you and if it’s important to you, then I’m going to make sure you see it through, okay?

“She’s gone, Y/N. She’s gone, so there is nothing she can say or do that can hurt you.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“If I’m wrong? I’m never wrong.” When you shove him in the chest, he laughs, wiping your cheek with his wet palms. “But if I am wrong? If- if she somehow rises from the dead trying to get to you? She has to get through me, okay?”

Closing your eyes for a second, you almost picture it. Your mother’s corpse rising from the earth, reaching out for you. You don’t think you’d need Minho’s help. Pregnant or not.

“Okay?” It’s a few seconds before you sigh, nodding. With a final stare, he kisses the top of your head, taking the umbrella from Felix and handing it to you. “We’ll be over there.”

As they walk away, Felix smacking his friend over and over, Minho nearly shoving him into a nearby grave, you watch them, gulping as they disappear in the cloudy distance.

“Why am I here?” You ask yourself, feeling a lump form in your throat.

‘You know why,’ you think. The voice patronising, impatient. ‘To forgive.’

“But I can’t,” you tell yourself. “I don’t think I ever could. Not before, not now..”

‘But you want to,’ it lies. Your mother’s voice sounding so sure, so confident, so smug. ‘You want to forgive, you just always think you’re better than everyone else. Better than me, better than Chan-’

“That’s not true.” You say, defensive. “I-I dont. I never have. You made sure of that.”

‘You could, Y/N. Everyone is capable of doing wrong. Even you.’ She rightly accuses. ‘You think the world owes you some big debt for the card you were dealt. As if you couldn’t have had a worse life. But your life was perfect. You had a home, friends, a family, a mother who loved you-’

“You never loved me-”

‘You don’t know what love is.’

“And whose fault is that?”

‘It’s not about whose fault it is,’ she reminds, throwing your own words back at you. ‘It’s about what you do about it. When I was a child, I thought love was everything. I thought it could fix everything. I thought it was all rainbows, clear skies, prancing through daisy fields, flowers free for the picking.. It was years before I realised I was just killing them all.’

“That wasn’t my fault.”

‘It’s not about whose fault it is.’ She repeats, voice soft yet stern. ‘It’s about what you do about it. It’s not just about love, but everything that comes with it, comes from it. It’s about seeing the world for what it is. Unfair, unjust. It’s about seeing that and taking the little that you get, the good and the bad and making something of it. Taking everything ugly in this world and loving it anyway. Every awful truth, every white lie. It’s about the people around you, taking them as they are, their faults and their merits, and loving them anyway.’

“Is that what you did?” You wonder, fiddling with the petal on her bouquet. “Loved me anyway?”

‘No,’ you almost hear her laugh. You almost miss the sound. ‘I loved you double. I made you strong.’

“Do I look strong to you?” You seeth. “Does this look like strength?”

‘I see you’re everything I couldn’t be.’ She admits, pride bleeding into it. ‘I saw you do everything I couldn’t do, saw you leave because you were unhappy. I’ve seen you get everything you ever wanted, seen you stumble and get back up again. I’ve seen you learn to forgive, learn to fix things yourself. Not let the world have its way, I saw you become strong.’

“No thanks to you.”

‘No,’ she agrees. ‘No, it was thanks to you. I know you don’t agree with my methods, I never expected you to. I never intended for you to hate me, but if it made you what you are today, then I’d do it all over again, in this life and the next. I’d be your mother in any lifetime, just to see you become who you are today.’

“But you didn’t,” you cry, the fog waning as you glare at the headstone, the rain slowing to a near stop, droplets rolling off of her. “You didn’t. You’re not here to see and that’s your fault.”

‘It’s not about whose fault it is. It’s about what you do about it.’ She repeats a final time. ‘I’m not here, and if I was I probably wouldn’t admit it anyway, but you’re better than I ever hoped you’d be. I will never apologise for that. I will never apologise for trying my best, even when you felt I didn’t. I will never apologise for letting you go, because that was what you had to do. You’d still hate me if I didn’t.’

“I do hate you,” you say, a weight filling your chest, hatred seeping out of you every time you fight to cling to it. “I hate you for not being here, to help me, to tell me how to do this. I hate you for not trying harder.”

‘All I could do was my best, Y/N. You’ll see that one day, the same way I did. One day, you’ll see it makes no difference, my being there or not. Because no one can tell you how to be a mother. You just figure it out as you go. And you may have hated me for it, but there’s no version of you I would have rathered make. None.

‘Great mother’s might have skipped a few generations in your family,’ she says forlornly, her voice growing distant. ‘Mine was too soft, and yours too firm. I know that will end with you.’

“And what if it doesn’t- what if I can’t?”

‘Well, I don’t know.’ She breathes, voice fading with the mist, ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

+

It’s well past sunset when you finally get back to your apartment. Minho close behind you on the stairs, a hand on your back as you climb each step slowly.

“I finally see why Felix is the way he is,” Minho comments randomly. You had tried to drop Felix at his parents house before heading back earlier, only to be whisked inside, doted on like the child they never had but happily took in. Which isn’t far from the truth. The summer before college, you moved into the Lees’ spare room, slowly shedding the idea you were imposing with every family dinner, every picture of you placed on a wall. “They’re sweet.”

“Yeah,” you agree, opening your front door. “Don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

They were the guarantors for the place you currently call home. You remember the day you had asked, or tried to at least. You and Felix had both returned for the holidays. You were settled in a small flat a few roads away from where you live now, your heart set on this place. It was awkward, for you anyway. Once Felix had gone out, begrudgingly promising not to interfere, you got started making dinner, certain his parents would say no if you offered. It wasn’t anything special, just spaghetti bolognaise, the sauce wafting through the house just as it was ready.

It took a few tries to force the topic out, your viewing a few places, being accepted for a one bed just a short walk from Felix’s current place with Jisung. They loved the idea, they were happy, proud you were thinking of your future. Before you ever got the chance, you watched Felix’s dad speak around his mouthful of garlic bread- ‘We can’t wait to see it. If you need anything - some furniture, a guarantor - anything, you let us know, okay?’

To this day, Felix still tells everyone the story of how he came back home to find you and his mom weeping at the dining table, his dad watching with wide, confused eyes.

