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btsmosphere · 6 months ago

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 4: We Aren't Heroes, Honey

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?~ 🗲this chapter: A chaotic arrival turns everything on its head, and the boys are ready to let you in on their real game.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader, side established vmin 🗲word count: 5.9k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, injury, blood, weapons

a/n: if you hadn't already noticed, vmin is a side pairing in this fic! I probably won't add that in every chapter description tho, since they don't really have a plot revolving around them, but they are together as side characters because I love them mwahahaha🤩while we will learn more about them, they have an entire backstory, one of the many things I know about this universe that never made it "on screen"👀 I also just want to say how thrilled I am that people are enjoying this fic! To those of you who have left me comments, reblogged with sweet and supportive tags or sent in asks, it means the absolute world and I love you all💜💜

(previously)

“I did exactly what I’m training to do.”

“Like scare him half to death?”

Dropping your head, you gazed at your hands, wishing anew that you didn’t have this complicated curse that drove people away. That made you into a danger.

But you didn’t have the words or the will to explain this to the obstinate Jungkook.

“See you at training,” you spoke flatly, and stepped away.

See him at training you did. Not that he was any more helpful than normal.

As always, you gritted your teeth and tried to run through the same actions, still getting used to them. Over the course of the next few sessions, you certainly noticed an improvement, your powers coming more and more naturally to you than you had thought possible at first.

Still, Jungkook clearly disagreed.

You stood in the centre of the training space, arm raised. Just as you had been doing for the past half hour, you shot a bolt, expecting to hear the rattle of the target when you met it. And beyond that, the same heavy silence that always filled your practises.

Instead, your training ‘partner’ stepped nonchalantly in front of the shot.

Eyes widening, you closed your fist, shutting off the flow of power as fast as possible. But as you gawped in outrage, Jungkook raised a hand, easily deflecting the jet of blue electricity that had escaped with a quick burst of his own gold lightning.

Lowering his hand as if he hadn’t just placed himself in front of something deadly, he stuffed it into his pocket and smirked.

“What are you-” you spluttered, “you- you should be careful!”

“If I’m really expected to babysit you, I would hope to see more improvement than that,” he replied easily, “I mean, great, you can shoot, but attacking isn��t what this is all about.”

You raised an eyebrow, watching as he slowly walked towards you.

“Imagine I was someone else,” he continued.

“I wish,” you muttered, adding in an exaggerated eye roll. Jungkook didn’t comment on that, but you saw his gaze harden.

“Someone without my powers,” he drawled, “I would be dead.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to walk across while I was training!”

“You’re not supposed to expect it,” he shot back.

“And when exactly do you forsee me shooting lightning bolts out in public?”

At last, he seemed surprised by your response. Really, he thought you were raring to go out and terrorise the streets? You scoffed, ready to return to your usual mutual silence, but he recovered himself.

“You should control them in here as well,” he spoke, though there was less malice behind it this time. “You’ve already scared V shitless once.”

Arms folded, he turned his back on you, abandoning the conversation.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you muttered, not really caring whether he decided to pay attention or not, “I’m trying.”

But if his step faltered a little, you didn’t notice. He kept his back to you and walked away.

You had been doing a steady amount of work each day with your powers. It didn’t take long for the others to be proven right as you noticed it got easier both in and out of the training rooms as time stretched on. With your powers in use so frequently, they didn’t often try to break out when you least expected it anymore.

And though it hadn’t been long, you were getting a sense of the motions of this unconventional household.

On your way to training, you would pass the others at work, with or without their powers. It made sense that superheroes (it felt strange thinking of them as superheroes, but you supposed that was what you all were, in a way) needed to work out physically as well, to give them the upper hand in any fights.

Not that you could imagine them fighting... Most of the time. Sometimes you would see the power inherent in Jimin’s stance when he threw weights heavier than you could lift across the room with a flick of a finger. Or the deadly speed and precision as Hoseok darted around impossible obstacles.

But then they would huddle around the tv with you in the evening, cradling steaming bowls of food prepared by Jin or Yoongi, usually. The sight of V bundled in a fluffy blanket, laughing at Jimin more than the film, made it hard to believe he was some supernatural force of nature.

Namjoon, though. That, you could believe. He was the rarest sight in the house, even above the enigmatically quiet V.

However, if he caught you and Jungkook on your way out of practise, he would always beam like you were his children, ignoring the scowls that no doubt adorned your faces. Jin did the same, always clapping Jungkook on the shoulder in praise.

If only the others knew how Jungkook neglected the job they believed he was doing.

But as much as you wondered how different it would be if Namjoon had continued teaching you, you understood it couldn’t be that way. Not when he was constantly holed up in his office, or staring at a tablet and tugging his hands through his hair. His job seemed to be important, always moving with hurried purpose.

So then, with all the people and noise you were surrounded by now, it was a shock when things turned quiet.

Before this, you had lived on your own. Woken up each day just to head to work, Kuyang and the lab workers the only faces you saw before returning back to empty space.

So why was it this hard to get used to again?

Sometimes, the house emptied. Not totally, but since it was usually Jungkook that remained with you, it may as well have been. Each time you came from practice to find the house deserted, a scowl would etch itself into his face and he would retreat back to the gym, or somewhere. You never bothered to follow him.

When this happened, you kept your eyes on the news. If they were superheroes – which they must be, what other job could a bunch of powered people have? – then surely they would show up?

But without fail, the news stayed quiet. Either that, or heroes like Bolt or Monsoon (another worshipped figure in your city) instead had stamped out some threat and were being celebrated as always.

You weren’t sure what it was, but something made you shut off the tv when the rest returned, not wanting them to see what you had been looking for.

Generally, though, they didn’t leave you alone for too long, which was nice. You were nearly always in the communal spaces, since you had nothing to do in your room, bare as it was.

So it was when you heard hissed voices that you realised maybe you should let them have more time without you.

“She’s not more important! I don’t get why I have to, of all of us-“

Still hidden in the corridor, you froze when you heard Jungkook’s hushed voice in the living room.

“We’re fine to be down one, it’s not particularly risky,” someone replied.

“Please, can’t one of you stay for once? I already have to spend half my time with her!”

Gulping, you retreated the way you had come. You shouldn’t be hearing this, you knew that. Above all, you couldn’t stand the flicker of hurt that bled through you at the venomous words, though you ought to be used to them by now.

Sitting in your room, you idly played around, forming a ball of blue static that hovered above your palm. You sighed as you tossed it from hand to hand. This should be impressive, but you knew you were still incredibly clumsy with your powers compared to the others: Jungkook made sure you knew it.

But you stayed there, enjoying being able to use your powers without purpose or judgment.

After a while, a tap on your door heralded Yoongi calling you for dinner. Any tension you had sensed earlier when they didn’t know you were listening had dissipated.

Of course, Jungkook was ignoring you, but it was better that way. He was battling Hobi with chopsticks instead, trying to score a piece of meat from his plate as his opponent shrieked in protest. Jimin was falling onto the table with laughter, Yoongi groaning as he took a seat and slid a bowl to you.

Quietly thanking him, you began to eat without trying to muscle into the conversation. It was clear how comfortable these boys were together, having been arguing not long before and now joking around with the air free of bad feelings.

Even though you had never predicted your life going in this direction, you found yourself grateful. Despite the obvious Jungkook issue, having these vibrant people around you was such a stark contrast to your lonely state before Bolt had tried to kill you.

You were only reminded of the frosty conversation you had accidentally eavesdropped when, a few days later, you got the afternoon free of Jungkook.

As usual, that morning the two of you occupied the same room, training by yourselves. Today, Jungkook never offered so much as a word, and almost sprinted away after the hour was up. You couldn’t bring yourself to complain, instead taking the time to rest and return lazily upstairs at your own pace.

When you arrived, the unfortunately familiar sight of an empty apartment waited for you.

Funny, though. You hadn’t seen Jungkook come back downstairs as he normally did when the others went out.

Shrugging it off, you headed for the shower. It had almost slipped your mind by the time you emerged, but confusion instantly resurfaced when you were faced with the back of Jin’s head.

Stepping around the sofa and into the main space, you caught his attention.

“Ah, Y/N,” he greeted, turning away from the tv show he had quietly in the background.

“Jin,” you smiled, “where’s Jungkook?”

A smirk bloomed on his face before you had the chance to realise how that might have sounded.

“I didn’t realise you would miss him,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you sunk onto the other sofa.

“I’m not sorry to see him gone,” you quickly backpedalled, “but I just… thought you had all gone out again.”

“Well, Kook was feeling left out,” Jin explained, “I know you two aren’t exactly the best of friends but he’s still been helping you out, so we thought it was fair he doesn’t have to do that all the time and miss out on our… stuff.”

You nodded along as you understood the situation. As if to distract from his strangely vague ending statement, Jin jumped straight in again with a chipper voice.

“But I heard you’re getting much better! Jungkook says he can trust you to work independently, so maybe you won’t have to endure each other’s company as much!”

Now that made you laugh. Loudly. Jungkook had better trust you to work independently – he forced you to do it half the time anyway with his reluctance to teach you.

Jin seemed pleased with your reaction, and you two carried on chatting. It took you a while to even notice his quick glances at the door, the slight jittering leg, the distracted way he watched the show with glazed eyes, not fully taking it in.

When he suggested dinner, he all but sprang from the sofa. With a light frown, you followed him. What was giving him so much nervous energy?

Outside was dark by now, but that didn’t stop Jin’s eyes straying to the black sky visible through the window.

For once, you actually acquiesced to him rejecting your offer to help in the kitchen. He seemed pleased to have his hands busy, even if his knife occasionally clattered too loudly on the counter or oil splatted out of the slightly too-hot pan.

But all that was forgotten when a commotion suddenly shocked the air. The main door must be fully soundproof: that was the only explanation for the way it was silent one second, and the next raised voices were almost at the top of the stairs.

Whipping around to face the sudden interruption, Jin brandished his spatula in panic for a moment. You jumped from your seat.

Then Namjoon swept into the room, long coat swishing as he marched across the room, face set. Looking first at him in panic, your eyes returned to the others following him in and your jaw dropped.

Between Jimin and Jungkook, they were supporting V, whose head drooped alarmingly, legs barely making purchase on the floor. You were frozen on the spot as they hauled him past you. You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi come in until items were being shoved roughly from the counter to the floor to make space to lay V down there.

Swallowing, you staggered back a step, watching with wide eyes at his collapsed form. Sweat beaded on his furrowed brow, feverish spasms weakly shaking his body.

“What happened?” Jin exclaimed, panic shaking his voice.

A storminess brewed in Namjoon’s eyes, which glowed a little red though you weren’t sure if he noticed he was doing that. Turning to Jin with a serious expression, all he said was:

“Our suspicions were true.”

His words meant nothing to you, but the way Jin’s face paled struck fear through you.

Closest to the table, Jimin’s eyes glistened with tears as he clutched V’s hand, murmuring to him. You couldn’t hear him, but you had the feeling it wasn’t for you to hear and turned your eyes away.

Not a moment later, a harsh shove had you stumbling to the side, Jungkook barging past. You couldn’t even spite him for it. The panic spiralling through you at the state of your friend was painful enough, but these boys were his family. You couldn’t imagine the depth of their worry right now.

“What do we do?” Jungkook demanded, stopping in front of Namjoon and Jin. His frame was taught, nearly shaking as he looked to his hyungs for answers.

They always seemed to know what to do, but the uncertainty on Jin’s face as he stepped closer to the unconscious V was concerning.

“W-what happened?” he asked.

Hope was wringing his hands beside him, but spoke up.

“It was like we thought, when we showed up. We knew we had to get out, but B- he caught us, right at the end. We were just going, but V freaked, and-and then he- then- I don’t know what it was hyung, but he shot something…”

Hobi’s voice was bordering on hysterical, and as he trailed away, he leant forwards to pull V’s jacket aside. Jimin whimpered, turning his face away to bury it further against V’s arm.

There, on V’s torso, a section of his shirt was mangled, a bloodied shape seemingly etched into his side. Though the bloodstained shirt made it difficult to see, you couldn’t mistake that. It was no gunshot wound – you had seen something like this before.

The injury was fairly large, shaped something like a star. A familiar shape instantly sprung into your imagination, metal that spit sparks as it flew across the room, latching onto the wall at the other end.

Except, this time it had certainly not been used in lab conditions.

“I- I don’t know,” Jin was stuttering, “I’ve never seen something like this before…”

The silence was totally stifling, Jin’s admission met with disbelief. Namjoon ran hands roughly through his hair, biting at his cheek.

“We have to DO SOMETHING!”

Jungkook’s yell made you flinch a little. He moved forcefully, returning to the table with a handful of tea towels and thrusting one at Hope.

“Let’s just- stop the bleeding, at least-”

“He has powers, the bleeding isn’t the issue, Jungkook-”

“Do you have any better ideas?!”

His eyes flickered a blazing gold as he spun to yell at Jin, something he would never normally do. But right now, that was the least of his worries. He trembled from head to toe with tension, and you could see the shine of tears he was unable to will away from his eyes.

“Right, yes,” Jin swallowed, taking the towel and pressing it to the wound, as Hobi was already doing.

At the no doubt painful contact, though, V jerked a little, purple flame shooting from his hands. It was brief, but you all jumped back from the sudden heat.

“Why’s he doing that?” Jimin’s voice thrummed with underlying fear, “he hasn’t had an outburst in…”

The others only looked between themselves, equally lost.

After a moment, V hadn’t moved again, and Jimin was the first to gravitate back to his side.

Frowning at the ground, you willed your memory to work faster. Jimin’s heartbreaking calls for V, hand pressed desperately to his cheek though he was met with no response, had you racing through your memories.

Kuyang had had you in charge of all his safety files back at the lab, but right now you didn’t have access to the computer with them all stored on. It was at the tip of your tongue, just out of reach. You frantically grasped for any hint of memory about this particular weapon.

“Iodine,” you muttered. Your eyes widened as it dawned on you.

No one heard.

“Iodine,” you repeated, louder this time, “do you have iodine?”

Heads turned towards you, as if they had forgotten you were there at all. Jimin’s tearful face emerged, tentatively hopeful as you spoke.

“That wound is radioactive, it’s what’s messing with his powers. We need to give him some before it gets too far into his bloodstream.”

You spoke with a calm urgency, grateful you could keep your voice from wavering. Trusting your firm tone, Jin hurriedly nodded, darting away down the corridor without a look back.

As you watched him go, you caught Namjoon’s gaze. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with yourself, and his piercing stare startled you. A frown tightened his features and you had the odd sensation that he was calculating you.

Still, he said nothing. But it seemed someone else was less afraid to breach the silence.

“Who put you in charge?”

Only Jungkook had the sense to question you, glaring from where he had taken over pressing on V’s wound.

“This weapon, it uses radiation-“ you began.

“How do you know?” He cut you off. “Isn’t iodine toxic? You’re trying to kill him-”

“It’s the only way-”

“I won’t let you touch him!”

Tentatively stepping forward, you fixed Jungkook with a level gaze. His eyes narrowed, distrustful.

“It’s only toxic if we give too much,” you explained, forcing your voice to stay calm, “he has powers, he should be able to take it. Like Jin said, with powers, you can withstand more bleeding than others. It’s the radiation poisoning that’s hurting him, not the wound.”

Though his teeth were gritted and his glare lost none of its ferocity, he kept quiet.

“We need to stop it,” you spoke with finality.

Just then, Jin dashed back into the room, bottles and packets nearly spilling from his arms before he deposited them on the counter. Rushing forwards to meet him, you spotted some other bottles too.

“Pentetic acid? Where did you get-“

“It helps, doesn’t it?” Jin supplied, and you left it at that. It was another agent Kuyang had had on the safety files as a radiation blocker, but you had never expected to see it outside a lab.

You didn’t complain, though. V needed all the help he could get.

Jin’s fingers fumbled with a small needle as he pulled it out and filled it, looking to you for confirmation.

Nodding, you hastily stepped out of his way, planting yourself beside Jungkook. He watched warily, though you were sure it helped that it was Jin applying the remedy and not you.

A stony silence fell once Jin pulled away. Of course, it wouldn’t work instantly, but you hoped with all your might that some change would be visible. These chemicals were dangerous, the cure to this weapon difficult to apply for good reason. It was a weapon after all.

The bin opened and closed, the room so quiet you could hear the used needle falling inside it.

Hope sunk weakly into a chair, eyes still fixed on his injured brother. Jimin remained close to V, gripping his hand despite the threat of the fire that could burst from them at any moment.

Your eyes slid to Jungkook at your side. Of course he didn’t look away from V.

It felt as if your heart was squeezing its way up your throat, the longer V remained motionless. He had been seriously hurt, and though you were confident in your cure, having learned it from the weapon’s creator, the nagging worry that you might have made it worse refused to go away.

V could be hurt. He could – you didn’t even dare to think it.

The others would never forgive you. Jungkook would never forgive you. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you caused something like this.

And beyond all that, your mind was running frantic laps trying to figure out how Kuyang’s prototypes had ended up being fired at your new friends. Kuyang may have been unhinged, and more than a little shady, but to commit such violence?

But there must have been a reason for him making the things he did in that lab…

The memory of his face the last time you saw him assaulted you then; the way his normally pleasant demeanour left no trace on his fearsome expression when he had found Bolt inside his lab.

Guilt sat heavily inside you as you gazed down at V.