Throwing your coat off, you head straight for the couch, collapsing in a heap as you watch Minho sit on the coffee table to take off your boots. “Thank you.”

He just grunts, placing your foot on his lap before tugging. “My mum said if there’s one thing I should do, it’s this.”

“Take off my shoes?”

He shrugs, “something about not being able to bend over,” laughing when you lean forward, trying and failing to reach the other shoe.

“What else did she say?”

He shrugs again. “That you’re cute.” When you roll your eyes, sliding down the couch a bit as he pulls the other boot off. “She did, she said we should get married too.” When you blanch, less at the idea, more that she said it, that he repeated it, he adds- “That’s what I thought, me, marry a whore?”

Kicking his knee, you glare when he takes both feet in his hands, and turns you before sitting beside you, resting your legs on his lap. “Just a few months ago, you beat someone up for calling me that.”

Laughing, he raises a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “And I’d do it again.” It takes some effort, but you scoot forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you gaze up at him. “You know, people like us used to make me sick.”

“Hm, like what?”

“People in love.” The words so easily from his lips, it takes you a while to realise what he’s said. He doesn’t give you time to comment on it. “It’s disgusting.”

“Not when you’re in it,” you breathe, kissing his shoulder. He just hums, accepting your silent declaration. It’s fitting, you think. It’s quiet for a while, his hand trailing up and down your back, cheek resting on the top of your head. “You staying tonight?”

“Y/N,” he says flatly, “I haven’t slept at my place in weeks.”

“I know,” it doesn’t stop you worrying, that one day he’ll want his space. That he’ll just go. “Just checking.”

A few seconds pass in silence before he asks- “Do you like this place?”

That’s random, you think. Well, not so random, considering your story earlier. But it feels that way, feels loaded. Nodding beneath him, answering- “Yeah, it was the first place I ever got that really felt like home, you know?”

“Ok.” When he says nothing else, you lean back to look at him, finding his eyes stuck on the black television screen.

“Why?”

“Nothing.”

“Minho,” he huffs before looking at you, his guarded gaze a little unsettling. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he repeats, before adding- “Just a little small.”

“Well,” you hum, suddenly defensive of your just a little small sanctuary. “I was one person then.”

“And now?”

You try to bite back a smile. You fail miserably. “Well, now we’re two.” He smiles when you let it show, his eyes falling to his hand over yours, the one resting on your belly. Soon it’ll be three.

“So?”

“So, nothing. It’s just..” When you raise an eyebrow, he looks away again, watching your reflection on the shiny black screen. “My place is kinda far..”

“Yes?”

“And I’m kinda sick of going to feel the cats everyday.”

“Mm?”

“Because I’m always here, so..” Unable to make out your expression in the matted glass, he looks down to find you smirking. He glares, huffing. “Forget it.”

“No no, go on.” When he moves to remove your legs from his lap, you grab his hands. “No, seriously, what were you gonna say?” When he just glares, looking away, you lean up to kiss his cheek, then pout when he turns back to you. “I’m sorry. Please?”

Staring at you, he sighs. “..I don’t see why we need two places.”

“Well,” you start, begging your face to stay neutral. “That’s because we don’t live together..”

“I know.” When you just stare with hopeful, encouraging eyes, corners of your lips upturned, he groans. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Just say what you wanna say Minho.”

“No,” he refuses, crossing his arms. “You ruined it.”

“Whatever.” With a shrug, you lean your head on his shoulder before he nudges you off of him. Pressing your lips to his shoulder, trying and failing to muffle your laughter. The shoe is finally on the other foot, and he doesn’t like it. Serves him right.

“So this is how that feels.” He muses, rolling his eyes at the sound of your laughter before silencing you with a kiss. His palm meets your cheek, his thumb rubbing your jaw with slow, near hypnotic strokes. Resting his forehead on yours, he breathes- “Move in with me.”

Pursing your lips you hum, pretending to think, jumping when he pokes you in the rib. “Okay! Okay.”

It’s funny how in just a few months, Minho went from your mutual friend, to the catalyst for so much change in your life. How you went from mere strangers to lovers, acquaintances to parents. From alone to together. You and him. Him and you. It’s.. bliss.

And then it isn’t. Suddenly, it’s anything but.

“Fuck.”

Minho feels you stiffen beneath him, eyes blown wide. “What is it?”

“I think-” No, you know. It’s just less embarrassing to outright admit. “I think I pissed myself?”

You watch him bite back a laugh, his eyes rolling to feign nonchalance. For whose sake, you don’t know. You appreciate it regardless. He was right, you two are disgusting.

Kissing your forehead, he goes to move you off of his lap when you grit your teeth, hands balling into fits as you muffle a scream. Sitting up fully, he holds your head in his hands. Your eyes screw shut as you try to navigate the pain, try to locate it. He doesn’t move, until you gasp, teary eyes flying open, the pain subsiding as quickly as it came.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you force out, winded. “Fuck- I don’t know what that was.”

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, thumbs running over your cheeks.

“All down my back,” you breathe, bringing a hand under your belly. “-and right here.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before he stiffens, eyes wide.

“What?” He says nothing, shifting you slightly to look at the dark spot on the couch.

“Shit.”

“What?” Even in his haste, he moves you off of him with the utmost care, placing your feet gently on the carpet before getting up. “Minho! Don’t go!”

“Hey, hey,” still a little pale, he turns to you, kneeling on the ground, rubbing your knees. “Wait here for me, okay? Deep breaths.” When he tries to leave again, you latch onto his arm, blinking back tears. “You didn’t piss yourself, I think you’re in labour.”

Labour.

You’re in.. labour?

“No, no, no- I’m not. It’s too soon- stop that! Just- stay! Where are you going!”

“I need to pack your hospital bag,” he says with as little smugness as is possible for Minho. Which isn’t much. You had been putting it off for a while, swearing he was being over prepared. “Don’t move, I’m coming right back.”

“Minho!” He’s gone for what feels like hours, the pain dull but lingering as you think over his words. Labour. Hospital bag. Deep breaths. It’s then you realise you’d been holding your breath. You curse him on your second inhale, a pain shooting through your groin, all the way up your back and over your shoulders. He runs in at the sound of your scream, frowning at the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks. Through the pain you feel him stroking your head, mumbling about something. “It’s too soon,” you cry, watching him unbutton your dress, helping you stand. Your eyes catch the sweats and t-shirt slung over his shoulder. “We still have a few weeks.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he rushes, stripping you with just enough care. “It’s just a few weeks, baby.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder you just weep. Baby. You haven’t heard that from him yet. It’d have you reeling if it didn’t happen now. Especially when your baby is coming. Shit. Your baby is coming. “No. I wanted more time..”

“It’s okay,” kissing your temple, he strokes your head, patting his pocket, checking for his phone and keys. “We’re ready, we don’t need time.”

“No.” You cry, sniffling. “I wanted more time with you.”

“I told you, dummy.” He smiles, kissing your forehead before he walks you to the door, grabbing your hospital bag. “I’m not going anywhere.”

10 MONTHS

Clenching and unclenching his fist, Chan exhales before letting his knuckles hit the door with three soft strikes.

Except the few times he forgot his key, Chan can’t remember ever knocking on your front door. It’s jarring, to think of himself as a guest in your home after years of the opposite. It’s even more jarring to see who welcomes him: a visibly exhausted yet ever handsome, Minho.

Neither of them speak for a few seconds, Minho’s tired eyes warming slightly as Chan’s rested pair look him over. “You look like shit, mate.”

“I feel like it,” Minho laughs, pulling the door open a bit more to welcome his old friend inside. It’s surprisingly quiet, Chan thinks, for a house with a newborn. “They’re sleeping.”

“Right.” He was never subtle, he remembers you saying once, evidenced by his eyes slowly scanning the living room. It’s neat, bar the moses basket and brand new bottle cleaner sat atop the coffee table. “Good thing I didn’t get that then,” he says, pointing at the contraption.

“Yeah, Felix dropped it round when we got home last week,” Minho grumbles, scratching his head. “Still can’t figure it out.”

“Want me to take a look?” Minho doesn’t say anything as he raises his hand, gesturing to the couch. The space has changed slightly. His- the other couch, is against the wall now, the moses basket in its place. Sitting, he digs out the instructions, eyeing them quietly.

“Want a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

When Minho heads into the kitchen, Chan swallows. He hadn’t spoken to Minho. Not a word since the fight. He’d spoken to you though. The odd text here and there, you’d met for that coffee you promised, awkwardly steering clear of the topic of you both and sticking to catching up. He asked about the baby, you told him about the baby. You reluctantly asked about his spiders, and he told you about the spiders. It was amicable. It was nice.

He and Minho however? “Here.”

It was weird. He knew him before he ever knew you. The pair met at your college open day, the elder of the two spending the day guiding the latter and his parents through the near mile long campus, quietly telling him all the best spots for studying, partying, even doing laundry. Random tips and tricks to making it through college life. His parents spoke more than he did, still unsure about their only child moving to a college so far from home. Chan had happily soothed their concerns, complimenting the college dance programme, watching Minho’s eyes light up at its mention. Like they do now, when Chan asks about you.

“She’s good,” though like always, behind them lingers some restraint. It isn’t for his sake, Chan thinks. Minho, though one to downplay something for his own discretion, unknowingly gives something else away. Something is wrong. “Just adjusting.”

“What d’you mean?”

Looking up from the finally assembled and currently cleansing bottle cleaner, Minho sighs- “She’s still trying to get used to everything. Feeding, changing.. it’s all still new, I guess.”

Nodding, Chan sips his beer, watching Minho dig the heels of his palms into his eyes with a yawn. “But she’s okay, right?” Blinking, Minho sniffs. It was weird. Seeing Minho so pensive, so troubled. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” shaking his head, he swallows. “No, it’s just-” the words catch in his throat. Chan thinks he’s over stepping when his eyes widen, catching the gleam in Minho’s eyes. “She’s- she’s struggling.”

“With what?”

“All of it.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, wringing his hands before he looks at Chan, seeing the warmth, the concern in his eyes. “She was early,” he says, thinking back. “So that came as a shock, and because of it they couldn’t come home straight away. Baby had to stay, get monitored. On top of that, Y/N got an infection which freaked her out a bit. I had to stay here, she wasn’t able to see her all the time. All the weeks alone in hospital, I think everything started getting to her.”

Chan just nods, a little antsy at no sign of you in the time he’s been here. He isn’t proud of it, but hearing from you has really helped him. Going from spending nearly every night with you to radio silence, the slow stream of contact has done wonders for him. When he’d only heard the news from Felix after you promised to update him, he panicked. It’s why he’s here.

“She’s active, like, she’s proper eager to help. But- just not with her? I love doing it, all of it. And she’s been amazing, she’s cooking, cleaning, tidying up, making bottles.. but when it comes to the baby, it’s like she’s terrified of doing something wrong. And she wants to, I can see it. When I walk in on them, when she thinks I’m not looking, I catch her playing with her, poking her cheek, shaking her foot or something,” Minho remembers with a soft grin. “But, besides that? Nothing. As if she can’t? Or isn’t allowed to? Or thinks she doesn’t deserve to, doesn’t deserve her. It’s like she thinks she might hurt her, as if she ever could. And I don’t get it but after all the complications, I think she’s- it’s like-”

It’s weird, but Chan doesn’t think twice before getting up, hugging Minho tight as he cries. Sobs ripping through him as he muffles the sound in Chan’s shoulder. It’s terrifying. What could be so wrong that Minho could be like this. The Lee Minho. Chan has never seen Minho like this. He wants to know why.. until he doesn’t.

“I think she thinks it was her fault.”

Chan squeezes tighter at that, his own words screaming back at him, mocking him.

‘Maybe your dad had the right idea, getting out before it was too late, because I’m not sticking around while you fuck up our kid too.’

“Can I talk to her?” Chan breathes suddenly, worried at Minho’s confused glare, his red eyes scanning the paling face of his old friend. What would it do? Chan telling you to grow up, to get up and be a mother. Chan almost backtracks at the distrust in Minho’s eyes, the same warning look he remembers from the party darkening them. But he holds his ground. “I think I can help.”

After a long second, Minho sniffs, daring him- “Say anything to hurt her-”

“I won’t.” Chan promises, swallowing. “I swear.”

With a hard stare, Minho nods. Sighing- “You know where she is.”