“Taetae?”

Jimin’s voice was quiet, nervous, but still sweet. Despite the low volume, as the only sound in the room it caught everyone’s attention.

A laugh bubbled out of Jimin as the younger boy stirred with a low groan.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Jimin cooed, “you’re okay, we’re home, I’m here.”

Gently, him and Jin helped the boy to sit, and though he seemed tired, the flush had faded from his cheeks. He was no longer sweating and his breathing was even, but his hair was left sticking in places to his forehead.

Jimin took his hands.

“Can you feel your powers, baby? Are-are they there?”

Slowly, V nodded. Turning a hand over, he summoned a single flame, livid purple, to dance on his palm.

“Okay, okay,” Jin closed his fist, “don’t tire yourself out.”

But you could tell he was as relieved as the others that V could still control his powers. Even if you had only just learned what they were, you now understood Jungkook’s outburst when you had come across V at night before. If not controlled, fire was certainly a lethal force to have at your fingertips.

They left, disappearing to get V settled and cleaned up. Even though having powers gave you higher tolerance to injuries, it was still unwise to leave them untreated.

Casting your eyes across the rest of the room, you saw Jungkook duck away from your gaze.

You let him.

The remnants of adrenaline in your body were fizzling out and you understood the temptation to collapse into a seat.

However, as Yoongi moved across to the stove, you joined him without a word needing to be exchanged. The cold beginnings of Jin’s meal from earlier were sitting in pans and chopping boards, and you simply picked up where he left off.

The two of you cooked with minimal movement and noise, not disrupting the stillness of the kitchen as everyone soaked in what had just happened. At some point Namjoon had disappeared.

Though only four of you remained, you ate nonetheless and boxed the rest up. No one said much, and you didn’t try to change that. In fact, you hardly looked up from your plate, preferring to leave the others to their thoughts. They didn’t need you intruding right now.

Of course, that did nothing to stop the onslaught of questions filling your mind.

You still didn’t really know what the boys got up to on their mysterious excursions, and V coming home so badly injured – by one of your old boss’ experiments, no less – only made you more lost. And intrigued.

Still, you held your tongue.

It was only when you collected everyone’s plates that you caught Jungkook’s eyes boring into the side of your head. Looking up at last, you found him staring at you with a confused frown etched across his brow. He held your gaze though, the ever present intensity of his own making you shrink away towards the basin to distract yourself with washing up.

Just as you thought you would have to endure a silent room without the distraction of food to alleviate the tension, Namjoon returned.

At first, only seeing a shadowy figure in the hall, you thought perhaps V had come back, or at least Jin or Jimin to give an update. Perhaps that was entirely too optimistic. Nonetheless, even the stressed-looking Namjoon was a welcome distraction.

You had begun to scoop some more food into a bowl for him when he spoke. He hadn’t come any further into the room, still hovering in the shadows of the hallway.

“I’m sure you have questions.”

Pausing in your movements, you lifted your head. The others all turned their heads to you as well, leaving you like an animal stuck in headlights.

“Uh-” you stuttered once you eventually caught up with yourself, “I mean, I guess…”

Glancing around you, you found Yoongi and Hope looked a little nervous, some doubt in their faces. Jungkook, on the other hand, was smirking.

Not knowing what to make of that, you decided not to keep Namjoon waiting. He seemed fairly expectant, his not entering the room making it clear that you should follow, so you picked up some chopsticks and brought the food along with you.

Namjoon may have seemed a little surprised when you handed him his dinner, but he took it anyway. Once you were in his office, he started eating without complaint.

“Am I right to presume,” he began between mouthfuls, though he was preparing the next already, “that you knew about the weapon used on V because of your work for Kuyang?”

You quickly confirmed, but you could no longer hold back further questions.

“Yes, but how did it end up- I mean, why was it used? Did Kuyang-?”

Shaking his head, Namjoon cut you off with a wave of his chopsticks. He swallowed and continued perfectly calmly.

“It wasn’t Kuyang that used it.”

Already, your shoulders slumped in relief. But still-

“Then how…?”

Sighing, Namjoon set his cutlery down and sat back.

“Kuyang is one of our… associates,” he began to explain. “After the attack, he escaped, as you know, and went into hiding. Only, we found his lab totally empty soon after.”

At this he sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he always seemed to do without noticing. You could empathise with his stress; the news had you shuffling closer to the edge of your seat. The stuff Kuyang worked with was dangerous, it shouldn’t just… go missing.

“We weren’t sure what to think at first, and we investigated for a while. Other, similar cases have cropped up too, others among our allies being raided. It became too difficult to deny what we feared… Bolt was the only connection.”

Without noticing, your mouth was gaping open, eyes widening. You blinked as Namjoon’s words sunk in. But surely you were misunderstanding? It couldn’t be…

Slowly, you were able to form words.

“Bolt fired at V? At all of you?”

Namjoon nodded.

Shutting your mouth, you swallowed. Your mind may have been whirling at a hundred miles an hour, but nothing made it as far as to form a sentence. Fragments flitted past, telling a story you were afraid to believe.

Bolt was the city’s superhero… a hero… everyone knew that.

He protected the city from harm.

Yet he had shot you… and now V…

The silence stretched out, Namjoon pausing in his meal as he watched you. When you eventually spoke, your voice was small.

“You were fighting… against Bolt?”

A wry chuckle left his lips. Cocking his head, he clasped his hands.

“Villains, one might say. Many do.”

You simply blinked at him. Meanwhile, Namjoon stared evenly at you, gauging your reaction.

“What else has Bolt done?” you ventured.

Namjoon’s eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?”

Stammering slightly, you tried to explain.

“Well, I already know Bolt isn’t exactly as… innocent, as most people think. He- I mean, at Kuyang’s- when Bolt was there, he had no reason to shoot me? But I hadn’t really thought about… why he was at Kuyang’s lab. What’s going on?”

As you spoke, a faint smile quirked Namjoon’s mouth. As you trailed off, he nodded. It seemed he was finally willing to indulge you.

“It’s true that Kuyang had set his latest experiment on Bolt already. To the media, it would simply seem that Bolt was retaliating, or eradicating the threat they perceive people like Kuyang to be. But today confirmed what we feared. Bolt is collecting.”

“He’s not destroying those weapons?”

Before Namjoon’s confirming shake of the head, you already knew the answer.

Though many of your questions had now been answered, it felt like you had opened up a whole new realm of possibilities that you couldn’t wrap your head around. But Namjoon didn’t allow you time to spiral into further confusion.

“I had hoped this would have to come later,” he spoke carefully, chewing on his cheek as he sat back once more. “we’ve taken in a few people before, helped them control their powers and then proceed to leave this life behind…

“You clearly know that this world isn’t as black and white as the city media wants us to think. But you should also know we aren’t many people’s idea of heroes. We fight against this society. We use violence, we support developers like Kuyang, who are…”

A wave of his hand was all that was needed. You both knew the kind of person it took to create the things Kuyang spent his time working on.

“People don’t agree with us,” he continued seriously, “which is why I’m offering you the chance to leave. As I said, we normally wait until someone has full control of their powers. Out there, the world isn’t exactly… kind to people like us. Bolt, Monsoon, heroes from tv – they’re the exceptions. People don’t like those who are different. They see our powers as a threat, and they do twisted things to gain power over people they fear. If you choose to go, we want you to at least be safe.”

Breathing deeply, you sat reeling.

Everything that had been presented to you should have flipped this whole thing on its head. Your new friends were by no means superheroes, as you previously thought. There was a reason you never saw their names in glowing lights on tv like Bolt.

But really… did it change anything?

Breaking through the silence, the click of the door handle. Since the new arrival hadn’t even knocked, you were certain who it was before they even entered your line of sight.

“Hey,” Jin spoke. Then he paused, looking between the two of you in the sombre silence. Cautiously raising a brow, he turned towards Namjoon. “You told her?”

Namjoon nodded.

“How’s V?” Namjoon then asked nearly straight away. That was a relief; you were wondering the same thing yourself.

Wiping his brow, Jin perched himself against the desk. Though his sigh was tired, he nodded.

“He’ll be fine. He’s already annoying poor Jiminie again, so that should tell you enough.” After a brief hesitation, he continued, eyes shifting to you. “That was a close one though… if Y/N hadn’t been there…”

With the room’s attention on you once again, you gulped. But somehow, what you said next didn’t take you much thought.

“I want to stay.”

Namjoon kept his infuriating poker face on as he appraised you, but Jin cracked a smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he grinned, clapping you on the shoulder. Turning to Namjoon, he cried a smug “I told you!”

Encouraged, you nodded with more certainty.

“I agree with you guys – Bolt goes unquestioned, he’s practically worshipped. But whatever he’s doing, I want to help stop him. And he did try to kill me after all – you guys are the ones who've helped me. I trust you.”

“Good,” Namjoon spoke, digging back in to his food, “I wanted to offer you a position in the team, if you said yes. With Bolt on the move like this, we need all the power we can get-”

As a smile was just blooming on your face, it was halted by his next words.

“But. You aren’t ready just yet. I want you out there with us, so I’m willing to send you out sooner than I have with others before. These are unusual times, and you have to understand this will be more dangerous than I normally send rookies to. There’s work to do, with your powers, but also…

“As much as I appreciate your trust in us, I know it doesn’t extend fully. I need my team to be able to trust each other. Every single one.”

Fixing you with a hard stare to accompany his last words, he was effective in making you shrink in your seat. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

And that person was waiting for you right outside.

On leaving the office, you found Jungkook leaning up against the wall. Jin and Namjoon had hung back, leaving you alone as you emerged, and you instantly rolled your eyes. Determined not to be deterred, you kept walking down the corridor, trying to fix your eyes ahead – firmly away from the infuriating man that watched your approach.

“Scared yet?” his smirk bled through his words. You were almost upon him at this point, and he pushed away from the wall, blocking the way with his black-clad body.

Eyes flicking up to him, unimpressed, you tapped your foot.

“Why would I be scared?”

One corner of his mouth curved up, looking you in the eye as he leaned a little closer.

“We aren’t heroes, honey.”

“Thanks for spelling that out, Jungkook,” you drawled, making to step past him.

His laughter followed you while you started walking away.

“Need help packing?” he called.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jin’s stern voice joined him, “no need. She’s not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s silence spoke volumes.

Glancing back as you reached the end of the corridor, you were met with the livid expression that seemed so familiar. Jungkook’s eyes bulged with shock. You were sure that Jin’s hand on his shoulder was all that was holding him back.

Making the most of his eyes on you, you flashed a serene smile and walked away.

But though an (admittedly large) part of you took satisfaction in Jungkook’s shock and rage, you knew you would be expected to work with him. Properly work with him, not the frosty silence he currently counted as work.

With the impossibility of this steadily creeping over you, you climbed the stairs heavily.

As you returned to the wary stares of your friends and dispelled their trepidation, assuring them you were staying and trying to settle down to a relatively normal evening, it remained in the back of your mind.

But you could deal with Jungkook tomorrow. For now, you let yourself be reminded of the reasons you wanted to stay here with them.

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streamafterlaughter · 7 days ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter III: I Carry You Around

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: roam the room by citizen, drunk ii by mannequin pussy

a/n: i forgot how hard it was to get a new story going, but we’re movin!! please enjoy this lil chapter while i work on the new one :p also! thank you guys for 200 followers that’s kinda crazy for me on this site. 🥳🎉❤️

summary: you need some help recalling the events of last night

chapter tags: drinking/drug (weed) use, description of throwing up (reader), swearing, reader has a lot of nicknames (to avoid using y/n), slight angst, big game of telephone. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

disclaimer: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

tag list: reply/message to be added! @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj

“Hey,” Robin pokes you, still snoring constantly next to her on the air mattress. “Hey, wake up! I’m starving!” she shakes you lightly, and you groan. “C’mon, Benny’s is never packed this late. I’m buyin’.” Your eyes flutter open at the mention of her treating you.

“Okay, okay. I’m awake.”

“Oh, good. I was beginning to think the last vodka sprite killed you.”

“It probably should’ve.” You squint, attempting not to let too much light in before you know the status of your hangover. You blink a few times, focusing solely on not sitting up too quickly. “Alright, I think we’re in the clear. Bacon sounds so good right now.”

“Is she up?” Steve calls from the kitchen, over the clatter of bottles being thrown into the recycling bin.

“Yeah, I’ve tempted her with free food.” Robin giggles, following your lead of slowly exiting the blow up bed. “Will the Insufferable Bard be joining us on the breakfast quest?” You regret the words after they leave your lips.

“Is the evil queen asking little ole me to tag along?” Eddie practically skips into the living room, way too chipper for your hungover brain to handle. Steve has the balls to snicker. “I’d be absolutely delighted to accompany you to dine for breakfast, Highness.” He curtsies for emphasis.

“Never mind, actually. I just remembered I’m needed somewhere that, um, not here.”

Eddie tsks at you. “Ah, no take backs. Shall I get your coat?”

Fluffy diner pancakes and greasy bacon can and do save you. You moan as you shove a bite full of syrup and pancake into your mouth, met with similar responses as your friends devour their food. You can feel Eddie staring at you from across the booth.

“So, did I sleep through all of the cleaning?” You ask after swallowing. “I promise that wasn’t the intention.”

Steve shakes his head, sipping his coffee. “Actually, you did most of it last night. You don’t remember?”

You squint, as if trying to see the blurry memories in front of you. You remember playing beer pong, and then losing beer pong. You remember bits and pieces of conversations with Robin and Steve. You remember Chrissy running out of Steve’s bedroom. Then nothing. “Huh. Guess not.” Usually you only black out when you’re angry, but you can’t remember anything viscerally upsetting happening to you. Not consciously.

Steve shrugs. “Weird. Nah, we let you sleep. It was hard enough getting you into bed.”

You feel your cheeks burn. “Sorry, Steve. Guess I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Nah, I didn’t do anything. Eddie pretty much took care of you.”

Your blood freezes in your veins, draining quickly from your face. “What?”

Steve places his mug down, and Robin throws her arms in the air in defeat and disappointment. “What? What did I say?”

“Seriously, dingus?”

Eddie’s gone silent, silverware long abandoned on his plate. “You promised you weren’t gonna bring that up.” The words are muffled behind his hand.

“I did?”

Robin slaps her palm to her forehead.

“What the hell is going on?” You look from Steve to a red cheeked Eddie.

He sighs. “Sorry, princess. Guess your knight in shining armor’s an ogre.”

You’re gaping. Not a single part of this makes sense to you. You and Eddie haven’t been that close in years. “Aren’t you already Chrissy’s ogre though?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, irritated as he shoves a bite of toast into his mouth. “That’s none of your business.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Okay, shit. Didn’t know you were so sensitive about it.”

“I think I’m lost here.” Steve interrupts, leaning over Robin to reach for the syrup.

“Can we move on, please? I don’t feel like talking about this.”

The response is an awkward silence.

“Thank you.” Eddie says, mouth full of bread. You surrender, for now. You make it a point in your head to find out more. It’s only fair, you reason, I was there too.

—

“Chris, you home?” You call your brother as you enter your apartment. Guitars are blaring from the back of your house, loud enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear you. You wander down the hall, checking the empty bathroom and kitchen on your way. “Chris?”

“Hey, Bug!” Chris calls from the spare-bedroom-turned-studio, turning his stereo down. “C’mere a sec, need your opinion on something.” You follow the sound of his voice into the room, taking in the sight in front of you. Chris has sprawled himself out on the floor, a skateboard deck dismantled in front of him. “Can I ask you something?” You lean against the doorframe, observing your brother.

“You just did.”

You scoff. “Can you remember anything from last night?”

Your question stops his movement. “Uh, maybe. Which part?”

“It’s spotty after midnight. What happened to me?”

Chris turns to face you, and you move to sit in the office chair across from him. “Well. You still can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, c’mon. I had, like, three drinks.”

“Yeah, and you got your ass beat in beer pong. I know you hate it, but beer still has alcohol in it.”

“Oh, shut up. Tell me what happened!”

“Okay, but you can’t get mad.”

“I will not be making any promises.”

Last night (as told by Chris)

You stumble into the kitchen, on your way for yet another refill, but you’re stopped short by the solid torso dawned in old leather, reeking of weed. “Man, roadblock.” You Look up to find Eddie looking down at you, eyes curious, joint in hand standing next to your brother, blocking the cooler. “Move aside, dweebs.”

“Hey, Bug. You okay?”

“Hm?” You try to focus on Chris’s face, squinting hard, as if you’re looking directly at the sun. “Yeah, ‘m cool. It’s bright in here.” The lights aren’t even on.

“No, she’s not.” Eddie’s eyes are fully trained on you, concern written plainly on his face. The kid likes to party, but he knows his limits. You, unfortunately, cannot say the same. You rest against the sticky counter, but immediately retract at the sensation, breathing shallowly through your nose. Eddie can see the panic in your eyes when they linger in space for a second too long.

“She’s gonna puke. Move, I got her.” Eddie sprints to your aid, leading you down the hall by the waist, draping your arm over his shoulder, and into the bathroom. “Eddie, ‘m fine.” You slur, completely unconvincing. The bathroom is empty, thankfully. The party’s been over for a while, but you’d slammed quite a few without hesitation tonight, and Eddie thinks, perhaps, he had something to do with it.