+

It’s quiet, bar the soft breaths from the cot beside your bed when the door knocks, your eyes moving toward it, a grin already forming on your lips. It lessens into a soft smile when he doesn’t appear but Chan does, a pink, paper gift bag in his hands. Sitting up, you tilt your head. “Hey you.”

“Hey,” Chan smiles, eyes meeting yours. “I come bearing gifts.. Well, one gift.”

“You didn’t have to.” You try, laughing when he glares playfully. It’s easy with you, Chan thinks. Not so much in a bedroom he once shared with you, his eyes catching the box marked Minho, dance trophies spilling out. But it’s easy, almost like it used to be. “What is it?”

Stuffing his hand in the bag, he pulls it out to reveal a stuffed wolf, a pink bow wrapped around its neck.

“You look adorable.”

“Har har,” he grumbles, moving to hand it to you, watching you twirl it between your hands. “It was Felix’s idea.”

“That explains it,” you say, watching his brows knit. “I think he told you all the same thing,” you smile, pointing at the array of stuffed animals at her feet, most impressed by the pig-rabbit hybrid at the end, the quokka and chicken nestled just north of her tiny, perfectly round head. Turning back to you, his brows almost blend into one as you hand it back to him, telling him- “Put them together.”

“No, you do it,” he tries, watching you stiffen only just. “I don’t want to mess up the arrangement.”

“You could never.” You say simply, folding up a pile of muslin.

Though the words give him pause, they’re not enough to prove Minho’s point, but they’re something. Chan has seen you with kids. They gravitate towards you, and you to them. It’s part of the reason you two started discussing trying, traversing your early hesitance at the idea of becoming the very thing you feared the most. So, to see you, smiling eyes glued to her round face, sitting a good few feet away from your newborn.. it’s strange.

“How you feeling?” He asks suddenly, your head turning at the sound, as if you’d forgotten he were there. “Felix said it wasn’t.. easy?”

“Is it meant to be?” You joke, shrugging. “I’m good. She was-” you frown at the memory, shaking your head ever so slightly, patting the folded muslin in your lap. “We’re good.”

“That’s good,” he nods warmly, eyeing the half packed boxes. “Almost all packed up?”

“Yeah,” you grin, pointing to a box of Minho’s stuff, “his stuff is already done from his place but still got all mine to do. Lix’s parents said they’d take some of it in their attic but just need to decide what.”

“Right, right.”

“Did Lix show you it?” When he shakes his head, you reach for your phone, going on about the cute two-bed a couple blocks away. He thinks he gets it now. How ready you are to talk about anything and everything except what is wrong. He’s about to think up another way to bring it up when the baby wakes, the beginnings of a cry already cutting through the room.

Looking toward you, he sees it clearly. How you shrink into yourself, a frown forming on your delicate features, your body rising sharply as you go to call for Minho. “I’ll just go get him-”

“Hey, hey,” you’re almost at the door when he rushes- “It’s okay, may I?”

You nod immediately, the trust in your eyes warming him. He feels your eyes on him as he walks to pick her up, his voice low as he coos at her, large hands carefully lifting her from the cot before cradling her in his big arms. She was tiny, but even more so with Chan, her small body sinking into the puffy sleeves of his sweatshirt. He silences her with a few gentle rocks, arms still swinging side to side before he looks up, finding you watching them in silent awe. Chan has always been good at everything, why would this be any different?

When she cries again, probably unfamiliar with his smell, or the ridges in his arms, the depth of his voice different to her dad’s, he’s quick to navigate it, soothing her- “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, there you go-” Ah, this is awkward. “Felix never sent her name when he text.”

Looking up, he finds you chewing your lips, rubbing your palms down your top. “She- she doesn’t have one yet.” Swallowing, you nod towards the door. “I told Minho to just pick one but he kept saying ‘no, that’s not how it works’, so we’re still deciding.” He keeps rocking her, nodding gently as you continue. “You know, without a name, she technically doesn’t legally exist because we can’t get her a birth certificate? It’s very Matrix, don’t you think?”

“Yeah..” he breathes, looking at her then back to you. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Uh-” You think for a moment before shrugging, coming up short. Kora comes to mind. Soon to be cursed to a half life in hell, the rest in fleeting happiness until her return there. Maybe Persephone, like she came to be known. You say neither. “Nothing really suits her.”

“None?” You shake your head, sitting when he does. “She doesn’t look like anyone?”

You remain silent for a moment, a sad smile on your face as you whisper, “She looks a bit like my mom..” his eyes dart to your cheek then, watching you swipe your hand over it as you laugh. “Poor thing.”

“Hey-”

“Ignore me, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Chan, it’s fine.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m fine!” You say suddenly, a shout quiet enough not to wake her. A loud whisper of sorts. “I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine. She hasn’t got a name yet because Minho won’t pick and I can’t decide because.. because every time I look at her, I see my mom. I look at her, and I remember how.. how everything is my fault.”

“Y/N, that’s not true-”

“Yes it is. Everything is. Her, me and you, my mom. Her bipolar came after I did, she lived her whole life before me, and I came in and ruined it. She spiralled after I left, and now she’s gone. So you know, maybe if I never did, she’d still be here. Maybe she’d tell me what to do, how to fix this, how to- how to be a fucking mom.” Your breaths shallow with every word, your eyes still stuck on Chan’s arms, tears finally spilling over the edge of your welling eyes. “I hated her because she didn’t want me but had me anyway. And now look at me. I wanted her so bad, and I have no fucking clue how to take care of her. So which is worse, huh? Having a baby you don’t want and still trying, only for her to walk out on you? Or having one you do want and fucking everything up? I finally went to see her a few months ago. Being there finally made me realise that maybe I should’ve cut her some slack. That maybe she did everything she could, that everything she did was to make me strong, to prepare me for life, for this. And she did it all on her own, all by herself. I have someone to help and I still can’t do it. I’m still fucking it up.