“Hey, I got you, c’mere.” Eddie holds your hair back as you crouch in front of the toilet, the only thought going through his head being “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, while he reaches with his free hand to wet a washcloth. When his back is turned, you let it rip, and he rushes back to your side, placing the cool cloth against your clammy forehead. “Feel better?”

Your face screws tightly in concentration. “Gettin’ there.” You string the words together, like you’re too afraid to open your mouth any wider. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not like we’re friends.” You flinch after you say it.

“Maybe not, but I know too-drunk-to-stand when I see it. Wasn’t gonna let you try to find your own way here.”

“Or you’re secretly in love with me.” You tease, voice strained.

“Okay, now you’re talkin’ crazy. C’mon sweets, it’s bedtime.” He dodges your comment, eager to get out of there.

“Nooo,” You whine, and Eddie smiles dopily at you. “I’m not tired!”

“Doesn’t matter. You stay out here, you’re destined to give yourself alcohol poisoning. C’mon, we can go set up your bed downstairs.”

“You tryna suggest something, Munson?” You tease, wobbly as he helps you stand up.

“What would I be suggesting?” You shrug. You must not have a clue what you’re saying right now. “Did your brother tell you something?”

“What? No, I’m kidding, Eddie. We don’t like each other, remember?”

“No, you don’t like me.”

Your resolve seems to slip, but only a little. “I have my reasons.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know.” He stands up, and offers his hand out for you. You grab it, using it to pull your weight up from the ground. “Okay, prince charming. Whisk me to bed.”

“As you wish, princess.” He helps you get back downstairs, and into the already prepared air mattress. “Your throne awaits.”

You giggle as he guides you down, staying parallel to your body in case you lose your balance. You make it unscathed though, and he brings the blanket up to your chin. “Here,” He pulls an unopened water bottle from his back pocket. “Lemme get you a bucket or something, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” You reach out and grab his hand. He looks at your face, the way your eyes are already half closed like your eyelids weigh a ton. “Can you take them off?”

“Excuse me?” He chokes.

“My boots. They’re hard to take off.” You point to your feet, sticking out of the blanket and clad in heavy leather.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course.” He clears his throat nervously, busying his hands with the buckles of your shoes. By the time he slides the second one off, your head has hit the pillow, and you’re snoring peacefully.

—

Present day

You feel your stomach drop, much akin to the way it must have felt last night. “That did not happen.”

Chris shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Maybe I got some details wrong. After he got you to bed he was freaking out. I don’t get why you have such an issue with the guy.” He shrugs, turning back to his board.

You furrow your brow at him. “Are you being serious?” He whips his head back to you, confused. “Remember? He got you put in prison?!”

He stares back at you, blank faced. “What are you talking about?”

“He ratted you out, Chris! Testified against you! Snitched! I know I blacked out last night, but c'mon! You were in the room when it happened!”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?!” You’re beside yourself, absolutely at a loss. “Chris, don’t tell me you forgive him for that.”

“Beebs, my beautiful, innocent, cherub of a little sister. You have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” Somewhere in the distance, Chris’s phone is ringing, and your vision goes white.

“What does that even mean?!” Chris ignores you, picking up his cell. “Chris!”

“Yo,” You can’t hear the voice on the other line. “Hey, man. Relax. No, she’s good. Alive, thanks to you probably. Kinda pissed, though.” He looks to where you’re silently seething at your brother. “No, I didn’t say shit! I just filled in some blanks from last night.” You can hear Eddie on the other line, voice frantic, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. “Okay. No, I won’t. But you have to.” Long pause. “Yeah, you do. I thought she knew!” He waits. “I don’t care! She has every right to, actually! I would be pissed, too! Figure it out, dude.” He hangs up and looks back to you. “Eddie has some explaining to do.”

—

#st #fics #munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #both i guess idk #sdf #willow writes sins #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic

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arcadia-of-pluto · 2 months ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Seventeen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4,562

Themes; isekai, eventual smut, slowburn, canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and eventual mature themes

Notes; Only update for this week! I decided that it's better to drop my updates down from multiple to just one per week– just until I get a few buffer chapters in-between where my chapters are here and what I'm currently writing!

Also Tumblr on mobile seems to really hate anything over 4k so I'm not sure what to do when it comes to posting longer chapters– but if I do, I probably won't be able to add itallics and bold, but I'm sure no one would mind if I didn't go through and add those little details.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! It's yet another memory one that will span over two chapters (including this one).

Prev || Next

Masterlist

“Y/n…Sweetie, wake up.” You hear a voice and a gentle hand shakes your shoulder. Your eyes slowly opened and your cheeks felt damp. Once your eyes are fully open, you wipe your face and rest a hand on your chest. It tightly grips the front of your dress as you struggle to breathe. Your gaze goes to Sylus with wide eyes and you look around, confused to see the interior of a car and not the beautiful lake you were just at.

The only reminder of your dream laid In your hand…A gem, devoid of colour as if its power had been drained, was in your palm. Was this the aether core Xavier found? No…no way that would've followed you back.

“Where..?” You were still disoriented, trying to keep a grip on which reality was your own. Your hands were trembling.

“We’re back at the house, sweetie. Or did you forget where we were going?” Sylus's voice sounds soft. It sounds too kind, much sweeter than his usual tone with you. Were you somehow in a different kind of dream now?

“No— I...” You hold your head in your shaking hands. “I had a dream...It..” You want to punch yourself in the chest– anything to try and fix the disorder nestled deep in your heart.

“I know, you started crying so suddenly. I was almost scared.” Sylus seems rather calm as he speaks, not waiting for you to elaborate as he opens the car door, “I told you it would be happening more often. You just need to be prepared for it.” His hand reaches out for you as the cool breeze nips at your skin.

“But I felt– Months passed, Sylus. Seasons changed and it’s only been an hour.” You stammer as you try to get out of the car, but your knees almost give out underneath you.

Sylus lets out a sigh and picks you up bridal style. “Was it scary?’ He asks, softly, as he carries you inside. “No…just really sad,” You reply, resting your head on his chest, “And I feel even more tired than before…I felt like I haven’t slept at all…”

“It’s just the first of many,” He muses, not bothering to ask what it was about or explain how he knew so much as he enters your room, and lays you down on your bed. “I’m sorry there’s not much I can do for you,” He speaks in a low register as he takes your hair down from its up-do, running his fingers through the strands, before he gently removes your jewelry. “But I can sit right next to the bed if you want me to. You know I don’t sleep around this time.”

You press your lips together in a thin line, before quickly nodding as you grab his hand, “Please?”

Sylus doesn’t give you a response, but he keeps a tight hold on your hand while you slowly fall back asleep…

The next memory is more involved than the last. You’re not sure who this one is about just yet, but judging by the ghastly sight of bloated corpses and water steadily filling up a ship as a storm raged on, you can only assume it’s Rafayel’s.

From what you could see, it was a dark and stormy night on the high seas. Some of the ship’s crew were talking about a sacrifice that had gone missing and to let down the sails as the stormy sea was too strong from their ship. The large boat was rocking back and forth from the force of the waves, and you almost felt seasick.

You notice waterlogged bodies floating past you as you were hidden behind a wooden storage box. Then, suddenly, your arms are seized in a tight grip and you’re dragged to the edge of the deck. Your eyes widening as the sight of the dark, unforgiven see was all you could see below. “Now throw her overboard!”

What? You were the sacrifice!?

Amidst your surprise, you begin to hear a faint melody, a song sounding as if the sea itself were singing to you. Calling out to you, almost, and like an invisible hand, the melody calms down the raging whirls of the ocean and the winds die down.

“Fools…Any further and a storm would be the last thing on your minds.”

Rafayel?

Though you can’t ponder on your thoughts for too much longer as you’re tossed overboard. Your limbs spread out in a panic as you try to slow your descent into the depths. You can hear the emissaries cheering as you, their sacrifice who was raised for years just for this very reason, finally fulfilled your purpose.

A sinking sense of fear overwhelms your body and the salty ocean water drowns out your pleas and cries for help. Briny water engulfs your body and your eyes burn as you try to keep them open from under the crashing waves. You could’ve tried to hold your breath, but it was already too late.

Your panic had caused you to take in gulps of water and you felt your vision fading. You could feel yourself slowly…and painfully suffocating. Before you lost consciousness, however, you felt something warm envelop you.

Whenever you resurfaced, you greedily gasped for air, coughing out salty water, and felt the cool rain hit your face. Then, you turn toward your savior but your pleasantries die on your lips as you meet his beautiful, otherworldly eyes.

Those familiar, charming bluish-pink eyes.

“Were you abandoned?” He asks, holding an ornate flute as he seemingly stands on top of the now calm waves. The ethereal melody you heard earlier had since disappeared as he was no longer playing his flute.

“Save me…please.” Is all you can croak out and the purple haired man chuckles. He sits down on a piece of driftwood.

Under the moonlit night sky, he looks at you, the scales on his neck emitting a faint glow. He’s lemurian?

“Did you ask for my assistance?” He asks, raising a brow as he rests his arm across his leg. Then, you take a moment to look at him, really look at him.

He had paint-like markings on his face under his right eye, the paint marks were also along his shoulders and chest. Were they tribal markings? He was wearing gold jewelry, the bangles wrapped tightly around his biceps and wrists. A sheer, blue sash across his right shoulder seemed to be the only form of top he had on and his pants were more of a white and gold tunic.

He brings you back to the situation at hand by holding his hand out to you. That’s when you realize his nails were also painted black.

You reach out toward him but, when your hands touch, flames burst forth from his fingers. You let out a squeak of surprise and jerk your hand back, but he starts laughing, amused at his little joke. You, in turn, puff your cheeks out and grab his hand tightly.

Even if this was a memory from the past, it seems Rafayel still acts just the same. It almost makes you want to stay in this dream forever, having missed the man after not seeing him for some time.

The man makes a noise in the back of his throat as you squeeze his hand, “Release me.” The scales on his neck are raised ever so slightly like a cat’s bristling fur. “I said release me!”

Another thought crosses your mind, an even older memory that a lemurian’s kiss can allow one to breathe underwater. This gives you an idea since you’re trapped in the ocean with no other way to survive, you decide to take your chances.

You suddenly reach forward to cup your hands on either side of his face, catching the man off guard, and kiss him. Your lips smash against his in a clumsy kiss, your teeth clinking together in your desperation for survival.

The lemurian lets out a small gasp of surprise as you plead with him again to save you. Your vision becomes more blurry by the second, but you desperately try to hold his gaze.

After a long silence passes, his voice rings in your ears– low…soft…almost like he’s casting a spell to enthrall someone, “I will grant you deliverance and in exchange, offer yourself, your everything to me. Become my follower mortal.”

After this exchange, you assume you passed out. You hear children whispering about whether you’re alive or not. As the conversation turns toward the children wanting to use your possible dead body for dissections, you open your eyes.

The first thing you notice is that you’re in a rather luxurious room. It’s completely covered in the colour blue. From the drapes across the windows to the bedsheets, to the walls.

The children are, understandably, surprised that you woke up in the middle of their conversation. “Where am I?” You ask, slowly sitting up, “Am I below the waves?” You realize you’re probably asking too many questions and bring your hand up to rub your temples. “Keep your distance– she bites.”

You knew that sassy demeanor like the back of your hand. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed that he had to scare those poor children with nonsense.

Rafayel stood by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and, as you took a moment to take him in during the daytime, you realized he was quite attractive. He was always attractive, but in his lemurian garb, he was all the more so.

Though, you do notice that his mouth is swollen and there seems to be a wound on his lips.

Oh, did you…

Once he meets your gaze, he glares at you. “Uhm...where am I?” You finally ask after a few moments of silence.

“A single glance would reveal that you’re in Lemuria. Treat her wounds and give her clean clothes. I’ll inform Elder Amund that we’ve found my devout follower.” He says and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. “Uhm, you’re my savior right? I should express my gratitude—”

Though, he leaves before you can even finish your sentence.

Maybe…You should go back to the real world after all. You miss Rafayel.

A young girl with beautifully braided blue hair pops up from her hiding spot and excitedly sits on the edge of the bed, “Worry not! When Rafayel brought you back, it seemed you’d been vomiting bubbles with the crabs for a fortnight.”

Then she continued, “My name is Algie and he’s Konche. You’re the first live human we’ve met! Well...There are ones who swam along the currents, but none of them could talk like you.”

The blue haired boy next to her scolds her, “You’re scaring her, sister. Look, her hands are shaking like a shrimp seeing a whale for the first time!”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean it!” Algie quickly clasps her hands together apologetically. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it but…May I ask why you brought me here?” You ask, head slightly tilted to the side.

“You’ll know when you visit the temple.” Algie says, “It’s a very, veerrry long tale. I’ll tell you on the way!”

She said that in the Deep Sea lies the forgotten kingdom of Lemuria and that the God of the Sea lives there. He protects whatever the briny sea touches and his followers include not just denizens of the ocean, but also humans. His most devout followers must gift him a heart so he has the strength to protect Lemuria and becomes the god recognized by the entire ocean.

Hmm…Rafayel did say ‘we found my devout follower’. Does that mean he wants your heart? And not in the romantic way??

It’s said that the Sea God of this generation was born in flames as dusk turned to dawn and only he can use fire.

Huh, Rafayel did use fire earlier…

In the Tome of the Sea god, it’s stated that in Whalefall City’s temple lies a great flame that has burned for thousands of years and that if this fire were to ever go out, then Lemuria shall fall into a deep slumber for centuries.

So…to keep the flame alive, the Sea God requires a certain human follower. It cannot be a lemurian, it must be a human because they are some of the most selfish, greediest creatures so when they offer their hearts, love, or even their lives, it’s considered the most precious form of worship. This Tome also confirms that Rafayel will be the last God of the Sea.

Once in the temple with Rafayel, you gaze upon the fire in the middle of the room. It almost resembles a sun about to go out.

“She’s most suited to be the one.” You hear Rafayel say and you really hope he doesn’t mean to toss you into the fire as a sacrifice. “Her?” You hear an older voice from across the room.

A man in a robe, holding a staff, questions, “She is the human your Quintessence has decided on?”

“‘Twas more of fate’s whimsy. I wandered about on the earth and became her cushion when she fell.” Rafayel speaks as if you were a stray animal that he had brought home out of the kindness of his heart.

“For now, I shall forget that your Quintessence snuck out and burned the guard’s hair. I must ask again, is she truly to be the human your Quintessence is bound to?”

“As long as the Sea God’s ceremony is assured, I’ll make her my follower.” Is all Rafayel says in response before he goes back to being the sassy Rafayel you truly know, “However, we should remove all of her teeth and nails. I worry she’d bite and scratch us if given the opportunity.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You finally manage to get a sentence out. Amund sighs, “Once a lemurian is bound to someone, it’s impossible to go against their wishes. She will have the power to command your Quintessence. When the two of you barely know each other, is that something worth giving?”

The light flickers on Rafayel’s face and he lowers his head to ruminate about his answer. Then, the Elder leaves so you and Rafayel are alone.

“So…if you’ve yet to decide, can I be set free? I promise I won’t speak of this to anyone.” Though you try your luck, Rafayel continues to stand there. “The day has dragged on long enough. I’m tired.” He sighs, finding a comfortable spot on the floor to sit down.

“What’re you doing?” You question, still standing up. “Sleeping.” He answers simply. “Why??” You are appalled but Rafayel continues, “Wake me before nightfall.”

“You—”

He ignores you, leaning his back against a marble pillar as he closes his eyes. The temple is heavily guarded, so all you can do is sit in a corner and ponder how you were going to escape. Though your thoughts are regularly interrupted by Rafayel’s breathing and after an hour of it, you’re fed up by it. “Rafayel! Ra-fay-el!” You try to wake him up, hands on your hips. Though, he doesn’t react.

A small blue fish suddenly appears and begins swimming around his shoulders.

“Oh– where did you come from? You’re so cute...” You muse, reaching a finger out to poke the fish with a small smile on your lips. “Do you know the way out, Oh little fish?” The fish swims in a circle and settles on your finger as you softly giggle at it. “Do you understand me?” You softly ask the fish, completely endeared with it, “Could you show me a way out?”

Flicking its translucent tail, the fish swims to the stained-glass window behind the alcove...

“Half a day has disappeared like sea foam,” You sigh, walking through the beautiful hallway of the temple, “Why have we returned to these crossroads?” A pout dances across your lips, “Do you lack a sense of direction or do all fish have terrible memory?”

Twirling its tail, the fish suddenly swims into a crowd and leaves you behind. “Where–” You sigh, shaking your head, “I can’t believe I’m trying to talk to a fish.” The fish finally leads you to a coral reef and goes into a small hole in the city’s walls.

“Do I have to swim through that?” You question and the fish spits bubbles at you, almost as if trying to communicate. “I’m coming. I'm coming.” You sigh, swimming through the narrow passageway until you’re on a beach alcove.

You dust the sand off of your knees in triumph. “I’ve definitely got to think of a way to express my gratitude to the fishies…I could possibly feed them during the Sea God’s ceremony,” You murmur to yourself.

“Was it fun to explore Lemuria?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Rafayel’s voice. “Rafayel!?”

“There is no need to shout my name.” He says behind a silk curtain, before he steps out to face you.

He lifts his finger and the little fish swims around it, then transforms into a blue scale that lands in his palm. The fish was his own creation!?

“You planned this?” You groan. “‘Twas a test for you. Elder Amund was right. Human promises are nothing but meaningless words.” “Huh– When did I make a vow to you??” You were a bit exasperated.

“I told you to wake me before nightfall, didn’t I?” Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest and then yawns, seemingly not upset in the slightest. “Besides, when I saved you from the ocean’s clutches, we made an oath. Did you forget?”

“That…counted? Look, you’re the sea god, respectful and awe-inspiring. Can’t you consider my rescue an act of kindness and let me go?” You rub the back of your neck as you look away from the man.

“I am not a God who answers every whim. The ceremony is to take place in a month and, as you’re aware, ceremonies always need–” He rests his chin in his hand as he narrows his eyes, filling you with a sense of dread.

“...Followers right? There are plenty on land. You know? The ones who wear robes and pray to you every day. They’re more devout than me.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear him say the word ‘sacrifices’.

“Alright…Then, return to me your life.” He says, one hand on his hip. His other hand reaches out toward you as if grabbing an invisible rope that’s tied tightly around your neck. Though you're unsure of what he’s doing, suddenly you can’t breathe.

You place a hand over your chest, doubling over for a moment as you reach toward your throat and cough. Water enters your nose and throat. Did he…take away your ability to breathe underwater? “Wait, wait!” You panic, air bubbles escaping your mouth as you try to speak, “I’ll do anything you ask!”

Suddenly, a grin spreads across Rafayel’s lips and he loosens his hold. You find yourself able to breathe again. “‘Tis not worship I desire. From the very depths of your soul, I seek only the purest devotion.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The tides ebb and flow and with every setting sun is a moon rising. ‘Till time’s end, I should occupy your every thought. You must believe in me alone.” Rafayel says as he walks closer to you and your eyes widen a bit.

Okay, that’s hot—

“You mean I…” You trail off and the tips of your ear turn a pretty shade of pink. “Think of it from another perspective,” He pokes your chest, specifically where your heart lies. He acts as if he’s stating a truth, “Thou must find a means by which thy heart becomes smitten with me.”

‘Find someone who will kiss you, even if you do not give them the world. Love a soul that is like your own, that which compliments you. Love and death are the most important things in life. Death is a matter of time, so love with all your heart can muster.’

- Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God, Chapter 3

The two of you ended up sneaking to the top of the temple’s spire to watch the sunset. After a few days, you had grown used to the Lemurian’s snarky demeanor. You had also learned a bit more about him, like how he doesn’t like people touching him but is fine with you gently holding his hand.

You recall Amund saying that once the Sea God is bound to a person, they’ll do anything they command so as Rafayel sits down in the shade to nap, you decide to bother him for a bit. His eyes are closed with his arms crossed over his chest, so you reach your hand out to grab his.

“Make some flames for me,” You ask. Rafayel lifts his fingers up before curling them back around yours, but doesn’t say a word.

“Hmm...I didn’t work at all,” You murmur with a pout. “Don’t waste your time.” He lazily opens his eyes. “One should practice silence when watching the sunset.” He drops your hand, resting his arm on his propped up knee.

“Do you want to see the real sun, Rafayel?”

“I do not.” He simply says and the blue fish from earlier reappears. “You wanted to sneak onto the beach the day we met,” You say as the fish swirls around his palm.

“Your tongue barely moved when we first met. Back then you were rather…” He trails off, bringing his hand up to his mouth to tap his lips.

A crimson red blush appears on his ear tips before spreading across his cheeks. His eyes widen as he catches your gaze and he quickly looks away.

“This side of you is much more to my liking.” He finally finishes his sentence.

You tap his shoulder, “Hey, so on the surface we have a Sea God ceremony too. We play wonderful songs on lyres and...”

“Were the surface world as lovely as you claimed, you’d be elsewhere,” He glances toward you before looking back up at the light in the distance.

“There are evil people on the surface! Once they learnt you were Lemurian, your tears that turn into pearls would be harvested day after day endlessly.” You try to spook him, though deep down you knew there would actually be humans as evil as that. Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest as he shakes his head, “If you were to persuade me to bring you to the beach, you’ll run away.”

Though after a few moments of silence, Rafayel leans back against the marble column behind him. “Is the surface world’s sunset different from the one in the ocean?”

“Honestly...my memory of it is hazy…” You trail off as he closes his eyes and you take your chance to sit closer to him. Your head slowly drifts down to rest against the column as well– close to him but not touching him since you recall him saying he doesn’t like to be touched.

“You take me to see the sun and I’ll take you to see the festival...What do you think?” You ask as you look up at him, drinking every detail of his face. Though, as silence fills the room, you realize Rafayel had most likely fallen asleep. The tranquil nature of the situation also somehow makes you sleepy as well and your head leans against his shoulder, almost close enough to touch his head.

Though, you’re hesitant to fully lean against his shoulder. Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer and hear Rafayel tiredly go, “Mmhm.” almost as if saying you’re okay to lean on him. You lift your gaze to look up at his face, worried he was awake, but all you see is his closed eyes. His face way too close to yours, so you instead close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as you join him in sleep…

After a few days, Rafayel decides to go to the beach with you to watch his own celebration first hand. You tell him of how the emissaries on land had adopted you and raised you as a follower of the sea god, only to tell you that you were a sacrifice years later.

You talk of how you wouldn’t have been able to escape because of the island’s size. It was nice to be able to actually talk with someone about your situation for once.

Then, you both enter the festival with driftwood masks that Rafayel made and you overhear a storyteller.

“Unable to break his vow with the girl and his own burning passion, the God of the Sea left the ocean and lived happily ever after with his beloved...”

The children talk amongst themselves after the puppet show. “But Lemuria is centered around bonds. Without it, the Sea God won’t remember or obey her!” A little girl says, clearly upset over the ending.

“What are you talking about? The God of the Sea will find his beloved and live happily ever after,” The little boy next to her sighs, not understanding her.

The young girl lets out a huff of annoyance before tugging at your sleeve as she looks up at you, “What do you think, Miss? Will the Sea God be with her because he loves her or because of their vow?” “Uh...” You glance over at Rafayel before clearing your throat, “All of those legends of Lemuria are just made-up nonsense…”

Though, you seem to have made the wrong choice as the children start crying. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t...” You panic, not used to being around children enough to deal with the situation.

“What about you, Sir? Does Lemuria exist? Would the Sea God gift his heart to a human?” The girl quickly turns to Rafayel for an answer.

The man in question, the Sea God himself, rests his chin on his hand before nodding, “He would. Lemuria is my homeland, so that is how I know.”

Should...he be saying that? You tried to cover his mouth with your hands, but he pushed you away.

“What are Lemurians like?” She asked, excitedly.

“Hmm…Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, and their voices bring dreams of wonder. Their blood can make one live forever or even resurrect the dead.” You really don’t think Rafayel should be saying this but the girl quickly sighs, “I already knew that.”

“Lemurians don’t fall in love with people they’re bound to. ‘Tis a human fantasy.” Rafayel says with a shrug and you can’t help but frown.

“What else?” The little girl jumps up and down.

“Are you that curious?” Rafayel teases with a smile ghosting across his lips. It seems like the Sea God adores children– how cute.

Though, you could only faintly hear the conversation from afar, having walked away after Rafayel said Lemurians don’t fall in love with the humans they’re bound to.

Hmph, you’d just drink your sorrows away with some pomegranate wine.

You take a sip of the wine, being distracted by all of the lights and stalls like an excited little puppy.

Suddenly, the girl walks up to you and tugs on your sleeve again. “Miss! Your friend said that if you don’t return soon, he won’t keep waiting.”

Also, woah! I did not expect my bad weather drabbles to blow up like they did! Does that mean yall want to see more drabbles in the future?

If yall have any ideas for some, I'd love to, at least, try them out! Because I really didn't expect so many people to actually like it. I kept checking my Tumblr and being like "woah 35 notifs???" And then I'd check again and "WAIT, there's 25 more???" So, I'd love to keep doing them. They'd be good to post in-between my ToF schedule!

Hope yall enjoyed this chapter! I'm hoping it still makes sense that the reader can't fully control their body during these memories...I'm not really sure how to convey that tbh.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

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wontheworld · 10 months ago

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the gowon glazing is insane…..| 7

YN arrived at practice 15 minutes late because her manager had inadvertently picked her up late. She apologized to everyone as she entered the practice room.

She walked in and bowed to Sunghoon and the choreographer, saying, "Sorry I'm late. My manager kind of picked me up late." She bowed again, feeling embarrassed.

The choreographer rolled her eyes and scolded her, "Are you going to blame something on your manager again tomorrow? I don't tolerate lateness, so be here extra early tomorrow."

YN felt even more embarrassed as Sunghoon stood there expressionless. "I apologize. It won't happen again," she bowed and said.

"Anyway, for your collab stage, we're doing BTS's 'Dynamite.' We'll practice in here for three days, then move to the stage for practice, and finally perform on the following day. Let's get started," the choreographer said, and both Sunghoon and YN nodded in agreement.

During their practice, the choreographer criticized YN for every little thing.

"YN, are you the main dancer of your group?" the choreographer asked.

YN nodded and replied, "Yes, yes, I am." She smiled, but sweat dripped down her forehead.

The lady laughed and said, "I don't know who recruited you or why you auditioned, but you can't dance at all. It's like you're dancing like a clown. Is this a joke to you? You look goofy. I have never seen an idol like you. My seven-year-old son knows this whole choreography and can dance ten times better than you." She semi-yelled at the girl.

YN bowed and said, "I'm sorry," pausing briefly before wiping away a single tear from her eyes.

The lady looked at Sunghoon and said, "You have amazing dance skills. I don't know why they chose YN if she can't even do a simple choreography." Sunghoon thanked her in response.

They continued practicing for two more hours before the choreographer called it a day.

YN sighed and reached for her phone, typing away in frustration at the whole situation.

She put her phone down and grabbed her tote bag, preparing to leave the room, but Sunghoon stopped her.

"Hey YN, are you okay?" he questioned.

She smiled softly and nodded, "Yeah, I'm alright."

"Today, she was too hard on you. You danced way better than me. She's probably mad that you dance better than her," Sunghoon laughed.

She laughed and shook her head, "Thanks, Sunghoon. She might have had a bad day or something," she said, smiling at him.

"YN, let's go! Hurry up!" her manager yelled.

"See you tomorrow!" She bowed before leaving.

Prev Behind the scenes Next

Taglist:

@deobitifull @hoonstxr @seulgipage @purennn @haechansbbg @minetaphobe @badasgirlfriend @seunnimg @hyuzaa @ttylxox2 @ariadores

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angeliqueiguess · 10 days ago

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“Focus!” (j.jh)

015. contract? warnings: swearing, kind of short (srry in advance, studying gives me writers block)

Friday was dragging on, and for Y/n, every second felt like torture. She walked through the hallways of the building with Ten, venting her frustrations. ''Seriously, I run into him everywhere'' said Y/n, tossing him a knowing look.

''You’ve gotta stop giving it so much importance. How many times have I told you that? You still haven’t learned, have you?''

''Yeah, yeah, I know...'' Y/n groaned. ''But every time he walks past me, he huffs like I'm bothering him just by existing. And, I swear, it makes me wanna spin his head like in The Exorcist.'' She said it so deadpan that Ten burst out laughing.

''Sorry! It’s just... you said it with such a straight face, I couldn’t help it.''

''Alright, enough'' she muttered, rolling her eyes ''I just don’t get why he’s wandering around the building all the time. The only thing he needs to do is show up for the photos and leave. That’s literally it.''

They kept walking until they reached their office. Y/n stopped and turned to Ten. ''Oh, and remember, Ash is coming in...'' she checked her watch. ''In about two hours. We need everything set up by then so we can go over the plan, mkay?''

''Yes, ma’am.'' Ten straightened up with an exaggerated salute, making her snicker. She reached for the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t budge.

''Ugh, this fucking lock! I swear it’s out to get me'' she grumbled, twisting and pulling the handle to no avail ''No... not again.''

After a bit of struggling, the door finally clicked open.

''Okay, seriously, I need to get this shit fixed...'' she muttered with a half-smile. But before she could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the moment.

''Yeah, you should fix it. Don’t you think?'' Y/n froze on the spot. Standing right in front of her was Jaehyun, calm as ever. He looked at her briefly, then added, almost casually: ''And, by the way... in case you didn’t know, Im kinda sealing a deal with your brother, that's why im roaming aroung as you say.''

Without waiting for a response, Jaehyun turned and walked off, leaving Y/n and Ten standing there, too stunned to speak. After a beat, Ten turned to her ''Girl... we’re so fucked.''

Ten opened the door and found Y/n looking at him with eager anticipation. She hurried inside.

''Come on, spill the tea!'' Y/n said, grabbing Ten by the shoulders and lowering her voice since there were staff members wandering around.

''I overheard Ash and Jaehyun talking'' he paused, and Y/n raised an eyebrow ''Ash was laughing about something Jaehyun said, and it was loud enough that I thought everyone in the building would hear'' Ten continued, waving to a passing staff member.

''And then what?'' Y/n asked, clearly interested.

''Then Jaehyun hugged her, like, by the shoulders and whispered something in her ear, but I couldn’t catch it'' Ten said, mimicking the scene, which made Y/n frown. ''And that was it.''

''Seriously, Ten, if you were sent to rob a house, you’d probably knock on the door first'' Y/n joked, smacking her forehead in mock frustration.

''What do you want me to do? I can’t just creep around and spy on them!'' Ten protested, but before Y/n could respond, someone called out.

''Hey! Y/n, how have you been? Long time, no see!'' It was Ash, who rushed over and pulled Y/n into a tight hug. Y/n felt a bit awkward at Ash's enthusiastic greeting because she was really calm and collected, y/n hugged her back, stealing a glance at Ten, who looked just as baffled. Ash pulled away and grabbed Y/n’s hands. ''I’m so excited to work with you again!'' she exclaimed, and without waiting for a reply, turned and dashed off, leaving Y/n with a mix of confusion and amusement.

''What the fuck'' mouthed Y/n looking at Ten who had the same confused expression.

---

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note: sorry in advance for this shitty chapter (my brain is fried from studying) hope you liked it and dw, i'll update again in a few hours <3 love u! don't forget to take care of yourselves and drink tons of water <3<3

Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @tenjyucat @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @cryingforjae @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @livingdoll-hara

#nct #nct127 #nctdream #nctimagines #nctau #nctsmau #nctu #jaehyun #jungjaehyun #jaehyunnct #jaehyunau #jaehyunsmau #johnny #johnnysuh #johnnynct #johfam #johnnyau #johnnysmau

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sungbeam · 2 years ago

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OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

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pandenewie · 1 year ago

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39 - Do-over Date

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AN: This is the second to last chapter :(( I don't want it to end

If you had told Y/n at the start of the year that they’d be dating Jungwon in just a few months time, they’d laugh in your face and remind you that they hate him… Well life works in funny ways because as Y/n’s eyes land on Jungwon’s slouched figure, hate is the last word that comes to mind.

“How many times do I have to tell you to sit up straight?” Y/n playfully scolds once they’re in earshot. Jungwon immediately turns around to greet them, his eyes narrowing as he takes in their outfit. “And how many times do I have to tell you not to break the dress code… they literally changed it for you and you’re still rebelling.” Jungwon replies, tugging on the hem of Y/n’s shirt for added effect. “Where’s the fun in that?” Y/n pouts. They catch Jungwon’s hand before he can pull away and place it on their hip - his second hand quickly mirroring the action on the other side. Wrapping their arms around his shoulders, Y/n steps closer to minimise the space between them. “And besides, I know you love my outfits.” Y/n teases, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

They take note of the subtle blush that makes home across his cheeks. All this time, and some simple teasing still has this effect on him. "I love you not getting in trouble a little more…" Jungwon mumbles, his attention being pulled from the conversation to focus solely on Y/n's lips. Y/n takes note of this and can't help the smile that spreads across their lips. They bring a hand up to gently tussle Jungwon's red locks - that are already beginning to lose their vibrancy, before pulling away to sit down next to him.

"So, what are we working on today?" Y/n asks, their head immediately taking its place on Jungwon's shoulder. "Well, I'm working on some stuff for prom… I don't know what you're doing." Jungwon says, his words causing Y/n to playfully roll their eyes. "Distracting you, probably." They mumble, pressing a few small kisses against the skin of Jungwon's neck. One of Jungwon's arms moves to wrap around Y/n's waist - pulling them impossibly closer. "My favourite distraction." He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of Y/n's head before turning his attention back to his open laptop.

His words have more of an effect on Y/n than they'd like to admit. They bury their head further into the crook of his neck - an attempt to hide the reddening of their cheeks. His favourite distraction? That’s certainly something they could get used to hearing.

“How long are you gonna be working on this?” Y/n mumbles. “Bored already?” Jungwon jokes, causing Y/n to playfully nudge him. “That’s not what I meant.” They roll their eyes. “But you did promise that we were going to go on an actual date after this… not one just in the school library.”

Jungwon looks down at Y/n with an expression they can’t quite pin. Apologetic? Pity? “I’m sorry babe… just let me finish this one thing and then we’ll go, okay?” Jungwon asks - pressing yet another kiss to Y/n’s head. To say it’s been a little tough balancing his time between his school work and his relationship would be an understatement. Although he’s been working on not overloading himself as much as he used to, he still has a lot of responsibilities that need his attention. This means, most of the “dates” that he and Y/n go on are either in the school library, the public library, or at each other's houses. He knows that Y/n doesn’t actually mind this but part of him can’t help but feel bad for not being able to do things like all the other couples at school.