“But hey,” you shrug with a small smile, eye’s gleaming. “She’s only half me right? The other half is the only thing saving her.” Your laughter cuts through the hate you feel for yourself, staring at the spot where Chan once sat as he rises to place your sleeping daughter in her cot. “Minho’s perfect with her. It’s the only thing getting me through every day, seeing them together. It just clicked for him. Like he was born to do this, to be a dad, be her dad. She stops crying the second he enters the room, she’s barely two months and smiles when she hears him. She’s gorgeous, just like him. She’s perfect. He’s perfect. And I’m-” it’s then your eyes find Chan, his so full of concern, full of pity. It makes your stomach turn. “I’m just- I just can’t do it.”

Is it wrong? To miss Chan holding you? To miss him comforting you? To miss the way his presence alone can fix so much without so much as a word said? Encasing you in his arms as he squeezes every drop from you, his damp shoulder pressed to your cheek, your nose breathing in his scent, soothed by the very smell of your ex lover? You think not. Not when you experienced so much together, lived together, loved one another.

And you think you still do, just not in the way you once did. Not the way you love Minho, or the way you love Felix. It’s something else entirely. You love Chan in the way you think you would have had your lives been different, had he not taken Minho’s chance so many years ago, had he just been your friend.

You love Chan how you think you always should have. Not as a lover, but a friend.

A friend who takes you as you are, who has seen every part of you, both good and bad and loves you anyway. A friend who holds you tight, stroking your hair with gentle pats, rocking you side to side before breathing- “I’m going to say something you’re not going to like-”

“That isn’t new-”

“And I want you to listen until I’m done,” he laughs, squeezing tighter. “Okay?”

It’s a few seconds before you nod, giving him a final squeeze before pulling away.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” The words come out softly, echoing your own. “You- Y/N, you? Are the best person I know.” He glares when you open your mouth, watching it shut as the words die on your tongue, leaving you to think them instead. You both know Felix Lee. “We were together for over five years and those were five of the best years of my life. You gave those to me. And I know they weren’t all the same for you, I know you put a lot aside for me. Everything with your mom, everything you were feeling, everything you wanted in life. I wanted a family and you tried for me, you tried because you wanted what I did and I didn’t think of you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because maybe if I did, if I just thought about you for a second, we could’ve worked on everything together, instead of trying to patch everything up with a baby. If I thought of you then, then maybe we could’ve been happy.. maybe you would’ve been happy. Maybe if I tried to show you that you weren’t just your mother’s daughter, but that you were so, so much more, things would be different.

“But they aren’t. And maybe that’s how it was meant to be. Y/N, you’ve spent your whole life on your own. You raised yourself, you loved yourself. You did everything yourself. And a few months ago, it would’ve killed me to admit it, but now you don’t have to. You have Minho, you have her,” he smiles, looking at your now awake, humming daughter. “You have a beautiful baby, a beautiful life. And it may not be how you planned, how you wanted it, but it’s your life now. And I wouldn’t want it for anyone else. Your daughter is so lucky to have you. And sure your mom wasn’t the best, but she made you Y/N. You’re loving, and caring, you give everyone who walks into your life so much of yourself, you don’t even see that you’re hurting. And I know you think you’re helping her, by staying away, by standing aside. I know you think you’re doing the best thing for her, but you can’t hurt yourself just to protect her. There’s nothing to protect her from! You say Minho’s the best chance she’s got? This girl is already half you, which means half of her already has the best chance she could ever have. There is no version of you that doesn’t deserve her, deserve everything you want. You don’t have to learn how to be a mother, Y/N. You just do it. You just figure it out as you go. And you already wanting the world for her is proof enough that you’re a good mother, great even.

“How everything turned out with your mom is shit. It is. But you’re not her. You’re you. Yes, you are your mother’s daughter, but this girl is yours. And she’s going to be okay, more than okay.. because she has you.”

You read once that babies can sense sadness, and though that isn’t even close to what you’re feeling, you think yours can sense something as she suddenly cries, her swaddled body shifting side to side. When the door opens at the sound, Chan also moving to grab her, you wipe your cheek, grabbing his arm-

“I’ll get her,” you breathe, looking toward Minho, rolling your eyes at his teary, almost annoying astonishment.. “I am her mom, aren’t I?”

“Go on then,” he glares, watching in quiet awe as you walk over to her, only slightly hesitant as you lower your hands to her head and feet before raising her out of the cot.

“She’s so small,” you whisper, smiling at them both, before holding her close, feeling her settle as she rests her head over your heart. “Hi love,” looking up at you, you watch her lips curl, the whispers of a smile on her face. It’s then you see it, in the soft curves of her cheeks, the slight arch of her brows, the tiny dip of her nose. You think you saw it all along. She doesn’t look like your mother, or maybe she does, because- “She kinda looks like me.”

12 MONTHS

“At this time we call on the parents, grandparents and chosen godparents of Love Lee to come forward.”

Looking over your shoulder, you glare at your group of friends gathered in the second row pew, quickly silencing their snickers.

“‘Love Lee’, whose clever idea was that again?”

“Y/N’s,” Minho grumbles, flicking Jisung’s forehead before getting up. “We didn’t realise until we went to the town hall- wake him up.”

“Why are you flicking me? I wasn’t the one who named her,” Jisung grumbles, rubbing his forehead as he nudges Jeongin awake. “Wake up, you’re drooling.” Watching Felix and his parents get up to approach the baptismal font, Jisung slouches a little before announcing to no one in particular, “I didn’t want the first one anyway, the first kid is always boring. I want the second one. The fun one, ya know?”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Changbin smirks, giving Felix a thumbs up when he straightens his suit jacket.

“No seriously,” Jisung defends, watching you place Love in the priest’s waiting arms. “Think about it. Harry and William, Anna and Elsa, Solange and Bey- no not that one. Yeji and Hyunjin!”

“Hey!” Hyunjin warns, glaring as Jisung turns to a grinning Yeji a row behind, winking.

“Yep. Firstborns are overrated. I’m getting the second one.”

“You keep telling yourself that, mate.” Chan says suddenly, patting his friend’s shoulder as he shuffles along the pew to join the others at the font.

Glaring at his retreating figure, Jisung muses- “And besides, if anything happens to Chan or Felix, I’m next in line.”

“Who said?” Seungmin laughs, kneeling beside Jeongin to snap a shot of you all gathered by the font, Felix and Chan listening carefully to the priest. “Because I’m pretty sure they’re not picking the bitter friend with no money to raise their kid if they die-”

“Hey, fuck you man-” at the chorus of gasps, a revenge elbow in the rib back from Jeongin and a glare from Minho’s parents at the front, Jisung bows his head, whispering- “Why are they doing this anyway? Are they even religious?”