Sighing, Jungwon pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Wonyoung, saying he’s got the planning started for prom and asking her to look over it. That gives him a couple of hours to spend with Y/n and Y/n only.

Speaking of Y/n, their attention is grabbed as Jungwon quickly turns off his laptop and starts placing it in his bag. “What are you doing?” Y/n asks. “We’re going on a date, remember? I’m done for the day.” He replies, smiling at Y/n. They narrow their eyes at him, not completely believing his story. “You better not be blowing off work for me. I know I said I wanted you to work less but I don’t want you throwing away all your responsibilities.” Y/n scolds, pointing a finger accusingly to his chest. Jungwon takes the finger gently and intertwines their hands. “I need Wonyoung to look over what I’ve done so far and she’ll be busy till later tonight, which means you have me all to yourself for the rest of the day.” Jungwon clarifies.

All to themself? Now Y/n likes the sound of that.

“You know, I’m kind of getting flashbacks to camp right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“That was the last time you covered my eyes and ominously led me somewhere.”

“It’s not ominous! It’s romantic.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Jungwon playfully rolls his eyes at Y/n’s comments as he leads them through the park. Once he gets to the spot, he moves Y/n to stand against a tree. “Okay, keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them.” Jungwon says, brushing some of Y/n’s hair out of their face before fully stepping away.

Y/n can hear movement and the subtle sound of Jungwon mumbling to himself. How badly they want to open their eyes and see what he’s up to but they know that would ruin the surprise - whatever it is. They’ve learnt that Jungwon has a knack for this sort of thing, and the last thing they want to do is ruin it for him.

Y/n jumps slightly at the sound of something dropping, followed by a mumbled curse from Jungwon. “What are you doing?” Y/n laughs. “Nothing, everything is under control.” Jungwon says, mildly out of breath. “You can open your eyes now.”

Y/n doesn’t hesitate to rip their hands from in front of their face, their eyes landing on the scene in front of them. Jungwon sits, wide smiled, on a checkered blanket - a picnic basket placed at his side. The basket is practically overflowing with Y/n’s and Jungwon’s favourite foods and there’s a few candles placed strategically around the blanket (that Y/n recognises from Jungwon’s bedroom).

“What’s all this?” Y/n asks, in awe. From what they remember, today isn’t a special occasion or anything. They’ve only been with Jungwon for about a month (not counting the whole fake dating part) and it’s not either of their birthdays. Are they missing something?

“I just wanted to do something nice for you… I feel like I’ve been kind of a shitty boyfriend recently.” Jungwon says, causing Y/n’s eyes to widen. “Are you kidding? Babe, you’ve been amazing!” Y/n exclaims, kneeling in front of Jungwon. “I wanted to give you a real date… one that isn’t just watching me do work.” He mumbles, looking down nervously. Noticing his mood, Y/n gently cups Jungwon’s cheeks and presses their lips against his. “I love it.” They mumble, pecking his lips over and over again until they both break out into wide smiles.

“Okay, what did you bring? Give me a haul!” Y/n claps excitedly as Jungwon reaches into the basket to show off all the food he got. He probably went overboard, given the fact that it’s just the two of them but he wanted to make this date perfect. Y/n’s reactions grow in enthusiasm with every item that Jungwon pulls out, causing his heart to flutter with happiness. Judging by the excited glimmer in Y/n’s eyes, he can tell that his hard work paid off. He’s gonna make this a date to remember.

The sun begins to set behind the trees surrounding the park, casting an orange glow across the grassy plain. The other couples and families that were scattered around slowly begin to pack up and go home, leaving Y/n and Jungwon as some of the few people left.

“It’s really nice out here.” Jungwon mumbles, his eyes slightly closed as he lays his head on Y/n’s lap. Their hand gently moves through his red strands, watching fondly as Jungwon relaxes under their touch. “It is, I feel like I could stay here for hours.” Y/n replies, quietly.

Despite being in public, the lack of people around makes the whole setting feel very private. Glancing around the park and not seeing anyone nearby, Y/n quickly dips down to capture Jungwon’s lips in a kiss - catching the boy off guard. Jungwon squeaks slightly at the sudden contact but kisses back nonetheless. “What are you doing?” He mumbles between kisses, his voice slightly muffled by the continuous pressure of Y/n’s lips. “Loving you.” Y/n mumbles back.

The words seem to almost float through the air as Jungwon gazes up at Y/n. It’s as if his brain has short circuited. Before Y/n can say anything else, Jungwon quickly sits up and connects their lips once again, pulling Y/n against him with even more passion and urgency than before. Y/n’s hands quickly find themselves cupping Jungwon’s jaw, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Jungwon can’t help but lean closer and closer to Y/n, wanting to be as close as possible. His movements cause Y/n to fall backwards, the two pulling away momentarily as giggles escape both their lips. Jungwon slips one of his hands underneath Y/n’s head, cushioning it from the hardness of the ground whilst the other gently grips their chin, pulling them back into the passionate kiss.

“Jungwon, Y/n!”

The two quickly pull away from each other at the sudden call of their names. They look around to see Niki, Jongseob and Shota running towards them. “Oh, shit. Were you guys making out? Sorry.”

Jungwon rolls his eyes at Jongseob’s words, helping Y/n sit up and fixing their tousled hair. “What are you guys doing here?” He asks, looking at his friends slightly annoyed. He loves them but god, can they be oblivious. Who sees their two friends practically on top of each other and decides to approach? “We were at the playground.” Niki says, only adding to Jungwon’s confusion. “What are you guys doing at a playground?” He asks. “Playing… duh.” Shota clarifies.

“Is that watermelon?” Niki asks, excitedly pointing towards the picnic basket. He immediately sits down and begins rummaging through the basket. “Riki, maybe we shouldn’t-” Jongseob begins to speak but gets cut off by Y/n giving him the go ahead. “We have too much food, anyway. You guys can have some.” Y/n smiles.

Jungwon is conflicted as he watches his friends sit down and start to eat. On one hand, he loves watching Y/n and his friends get along - and knowing that Y/n wants to share their food and spend time with them makes his heart flutter. But at the same time, this was supposed to be a picnic for him and Y/n alone. He can’t help but pout at the fact that his friends have shown up and invited themselves.

Taking note of his pout, Y/n can’t help but smile at their boyfriend’s cuteness. They reach over to grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, silently promising that they’ll handle it. Once the other three boys have had something to eat, Y/n ushers them away - claiming that the playground would be much more fun than sitting here with them and Jungwon. Deep down, it’s just an excuse to get Jungwon all to themself once again.

Once the boys leave (not without pulling extreme kissy faces), Jungwon lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought they’d never leave.” He mumbles, leaning his head on Y/n shoulder. They bring a hand up to run through his hair, laughing slightly at his comment. “I could tell, you were pouting.” Y/n says. “Because they were stealing your attention.” Jungwon mumbles. “Well, we can’t have that.” Y/n replies, jokingly.

Jungwon moves to sit in front of Y/n and opens his arms. Rolling their eyes, Y/n carefully climbs into his lap and secures their arms around his neck, causing Jungwon to tilt his head up to look at them. “You’re supposed to be spending time with me…” Jungwon mumbles, leaning forward to press a kiss against the corner of Y/n’s lips. “Not them.” Y/n can’t help but giggle in response. “Never knew you were this possessive.” They comment. “Not possessive just…” “Clingy?” Y/n cuts Jungwon off with a teasing smile, causing him to look at them with a deadpan expression.

Just as Y/n begins to laugh, Jungwon tightens his arms around their waist as much as possible - causing them to let out a squeal laugh as he squeezes them in his grasp. “Babe! You’re gonna kill me.” Y/n whines, their laughter increasing as Jungwon begins to shake them back and forth. “What? I’m just being clingy.” Jungwon teases back, earning a groan in response. “Okay, okay! I'll take it back, you’re not clingy.” Jungwon releases his grip at Y/n’s words, causing them to let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

It falls silent between the two for a second as Y/n catches their breath. Jungwon just sits there, watching with fondness as Y/n adjusts their hair - a small pout spread across their lips at Jungwon’s playing around.

“How long have we been together?”

The question causes Y/n to look at Jungwon with confusion. Where is this coming from?

“Uh… counting the fake dating or…?” Jungwon nods at Y/n’s words. “Then… 3 months? Maybe 4?” Y/n’s voice trails off as they try to remember when exactly this whole thing with Jungwon started. They have to admit, things moved so quickly that it’s hard to determine an exact start.

“Why do you ask?” Y/n asks, causing Jungwon to shrug. “Don’t worry about it… it’s too soon.” Jungwon mumbles, Y/n’s ears perking up at the mention of too soon. “Wonnie,” Y/n mumbles, a slight whine to their voice. They press a gentle kiss to his lips, as if to convince him to share what’s on his mind. “You can talk to me.”

Jungwon sighs before looking up at Y/n. His eyes glimmer slightly as the two hold eye contact, pupils pooling with admiration as well as fear. “I just think… that I might be falling in love with you.” Jungwon speaks slowly, every word hitting each corner of Y/n’s brain. He watches eagerly as Y/n’s face contorts from one of confusion to relief. Y/n can’t help but lean in to kiss Jungwon once again, something the two do a lot when they’re so overwhelmed by feelings that they don’t know what to say. Jungwon smiles into the kiss, knowing exactly what it represents. Y/n is telling him through actions, not words. And he understands every single thing.

Pulling away with a sigh, Y/n rests their forehead against Jungwon’s - eyes closed in bliss. The sun has long set by now, the dim light of the candles being all that illuminates the space. After a moment of silence, Y/n opens their eyes to stare directly into Jungwon’s. “That’s good,” They whisper, unable to hold back the smile that creeps its way across their face.

“Because I think I’m starting to fall in love with you, too.”

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 11 months ago

Text

(prev)

When Hiccup returns to the hut, he finds their guest awake, and sitting up. That's good. That's an improvement. Before Hiccup could take a better look at the guy, Gothi parks herself in front of him.

"He's delicate," she scribbles on the ground. "The seas left its mark. Don't excite him too much." She punctuates those last two words with a tap of her walking stick.

Hiccup lifts both hands up. "Alright, okay! I'll be careful! You make it sound like I'm gonna give him a heart attack!"

"Are you?" A low voice croaks out.

Hiccup turns to face their guest. And yeah, okay. He gets where Gothi's coming from. The guy looks like he's two steps from entering Hel or Valhalla, probably Hel from the looks of him. He's thinner than Hiccup, but then again, Hiccup has filled out a little. He's got honest-to-Thor biceps now. But this guy - Hiccup has seen chickens with more meat on their wings than this guy has in his arms. And he's deathly pale, which makes sense given the circumstances. Seriously, Hiccup could trace the guy's veins - blue, nearly black, against his skin. Hiccup never had the good fortune of seeing a dead body - not the way Ruffnut and Tuffnut keep saying they have. But Hiccup hopes this guy will be the closest he'll ever get.

And yet... The weirdest part about this guy has to be his face. Hiccup can't figure it out but there's just something really weird about his face. It wasn't the eyes or the hair, both colored a common as dirt brown. So what...

"If you keep making a face like that, you'll really give me a heart attack," the guy murmurs, cutting through Hiccup's thoughts.

"I think you can manage one without any help..." Hiccup replies.

The guy snorts. "I'm feeling better if you can believe it." He nods at Gothi. "Can she talk? All she's done this whole time is stare at me. I swear I never saw her blink."

"Yeah... She does that. But um... good, I mean, about your uh health. Glad to hear it." Hiccup rubs the back of his neck. He's supposed to ask the guy more about himself, but outside of a straight up interrogation, he's never been good at the 'let's get to know each other' kinda stuff. They shoulda sent Gobber to do this, now there's someone that can get folks to tell stories. But Dad says it's all part of his Chief training, whatever that means.

"Thanks for pulling me out of the ice," the guy says. "This was mighty kind of you, and really, if there's any sort of payment I can offer, just let me know? Unless, I mean, my Mom spoke to you already?"

"Your... Mom...." Hiccup echoes. He can feel his face freezing up. His Mom? But there was never - They couldn't even find a shipwreck.

"Yeah, you know. A woman that looks kinda like me, almost like we're related or something." The guy goes on.

Hiccup's throat dries up and he clenches his jaw. This guy washed ashore with nothing but the strange clothes on his back. They figured him for dead before he started coughing like he was trying to throw up his lungs. It was... Yeah, Hiccup doesn't like remembering it too much. If this guy was that bad, then anyone else would be...

"And she keeps calling herself too old or that I'll give her gray hairs, but really she doesn't look a day over a hundred." The guy chuckles, or tries to, mostly he makes this wet, wheezing noise.

Hiccup opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. "We... There was no one else in the water..."

He braces himself for the guy to start wailing, to froth up a rage - some kind of strong response. But the guy just tilts his head. And oh. Hiccup gets it now - the thing that's been bothering him about this guy's face. He's always kinda smiling. As if a grin is permanently pasted on his face, even when his hands are balled into fists, even when his shoulders are drawn in tight, even when there's literally nothing about him that matches a smile.

"Well... That's good, right? I was the only one in the water then. But so... Does my Mom know I'm here? Does my sister?"

Okay. Well. Now Hiccup's just confused. "No... How would we reach out to your family? Do they live nearby?"

"Uh... Yeah? I mean, maybe? Do you guys live anywhere near Hawthorne?"

"I... have never heard of that place."

"What? No. That can't be right. Hawthorne's barely the size of a village, sure, but it's the only settlement for miles!"

Hiccup slowly shakes his head. "No... I don't remember hearing of someplace like that."

At last, the guy's grin falls away as he scowls at the blankets. He chews on his lip, clearly thinking hard.

Hiccup tries to remember if he's ever heard of a Hawthorne. But he comes up blank. "I can -"

"Where is-"

They share a look. Now it's Hiccup's turn to crack a grin. "You first."

The guy blinks. "Oh, uh... I was um... Where am I now? Where is this?"

"Berk."

When the guy just gives him a blank stare, Hiccup folds his brow. Berk's been making a name for itself since they started the whole dragon co-existence thing. Surely, this guy would have heard all the rumors about them. Thor knows, they've been suffering the consequences from all that attention.

But this guy - there's not a shred of recognition in his expression. He could be faking it. Or 'the seas left its mark', as Gothi put it. Hiccup really wants to give him the benefit of doubt here.

"Berk, one of the isles in the Barbaric Archipelago? Home to the Hairy Hooligan tribe? No? None of that sounds familiar?"

The guy wordlessly shakes his head, fear starting to twist his face. Okay. That's not ideal.

"Is that... Is that anywhere near the New World?" The guy asks, his knuckles going white as he squeezes the blankets with both hands.

Gothi makes an irritated tap of her walking stick. Hiccup ignores her.

Did this guy just say the 'New World'? But that's just an old mariner's tale. And even if it was true, it's definitely nowhere near Berk.

The look on Hiccup's face must give him away because the guy locks up, eyes going wide, limbs closing tight and stiff.

"H... How... But I was just there! The pond was right by my village! How did this happen?!"

And that, Hiccup thinks, is the real question. Either this guy is a really good actor or he really has no memory. When he starts breathing faster, clutching his chest like it hurts, Hiccup makes a decision.

Dodging Gothi's stick, which tries to keep him away, Hiccup crouches next to the bed, putting himself at eye level with their guest. "Hey, we can figure this out, okay? You'll be back with your Mom in no time. Just... Just hang in there... Uhm..."

The guy looks at him, and there's that smile again - completely out of place given that he's literally one heartbeat away from a breakdown. "Ca-Call me Jack. And you?"

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. But everyone calls me Hiccup."

#hijack #frostcup #rise of the guardians #how to train your dragon #journey to the past #jack frost #hiccup haddock

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skiyoosmi · 1 year ago

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if fate permits

⤷ chapter thirty one: treachery

prev < masterlist > next

marga's notes. sorry this took years to post i was dead (inside) jk lol pls blame my uni for burning me out

Perhaps, I was too ambitious to think this would be a plain sailing journey. How ironic, it's the exact opposite of what is happening. Doubt and confusion presents itself as soon as I decide to fight our fate. My mind only has perplexity and skepticism. How could it not? I mean, what do you even do when somebody claims to be your fated one but your soul rejects the notion?

The sound of the television's static travels to your ears as Kiyoomi scrolls through his phone to find a good movie to watch for the night, accompanied by the sound of your mother chopping the ingredients of your family's dinner from the kitchen, albeit somewhat muffled. Your fingers remain hovering over the laptop's keyboard, unsure if you should still continue writing when once again, various things distract you, most of them unwelcomed. As if on cure, your phone chimes for the nth time, signaling that you've received yet another text. You only let out an exasperated sigh and pick up the device, reading the message.

[7:15] Hajime: Hey, wanna vc? Just ate dinner, hope you did too :)

For some reasons you don’t know, Iwaizumi just can’t leave you alone from the moment you got off the plane, went outside the airport up until now, where you’re spending your time with your father and brother after being away from them for so long. It was heart fluttering at first, really; how excited he was to see and to be with you. However, some things are just too much sometimes, especially when all you wanted to do was watch said movie and catch up with your family. It was peace: something you craved for as of the moment because in the back of your mind, you knew that the following months would become chaotic.