“I think Minho said something about Y/N not wanting Love to burn in the eternal flame.” Jeongin yawns, shoving him as he stretches.

It’s silent for a second before Jisung nods. “I love The Bangles.”

+

“Hey Love! Hi! Hi, look at me! There we go.. everyone say ‘Happy Christening’.”

“Happy Christening!”

With a final few snaps of the shutter, Seungmin’s job is done for the evening. “Okay, Seungmin, you’re done. Nope, you’re done. Take this-” you say firmly, placing an open beer in his hand, grabbing the camera off of him. “Go have fun.”

“I just want to get a few more-”

“Go!” With a glare and failed final try, he concedes, taking a long swig of the beer before moving to stalk off when you pull him back. “No, wait!”

“No, no, I’m not in the pictures, I just take them.”

“But what if when she’s older she asks why you weren’t here?” You pout, grinning when he sighs, following your line of sight to find the four month old bouncing on Jeongin’s lap, squealing as she rises in the air. Just then, your eyes catch on a familiar head of blonde hair. “Quick, go grab her before Felix gets her. You’ll never get her off him.”

Rising to the challenge, he takes quick a few quick, short strides in her direction, snatching and spinning her in the air before Felix gets a chance. “Hey!”

“You snooze, you lose,” Seungmin yells over his shoulder before posing. “Hurry up, I think he might kill me.”

Taking a few blurry, a few excellent shots, you look through them before looking up, finding Felix and Jeongin flanking Seungmin. Snapping a few more, you look up to see the rest of the guys approaching, relinquishing their seat on the last piece of furniture in the empty living room.

One of them is missing.

You realise who as you take a few steps back, trying to get them all in. “Oh!”

“Watch it, these are my expensive shoes.”

“All of them are your expensive shoes, idiot.” When he tickles your sides, you gasp, warning- “Careful, if I drop this, Love’ll be fatherless.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll happily take his place.” Jisung says honourably before leaning forward to find someone. “Unless of course, Chan wanted to..”

“Oooooo.”

Rolling your eyes, you look towards a laughing Minho, whispering, “No one could replace you.”

“I know,” he whispers over your lips, capturing them with his before the jokes start up again.

“You mad Chan?” Jeongin tries to a less successful reception, Chan’s hand swinging out and grabbing his tie. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Hey, watch the kid.” Minho warns, leaving your side to take Love in his arms.

“Or what?” Chan says, taking Love from Seungmin before he can, freeing the latter to grab and pack his camera before anything happens to his baby. “There’s no table to throw me through this time.”

“Don’t,” pinching Love’s cheek as he lets Chan hold her. “You’ll start him up again.”

“Who, me?” Changbin shouts, crossing his arms. “The guy whose table still hasn’t been replaced?”

“Well,” Felix muses, “If we hadn’t thrown that party, that fight wouldn’t have happened.”

“Exactly,” you agree, nodding. “So technically.. it’s Hyunjin’s fault.”

“For what?” Hyunjin yells. “Being born?” There’s collective agreement before he huffs. “Love,” he says, walking up to your baby before kissing her forehead. “Goodnight. Thanks for a great time,” before walking out of your apartment, threatening- “Whoever came in my car better find a ride home because none of you are coming with me!”

“I didn’t agree, Jinnie!” Jeongin shouts, kissing Love on the cheek and waving goodbye before running after him.

They suddenly all begin to trickle out, Chan and Felix the last as they grab and slip on their shoes. Minho has to pry Love out of Felix’s hands for you to hug him, his pout lingering when you remember. “Oh!” Running to Felix’s room, you grab something from the cabinet before returning. “We have something for you two. Well, Love does.”

Gasping, Felix turns to the infant. “You didn’t have to get us anything!” Grinning when she reaches for him, squealing as she slaps him across the cheek. “I’m gonna let that slide.”

“Seriously, though,” Chan says, looking at you both as he digs into the bag, pulling out a small box. You feel Minho lean into your side, his slipping onto your hip as Love bounces on his own. They open the gifts in silence, the silver bangles glistening in the low light. Chan catches it first, the tiny inscription. A love heart. “Aw, that’s cute.”

“I love it! Thank you, baby!” He says with a grin, eyeing Minho expectantly before he just shakes his head. With a dejected sigh, a final kiss and a hug goodbye, Felix shrugs his suit jacket back on before he heads for the door, certain Seungmin and Jisung are about to leave him behind. “Chan, need a ride?”

“Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute?” When he’s gone, you feel Minho lean his cheek on your head, Chan smiling softly. “I- uh, I just realised I never said thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something to remember today-”

“No,” he laughs, already forgetting the little cuff on his wrist. “Not that- I mean, this is amazing, really. But I meant-” looking at Love, he smiles again. “Thanks for choosing me. I know you could’ve chosen anyone, and I’m honoured you guys picked me.”

“Yeah,” Minho huffs, “Well it was you or Jisung, and I wasn’t picking him.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit pissed about that..” Chan laughs, scratching his neck.

“He’ll get over it,” Minho shrugs. “But you’re my brother, man. Of course.”

“Yeah.” With a clap, he drops a kiss on Love’s head before hugging you both. “I’ll see you guys next week, at the new place?”

“Yes. See you then.”

And then it’s just you three.

When you say it like that, the number feels so small when seven people have just left. But when you remember not even eight months ago, it was just you, it feels like the saying goes: a crowd. No, not a crowd.

A family.

“I thought I told you to stop thinking so hard,” you hear Minho say, turning to find him watching you from the couch, Love napping in her cot next door. “You’re not that bright, you might hurt yourself.”

“Har har.” Walking over to him, you drop yourself in his lap, thinking back to all those months ago when the sight of him jarred you. Now, it wouldn’t feel right without him. It’s funny, how well you fit in his lap now, the reason you're together snoozing away one door down. You bask in the peace for a moment, feeling his hand settle at your lower back, before inching its way up, working the muscles like they once had to. When it meets your neck, turning it towards him, he guides your lips to his.