The gray screen gets filled with vivid colors when Kiyoomi finally finishes setting up a random romantic comedy movie. Quickly typing out a response, you hit the send button.

[7:17PM] You: That’s good to hear. We already ate as well. Currently watching a movie with ‘Omi and Dad right now so I won’t be able to reply after this. Have a good night :)

[7:19PM] Hajime: Ah.. okay then. Good night, soulmate <3

You pause to read his last message before finally turning the do not disturb mode on and lightly tossing the phone to the side. Heaving yet another sigh, you catch the attention of your brother who was sitting beside you.

"Do you not like this movie? We can change it if you want, it hasn't been that long anyway," your brother suggests, an eyebrow rising when you shake your head. Your dad was long asleep by the couch he usually relaxes on, probably fatigued from the week's work. You turn to your brother's gaze.

"No, just thinking…" you trail off, "what do you think of Iwaizumi?"

Kiyoomi merely shrugs, “eh, he’s fine.”

You huff, “at least give an effort to think about it more. I’m asking a serious question here, you know?”

The frustrated expression on your face causes your brother to ponder over the query a bit more before sighing, “this is difficult. We’re not even that close for me to comment on him. But he looks decent, like he can take care of you.”

His brows furrow when he perceives the slight disappointment on your face, almost as if you were expecting to hear him say negative things instead, “what’s up with you?”

“You really think he’s good?” you lightly say, eyes wandering as if lost further in your own thoughts. He hums, “yeah, something like that. But then again, you don’t need him to take care of you. You can do that yourself, and even if you can’t, you have me, or Osamu.. And his brother, Atsumu.”

He takes note of the way your face subconsciously lights up at the mention of the blonde’s name. Instinctively, it’s always him.

“O-okay,’’ you stutter with a light blush.

He ignores it though, it’s a topic set for another time and goes to ask instead, “mind filling me on why you suddenly ask about Iwaizumi-san?”

Your somberness returns and once again, you look confused, doubtful, “well, he said he was my soulmate…”

Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe what he heard.

You don’t notice it as you continue to ramble on, “and I don’t know why but I just find it difficult to believe him and I feel guilty about that. ‘Cause I try to think about it, he doesn’t have any reason to lie to me, right? Especially since you yourself said he was a good guy. But, ugh, this is so complicated.”

“Come again?” He asks through gritted teeth, his fists starting to clench in anger. You look at him oddly, which turns to a glare in a second, annoyed that he wasn’t fully listening, “I said… I find it difficult–”

“No, not that. The one before that.”

“Ugh, I said Hajime told me he was my soulmate before. You know, the one I can’t remember? Well, at least that’s what I thought but apparently, he thinks it was a malfunction with the soulmate system. Because I can clearly remember him as my friend and yet, he insists that maybe the system distorted my memories or something like that,” you finish talking, expectantly looking at him, lurching backwards when you see his reaction, “Hey… you okay, ‘Omi? Okay.. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to search for him anymore nor entertain soulmate stuff.. but you know how impo–”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he abruptly stands up from the couch and quickly makes his way upstairs. You scramble to get up, “hey! Where are you going? Omi! You said you wanted to watch this movie…”

You only hear his bedroom door close as a response.

“Geez, what got up that weirdo’s ass? So much for a movie night.. one falls asleep right away while the other has very bad mood swings,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you go back to the living room, picking up your phone and trudging upstairs to your bedroom. You unlock your phone and see messages from Osamu and another from Hajime.

[7:30PM] Samu: Tomorrow. Here at our house. I don’t accept a no. Good night ^_^

[7:35PM] Hajime: Oh, by the way, do you want to go out tomorrow? (:

“Sorry, Haji. Don’t really want to disappoint Samu,” you whisper as you type out replies for the both of them, the guilt of not minding if you disappoint Hajime instead becomes a fleeting thought.

Before you can even raise your fist to knock, the familiar wooden front door opens widely and you are welcomed by the sight of your gray-haired best friend. He pulls you in a tight hug and mumbles curses as he buries his face in your neck, “You took too long… way too long, idiot.”

“It was only a few years, you dramatic ass. Never took you to be a clingy type of friend,” you hug him back with the same tightness before letting him go and walking inside their humble abode. He excitedly leads you to the living room, “wait here. Let me just get my brother.”

“Uhh… what?”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, we’re going out with him. You know, like what we used to all do when we were–” his eyes widened as if he remembered something before lightly coughing and continuing to speak, “I mean… like what we both used to do, you know? But this time, with him. It’s been a long time since he came home too… and this could be a chance for you two to get closer to one another.”

He finishes rambling, internally praying you don’t catch the nervousness in his voice due to his slip-up a moment ago. He curses when he sees you slowly nod. With so many years of knowing you, Osamu already knew from your expressions that you caught even that minor mistake, how you’re currently scrutinizing each and every word they all speak ever since you came back and how you’re starting to get suspicious about everyone around you.

He doesn’t know if he should thank or curse Kiyoomi for giving him a heads up about your plans to find your soulmate. It makes him so conscious, so nervous he might accidentally tell you that the very person you’re trying to find is his dearest twin brother.

At the present, however, he only gulps and prays instead that you just pretend you didn’t notice anything. You do exactly that when you shrug and tell him, “alright then. That’s no problem for me.”

“G-good,” he says a little too loudly, mentally slapping himself to get it together, “I’ll… get Atsumu now hehe.”

You narrow your eyes at his weirdness, shaking your head before bringing your phone out to check your socials. You hum with interest as you open a message from Hajime.

I like to believe that I’m trying– that I enjoy the idea of being his soulmate, that I look on with favor to partaking in this play pretend, this fantastical theatrics of trying to work things out the way they are– me as his fated one, him as mine.

[9:09AM] Hajime-kun: Good morning, soulmate :) I’m a bit bummed we couldn’t go out. Anyway, enjoy your day with Osamu. Hopefully, it’ll finally be my day tomorrow?

[9:10AM] You: Good morning, Hajime-kun. Sorry again about that hehe but sure, I think I’m finally free tomorrow haha

[9:12AM] Hajime-kun: Great! Also, I told you to drop the honorifics. You feel so distant when you use it *sadly sighs*

[9:13AM] You: Silly. I just respect you that much, okay?

You hear multiple footsteps coming down so you quickly type out another message for him.

[9:14AM] You: Anyway, I have to go now. See you tomorrow.

You type out the word soulmate at the end of your text, only to delete it as soon as you pull on your heart.

But I’m no actress. It’s all treachery. Whenever I try to give him a chance, I feel like a traitor. It’s almost as if I was betraying someone, like I’m unknowingly breaking somebody else’s heart, my soulmate’s heart, somebody who my heart believes was not him. So I step back and hesitate, maybe I should just stop this. To prevent any more complications, to not feel guilty towards anyone, not to you and not to him.

Before you can drown deeper in your thoughts, the twins come into view. You give Atsumu a shy smile as a greeting, feeling your heart skip when he returns the gesture. Osamu looks back and forth at the two of you and thinks, I guess the soulmate system really is a scam, huh? Even fate can’t handle these two. So obvious.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “What are you two? High schoolers? You could do better than those shy smiles.”

You both awkwardly chuckle, both cursing the gray-haired lad in your minds.

“Fine, fine. It’s nice to see you again, Atsumu-san,” you genuinely smile and Atsumu’s heart skips. So pretty, he thought.

“It’s also nice to see ya again.”

Welcome home, YN, the blonde thinks with relief and solace filling his soul.

“Waah, it’s been so long since I came here,” you exclaim as your eyes take in the view of the very familiar and busy street market of your hometown. Atsumu looks at you fondly, hands itching to just grab yours and pull you to his arms while you stroll around the area but his thoughts don’t let him get too far as his twin calls him. “You’re too obvious, boy. You look like a lovesick puppy,” Osamu snorts, hands in his pockets as they watch you excitedly talk to the stall owners, “she wanted you to look at her that way for so long, yanno? Too long.”

“Yeah… I still regret that,” Atsumu sadly smiles, “Nothing much I can do about it now. Our fate’s passed.”

“Or so you think,” his twin shrugs when the blonde looks at him with confusion, “YN… even without her memories of you, is still YN. It’s funny, actually. Even fate couldn’t control her. Even after all that has happened, she still wants to find you. So don’t be a coward, Tsum. You don’t need to ask the world nor the gods for a second chance. YN… she’s giving it to you herself already, even without you asking.”

Atsumu looks at you once more, heart painfully throbbing at your smile as you call the both of them over to where you are.

“She doesn’t realize it, neither do ya but… she still looks at ya the same way as she did before,” Osamu finishes as he pats Atsumu’s back before walking to you.

“Hey! You two walk so slow,” you comment, pointing to the stall in front of you, “they have ice cream there. Want some?”

“I’ll get it,” Atsumu says as he brings out his wallet.

“I’ll have mint chocolate,” Osamu says. You open your mouth to say your order but the blonde beats you to it.

“Vanilla with chocolate drip and those colorful sprinkles on top. Your favorite, right?” Atsumu says without looking up while he tries getting some coins out. You and his twin become silent, shocked at his familiarity. Osamu internally screams at his twin, this idiot!

On the other hand, you freeze. How did he know such a very specific detail about you?

Realizing what he just said, Atsumu stops as well, the gears in his head turning to think of an excuse, “Uhm… that was weird for me to know, huh? It’s just that Osamu complained so much about it when I was abroad. Guess it just registered in my brain hehe.”

Nice save, he thought.

“Oh…really? Haha, that’s… interesting to hear haha,” you awkwardly laugh.

“Yeah… anyway, I’m gonna–” he gestures to the stall before practically running to it.

As soon as you thought he was already far enough from the two of you, you grip Osamu’s arm and pull him closer to you and threateningly ask, “This is a question that requires an answer if you want to live through the day– who was Atsumu’s soulmate? Why is his thread also cut off?”

He yelps and stutters, “W-what? What soulmate… I have no idea!”

You tighten your grip on him, “Oh, please, Miya Osamu. I know you have an idea.”

He gulps, “I-I swear I don’t. We never knew because Atsumu couldn’t see the thread.”

You weren’t fully satisfied with his answer yet you had no choice but to let go of him as you see Atsumu coming back. You look at Osamu with a stare that tells him you were definitely not done with the said topic yet. God, she can be scary sometimes, the lad thinks and shivers in fear.

The blonde hands you your ice cream and smiles before looking around, eyes stopping at another stall.

“Oh, look! They sell waffles there, I think? I remember it’s also your favo–” he stops talking before correcting himself, “I remember Osamu saying it’s also your favorite, am I right?”

“Oh… uhh… yeah, you’re right,” you watch them argue with their eyes, frowning.

“I’ll buy it this time!” Osamu squeaks out, rushing off and leaving you two.

“He’s so weird,” you comment as you stand beside Atsumu, giggling when he agrees.

“I know right. The gods know how much I’ve put up with that ass,” he shakes his head before sighing, “But he’s put up with me so much as well and probably more… humbled me for so many times already. I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, yanno? But for some reason, he’s the one always anchoring me, bringing me back and reminding me I could try again,” he pauses and says thoughtfully, “that it’s never selfish to take a second chance at things… or the people I love.”

You look at him and find him already looking at you, melancholy swimming deep in his eyes. You feel another painful twist in your heart and find your eyes welling up. A tear falls down which makes you gasp, hand reaching up but Atsumu beats you to it, his palm was already on your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping the lone tear. Realizing what he has done, he starts pulling back his hand, “sorry. I should’ve asked for your conse–”

He halts when you wrap your hand around his wrist, placing it back.

“You know, Atsumu-san. Looking at you hurts like hell,” you start, closing your eyes as you feel more tears coming down, “whenever I look at you, my heart does this painful thing where it almost feels like I’m about to have a heart attack. It’s excruciating but… it makes me feel so alive, so full at the same time. It makes me think– what if… what if you were my soulmate and I just forgot?”

You open your eyes and sadly chuckle, “I think I’m weird like Osamu too.”

You bring down both of your hands and intertwine it, “Sorry for this.”

Your heart skips yet again when he grips your hand tighter after squeezing it, all while mumbling, ‘it’s okay… I think.”

However, there's also a chord of restlessness that sits within me, eager to fill the gaps in my mind even if the universe and our fate is against doing so. Maybe, this is a taboo. Something that must remain unexplored, untouched. The complexity of it all must be left unknown, for ignorance is a bliss, they say right? Unfortunately for them, for me, and for you… the gravity that pulls me towards him is too great, too satisfying to not acknowledge. So, how can I, a mere personification of hope, not consider that blonde hair and amber eyes to be the house of the soul I’m searching for?

Treachery? Betrayal? A traitor to my soulmate? None of those matters.

Not when you make me feel different, Atsumu.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #atsumu smau #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi hajime

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 1 year ago

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HANDS ON YOU — 004

IN WHICH; ILAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÉRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

smau + written (0.5k words)

❥･• chapter 4 — dog-eater…?

"I can't believe you got lost searching for a vending machine," Minjung-unnie hurriedly drags Mai over to where we are in the waiting area. "I'm sorry! I just really need some sugar intake," Mai sheepishly scratches the back of her neck, visibly apologetic for making her members wait. You can tell that everyone is on edge, and rightfully so, considering the intense training that all of you have put into preparing for this moment.

You notice Mai shifting uncomfortably in her stage outfit, presumably affected by the tension that has somehow permeated the atmosphere of the girls. “It’s okay, just don’t run off by yourself again yeah?” You placed a reassuring pat on her shoulder, and Mai gratefully deflates into your touch.

"How do you look... fine? I'm literally about to throw up." Yuna turns to look at you, her voice barely above a whisper but instead of replying to her, you shot Yuna a teasing smile only to have her jokingly roll her eyes at you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous, you dreamt of this moment for as long as you have been training for it, imagining yourself confidently answering questions with poise and charm.

Now, facing the reality of being in the spotlight, a mix of excitement and anxiety consumes you. Even with a meticulously memorised script from yesterday, you can't help but feel the churning in your stomach, finding solace in having skipped lunch that day.

The corridors echo with the hurried footsteps of the production staff, their voices mingling with the hum of electronic equipment. You watch as Sunghoon and Wonyoung meticulously rehearse their lines, ensuring they are well-prepared for any anomalies that may occur.

Your heart nearly drops to the pits of your stomach when the production staff directs you and your group to make your way onto the tiny platform they have squeezed into the box set. Subtly, you share a smile with Sunghoon as you walk past him up the steps. "Nervous?" he asks, noticing your trembling hands. You nod in response.

"Don't be, just stick to the script and you'll do amazing."

"Not if I have the tendency to somehow screw things up."

"You're being dramatic," Ray sarcastically cuts into your conversation but call it leader instincts or whatever, you just know she's probably the most freaked out one among the rest of you. Proven right, when you feel her fingers finding their way up your arm, tugging onto them.

"You got this Ray, no sweat." You jokingly dig your fingers into the sides of her ribcage and you giggle as she shoots you a warning glare, “I'll eat your dog alive." She threatens and you swear you caught an offended gasp escaping from both Sunghoon's and Wonyoung's lips.

"Please excuse her, I swear she's not a dog-eater." Sunghoon laughs as he watches you desperately trying to explain the questionable humour your bandmate held, and Wonyoung subtly giggles behind her cue cards. You mentally curse Ray in your head for once again having no filter when you hear the director signal for all of you to stand by.

With a steady voice, you begin to deliver your lines, relying on the script that you had so diligently memorized. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of the production crew's reactions, their smiles, and nods of approval driving the initial jitters to give way to growing confidence, buoyed by the energy of the moment.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: i’ll try my best to not include as much written portions in this smau but we’ll see 😁

taglist! open @softiehee @annoyingbitch83 @hoon0logy

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atxxzist · 2 years ago

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broken | c.s (06)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 8.6k

warning: suggestive, idk what else but do lmk if i missed sum!

"so, want to play a few frames?" jongho asks.

though you considered the idea, you still weren't one-hundred percent sure about this 'double date', having told yuna you still needed some time, but she managed to drag you to the local bowling alley, squeezing you into the tightest dress she owns.

it feels like you're being suffocated because not is it only incredibly tight, but also a size too small.

"we could, but, i've never played before."

"oh, thank goodness," he says in relief, "me neither. but you know, protocols and whatnot."

a nervous smile emerges from him and you giggle in response, attention quickly batting to yuna and minhyuk by one of the lanes all flirty smiles and heart eyes, trying to act like they're interested in the game but you know it's the last thing on their mind.

when you first saw minhyuk, his sharp eyes and prominent features were the first thing you noticed.

he's handsome, in an overly intimidating way that probably has fathers pointing fingers and telling their daughters this is the kind of guy they need to stray far from.

which is why you expected his friend to be equally as alarming, only for the softest looking boy you've ever seen to pop out from behind him in parted black hair and puppy-like visual.

he's also an entire grade younger than you.

"you have a boyfriend, or?" his sudden question catching you offguard, unable to help the laughter that slips off.

"i don't," you reply casually. it might be because he's younger that allows for you to relax a little and not feel so tense around someone new and unfamiliar.

"ah, okay. just trying to minimize the risks of possibly getting a black eye, if i, by any chance, happen to hit on you."

another laughter pours at the silly comment.

"if i had a boyfriend, i wouldn't be here."

"oh, true. in that case, i hope you're ready to hear all the bad pick-up lines i've been waiting to use."

you roll your eyes, trying the very best to reframe from breaking out into an amused smile at the boy's attempt. the stark contrast to the one you're used to, because it's so innocent and it doesn't make you feel a little sick afterward.

his silly antics continues to entertain you, a giggle finally leaving along with a big smile plastered on your lips, you wouldn't even think of the possibility of someone watching a little too closely.

but san having arrived long enough to catch the exchange and occupying a booth far in the back, leans into the ear of the girl he came with, spewing a combination of words that brings out a smirk in her before really excusing himself.

"ok, you tell me which one sounds lamer--" jongho is rambling on when a figure comes into his peripheral vision, pausing midway to glare out of curiosity, one eyebrow raising at the person standing before him.

"san? you asshole, is that you?"

your breathing cuts short, head turning around so fast at the name that makes your heartbeat multiply. because it couldn't possibly be your san, right?

but lo and behold, there he is in all flesh and bones--it's those lips you kissed a couple days ago, and he's perfect just as you remember, going on to take a seat beside jongho while nudging him playfully to make space.

"i knew it was this fucker as soon as i stepped foot into the place," san says, a smile too warm on his lips.

jongho snickers and scoots over a little.

"what gave it away? my incredibly handsome look?"

san returns a snicker but with more edge. "the violence i suddenly felt at seeing your annoying face."

"real funny, choi number one. considering you came all the way over here, i'd say you even missed me a little."

"wrong. i came here for y/n."

the way your smile drops from their small banter when san immediately looks your direction is not even funny.

you want to comment on what a small world it is, that your blind date happens to know san, but the only thing that comes out is you in a stuttering mess and muttering out such a rhetorical question.

"y-you guys know each other?" stupid. of course they do.

san looks like he's going to say something but the younger boy beats him to it.

"he attended the same high school."

"right," san adds, "and jongho here, had a thing for playing hero and making my life all more difficult."

jongho chuckles it off and leans back, crossing his arms.

"i was on the school committee. i mean, i still am," he states almost too proudly, "and i was the one who busted this asshole for vaping on school ground."

san quirks his lips to the side with a shrug.

"student life was stressful," is all he says.

"yeah yeah. and somehow i became choi number two just because he's older."

"also because you're a little bitch that got me put on community service my last year of high school. an enemy situation throughout."

jongho stands back up to straighten his posture.

"i object. more like a little enemies turned friends, no? i think we got along fine during the last few weeks of school."

"that's only because i was tolerating your ass and school was ending."

a scoff accompanies jongho as he turns to you.

"somewhere in that cold heart of his, i know he has a soft spot for me." he smiles and you can't help but giggle, missing the way san quickly scans the amount of skin you're showing, along with the kind of dress he thinks you should wear more often.

"so, from what i'm hearing, we're all acquaintances here?" jongho continues.

san has to pry his eyes away while yours shoot to him when he hums out a low note in response.

"well, maybe you and y/n are. but i'm sure i mean more to her than that."

he delivers you a look, something so playful but with a hidden mystery to them that is all more attractive because of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

you don't know what all of it means but he just might be trying to get the upper hand against the younger boy who's even more clueless than you are.

"definitely not her boyfriend, at least. she told me she doesn't have one."

a light pink blush crawls onto your cheeks, growing shy from something that is as a matter of factly, true; having only made it known not even that long ago to said boy.

san chuckles at the sight, the smirk that was there before turning into an amused smile that's just a little addicted to the flush on your face.

"oh, did she now?" he mumbles; an edge to his voice the same time his lips quirk to the side so handsomely.

but jongho doesn't miss a single thing. not the look in san's eyes--a familiar one he's seen far too many times, and definitely not the lovesick symptom on your cheeks.

"you sly mother fucker," he hisses, shaking his head.

"you see, y/n. this is the kind of guy you stay away from."

san laughs, dimissing the boy's remark and playing it off as something lighthearted though it was said with just the smallest kind of cautious undertone like a warning.

"while guys like minhyuk, they might look like they got some shady shit going on, but let me tell you, that guy donates to the animal shelters a few times a year."

you swipe another glance at your roommate and her date from the comment, a smile so wide on minhyuk's face when yuna scores a strike.

"pfft," san blows with a faint eye roll, you turning back to stare at the two in front. "and what kind of guy would you be?" sarcasm in his delivery.

jongho sneers, a confident smile on his expression.

"exactly the kind y/n over here would love to get to know."

san laughs loud and amused, the sound so harmonious to your ear, you wouldn't mind hearing it every single day if given the chance.

your stomach still flutters a little at jongho's words, the silliness that was present before seemingly fading out replaced by a more stern tone that overtakes him.

"i'm sure y/n doesn't date little kids," san snarks, a smirk on him from beating down the younger boy.

"only a couple more months and i'll be of legal age, i'm sure she doesn't mind the wait."

the snicker that escapes you can't be helped, flattered by his attempts but still unable to take him seriously just because he's younger and might just be doing it to piss san off.

"and when is that, if you don't mind me asking," you bring up, genuinely wanting to know and not just because you'll wait for him.

"october the 12th!"

"ah," you softly mumble. "i'll be sure to write it down."

jongho looks to be in awe, haven't really thought that you would take it so literally.

"really?"

you nod, a thin smile drawing on your lips.

"in that case, i should ask for yours, too. when is your birthday, y/n?"

san watches the exchange the entire time with intrigued ears and eyes, at first annoyed by the younger boy who always know how to ruffle a few feathers, but what takes his breath away is how relaxed you are when conversing with jongho.

a side of you he's only seen when you're with your friends; something more lively and carefree, a complete contrast to how tense you always are around him.

but when jongho asks that question, it's the sinking realization that he doesn't know it, too. not just your birthday, but also anything else about you besides your body.

he doesn't remember a single time he's asked you any questions if it wasn't for his own personal benefits.

so why, why the fuck is he suddenly having this crisis and mulling over not knowing enough about you just because you're nosy and want to know more about him. especially when it's something so small and stupid like birthdays.

even when you tell jongho with such a shy smile on your face, uttering the month and day, he knows it will fly over his head later. he's never been good at remembering these kind of things anyways.

"i am going to be sure to remember it!" jongho states with determination, san being unfazed and knowing for sure the boy will because if there's one thing to know about him, it's that he has an annoyingly good memory.

"but say, y/n, you're having a birthday party, would you rather it be at the park or at your grandparents' house?"

"now, why the fuck would you do it at your grandparents' house?" san finally speaks up, his comment earning a low chuckle from you.

jongho groans in agreement. "that's what i told my mom!"

"i guess i'm with the both of you," you say softly, "though i probably don't have the best judgment. i-i don't really celebrate birthdays."

jongho's eyes stills as they keep open, the atmosphere dropping silent until he subtly starts talking again, "oh? how come?"

you never even knew birthdays were deemed such a special occasion; it being celebrated with friends and families all around, happy for that one day that you grow a year older.

the only birthdays you knew of wasn't anything special at all.

it wasn't until mingi invited you to a party of his that freshman year of high school that you learned birthdays aren't supposed to be spent in the small space of your tiny room alone, or trying to guess which parent you'll end up being shipped to next year.

"just something my family never did much, i guess," you simplify, and jongho nods along with an understanding hum.

"they're really not all that," san chips in, both yours and jongho's heads snapping his direction. "waste of money and time."

jongho takes offense, his expression twisting in response.

"okay there, edgelord. someone obviously never got invited to birthday parties as a kid."

"like hell i'd go," san snarks.

jongho rolls his eyes and moves his focus back to you.

"anyways. i will be taking the college entrance exam later this year, and if i don't get into yonsei, you just might see me around after i become of age," he announces somewhat jokingly but with the smallest chance that he means it.

san's husky and unbelievable laughter bursts from beside him, wanting to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head, knowing the younger boy is playing it up.

"isn't it past your curfew," he remarks, totally out of topic but just eager to take a jab at the innapropriateness of it all considering jongho's age.

jongho furrows his eyebrows and actually checks his phone, an annoyed look on him once he registers the blow.

"you liar. it's only nine."

san scoffs, a little satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

"my curfew is at ten, i will tell you!"

the boys continues to make small, harmless insults to one up one another while you watch on the side, officially becoming a third wheel but the sight is too endearing for a subtle smile to not crack.

eventually, you have to use the restroom; sparing one last glance at yuna before excusing yourself to ask one of the workers.

this one is a little bigger; a few stalls at least and has two sinks. but while washing your hands, all you're able to think about is san back there and how it was the most you've gotten to know about him without having to ask.

maybe it's the magic of jongho and his more childish, laidback persona that allowed for not just you, but san as well, to show a more playful side of him. nothing like the man you've become accustomed to who's a little more calculating in his nature.

having watched as he fooled with the younger boy, wrestling and tickling him with a certain competitiveness that brings out a cute giggle that makes him look so approachable, exactly the kind of guy you think your aunt and uncle would approve of.

from a mere glance, no one would be able to tell this is the guy currently breaking your heart; the one having planted so many doubts in your head, he doesn't even bother to call or text anymore after having made clear what this is between you and him.

because unless you seek him out first, you won't hear from him. and it's been three days since the last time you were at his place, breathing underneath him and feeling so much pleasure, only to regret it later, swearing on your life this is the worst feeling ever and you're not sure if you can do it again.

you just didn't think, especially during a time where you're supposed to be forgetting about him--your face full of makeup products you usually wouldn't wear and a dress too tight hugging your body, that he'd show up so handsome and charming; all kinds of reminder why you returned the two times before and why it won't be the last.

about ready to go back, you're only a few inches out the door when a pair of hand latches onto your shoulders, pushing you back in against the counter, your eyes looking up into the one person capable of cornering you like this.

"hey," san utters, a coy smile on his lips as his hands releases from your shoulders and settles on the counter, trapping you inbetween.

you tense up a little, shifting in your spot and managing to reply through your trembling voice.

"h-hey."

he quirks an eyebrow before a smaller laughter bubbles out, one hand going to move the strands covering your eyes the way he always does.

"what's the matter? i haven't seen you in three days." his chest relaxes a little and his shoulders drop, inching even closer to you.

it's like once he really got that out of the way, everything starts leaking to the surface as well. everything about who this man really is and how he's nothing alike to the sweet, considerate boy you bumped into back at the party who helped you.

it's an awful discovery.

but what's worse is whenever you look at him, beyond his exterior and closed-off nature, you think there's a person underneath that you would love to know.

someone who has a story of his own; a story you would love to listen to if given the chance.

but that's always been your downfall. because when you love, you love hard. and maybe you didn't completely love junseo, but when someone is yours and you're theirs, you give them your entire heart.

and someone like san, someone so unattainable with his coy eyes and dimply smiles that always turn you a few shade redder, you think it would be nice if he was yours and you were his... because you would undoubtly love him wholeheartedly.

"i was busy," you tell him, swallowing down the pit that is both nervous but excited at whatever's about to come.

"that's fine," he dismisses it along with a low buzz under his breath, eyes quick to drool over the amount of exposed skin he's been dying to touch all night.

he's never seen you in this kind of outfit before. you were usually covered in three layers of clothing that was always annoying to take off.

"how did you know it was me?" you ask, playing dumb to the sight of his bottom lip in between his teeth.

he has to rip his attention away to meet your stoic eyes at the question, murmuring, "huh?"

"you told jongho you came over because of me, or was that--" a lie, too?

"--no, no, beautiful." he shakes his head, both hands caressing over your cheeks. "of course i was telling the truth. i knew from the hair and from the mole on your right shoulder."

san might not know a lot of things about you. not even the basics of your favorite movie or your dream, and he's not even sure if he remembers your birthday although you just told them not even that long ago, but he knows your body and all the ins and outs of it.

how your lips taste like, how pretty your boobs are, and how exactly to get you to cum. he knows all the faces you make during sex, and what to say and how to say it just so he can see that color on your cheeks that he likes a little too much.

and he definitely could spot that soft, silky texture of hair that had a big likelihood of it being yours.

he was only maybe seventy-percent confident at first, but the closer he got to the table, catching that mole on your shoulder he's gotten used to seeing, he knew it was you for sure.

"oh..." you say defeatedly, unable to wrap your head around the fact that san can actually recall something about you.

"what's wrong? you're not actually thinking about waiting for jongho and disappointed that i showed?"

your lips forms a pout, shaking your head.

"no. it's not that."

he chuckles, always having enjoyed backing you into a corner as if that's ever been hard to do.

"good. because he already left. his mommy called."

"oh..."

"yeah," he repeats, a tone so satisfied about the fact he's the only person for you at the moment. no chances of anyone else stealing your attention away; not even a pestering high schooler who lives to annoy him but also has the possibility of developing the smallest crush on you.

one of his hands suddenly snakes to your hip, settling on it with a light squeeze that makes you jolt up; the closer he leans in, the more your back presses against the edge of the counter.

"you look so fucking hot like this," he hisses, eyes once again unashamedly checking you out.

"it's yuna's dress."

"well, you should wear yuna's dresses more often."

his hand at your hip fumbles with the material, bottom lip caught in between his teeth again when it comes over just how perfect it fits over your figure.

silence eats up the air until he looks up and catches your gaze in his, staring at him like you're just waiting to be wrecked the same way he's always done it. a smirk crawls onto him and with one lift of your chin, you're both kissing and making out like it'll be the last time.

your arms are thrown around his neck immediately, and he's come to love the fact that you're starting to strip away that shy, hesitated act the more these sessions happen.

his hands that were on your hips are now all over your body as he nearly backs your head into the mirror, barely able to plant a kiss on your jawline when the sound of distant footsteps outside pries him away, staring into your horrified eyes at the thought of being caught in this position.

he shushes you, index finger to his lips and drags you away to the nearest stall, his back against the door and you breathing hard on his chest.

a pair of female voices echoes through the room, a conversation you don't really catch because your waist is wrapped around by one of san's arms while his other one travels down the bare of your skin, landing on your ass and squeezing it with a sadistic smirk on his lips.

you would've yelped if not for the current situation, in turn settling for a soft push to his chest that brings out that smile you so much despise because you hate how adorable it is and how dangerous it is on a man like san.

all you hear is the sink running and a few pops like something opening, maybe to reapply their makeups but is it drowned out by san's lips on yours and you at first unsure about making out in a restroom stall, but soon enough, you're gripping at his shirt and forgetting about all consequences.

you don't even realize the two are gone until san pulls away and the quietness of it all confirms it's only you and him again.

"let's take it back to the dorm?"

and you would've impulsively said yes, if not for your conscious serving as a reminder of the existence of your roommate who you came with.

"i want to, but, i came with yuna..."

"i'm sure she'll understand."

you used jongho as an excuse; your partner having gone home and all leaving there nothing to do. yuna didn't seem to mind, head occupied and infatuated with her date.

as soon as you're both off the elevator, his lips is on yours and your hands are running through his black hair, grateful for the late hours that has less students running around the building.

because it would truly be shameful if someone is to catch you two in this state, so high drunk off of lust, the key in your hold struggling to fit from your shaken hand.

but once you get it to open, you're both in immediately and the door behind is slammed shut, your back already touching the sheet of your bed and he's hovering on top once again diving down to kiss you.

his hand is fast to make an appearance under the skirt of your dress, kneading the soft skin of your thighs and traveling to the top of your underwear. you made sure to wear one alike to safety shorts.

while he works your undergarment, you pull at his shirt that rides up his toned abs, but you only make it about halfway before a sound in the pocket of his pants go off.

he ignores it the first time, but then comes the second.

a groan loosely escapes the tip of his tongue, having to break the kiss to stand on his knees, one hand rummaging his pockets.

you sit up with elbows planting the mattress and watch as his once annoyed expression dissipates at whatever is on the screen, his eyes even swelling a bit.

clearing his throat and shoving it back where he got it from, you can sense the change of demeanor, his body language giving away that he now wants to be out of here.

climbing off your bed as you stare with a disappointed sadness in your eyes, he finally speaks the dreaded words.

"hey, beautiful, i uhm... i gotta go." he awkwardly fidgets in his spot when telling you that, looking so out of place.

"oh..." you voice lowly, sitting up and scooting until your legs are hanging off the side of the bed, not bothering to hide the disappointment.

he attempts to put on a smile; try to make all of this hurt a little less, walking forward and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"i'll call you."

and when he leaves, you don't feel any better or any worse. the feeling is always the same; a deep hollow pain in your chest that makes you feel like an empty shell of a person.

why do you keep subjecting yourself to this kind of treatment? a part of you aware to the great possibility that the only reason he asked to come to your place was for this exact reason.

saying he has to go or that something came up is easier to lie about than straight kicking you out. and someone like san always know how to play his cards so he can lessen the blow.

so perhaps it's his adorable smile; the way your heart always flutter at the sight of him, and whenever he talks, you want to listen to him forever.

that stupid ounce of hope you so foolishly hang onto, wishing one day he'll come around because you're even more stupid to have faith in him.

facts about choi san.

1. birthday: july 10th 2. favorite color: purple 3. major cat lover 4. deathly afraid of bugs 5. was on community service senior year of high school

when san called earlier, asking if you can come to his place some time in the late morning, you know it's a bad idea.

you have already set a time and place to meet with yeosang at noon because the second exam is approaching fast, and shortly after, you have to leave for work, your schedule having been moved up the one weekday you don't have any class because your supervisor wants you to experience an actual classroom setting instead of the after school kids you've been watching.

the job proved to be a lot more than just being a teacher's aide, granted you told them you couldn't really work mornings because of being a college student and all.

but you haven't seen him since that night, and his promise of calling having came true filling you with that temporary feeling of joy and excitement, convincing yourself it doesn't hurt to see him for a bit as you rush over to his place.

but when you arrive at the scene, the new sight of his door left slightly opened along with what sounds like feet shuffling around tells you you're not going to get to see san today.