Kissing Minho is the most natural thing in the world. It’s practically necessary at this point. Feeling his lips move against yours, his hands pulling you over him, slotting your thighs either side of his. Perched on his knees, you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, the white satin gathering on his cuffs as you untie his tie with shaky fingers. When his fingers meet the lace, he pauses, pulling away to look at you, then them.

“These for me?” He asks with a smirk, the smugness almost ruining the gesture. Almost. When you nod, he squints. “You wore these to the church?”

“Mhm.”

“You know,” he says with a low voice, unbuttoning your dress slowly, “If you told me that then, the service would’ve gone a lot differently.”

“Minho,” you warn, or try to, it’s more a whine as he pulls back your dress, knuckles dusting over your clothed heat. “We’re already cohabiting, having sex and had a baby all before marriage. I don’t need sex in a church added to my list of sins.”

“Is this you proposing?” He breathes into your neck, lips latching to the skin when you hit his arm. “Don’t be shy, I would’ve said yes.”

“Fuck off, I am not proposing to you.”

“What?” He asks, unhooking your bra before pressing firmly against your back, bringing your chest to his mouth. Looking up, he watches you through his lashes, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick your nipple, guiding it into his waiting mouth with a gentle suck. “You said it yourself,” his words send a shiver through you, his lips curving as you push your chest toward his waiting mouth. “We’re moving in together, we’re fucking, we have a baby.” Rolling it between his teeth, he grins when you gasp, placing a kiss to the skin just above. “Let’s get married.”

Sitting back on his knees, you glower at him. Not this again.

“You choose the worst times to play games with me.”

“I’ve never played a game with you, baby,” he confesses, looking up at you in earnest. “You just called it that.”

“So you’re admitting you were actively flirting with me when I was with Chan?” He nods. “So you’re a homewrecker?”

“Well,” he shrugs, passing his thumb over your clit, watching your lips part. “There wasn’t really a home to wreck, was there?”

“Have I ever told you you’re really fucking annoying?”

“Yeah, once or twice.” Bringing you back down to him, you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the cool buttons of his shirt biting at the skin on your chest. Sliding down further, you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling him shift before he lifts you to unbuckle his belt and trousers, slipping them down his legs before kicking them off. “Did I ever tell you, you’re beautiful?”

“In less words,” dropping your hand down, you watch his head fall back on the couch, swallowing as you palm him, fingers slowly wrapping around him.

“In less words than two?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, teeth grazing his Adam’s apple, forcing a breath out of him. “You’re pretty selective with your compliments, baby.”

“Well, if I said it too often, it wouldn’t be as meaningful would it?” You suppose, the words are still swimming around in your head. “Kinda like ‘I love you’.”

“You’ve never said you love me.”

“But you know I do,” he says simply, hips rising to your hand as you slip them in his waistband, freeing him with nimble twists of your wrist. Watching you, he hisses- “You do right?” When you raise a brow, letting your thumb graze over his tip, he forces out- “You know I love you?”

“I know,” you pout, letting him take it between his teeth as you slide your closed fist down around him.

“Then marry me.” You look into his warm eyes with exasperation, biting back a smile, biting back a yes as you slide your fist up and down, feeling the weight of him increase beneath your palm. He struggles to retain that warmth, darkness seeping in with every tug, his lips parting as you lean in to kiss him, before he pulls his lips away again. “Marry me.”

“Minho!” Releasing him, you watch him scowl, pouting at your indignation. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not!”

“Look,” you warn with a sigh, feeling him drag you closer, his breath catching as the lace of your panties rubs his cock just enough to feel a hint of relief. “If you were serious, you’d have a ring and be on one knee, and it wouldn’t be while we’re half naked about to fuck!”

“Well, I’m not on one knee, because we’re about to fuck,” he points out, leaning to the other end of the couch to grab his suit jacket. “But I do-” digging into the pocket, he pulls out a little box, a miniature version of the one’s you’d just gifted your daughter’s godfathers. “Have a ring.”

Opening the box, he turns it towards you, looking awfully smug for someone flushed as red as he is. You stare at it for a while, the silver band topped with a perfectly cut diamond. It’s clean. It’s simple. It’s perfect.

“You’re the mother of my daughter. You’re-” looking up, thinking he might be choking up, you only find him.. Annoyed, begrudgingly admitting- “You’re my best friend at this point,” softened by the tears he finds swimming in your eyes. “I’m- I’m fucking whipped, Y/N. Me. I’m in love with you, okay? I’d do anything for you. Be mine.

“Marry me.”

Oh, you definitely win.

“Okay.” You say, pecking his lips. “I’ll marry you.”

Plucking the ring out the box, he slides it onto your second to last finger, watching it glide on with impeccable ease. When you raise a brow, he confesses- “Felix helped me.”

“He knew?”

“Yeah.” Funny, how good your best friend is at keeping Minho’s secrets and not yours.

“Now, are you gonna sit on my dick or what?”

“I don’t know, can I take my yes back?” Shaking his head, he pumps himself a few times as you slide your panties off, smiling at him. Rolling his eyes, he eyes the piece of fabric as it rolls down, slipping his hand between you two, his middle finger slipping into you with equally impeccable ease. You hear the words before he speaks them. “I swear to god, Minho-”

“Who you been fucking?”

“I had a baby, you dickhead.”

“Mm, sure-” you cut him off as you take him to the hilt, lips closing around his as he grunts, the sound only half the assurance you need. When he looks at you, he mirrors your frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Am I-” you swallow, watching a flush creep down his neck and chest, the words having to force their way out. “Do I still feel good?”

He pouts at that, thumb swiping the streaks left behind on your cheeks. “Yeah, you’re perfect.”

“It’s just..” he watches you, holding himself back from begging you to move, though concern still fills his gaze. “You’re not usually loud but you’re never this quiet.”

“Well, you haven’t started, have you?” He pants out, pushing your hair out of your face. “And Love is asleep next door.”

“Okay,” you concede, feeling him stiffen as you shift slightly, the motion making you squeeze around him. He kisses you then, and again, and again, lips moving slowly, hands finding your hips before he lifts you up and brings you back down, a long, quiet groan leaving his lips as you begin to take over, your knees working extra hard as you rise and fall, his hands creeping up your sides, thumbs rubbing the soft skin beneath your breasts.