"no, because you're literally always fucking like this!"

you flinch at the sudden high volume of a voice you recognize as it fills san's apartment.

"you bring your shit into my house and i'm always the one who has to clean it up."

and though you've only met him a few times, you know it belongs to wooyoung.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

the sink in your chest is heavy and the beating of your heart is loud; it's an awful revelation that the topic of conversation is... you.

"you don't. no matter who she's friends with or related to, you don't look at someone and think they're the next pretty little thing you're going to ruin."

you listen in closely, a silence that gauges the air making your breath catch inside your throat at the suspense.

you know it's wrong, but turning back doesn't seem to be much of an option especially when it's about you. it's only a given you'd be nosy.

following the silence is a heaved sigh before there's another round of feet walking in place.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

it's san's voice, shortly followed by a sarcastic, dry laughter from wooyoung.

"that's what you always say, choi. that it's their fault; they knew what they were getting into, when you know damn well what you're fucking doing."

he pauses to catch his breath, not done just yet.

"so either get your shit sorted or stop messing with the girl because the last thing i want is a room full of death stares and resentment because my friend is a grade a asshole. i did this shit for you in high school but i'm starting to get real tired of it."

you don't get the chance to process the whirls of emotion attacking all at once, the direction of the footsteps sounding like they're headed for the door and you just assume the worst--that it's wooyoung leaving, scuttling away before you can be seen.

when you return to the dorm, the first thing you do is text san with an excuse that something came up. you wouldn't tell him you overheard a conversation that makes you sick to the stomach, so many conflicted thoughts running loose.

surely wooyoung would have suspected something (it's not like you guys were that good at hiding it), but you're also not close to him like that, which leads you to believe the outburst had more to do with yunho and mingi than you.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

and you're not sure what's worse; having one of your friends tattletale to wooyoung to get san off your back, or that one (if not both) of them knew this whole time.

all those excuses and attempts at being discreet probably looked pathetic to whoever knew it was just so you can fall into the arms of a boy who doesn't care for you in the slightest; who lies to your face and messes with your head.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

you're still not in a good headspace by the time you have to meet yeosang, which is literally just an hour after you were supposed to be seeing san.

he's in the far back of the cafe, eyes and nose stuck to a textbook and looking like he's absolutely going to ace this upcoming test.

you on the other hand, is absolutely pissed off your mind the more you keep lingering on it, coupled with the fact that there wasn't even enough time to actually get over it beforehand.

but why couldn't they just talk it out with you first? why did it have to jump straight into telling wooyoung about your business?

and also why the fuck are you not more upset at san? you should be. you need to be. it's evident he planned it all from the start and never really had any good intentions with you.

it's funny how you found all of this out while at his doorstep; maybe the only good thing to have came from it is you didn't end up in his bed (today at least).

but you suppose san being a walking red flag you should stay away from is the equivalent of beating a dead horse at this rate.

the tension is written all over your face when you take a seat across from yeosang, him looking up to quirk an eyebrow.

"hey?"

"hey."

"you sure you don't want to come over here?"

you briefly recall how anal he was about it last time when you sat across, so without further protests, you stand up to go plop down next to him, an irritated sigh departing without much thoughts but it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"well... okay," he mutters under his breath, wondering who or what managed to tick you off knowing it's not him this time. he's only said a few words so far.

quick to dismiss it because of the limited time, he pulls the neglected laptop into his view, navigating to the school site.

"he made a study guide, we can go over that."

and he really is trying; this being the second time, even gave you somewhat of a proper greeting without any snarks or additional comments, but what bothers him more than your already less than stellar arrival, is your lack of participation.

eyes and ears not even following along and head entirely elsewhere.

mind you, he had to push his schedule back just to come here.

"something wrong? if there's anything bothering you or you have somewhere to be, you can tell me."

"it's nothing."

"sure looks like something because i doubt you heard a single thing."

you knit your brows together, arms crossing over one another as you glare at him.

"blade server: type of server that exists in the form of a single circuit board," you repeat the last term he was going over, even slightly imitating the way he said it.

he chuckles wryly.

"well, you heard one of them at least," he says; some kind of satisfaction that graces the corner of his lips with a faint smirk.

you roll your eyes, moving your attention to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, trying to reframe from bursting because you're still not over what you just heard not even that long ago.

"isn't it tiring?"

your head snaps back to him, confusion overtaking your expression.

"what is?"

"this shy, reserved act of yours whenever you're with others. with your friends, with that guy, san. do they know you're this overbearing in actuality?"

"excuse me?" your voice high in disbelief.

he cocks his head a little.

"or perhaps, that's what it is. you only act like that around guys like san, but someone like me, you're not trying to impress so you don't give jackshit about how you come off."

red on your face, red in your veins, and red under your breath.

"and you don't have an act of your own?" you fire back, somehow managing to find the girl in you who has a voice and definitely some guts, but she who goes missing when it comes to telling san to fuck off.

"pretending to be this nice guy around yunho and mingi, like you're doing a favor by helping their friend when all you do is insult me behind their back."

you stand up furiously, grabbing at your things and sparing him one last glance (that you hope will intimidate him).

"you won't ever have to worry about wasting your time on someone like me ever again."

you don't need mingi or yunho (or both) shielding you like you're an infant still in a cradle, and you definitely do not need kang yeosang blowing up on you when you're just starting to realize how much you hate this fucking computer class and all this technical junk; when everything's already going to shit.

but your whole life has been a load of shit one after another so you suppose it's not entirely out of place.

which is why you ultimately decided that if it's going to turn to shit, it should all just be on the table at this point.

when you show at mingi's door just a few minutes right after you get off work, you know wooyoung is not there. he usually never is. he's always either at his own parties or at one of the five other properties under his parents name.

between the two options, you're more willing to bet it's the one person who actually shares a living space with wooyoung, squeezing yourself in and slamming the door behind before mingi could even get out a simple 'hey'.

he's stunned by the sudden cornering, as expected.

"woah there, missy," mingi coos, that lighthearted tone in his voice you recognize whenever he jokes around--completely disregarding the more serious look on your face.

"did you... by any chance, said something to wooyoung?"

you try to keep vague, for all you know, you just might be overstepping the boundaries and giving your friends too little credits.

wooyoung could've done it even without the push from one of them, but it's best to confirm before digging your own grave.

mingi pulls his brows into confusion.

"like?"

you clear your throat, swallowing down a knot, loathing how much harder he's making this, or if he's just really good at burying his own dirts. it's not exactly out of character for him.

"like--"

the abrupt knock at the door from behind cuts you short, your breath fuming before turning around to open it; the thinning patience not allowing you to consider even for a second who it might be, a small jump in your body when you see it's the other suspect. how convenient.

yunho doesn't say anything and neither does you or mingi. he awkwardly clears the block in his throat and walks himself in through the small space until he's standing tall in front of you.

after you close the door, it's the longest silence you've ever endured in the presence of the two, all your eyes bouncing from one to another before yunho finally speaks.

"did i miss an invitation?"

mingi chuckles, seemingly already relaxed.

"you're not the only one. miss y/n just busted into my room to interrogate me."

you shoot lasers at him and mutters something inaudible under your breath. it could be yunho, but he's usually the wiser of the two and mingi hasn't exactly done anything that makes him less likely--

"it was me," yunho deadpan, both you and mingi shooting his direction so fast.

mingi having no idea what's going on, switches his gaze between the expressionless boy next to him and the enraged look on you.

"why?" you say, so short and simple but the tone is everything but that.

"because i can't bear to watch you keep doing this to yourself. my intuition was right, and--"

"and you couldn't just talk to me?"

"wait, is this about san?" mingi ask, his voice such a contrast to the bubbling tension.

"and if i talked to you, would you have even listened?"

"well, i wouldn't know because you didn't even talk to me. you just went straight into airing my business to his friend."

"it's definitely about san," mingi mutters to himself, his presence completely ignored.

"i just thought that maybe san might listen to wooyoung since they're friends. and that if he stays away, you'll reframe from seeking him out."

it's quiet after that but the air is thick as you two stare into each other with something unpleasant brewing in your chest.

"h-how did you know?"

a low exhale departs yunho before he answers, "it was only a suspicion at first, but then i saw san walking back with you to the dorm that night. and well... you're kind of awful at being discreet."

an eyebrow raise at the confession, your face eventually twisting into distaste.

"you were spying on me?!"

"i wasn't spying on you. it was a coincidence, ask mingi. me and him were coming back from the library because of the campus job i was telling you about."

so... mingi saw it, too.

"yunho... i appreciate your concerns, but, i can make my own choices."

a dry, almost mocking laughter leaves him as he takes a seat at the edge of mingi's bed and stares you down.

yunho isn't an intimidating person; the boy always so nice and easy to talk to, any fights or arguments you guys ever had up till this point has never been this bad. but his gaze right now does make you feel a little small.

"and what is that going to be?" he throws his hands up. "returning to the same person who you know is emotionally unavailable? who won't ever love you the way you really want him to?"

"you talk as if you know him personally..."

you know you shouldn't have said it; defending someone who doesn't deserve it, and well aware there's not a single bone in yunho's body that is capable of harms, but you're so tired of the coddling.

so tired of being looked at as someone breakable.

"no. but i know people like him; guys like him. i know that they will never just magically come around, and most of all, i know that this isn't what you want. you're sticking to him in hope that he'll change his mind, no matter how much you want to deny it."

you've always hated how observant he is...

"then... why do you guys hang with wooyoung, and why is he friends with san? wooyoung is a good person, right? so shouldn't san be, too?"

you're deflecting; it's awful, but it does catches yunho offguard, and even mingi. yunho who was so sure before now mouth clasped tight, because yunho's an honest man, and as an honest man, he doesn't know either.

the couple of times he's met wooyoung, he's aways been pleasant to be around; welcoming of his presence with opened arms and always with a smile on his face to make sure yunho was never left out.

the question asked--more for wooyoung himself than yunho.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that, but, can you promise me at least? that you'll stay away? if not for me, do it for yourself."

you're quiet, shifting to look down at the floor and tracing the pattern when a groan falls from yunho.

"fine." he stands up, his towering height and cold eyes making you feel all sorts.

"call me whenever you actually consider our friendship these last four years instead of whatever you're having with a guy that you just met this semester."

"yunho..." mingi mumbles, disapproval in his tone.

yunho doesn't say anything else, only rushing for the door as he brushes past you before it is slammed shut.

"he didn't mean it." mingi glares at you.

"i know he didn't."

you limp to his bed, taking the seat where yunho was sitting before, still able to feel the warmth he had left behind.

mingi sighs, shaking his head and eventually sitting down with you.

"and i know you don't want to hear this again, but he's right."

as a friend, mingi cares for you. of course he does. but as the boy who found you under that oak tree when you were fourteen years old; as someone who knew you before yunho, before anyone else, he also understands the curiosity you hold for the world; for what else is out there.

you have been deprived of these things almost your entire life, he thinks it's ony natural. so he never tries to be too hard on you when he sees your eyes wander and your nose perked.

he's just always sitting back and watching; observing. yunho and him the perfect contrast to one another because though he may be loud and obnoxious, he tries to stir away from possibly upsetting you. whereas yunho can be a bit overprotective despite his quietness on a surface level.

"i know..." you say, "i just... wish he'd have a little bit more faith in me. i-i can handle it." even you're failing to convince yourself.

mingi breathes out a pitiful look in his eyes, taking your hands into his and locks gaze with you. he's about to get sentimental and you know it. his silly and laidback personality a perfect combination to his more vulnerable side he lets loose once in a while.

"remember the last time you fought with yunho?"

you wouldn't really call it a fight, it was barely an argument, maybe more of a disagreement but aside from this one, that was definitely the most heated you two ever got.

you nod, mumbling in a low volume, "yeah."

"and how angry you were at him?"

"yeah, because he was acting without thinking and i was worried about him."

it was a fight between yunho and minji, at first over something so small but eventually escalating into something bigger.

"i was afraid he was gonna do something he'd regret later."

yunho had spent most of his high school years crushing on minji, always so shy and unconfident, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask the girl out to which she said yes (obviously). and he was gonna throw it all away for something that he probably wouldn't even think about a week from then.

"exactly. because you were looking out for him, and he's just looking out for you, too."

your hands stiffen in mingi's grasp, a sullen look on your face. you also know that.

"look," he says, scooting closer. "i poke my nose in everything, and it's only because i live to annoy you, but in all honestly, i wouldn't ever intrude on your personal affairs. but some days, i still think about how he treated you back at the party."

he goes on, "i was happy at first, him being wooyoung's friend and all. he was also okay when we went out to dinner, but someone who genuinely likes you would not sideline you the way he did."

your mind briefly flashes back to the party, thinking about how hopeful and stupid you looked with that jacket on like a little lost puppy.

thinking about the smirk so fittingly as it rested on his lips when he flirted with your unknowing roommate, using her as leverage to achieve whatever end result he was getting at.

thinking about how you foolishly believed his lie at the time, but overtime seeing for yourself nothing is accidental or coincidental especially in the face of a man like san.

everything is done intentionally and with the purpose to gain; getting you a job and definitely messing with you at the party. he might've even lied on that date with jongho, too.

"and i never asked for anything from you before, but i'm just asking this one time, if you can... please listen to yunho and keep a distance from san."

mingi squeezes your hand, his stance desperate as he awaits your answer.

it takes longer this time around for you to say something, but when you finally do, mingi could've swear he heard it wrong when a quiet "fine" falls from your lips.

"r-really?" his eyes grow in incredulity.

you nod. "if you and yunho are this worried, then i'll stop seeing him."

his chest exhales in relief, the once uneasy expression on him dropping, wondering what prompted the sudden change of mind or if he's really just that good at giving overall sappy speeches.

"oh dear, you got me so scared."

you giggle at his comment, the first time today you're allowed to smile.

he releases the hold on you, backing up a little but gaze having never left, a slight tense in his body language that you know he's going to act on.

"okay, but, can i ask something? and bitch you better not lie to me. we tell each other everything, remember?"

you swallow the knot in your throat, afraid of what he's going to ask and with a feeling it's going to knock your breath away.

"right," you hesitantly answer.

and well... you hate to be correct.

"have you slept with him?"

you almost choked on your own saliva.

"mingi..." you hiss.

"you heard me, bitch. did you guys do the devil's tango?"

you roll your eyes, kicking at his leg lightly and exasperating out loud.

"oh my god, why the hell are you calling it that?"

"oh, whatever. you know what i mean. did. you. guys. fucked?" he crosses his arms.

he can be so sweet and understanding, and then at the same time, go and ask questions like this.

he squints his eyes.

"you know, silence is incriminating. hesitation is damaging, and something tells me you slept with him. not once. not twice."

a small surge of panic rushes in, grabbing at the pillow nearby and smacking him in the face with it.

he winces in exaggerated pain and you toss the pillow back, shooting daggers at him.

"i swear, if you rip that, you're paying for a new one."

"worth it to shut that big ass mouth of yours."

it's a couple seconds before he breaks out into laughter and you follow along with a simple giggle.

"okay but please... can you promise me you won't tell yunho?"

he shrugs, lips quirked to the side.

"what makes you think he doesn't suspect it as well? but sure, i guess. you should really talk to him, though. after this."

mingi plays it cool, a smile on his face and burying that feeling aside that he's just the littlest bit of sad your first time went to someone who doesn't love you.

granted, he's never really cared too much for such thing, always having joked around his parents will end up with no grandkids because he doesn't plan on adopting, either.

but he's always thought that if you were to have it, he'd want your first time to be special. with someone you love, and who loves you the same; your heart always so big and with so much to give.

not someone like san who lures you in with his handsome look and butterflies-alarming words, knowing he never planned to give anything in return except to add to the list of your miseries.

he can't help but feel it is his fault--for leaving you at the party and for ever introducing wooyoung.

but at least now, you will stay away and spare yourself an inevitable heartbreak... he hopes.

you approach the door of yunho's room with cautious steps, hesitation in your appearance because of the one person he shares the space with.

you knock lightly, proceeding to wait and it doesn't take long before it creaks open and yunho is standing before you.

he doesn't look surprised by it, if anything, he looks like he was expecting you to show up at one point. it's just so in character.

you take this chance to sneak a glance past his shoulders, seeing it's in the clear.

"may i come in?" you ask sweetly.

he nods, a hum under his breath and steps aside to let you in.

"i'm sorry," you say, turning to him as his back is to the door. "sorry for acting like a bitch earlier, i know you were just looking out for me. and... i talked to mingi, and i already promised him i-i'll stay away from san."

rather than a sudden change of mind, it was more the realization that you don't need whispered sweet lies or kisses from a boy who doesn't even like you; who always have made you feel so shitty about yourself.

your friends matter, and you're going to listen to them.

that the next time choi san calls or texts, no matter what emojis he uses or what words he will say to get you to come to his place, you're going to ignore him.

next // series m.list

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#the amount of times i write about someone's eyes #or them smiling #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #san angst #fic: broken

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