His groans slowly fill the air, mingling with yours as you tighten around him, every drag of him along your walls earning increasingly louder mewls, his hands gripping you tighter as you force yourself up and down, a burn growing in your thighs. He senses this as you begin to slow, a smirk pulling his lips to one side. “Need me to take over?”

Fucking liar. He did play games.

You pull a new found strength from this, your hands rubbing their way up his chest to his shoulders, forgoing the action entirely, instead rolling your hips, pushing him against a soft, gradually hardening spot within you with each thrust into him. Each one makes him heady, his jaw tensing with every motion, every squeeze. You feel him pulse inside you, his head falling back on the couch on a particularly slow drag of your heat.

“You better not come in me.”

“Come on,” he whines, feeling you slow to a devastating stop, his thumb moving to rest on your clit. “Chan was right, Jisung’s pissed.”

“If you think I’m having another baby for Han Jisung, you’re insane.”

“Maybe I am,” he huffs before inhaling deeply and turning you both, letting your back fall into the emerald couch, his hips snapping into you with a new found vigour. “Let’s have another.”

“Minho.”

“Fine,” kissing your neck, he lets his thumb find your clit again, fucking into you with his lip between his teeth, releasing it just to say- “You’re swallowing it then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine- fuck,” he slows when you tighten around him, gripping him tight as he circles your clit. Watching your face contort, he laughs to himself. “Close, baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting yourself not to scream, as he shortens his strokes, but sharpens them, hammering a spot that has your jaw hanging open. It’s dizzying, the weight of him above you, the angle of him in you, his thumb working on your clit. It’s all too much. A good too much. “M-Minho-”

“It’s okay, baby. Go ahead.” He whispers, kissing your bitten lips, swallowing your scream as you cum, your walls closing around him. Nearly milking him, he’s forced to pull out as he keeps working your clit, kissing your open mouth. “Good girl, that’s it.”

You’re trembling beneath him, the couch soaking up your light film of sweat as you pant, feeling the last of your orgasm fading away, just as you look up, finding him watching you, oddly sweet.

“Come here,” your eyes drop to his slick cock, his fingers gripping the base tight, literally holding back his release. “Hurry.”

“Hold on,” you laugh, gripping his tensed thighs when he kneels, your hands rubbing them as he places the head in your waiting mouth, his hands finding the back of your neck and couch to steady him, the last of his energy draining out of him with every bob of your head and hollow of your cheeks. He shivers when you pull him out, your lips sucking on his tip, tongue swirling.

“Just like that,” he whispers, thumb rubbing along your jaw as you take him back in, letting his hand guide your head. He smirks when you glare at him, almost gagging as your lips touch his base. “Sorry.”

He’s not sorry. Not even a little. But you can take it, he knows you can. If your first night together a year ago was anything to go by.

A year.

A year with Minho. Well, not exactly, but it’s easier to believe that in a full year so much could change. That in one year, Minho went from a stranger at your front door, to the love of your life. That in one year, you went from the lowest point in your life to its peak. That in one year, Minho made you his.

“Shit-” he hisses, feeling you swallow around his head, your cheeks hollowed, milking his cum straight down your throat. Hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, you feel them soften with every gulp, his hand loosening around your neck, his other coming to pull you off him completely, tilting your head up to kiss him as he collapses over you.

“Get- off!” You whine, laughing as he drops his full weight on you. He hums when you wrap your arms around his waist, the tiny pitter patter of paws sounding from down the hall. “Go open Felix’s door for them before they scratch the wood.”

He just groans, a defiant no readied on his lips before the timely cries of your waking daughter sound. “Okay, babe.” He rushes against the skin of your neck, quickly kissing you before running down the hall.

One year ago, you couldn’t imagine being a mother. Now? Now you couldn’t imagine being anything but.

Grabbing your dress, you throw it on, laughing when you see Minho glower, his eyes catching the mess in the litter box. “Hey babe? Wanna trade-”

“Nope!” Closing the door behind you, you switch on a lamp. “Hey, lovely,” you coo, buttoning up your dress as you hear the sound of your voice alone cutting through her wails. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Gathering her in your arms, you grin as she settles, her writhing slowing with each gentle whisper. “Shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

Some time passes as you sway side to side, perching yourself on the bed, looking around the empty room before looking back down at her fluttering eyes.

“Did you sleep well, angel? Did you dream?” When she just garbles, you nod like the unintelligible sound is the most interesting thing in the world to you. “Oh really? Then what happened?” She murmurs on cue, fingers latching onto one of yours. “Right, right. My mommy used to say if you fall asleep again quickly, you might be able to finish it.” She moves side to side, an obvious no. “No? You’re up?” She squeals. “That’s a shame, but it’s okay. You have so much time to dream and make every one of them come true..” you frown then, back tracking. “But Love, even if they don’t?” You whisper, kissing her tiny fist. “You can just dream again, and try again, and dream again, and try again. And mommy will be there. No matter. Daddy too, okay?”

She squeals again, the sound forcing a grin on your face.

“Does that sound good? Mommy’s gonna do her best for you, and she might make mistakes sometimes, but I don’t want you to ever forget how much I love you. How much daddy loves you, how much your uncles love you, nana Lee, papa Lee.. times two!” You laugh, pressing your lips to her tiny hand. “You’re gonna do great, chicken. I didn’t always think so. Your nanny, she wasn’t always there.. but she taught me how to love, she taught me how to be a mommy by showing me how not to be,” you laugh, wiping your cheek. “There’s a lesson in everything, in every good and bad thing in life. Even the ugliest things, you can take them and learn from them, learn how to carry on. So one day if I’m not here anymore, if Daddy isn’t here, you’ll have every memory, good or bad, to keep you going. You’ll take them as they are, all their faults and their merits, and you’ll love them anyway.”

She whines then, lips down turned. ‘What if I can’t?’

You shrug, kissing her forehead before breathing against her skin, “There’s only one way to find out.”

You are your mother’s daughter. And maybe that in itself is a testament to yourself, your mother, to her mother. One day you will teach your daughter the same. That she is your daughter but that’s not all she is. She is yours, but she is also hers.

You’ll teach her that mother’s lie, but mother’s also love, just like yours did.

Your mother lied, love can’t fix everything. But maybe Love could. Maybe Love did.